The moment stretched beyond comprehension.
Louise stood in a world where time had thinned to a thread, suspended between two heartbeats. Around him, ash shimmered like falling snow, and the stillness rang louder than a battlefield's roar. Before him stood the first enemy with power akin to his own—another wielder of the Ashen Clock.
His name was Varun.
A cloaked figure, eyes veiled by shadow, with the Tri-Spiral Sigil etched upon his right palm—burning faintly, like a fading star. Unlike Louise, Varun didn't tremble. He had mastered this realm. Each step he took didn't ripple against the frozen canvas of the world. He moved like a ghost who belonged.
"You're young," Varun's voice echoed, not through air, but through the trembling silence itself. "And reckless. You shouldn't have entered the Temporal Ring without preparation."
"I didn't choose to," Louise answered. "It chose me."
Varun chuckled, amused. "So naïve. The Clock chooses no one. It breaks those who touch it—and only the shattered survive."
He lifted his hand. The sigil pulsed. Around him, the ash shifted, and the cave twisted as though reality had bent inward. The skeleton of the ancient bearer behind Louise cracked open. From its chest, a shard of crystal flew into Varun's grasp.
Louise recognized it—the Timecore, the heart of a dead chronowielder. A relic of one who had once stopped death itself.
"Wait," Louise said, stepping forward. "Why are you here?"
"To reclaim what belongs to the Order," Varun said. "You've stumbled into something older than nations. And now you've awakened a Clock… they will come for you. The Keepers. The Council. The Ones Who Remember."
Louise's jaw clenched. "Let them come."
"You'll die first."
Varun's eyes glowed.
---
The Time Duel began.
Not with steel or fire—but with thought, memory, and fragments of future possibilities.
The Temporal Ring formed—a shimmering circle of runes and ash—suspended midair around them. Each rune spun independently, flashing moments from their lives, choices made, regrets buried.
Varun struck first.
Not with a blade—but with history.
Suddenly, Louise was seven again—trapped in the orphanage, looking out the barred window as his sister coughed herself into silence. He turned—and she wasn't there.
He turned again—and now he stood at her grave.
"Stop," Louise gasped.
"You fight in time. Then suffer it," Varun said.
Louise dropped to his knees. The emotional weight slammed him backward, as if his heart had turned to lead.
"But you've forgotten," Louise whispered, "that time isn't just pain."
He stood.
Around him, a ripple began to form—not of memory, but of choice.
He remembered the moment he spared a street thief instead of turning him in. He remembered standing beside Fuzi in the Snow Flower Sect. He remembered hope.
And from those fragments, his Clock pulsed.
The ash around him ignited into white fire.
He struck forward.
This time, Varun flinched. The memory Louise weaponized wasn't of tragedy—it was of resilience.
The Rune of Continuance activated.
Varun tried to blink forward in time—vanish and reappear behind Louise.
But the world snapped back.
Louise had placed an anchor of the present. A Chrono Lock.
"No future for you," he said.
Varun snarled. "You're learning too fast."
"I've had a lifetime of pain. That's all the training I need."
---
The duel turned brutal.
Chrono-blades clashed—steel laced with seconds, each stroke aging the ground it cut. Ash burst like blood in midair. Both moved at speeds normal eyes could never follow.
One moment, Louise was behind Varun, striking at the base of his neck.
The next, Varun was a boy again, watching his mentor die.
They fought in thoughts. In rewound choices. In guilt.
And in that space, time wept.
A chime rang.
The Ashen Clock neared its limit.
"You know what happens when the Clock runs dry?" Varun said, panting.
"No."
"It shatters the bearer's body. We're not gods. We're borrowed vessels."
Louise's vision blurred.
He felt it—his heart beating slower. Each breath heavier. Every moment in the Temporal Ring drained his lifespan.
But he smiled.
"Then I'll die giving birth to the future."
---
Louise drew his blade not as a sword—but as a timeline. A thousand memories surged behind him.
He carved a single symbol in the air.
A fourth spiral.
Time cracked.
Even Varun hesitated. "That's forbidden… that's not taught even to the Order."
"I didn't learn it," Louise said. "I lived it."
The rune burst.
A Temporal Nova.
Light surged—not of fire, but of memory. Of every second Louise had ever endured.
Varun screamed. The ashes clung to him like chains.
Then—
Silence.
---
The cave reformed.
The Time Ring faded.
Varun lay on the floor, unconscious—alive, but broken. His Timecore shattered. The Ashen Clock around Louise spun slower now, almost exhausted.
Louise fell to his knees.
It was over.
For now.
But his hands shook—not from fear, but realization.
If Varun was real… the Order was real.
And they were watching.
Louise looked up at the sky through the broken cave ceiling.
"I won't run. Come find me," he whispered.
Then he stood.
And began to walk....