In theory, temporal magic was simple: by understanding the cyclical nature of cause and effect, and anchoring oneself outside the normal stream of ti, one could delay, accelerate, or even rewind the fabric of reality.
But in practice, the manipulation of ti was anything but simple. Ti was not a river—it was a tapestry, woven with threads of countless lives, choices, and energies. Tugging on a single mont risked unraveling dozens more. A temporal magus needed not only imnse magical control, but also an intuitive grasp of paradox, probability, and resonance. Every spell cast was a gamble against fate itself. A second gained might cost a lifeti elsewhere; a delay in battle could ripple across futures unseen. Only those with an unwavering mind and a soul attuned beyond the present could hope to wield such power without being consud by it.
Ery had beco one of those rare few.
[Temporal Binding]
The mont he cast the spell, the world around him slowed. A falling droplet of water hovered beside his face, frozen in midair. He could feel the stream of reality—the subtle flow of monts—curving around him. He had touched it. Bent it.
His heart pounded. Sweat slid down his brow.
The entire demonstration took place in a prepared, stable environnt, allowing the rest of the group to safely observe how ti itself was manipulated from the outside. They stood in awe as the world twisted and shimred around Ery.
Cheers erupted at his success. Even Supre Magus Karat, who had seen countless feats in his long life, watched Ery’s achievent with silent admiration.
Now, at long last, everything was in place. The preparations were complete.
They had been trapped inside this realm for over two years. Now, on the one hundred thirty-third cycle, they would try again.
But this ti, Ery would not rely observe.
This ti, he was the key.
As the storm outside began to fade, Ery gathered his daughter and the others and pulled them back into his domain—a final mont of quiet before the leap. Together, they stepped out of the cave, eyes filled with quiet determination.
This ti... they might finally escape.
Ery stood at the center of the ritual circle. To his left, Vayarel, firm and focused. To his right, the dark elf Taalro, his wicked grin never fading. Behind them, the darker version of Ery stood in silence, eyes narrowed, observing with unsettling calm.
The preparations were complete. Dozens of layered formation circles etched the ground, glowing with ancient runes. The Supre Magus, now fully recovered, lifted both arms, and fifty golden golems erupted from the summoning rings behind him—each radiating divine force that made the very air quake.
"Let’s do it as we practiced," Vayarel said, glancing at Ery.
"Don’t ss it up," muttered the dark elf.
Their eyes locked—sharp, tense. Even after two years of surviving side by side, not a shred of trust had grown between them.
Sensing the tension, Veyarel stepped between them again. "Focus on getting out first—everything else can wait."
"Agreed," Ery replied with a nod.
With practiced precision, the two once again channeled the power of Khaos. This ti, the synergy was flawless.
Twin pulses of shadow surged from their bodies, coalescing into monstrous forms—twisted specters that echoed the shapes of Chututlu and Daurgothoth. Like smoke given sentience, the entities slithered upward, spiraling into a singular, massive column of black. It erupted into the sky like a spear of doom, parting the clouds and sending thunder crashing in its wake.
The others hardly flinched. They had seen this many tis before.
The ground shook beneath their feet, trees snapped in the distance, and a chorus of howls—beasts, miles away—pierced the heavy air. On the far horizon, storm clouds churned like a brewing apocalypse.
As the group fended off the incoming hordes, the first layer of the scorn realm began to open. All eyes turned to Ery.
This was it—the mont they had prepared for.
Ery drew on the energy of the Elysian Trees, their ancient light infusing him with power. With both hands glowing, he cast the [Temporal Binding] spell, linking it to the rising black pillar.
A fusion of ti and space burst upward—a twisting helix of light and shadow. Everyone stared skyward, holding their breath.
"Did it work?!" Soltz shouted, his voice cracking with desperation.
Heads turned. Then slowly, expressions began to shift.
A crack appeared above—thin at first, then widening.
Smiles broke out across their faces. For the first ti in two years, hope lit their eyes.
"It’s working! It’s really working!"
But just as the rift widened above, the realm beneath them began to tremble—violently.
The ground heaved as if the world itself was rebelling. Mountains groaned. Valleys twisted and rose. Deep fissures carved across the earth, and worse—cracks began to spread across the sky, jagged and glowing like shattered glass under strain.
Massive earthquakes rippled outward, more violent than anything they’d ever witnessed. The land was shifting. Collapsing. Tearing itself apart.
And the beasts?
They didn’t charge this ti.
They scattered.
Their howls were no longer of rage but panic.
Seeing this, Vayarel’s face darkened. "We should stop!!" he shouted, eyes darting across the crumbling landscape. "We’re breaking this realm apart!"
But Talaro growled in reply, his voice a low snarl. "You’re half right, human. The realm is breaking. But if we don’t break through now—we die with it!"
Vayarel hesitated, but then clenched his jaw and nodded. "Everyone! Into the sky! Now!"
Ery followed close behind Vayarel and Talaro, his hands still crackling with temporal energy. Behind him ca Soltz, Kaelyn, Feanor, and Rosin Karat, flying in tight formation, still taking the protection role, battling the wave of flying serpents clawing toward the breach.
Above, the air crackled with unstable energy. They reached the edge of the expanding rift. Their divine senses tingled—their destination was just beyond it.
But the path was blocked.
Just before the breach, an invisible force slamd into them—a barrier. A wall. Thick, unyielding, and coiled with pure dinsional resistance. It wasn’t physical, but it might as well have been.
They were being pushed back.
The realm itself didn’t want to let them go.
"Put everything you’ve got into it!" Vayarel roared, struggling to stay aloft.
Talaro bellowed beside him, wings straining, "It’s too strong!! We can’t break through!!"
Ery could feel it too. The pressure was overwhelming, like a mountain pressing against his soul. Even the combined might of Khaos was being bent and crushed.
It was then that Rosin Karat moved.
The Supre Magus surged forward, eyes glowing like miniature suns. Divine energy erupted from him in waves, burning away the darkness.
His golden robes billowed as his aura swelled, vast and terrible. He gathered every last ounce of his stored strength, drawn in a single mont.
He raised both fists, golden fla curling up his arms like molten chains.
"BREAK!!!" he thundered.
KABOOM!!!
His fists struck the invisible wall.
The impact echoed like a god’s wrath. The sky convulsed. Ripples exploded outward from the strike, tearing across the heavens like shockwaves through water.
And then—
The barrier shattered.
A massive rupture blood in the air above.
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