She guided him back to the bed, tucking the blanket around him with unexpected tenderness. "Rest now," she said softly before stepping outside, the door closing with a quiet click.
Sleep took him faster than he expected.
But in that sleep… something waited.
Takeshi opened his eyes to find himself standing in a vast, colorless void. A colossal hourglass loomed at the center, suspended in space. Its golden sand hovered motionless, frozen mid-fall. Inside the hourglass, two figures were trapped in time.
Takeshi approached, heart pounding. One of them—he recognized instantly.
Zelios.The ancient author. The one whose words had guided him this far.
Then he saw the crack—thin and barely visible—on the surface of the hourglass. It spread slowly… then faster.
No…
The glass exploded.
A thunderous shatter split the void as fragments spun outward like stars. From within, a blinding presence surged forward.
The Divine One emerged—taller than thought, cloaked in flame and shadow. Without hesitation, he seized Zelios by the head.
Takeshi screamed, but no sound left his lips.
The Divine One's hand pierced Zelios' chest like paper.
Then—chains of pure light wrapped around the god's form, binding him in place. But Takeshi could feel it in the air: they wouldn't hold for long.
Just as the light began to flicker, Takeshi jolted awake, gasping, drenched in sweat. "He's… he's broken free…" he whispered. "The hourglass is gone."
He swung his legs off the bed. The moon cast a pale light through the window.
"I have to train… I have to prepare."
The night air was crisp as Takeshi stepped outside. The village was quiet, wrapped in mist. Distant guards murmured softly, unaware of the storm looming beyond the horizon.
He walked, mind spinning—until a glimmer in the woods caught his attention.
Following the light, he pushed past the brush to find a waterfall—serene, yet shimmering unnaturally. At its base stood a woman, radiant and still.
Her golden hair glowed like molten threads. Her white robes blended with the water, almost unreal.
"Greetings, Apostle of Time," she said, voice echoing in the glade. "I am a spirit, sent by Chronos, the God of Time. I've come to aid you."
Takeshi narrowed his eyes. "Aid me? How?"
She stepped forward, laying a hand gently on his forehead."Remain calm," she said. "I am transferring what you must know."
A sudden rush of knowledge slammed into his mind. Takeshi gritted his teeth, stumbling. It was as if time itself was unfolding within him—ancient techniques, timelines, fragments of futures.
His knees hit the ground. "So… I actually have alot of abilities?"
"Yes," the spirit confirmed, lowering her hand. "But Chronos commanded me to only awaken part of that knowledge. The rest... you must earn."
She held out a necklace, its crystal center pulsing with light."This will protect you when death draws near."
Takeshi accepted it with reverence. As it touched his skin, a warmth spread through his chest.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
The spirit smiled. "Be strong, Apostle. The Divine One will not spare the world this time." Her body shimmered—then faded into mist.
Takeshi returned to the village. Though people whispered and laughed in their dreams, he heard only silence. He lay down again, but sleep didn't come.
Tomorrow, he thought, everything changes.
Dawn spilled through the window.
"Takeshi!" Nyx called cheerfully outside. "How was your sleep?"
He stretched, cracking a tired smile. "Better than I expected. Thanks, Nyx."
"I've packed our gear," she said. "Are you ready?"
"Almost. Just grabbing my weapons." He ducked back inside—but moments later, returned with a grim expression.
"My weapons… they're gone."
Nyx blinked. "Gone? Are you sure?"
"I left them right here." His voice was low, tense. "They're not where I placed them."
A sudden weight filled the air between them.
They searched the village, retracing every step. Nothing.
Finally, they regrouped.
Nyx sighed, then pulled his old sword from her pack. "Here. Use this for now. We'll find the others while we travel. Whoever took them... they can't be far."
Takeshi accepted it, gripping the worn hilt.
"Alright. Let's go."
They turned toward Aventia, the morning sun behind them—its warmth a brief comfort before the trials ahead.