When a grand magus dies, their legacy rarely ends with the fading of their soul. Their bodies, though empty, can still hold fragnts of their power—an aperture, the pocket of reality they carved with their will. Such domains might linger for years, slowly collapsing, sotis even decades if untouched.
But in Kronos’ case, there was nothing left. Both his body and his soul had been utterly annihilated. What remained was only the raw aperture itself, trembling on the brink of collapse.
For the past several days, Ery had been forcing his own spirit energy into it, like a man plugging cracks in a dam, sustaining it against collapse. He knew such preservation couldn’t last forever. Today, with determination, he decided it was ti.
He summoned the lump of energy into open space outside his domain. Like a dying star reigniting, it swelled and drew in the air around it until the lump burst outward into a vast cloud of swirling vapor. Veins of pale light streaked through it, then hardened into arcs of luminous gold.
Ery stepped forward. He extended his hand and focused his divine sense, letting it sink into the barrier like a blade of thought. His spirit energy pressed harder. "Open."
Ripples spread across the smoke. The aperture shivered violently, golden light scattering like sparks, before settling back into stubborn silence.
He expected no less. Every aperture carried the mark of its master’s soul, and without the rightful owner’s signature, entry was always denied.
Through his readings, the aperture’s nature had been confird. It was light-based, one single cosmos aperture. As Morgana had reported, Kronos’ second cosmos had not been cultivated naturally—it was forcibly bound to him through that ominous hourglass artifact. Its defenses were no stronger than Mo Yan’s, the spirit master Ery had already bested.
With his divine sense sharpened, his spirit-devouring technique honed, and fragnts of temporal law in his grasp, Ery felt confident he could breach it. But unlike the hunchback slavemaster’s aperture, this ti, he would not rely on brute force.
This ti, he had help.
"Senior... whenever you’re ready," Ery murmured into the void.
A soft hum answered him—not with words, but with presence. As Ery unfolded his domain, the air rippled, and a translucent figure slipped free. It was Veyarel, the spatial grand magus.
For days the grand magus had lingered at Ery’s side, recovering what little strength remained and assisting in scouting the beast’s cavernous belly. He already knew Ery’s plan to attempt opening a grand magus aperture, and despite his weakened state, he had been eager to lend his hand
The grand magus had been renowned not just as a spatial master but also as an expert at unraveling seals and barriers. His pale eyes studied the swirling currents of energy that guarded the aperture. He watched in silence for several long seconds before exhaling a wistful sigh.
"This is not too difficult, actually," he murmured. "If only I still possessed my body..." Breaking this would take minutes.
The reminder cut. His body and aperture had been destroyed in the fight, leaving him with only one-third of his forr strength. Yet his comprehension of spatial law remained undiminished, and with it, the techniques he had perfected across centuries.
"Watch... and learn."
He began weaving incantation runes, fingers moving in patterns Ery had never seen. The runes shimred with delicate lines of light, spiraling inwards, probing the aperture’s surface.
"I na this... Runelock Threading," he said softly, more a teacher than a warrior now.
Unlike Ery’s Spirit Devour, which tore at barriers with raw hunger, this thod was subtle, almost surgical. It did not attempt to crush the aperture’s defenses head-on. Instead, it searched for the smallest fractures in the runic lattice, threading itself into the gaps, teasing the structure apart from within.
Veyarel intentionally perford the technique slowly and repeatedly, clearly aiming to teach Ery the finer points of his art.Each deliberate movent carried hidden depth, and the more Ery observed and practiced, the more he found himself impressed by the grand magus’ mastery.
After nearly an hour, a faint crack finally appeared in the fabric of the domain. Yet with Veyarel’s weakened state, the opening was unstable. To prevent it from collapsing, Ery stepped in—activating his Spirit Devour technique to stabilize the breach and hold it open.
"Good," Veyarel said. "Now, the best way to infiltrate soone’s aperture is in soul form. Less resistance."
At once, Ery’s darker self was sent to follow Veyarel through the aperture, while his brighter self remained behind to guard the entrance and maintain his divine sense.
Inside, the two souls—Veyarel and dark Ery—descended through a thick layer of clouds until the domain revealed itself. It was not imnse, spanning only about ten miles across—slightly larger than the domains of most one cosmos experts.
Yet instead of land or forest, it was sky. A great expanse of clouds, and in its midst floated a majestic flying island. Upon that island rose a gleaming citadel of gold and marble, its spires piercing the heavens. The palace radiated brilliance, like a second sun.
The sight stirred sothing primal in the dark Ery. His eyes glimred with greed, and without thinking, he surged forward to claim what lay ahead.
"WAIT!" Veyarel’s voice thundered.
Startled, the dark Ery halted mid-flight. Only then did he notice the faint shimr encircling the floating island—a lattice of power woven seamlessly into the air. It was not a simple boundary but a restriction array, carefully designed to trap and retaliate.
"If you set foot on it... our infiltration will be exposed to the lingering will. In many cases... such traps trigger the self-destruction of the domain itself."
The dark Ery drew a long breath, realizing how close he had co to ruining everything with a single reckless step. "Thank you, senior. I was careless," he said, lowering his head with rare humility.
Vayarel once again stepped forward and unleashed his [Runelock Threading] technique, tearing through the barriers while Ery watched with intense focus. It took nearly another hour before they finally broke through and found themselves standing in a massive grand courtyard.
The courtyard was lined with towering statues of Kronos himself—so depicted him as a mighty, regal figure, while others were far more disturbing, showing grotesque scenes of him devouring his own sons and daughters.
"There is sothing wrong with his head..." Ery muttered.
Beyond the courtyard stood the gate of the main building. Here, yet another formation had been laid—no, not just one, but a third and fourth layer. These were designed so that only Kronos himself could pass through; not even his kin would be allowed entry. It was a testant to how paranoid and cunning Kronos truly was.
Yet, Vayarel dismantled them one by one with apparent ease.
"Señor, I am impressed," Ery said sincerely.
As he worked, Vayarel shared a story. He spoke of a young magus who had once been infamous throughout the Golden City as an uncatchable thief. His rare spatial abilities had allowed him to slip through even the grasp of the city’s grand magus enforcers. That was until he t his teacher—Rosin Karat. Under the Supre Magus’s guidance, the thief abandoned his old path and turned his gifts toward a higher purpose.
Ery listened carefully. He felt there was a hidden aning in the tale, but his thoughts were soon broken by the final shattering of the last formation.
Together, they stepped into the main vault.
Ery froze in astonishnt. Before him stretched an endless display of Kronos’s wealth: mountains of spirit stones, stacks of high-grade materials, gleaming precious artifacts, and treasures beyond count.
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