Nephis stood on the deck, one hand resting on the helm as her gaze drifted across the vast waves of the great river of time.
She said nothing.
The wind blew gently, carrying the faint scent of salt and iron, while the Chain Breaker cut steadily through the currents. Around her, the world seemed to hold its breath.
Only tension lingered in the air.
The weight of the unknown.
Fallen Grace.
Would it be the last stronghold of the great river?
Was anyone still alive there... or had everything succumbed to corruption?
Whatever awaited them... they would find out soon.
Nephis narrowed her eyes slightly.
The great river of time was not truly infinite.
It had an end.
To the west, the river stretched toward a bottomless abyss, as if the waters flowed over nothingness itself. Something impossible... held together only by the will of the Daemon of Terror.
An absurd idea.
And yet... real.
After all, that daemon was an existence comparable to the gods.
Nephis did not know much about them. Information about the daemons was scarce, fragmented... almost nonexistent.
But she knew enough.
The ancient gods had shaped concepts.
The God of Shadows had created death.
Nephis frowned faintly.
A concept.
Death.
Something so ordinary... so inevitable... and yet, something that had not always existed.
That meant there had been a time when nothing died.
In theory, it sounded good.
But... how do you create death?
He was also called the God of Mysteries.
Did that mean he had created mysteries as well?
Nephis shook her head slightly.
It didn't make sense.
Or maybe it did.
Maybe it was just a name.
Maybe he had only created death.
...Was that more logical?
She didn't know.
Her mortal mind could not comprehend such things.
How had the world functioned before death?
She couldn't imagine it.
After all...
they were gods.
And the daemons, their counterparts, must possess similar power. They had waged war against each other, after all.
So, seen from that perspective...
A pyramid defying reason, holding a river over the void...
did make sense.
In a strange way... it was almost amusing.
A faint, crooked smile appeared on Nephis's lips.
After all... that was the path she sought.
If she wanted to destroy the Nightmare Spell...
she had to reach something comparable to those ancient gods.
"Can you take the helm?"
Sunny's voice pulled her from her thoughts.
Nephis turned her head slightly.
"Yes."
She stepped aside calmly and walked toward him, her footsteps soft against the damp wood of the deck. As she approached, the scent of aged wood mixed with something more familiar.
Blood.
The metallic scent that always seemed to follow Sunny.
...And her.
It was fresh.
A result of the skirmish with the shark a few hours ago.
Fortunately, it hadn't been too difficult to kill.
It had only needed to swallow Sunny along with his little demon...
and die from the inside.
Nephis blinked.
...Perhaps it hadn't been that easy.
She placed both hands firmly on the helm, adjusting their course with precision. The currents were treacherous, but with her experience...
They were less than three minutes away.
She looked ahead.
In the distance, Sunny summoned his shadows.
Saint appeared first, imposing and silent. Then the little fiend —the imp— and finally Nightmare, whose presence seemed to devour the light itself.
Sunny was already mounted on the dark steed.
Nephis watched him for a few seconds longer than she should have.
Covered in blood, surrounded by shadows, riding a creature that looked as if it had crawled out of hell itself...
He looked... incredible.
She bit her lower lip lightly and looked away, focusing back on the horizon.
A small habit she had developed recently.
The river, once violent, began to calm.
The raging waves softened into a slow, almost hypnotic rhythm.
Silence deepened.
Minutes passed...
or perhaps hours.
It was impossible to tell in that place.
Until she saw it.
In the distance, a white flame appeared.
A lighthouse.
Its light pierced the dimness like a promise... or a warning.
After months of wandering...
they had reached Fallen Grace.
⸻
Cronos rested a trembling hand on the wooden railing as he gazed at the small bridge leading to the dock.
It was part of his routine.
Every morning.
Sometimes, he found it ironic.
An old man... with the habits of an old man.
He smiled bitterly.
The "young old man."
A contradiction.
But not for someone like him.
He had been born in the river of time.
For Cronos, this place was everything. Stories of the outside world were just that: stories.
Legends.
Here, time was not linear.
The further upstream you went... the younger you became.
Too much... and you would die.
The further downstream... the older you grew.
That was why he was old now.
Even though his soul... remained that of a young man.
That contradiction haunted him.
His mind lacked the wisdom of age.
But his body bore its weight.
He had gone from a youth full of dreams... to someone who saw life with a forced calm.
Was it wisdom...?
Or simply the exhaustion of a body that ached with every movement?
He didn't know.
The cold wind pierced through him as he reached the dock, following his usual path.
The sea moved gently.
Above the city, the protective veil shimmered faintly, covered in ancient runes he could not understand.
Never had.
Just another day.
Boring.
Quiet.
Normal.
Then he saw it.
Far away... a black shape was moving rapidly toward the harbor.
Cronos paled.
It was not time for the fishing boats to return.
His heart began to pound.
A corrupted creature...?
No...
Then why hadn't his lady warned them?
The lighthouse still shone white.
Pure.
That made no sense.
...Could it be?
Had she fallen as well?
The ship drew closer.
Its shape was ghostly. Broken. Unnatural.
Cronos stepped back, fear tightening in his chest.
What kind of horrors were inside that thing...?
And then he saw it.
Behind the ship...
something moved beneath the water.
A colossal shape.
Dark.
Serpentine.
The sea parted before it.
Cronos felt his blood run cold.
He recognized it instantly.
The legend of the Serpent King.
He had heard the stories since childhood.
But never...
never had he expected to see it with his own eyes.
The ship and the creature reached the harbor almost at the same time.
And then—
the serpent changed.
Its colossal body twisted... compressed... broke into impossible shapes.
Until, where once there had been a monster...
there stood a young man.
His skin was pale like porcelain.
His hair black.
His eyes... as dark as the night.