"What... happened to Naomi?"
Ambrose had seen much in his long existence, but this was new even to him. The wound across Naomi's throat flickered in and out of existence, yet she seed unaffected by it. When she saw him, she even managed a faint, strained smile.
She appeared to have lost the ability to speak, so the God of Alchemy explained on her behalf.
"Let summarize the rather dramatic sequence of events. You should rember that, after you put Naomi to sleep, you left her in Alkhemia's tower..."
As he spoke, Catherine couldn't help glancing at Ambrose. The lich usually seed decent enough. Why would he drug a young druid? What had he intended to do?
But she dared not interrupt a god. Quietly, she stayed to the side and listened.
The story itself wasn't too complicated.
Naomi had once been sent to the altar by her own kin to serve as the final sacrifice in Gary Watts' ascension ritual.
The druids who had raised her from childhood had done so solely to offer her up one day. From the mont she was born, everyone around her had been nurturing her for the sake of killing her. When she discovered the truth, she collapsed emotionally..
Ambrose's sleep spell had rely given her a brief reprieve. When she awoke, she found herself exiled into the void along with Alkhemia proper.
The ruined city was littered with corpses: citizens who had failed to flee, paladins left behind by the Lyon Empire, and restless undead that still wandered.
By then, Naomi was numb. She no longer seed able to cry. She wandered aimlessly until she arrived at the location foretold in the prophecy, the Hall of Wisdom, known as the sacred heart of Alkhemia.
Every major decision had been discussed and set into motion within that hall.
As if guided by fate, Naomi found, among the scattered archives, the records concerning herself.
She saw the order personally signed by the Chairman of the Alchemists' Council, the directive that had set the cruel plan into motion.
Pain beset her once more. She lost all will to live. She took her own life in the Hall of Wisdom.
"She slit her own throat," the God of Alchemy said softly. "At that mont, she truly had no desire to go on. There wasn't a trace of hesitation."
"Then what changed?" Ambrose asked.
The god sighed. "Gary Watts appeared afterward. When he saw her body, he cast Wish in an attempt to resurrect her."
At this, Naomi's face finally showed emotion—pure, unmasked hatred.
"Wish would, under ordinary circumstances, allow for a perfect resurrection. But, as you know, that would require enormous material and energetic costs. Alkhemia had already expended vast resources to cast Wish once for you. What remained was insufficient for complete resurrection. Instead, Gary Watts attempted a shortcut. He tried to rewind Naomi's ti by a few minutes, to before she killed herself."
Ambrose frowned. "Did he think rewinding ti was so ordinary temporal spell? Has he lost his mind?"
Ti Stop was a spell that could be cast from a scroll. But reversing it—even by a single second—was the territory of the divine.
The God of Alchemy shook his head. "No. He wasn't mad. In the void, space and ti are chaotic. Rewinding ti there requires far less energy than in the material plane. His calculations were correct in that regard. But he failed to account for how the void itself distorts ti.
"It was likely his first ti there. The gods chose to exile him there precisely because its spaceti is so unstable. None but gods can enter, and none can leave. How could a temporal spell cast there remain unaffected by such distortion?"
The result stood before them. "And thus, this happened. The state of her body a few minutes before death and the state after death have been superimposed. She exists on two different tilines simultaneously. To be honest, even I've never seen such a case."
After hearing this, Ambrose remained silent. It was Catherine who spoke first. "What a poor child..."
Unlike Ambrose, who had long shed much of his humanity, Catherine felt her eyes sting with tears. What kind of world raised a girl only to sacrifice her? How could anyone be so cruel?
Ambrose, however, was already thinking ahead. The God of Alchemy had brought Naomi here for a reason.
A druid in temporal superposition... No. Surely not.
As if reading his thoughts, the god laughed. "You've guessed it, haven't you? As expected of my most brilliant student. Yes. Since she is in a state of temporal overlap, the power of ti remains within her. If she can master that power and rge it with her druidic command of nature... she may be able to transform into a ti dragon."
A ti dragon... Exactly as Ambrose had feared.
Dragons were innately powerful. Though not every dragon could reach the realm of a legend, their chances were far higher than for most races.
But three kinds of dragons were considered legends from birth, and ti dragons were one such.
True masters of ti, they were exceedingly rare and exceedingly powerful.
Spells that even human archmages struggled to cast, like Ti Stop and Haste, were as natural to them as breathing. With sufficient mastery, they could even be adopted as passive skills that were triggered indefinitely.
One could not judge a ti dragon's strength by appearance or age; they were embodints of ti itself. Killing one was nearly impossible.
And reversing ti was one of their inherent abilities.
Many gods could not rival that gift alone.
But a druid transforming into a ti dragon? Under normal circumstances, that would be a pure fantasy.
Druids could transform into beasts, dragons included, in theory. But taking on a draconic form did not grant full access to their racial powers. At most, a druid would gain their flight and breath. Many innate dragon spells remained inaccessible. Even transforming into an ordinary dragon had limits. A ti dragon? At best, one might mimic the scales' color. Commanding ti itself would be a dream.
If not for that restriction, druids would be the most powerful class in existence.
But Naomi was no longer ordinary. She already possessed power over ti. She simply could not control it. If she learned to master that force—and to assu a draconic form—she might truly be able to mimic the abilities of a ti dragon.
Even partial replication would suffice for Ambrose's purposes.
"Master, this idea is outrageous," Ambrose said flatly. "Even if the theory works, how long would it take her to control that power? And then to learn how to transform into a dragon? She's barely a novice druid."
Naomi was too young. Her understanding of nature was shallow. Turning into a black panther was already her limit. Without decades of training, a dragon form was impossible.
And Ambrose couldn't cheat using his extradinsional space. The unstable temporal energy within her would clash with its ti dilation. It might even destroy the space entirely.
This plan was wildly impractical.
But the God of Alchemy suddenly pointed at Catherine. "Ordinarily, yes, it would take too long. But you, my student, might as well be the chosen of the Goddess of Fate. The Elven Queen by your side can solve that problem."
Catherine blinked in confusion. What did this have to do with her?
Ambrose reacted instantly. "You once ntioned the Dragon Tyrant left behind a divine artifact capable of reversing ti."
Catherine's eyes widened. "Honored God of Alchemy, you an that artifact can help her master temporal power? Help her beco a ti dragon?"
The god nodded. "I believe so. After all, the Dragon Tyrant himself was a ti dragon."
Ambrose frowned. "Ti dragons are born legends. They're typically neutral. How could one have beco a tyrant? That contradicts their nature."
"Most are," the god admitted. "But every race has exceptions. The humans of Lyon worship the Lord of Dawn, yet there are cruel human lords across the continent. And rember, most alchemists of Alkhemia were human as well. Their morality differed little from that dragon."
The God of Alchemy despised those who abandoned their humanity in pursuit of experintation. No matter their contributions, he would rather lose divine power than tolerate them.
Yet in truth, he had been too rciful. His hesitation in hoping they might reform had led to catastrophe.
Just as the elven gods once refused to save the elves to teach them a lesson, he had destroyed Alkhemia hoping that they would reflect on their actions. But he lacked the strength of the elven gods. The city's destruction had gravely weakened him, as well.
Catherine brightened upon realizing she could help, but then quickly glanced at Naomi. The young woman was like a puppet manipulated by divine will. Did she even want to help? Did she even have a choice?
But before Catherine could dwell on the thought, Ambrose turned to Naomi. "You've heard my master. What do you think? Will you help ?"
Catherine looked at him anew. A lich without humanity... yet he had asked for Naomi's opinion.
Naomi could not speak. But she nodded firmly. She took out a sheet of paper and wrote swiftly, "You've saved many tis over. Though no one else cared whether I lived or died, you did. If you hadn't put to sleep that day, I might already have gone mad. So I'm willing to do anything for you."
Ambrose read the note and smiled. "In that case," he said gently, "would you like to beco my contracted companion?"
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