Victor kept his eyes fixed ahead, carefully watching the "Flow" surrounding him. He tried to find words to describe it, but none seemed enough. Beautiful was the closest he could get — and even then, the word felt small compared to the grandeur of what he saw.
The beauty of the "Flow" was almost hypnotic, almost sacred... Yet, as breathtaking as it was, Victor could feel the danger lurking behind that vision. He knew—as clearly as he breathed—that this was not meant for human eyes.
As stunning as it was, Victor felt in every fiber of his body that it was also deadly. His instincts—the same ones that had kept him alive all these years on the job—had been screaming warnings the moment he stepped in.
Never let go of the anomaly beside you. Never separate from it. And above all... never touch the "Flow" No matter how beautiful or alluring it seemed.
Victor decided, as always, to trust his instincts. His hand gripped his sister Sara's a little tighter, offering the smallest comfort he could convey.
He took a deep breath, trying to regain focus—for a fleeting moment, his mind almost drifted toward strange, subtle desires whispered by the surrounding flow.
The place was undeniably beautiful—that Victor could not deny. But deep down, he knew that beauty was just a mask, a disguise for something no human should behold for too long.
Even without fully understanding what the "Flow of Time" truly was, Victor could sense that, at its purest core, it was nothing more than time itself in its raw, living form.
As a mere human, he knew he could do nothing but watch—and even observing something so vast and unfathomable already felt daring.
Yet, if at any moment he sensed things slipping out of control, he would intervene without hesitation, even at the cost of his own life. He had failed to protect his sister once before... and vowed never to make that mistake again.
Now, having apparently reached the "Flow of Time" Victor found himself genuinely curious about what they should do next. As he carefully scanned the surroundings, his eyes fell on the substitute—a being created from one of the Virtues.
She was there too, slightly ahead of him, floating serenely in the center of the space, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a gentle, almost human rhythm. Her appearance was strikingly identical to Sara, his sister, when she still had a human form—the same delicate face, the same gentle features.
Victor stayed silent, alert, waiting for something—anything—to happen. And it didn't take long. It started with a premonition. First, a shiver ran down his spine; the hair on his arms stood on end instinctively.
An unsettling sensation washed over him, as if he were being watched... or rather, as if something was observing him from a place his eyes couldn't reach.
No matter how much he looked around, no matter how hard he tried to peer into the space—there was nothing but the [Angel of Death], his sister... and the substitute they had created from her.
And yet, Victor could feel it clearly—there was something there. It wasn't just a vague feeling or paranoia; he knew they weren't alone. Something was really there with them, present, watching.
As this thought crossed his mind, Victor noticed movement. The "Flow" above them seemed to stir—subtly, almost imperceptibly at first.
After all, the "Flow" had never stopped moving since they arrived, undulating like a luminous ocean in constant flux. Yet Victor noticed something: amidst the currents, something was moving against the flow, swimming in the opposite direction, as if defying the very nature of the place.
Victor watched the strange motion in front of him with absolute focus. Something inside him—instinctive, primal—screamed in pure desperation. Danger. The word echoed in his mind like a distant bell, over and over.
If he spoke, he'd die. If he breathed, he'd die. If he thought, he'd die. If he dared look away... he'd die. Every fiber of his body begged to run, but Victor couldn't.
His eyes were trapped—not by will, but as if an invisible, subtle, irresistible force compelled him to keep staring at the Flow. It was oppressive, suffocating, and yet... hypnotic.
Victor blinked, breaking the trance that held him fixed on the Flow. His sister's voice echoed beside him—low, cold, distant—but carried a strange power that pulled him back to reality: "You've finally arrived" she said. Her tone offering no comfort whatsoever.
Seconds after Sara spoke, something moved. Not a being. Not a recognizable creature. It was... different. Strange. Unfathomable. The Flow of Time, as if it had a will of its own, formed something resembling a tentacle, undulating and stretching slowly toward Victor, Sara, and the [Angel of Death].
It advanced until it was just inches away, motionless, as if studying every breath, every movement. It was impossible to tell if it thought, felt, or simply existed. Yet its presence carried a silent, suffocating threat that made the air around them vibrate with tension.
Victor swallowed hard, feeling the pure danger of the Flow pressing on his instincts. For a moment, everything seemed frozen—except the tentacle, which kept advancing, hypnotic and lethal.
The "Tentacle" made from the Flow around them started moving in a strange way. It turned gently, sweeping through every gap as if it were curiously exploring the surroundings—neither too fast to be frightening nor so slow that it lost its rhythm.
Victor stayed silent, watching each ripple of the tentacle, every sinuous motion that wrapped around them. Finally, the flow stopped and settled carefully on the stand-in they had prepared for Sara.
Seconds dragged as the tentacle slowly rotated around the dummy. For a brief moment Victor felt a sliver of hope: maybe the plan had worked, maybe—whatever that living mass was—the tentacle had accepted the substitute.
But the relief didn't last. As if sensing something wrong, the tentacle shivered and, in a quick, silent motion, pulled away from the dummy and turned straight toward Sara, who was standing beside Victor.
In that instant Victor's instincts screamed again: danger. But unlike before, it wasn't him who was at risk. It was Sara. Victor squeezed her hand hard, his fingers nearly digging into his sister's skin, while his mind raced a thousand miles an hour.
What can I do? How can I help her? — questions without answers, suffocating him. Deep down he already knew: it was impossible. He was only human. A simple human. How could he stand up to something like this? And in that moment of despair a voice echoed beside him.
It didn't come from the environment; it had no external origin. The voice entered his mind directly, cutting through his thoughts like a razor blade. The tone was unmistakably furious—laden with hatred and threat. A cold chill ran down Victor's spine, raising every hair on his body, and an overwhelming sense of vulnerability took hold.
(Hey, you stupid thing!) the voice sounded inside Victor's head, cold and cutting like an ice blade, completely void of feeling. Each word seemed to reverberate in his skull, making the nape of his neck prickle: (I've been holding back because of my sister... but you're crossing the line)
Victor turned his gaze slowly—or tried to. His head moved slower than he wanted, as if weighed down by an invisible force. There was something beside him, something that radiated danger from every fiber of its being.
For a moment even his keenest instincts failed; they froze, unable to make sense of what stood at his side. When he finally managed to move his eyes, what he saw made him swallow hard. Before him stood the [Angel of Death].
(You really think you can ignore me?) murmured the [Angel of Death], her voice slicing through the air like a frozen blade. Her tone was cold — completely stripped of emotion — a chilling contrast to the weight of her words: (As if I weren't even here?)
She stepped forward, and the world around her seemed to drain of color, as if even the light itself was too afraid to draw near: (You actually think I'll let you lay a finger on my sister?) she went on, the aura around her pulsing with a dark, heavy rhythm: (Go on...) a faint smile curled her lips — cruel, lifeless: (... and I'll make you regret ever becoming self-aware)
The same figure that usually wore an expression of indifference, calm and impassivity now radiated a silent fury that seemed to eat away at the air around it. Every line of its face overflowed with rage, making it impossible not to feel the crushing weight of its presence.
***
(POV — Protagonist)
When something like a tentacle suddenly rose up out of the "Sea" that surrounded us, I just watched in silence. Oddly, I felt nothing as I stared at it.
The first time my eyes fixed on that undulating shape, something clicked in my mind, sharp and clear: "Ah... that's the Flow of Time" It was a simple, almost trivial thought that I dismissed right away.
I assumed our plan would work—failure wasn't an option. After all, the flow of time itself didn't think; it wasn't sentient. It was instinctive, reflexive... and that was it. When it approached the substitute we'd made for Sara, I felt both relief and tension.
The stand-in radiated the "Energy" of Chronas's authority, a presence that, at that moment, Chronas was keeping carefully contained within herself. The Flow of Time didn't need to understand or question; it simply reacted to energy, to the force that emanated from the substitute, seeing in the dummy what the real Chronas hid.
It was almost certain it knew the real Chronas was there. Impossible, even, that it didn't. But the truth was cruel: it didn't care about Chronas as a person—it cared about the authority her very essence exuded.
Still, something changed when the flow twisted in a sharply defined motion, rejecting the substitute we'd prepared. It paused, seemed to take measure, and then the flow turned completely toward Chronas.
That's when everything became clear to me: it didn't only want her authority, not just the image she projected—it wanted her back, in flesh and soul.
It already had the substitute, yet it was greedy, always wanting more. More and more. It coveted the infinitude that flowed from Chronas, scornful of the insignificant drop that leaked from the dummy. Realizing that filled me with a terrible rage that ran through my veins.
It wouldn't do that. I wouldn't let it. A sudden chill ran down my spine, and for a moment my own fury frightened me. It was irrational, savage... but necessary. Because in that instant one thing was clear: I would show that creature what happens when someone dares to mess with my family.