The last echo of the beast's roar rolled through the forest, rippling across the surface of the lake like the tremor of an earthquake. Avin could only stare — his breath shallow, his body trembling from exhaustion and disbelief.

The figure stood poised between sky and water — her red hair whipping with the rhythm of the wind, strands gleaming like woven flame. The slender blade in her hand, near cylinder in shape, shimmered with a faint bluish sheen. Its thin edge reflected the sunlight in a perfect, sharp line — a rapier.

Avin's lips parted, the words barely audible. "A rapier...?"

He used his sword to support himself, his trembling fingers pressing against the hilt as he forced his broken body upright — just enough to see clearly. Before him, she moved like silk carried by the wind, elegant yet deliberate, standing against a monster that could swallow her whole.

The beast's body rose again — a massive serpent cloaked in scales so dark they mirrored the sky. Its length seemed endless, disappearing into the lake. The air trembled as it inhaled. Avin's instincts screamed at him — danger.

Without hesitation, she moved.

The creature lunged forward, jaws splitting wide, rows upon rows of jagged teeth glinting. Yet she did not retreat. Her arm extended, the rapier's tip drawn to the exact center of its incoming path. Her stance was still. Fluid. Confident.

The world held its breath.

And then — contact.

The point of her rapier touched the beast's head. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a faint shimmer pulsed through the air — like a ripple through glass. The beast froze mid-lunge, every droplet of water suspended in the air around it.

Avin's eyes widened in awe. "Did she... stop it in time?"

The silence was deafening. Then, in an instant, the massive serpent's head fractured — dividing cleanly into thousands of perfect cubes. Each cube no larger than a hand, each falling in slow, silent rhythm before splashing softly into the water below.

"Wow..." Avin whispered. His voice trembled, part fear, part disbelief. "Are all Chronos this strong?"

But his awe soon curdled into dread.

The beast's remains began to stir.

Each cube twitched, thin red lines of muscle snaking out from them, attaching and pulling — connecting, merging. The wet sound of flesh rejoining itself filled the air as the serpent reconstructed its form. Scales fused, bones cracked into place, and before long, it was whole again — pristine, as though death had never touched it.

It roared again.

The air grew cold. Mist spread across the lake, thick enough to blur her figure. But Avin could still see her — standing atop the surface of the water as if it were solid glass. Her movements never faltered; her calm was unnerving.

The beast lunged once more, sending waves cascading outward. She leapt — light as air — her feet barely kissing the water before launching upward. She landed upon its back, dashing gracefully along its scaled spine. Her rapier trailed behind her like a thread of silver light.

The creature twisted violently, trying to throw her off, but she danced along its movements — fluid, synchronized, untouched. Every time it coiled, she curved with it; every time it struck, she slipped between the gaps of death with impossible precision.

And then, as if the world bent to her rhythm, she pivoted — one clean step on air — and jumped off the beast. It roared again, furious, striking at its own body in a blind frenzy as it pursued her. Its fangs tore through its own flesh, chunks of itself exploding outward, but within seconds, those same chunks began stitching together again.

Avin watched with wide, hollow eyes. "It just won't die..."

The water stilled for a moment. The serpent dove beneath, vanishing into the abyssal blue.

She stood above the reflection of the sky, her red hair swaying, her breathing steady. The lake surface was too calm. Too silent.

Her grip tightened on the rapier.

A ripple. Then — eruption.

The beast burst from below, jaws wide open, swallowing her whole in a single movement. The water rose high, glimmering with the reflection of the sun as the creature's full length towered over the forest canopy.

Avin's heart stopped."Oh no... no... not again," he whispered, his voice breaking.

But then — a sound like thunder cracked through the air.

A single, sharp slash — cleaner than any blade Avin had ever seen — rang across the sky. A faint line of light drew across the beast's towering frame, followed by silence. Then, a rain of crimson.

The monster split apart again — this time into countless more fragments than before.

She descended gracefully, her figure falling through the haze of blood and mist, landing upon the lake as if on solid ground. The beast regenerated once more — smaller this time, but no less fierce — launching its body upward for another strike.

She exhaled. Slowly. Calmly.

And then, in a voice so faint that it almost dissolved into the wind, she whispered in a language Avin had only heard once before — the same words Leo had once used in passing when describing the forbidden arts:

"Domine temporis... concede mihi potestatem tuam."O Lord over time, grant me your power and permit me to control that which you own.

The sky darkened instantly. The forest fell silent.

Avin froze as the sunlight dimmed — replaced by a colossal red glow. He lifted his head, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

Above them, where the sun had been, was now the crimson eye — massive, unblinking, pulsing with light that felt alive. It gazed directly down at him, and as before... it smiled.

Avin's breath hitched. "Not again..."

The darkness that once filled the entire world condensed — swirling toward the beast like a vortex. The serpent's form disappeared within the black storm, its outline dissolving into shadow.

Then, in silence —the darkness cleared.

The lake stilled.The air was calm.The beast was gone.

Avin could only stare at the empty expanse of water where it once stood. His sword trembled in his hand, his eyes wide in disbelief.

"What the... just happened?"

To Be Continued

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