With a plan in mind—or at least the first fragments of one—I stared at the tentacle before me. It trembled—not from cold, but from fear, it seemed.
The "Sea" around me wasn't behaving much differently; it rippled in uneven spasms, as if something invisible was disturbing it down to its depths. Honestly, I had no idea what could be causing so much fear. I'm not exactly a terrifying figure—at least, not that I'm aware of.
It's true that I've encountered the "Flow" before, but my memories of those meetings are blurry, like distant echoes submerged underwater. I don't remember what we said, or what happened. All I know is that somehow, I always end up back here... and it always recognizes me.
Still, looking at the shrunken tentacle and the "Sea" trembling furiously around it, I was simply stunned. Seriously... my former self—what the hell did you do to the "Flow?" What on earth could I have done to leave Time itself looking this traumatized?
Of course, personally, I didn't mind in the slightest—actually, quite the opposite. I had no clue why it was acting this way toward me, but clearly, this was an opportunity to turn things in my favor, to steer everything in the direction I wanted.
When that thought hit me, I moved my feet—just one step forward. But the "Flow," as if it had just heard a death sentence, flinched back even farther, in a sudden, almost instinctive motion.
Well... I can't say I felt completely comfortable with the situation, but it would be a lie to deny the small surge of pride that came with being feared like this. Alright, my former self—whatever you did back then, I'll admit you made things a lot easier for me. Consider yourself forgiven.
With that thought in mind, and feeling a bit more confident, I kept moving toward the "Flow" Just like before, it pulled its body back, and the "Sea" around us quivered again, as if reacting to my presence.
But the next moment, the tentacle suddenly rose, lifting its body into the air—it was three, no... four times my height. Instinctively, I looked up, trying to find what might be its face. A shiver ran down my spine as a doubt crossed my mind: had my plan failed?
But instead of attacking me, as I'd expected, the opposite happened. The instant my eyes locked on the tip of the tentacle—where I assumed its "face" would be—the "Flow" drew back, almost as if it had been caught off guard.
I blinked, confused by the strange, illogical reaction. Still, it played in my favor. I didn't know why it had tried to stare me down like that, but one thing was clear: no matter how much it tried to hide it, it was still afraid of me.
Then, I spoke my intentions to the "Flow" I had no idea if it could understand my words, but I knew—with a strange certainty—that it could feel intentions.
(Being greedy isn't a good look...) I began, my voice colder than I intended. Apparently, I was still angry: (We brought a substitute. You don't really need my sister, do you? Just take the substitute before I have to act... you don't want that to happen... do you?)
There was no response, not the slightest hint of movement from the "Flow" It just stood there—motionless—with what I assumed was its face slowly turning toward me, as if watching in silence. For a brief moment, the "Sea" around us quaked violently, almost as if the "Flow" itself were considering my words.
When I finished speaking, I stood still before the tentacle, just watching, trying to figure out what it might do next. I wasn't sure if it had fully understood my words—but something in its posture made it clear that it got the message.
Then, it moved. So fast that any mortal eye would have missed it—it looked more like a jump through space, a brief flash, as if it had teleported.
It seized the substitute with perfect precision, and for a fleeting moment before vanishing completely, it turned toward me. That silent, almost inquisitive look was the last thing I saw before it sank back into the depths of the surrounding "Sea".
It all happened so quickly it was hard to grasp. In mere seconds, it was over—no battle, no threats, no resistance. The silence that followed hung heavy in the air, long and uneasy.
Victor was the first to break it, his voice shaky, as if still trying to make sense of what had just happened: "So... that's it? It's over?"
I didn't know what to say, so I let the silence fill the space, scanning the area for any sign, any trace. But nothing. No sound, no vibration—just a strange emptiness. Had the "Flow" really disappeared? It seemed so. At least, as far as I could tell, there was no sign of it coming back.
As those thoughts crossed my mind, Chronas—who had remained silent until then—finally spoke. Her voice, as always, was emotionless, steady, cold: "This reminds me... my sister used to have arguments like this whenever she came to visit"
Hearing Chronas's words, I turned to look at her. Her face remained expressionless, yet it was impossible not to notice—as clearly as daylight—the affection and admiration in her eyes. She was literally radiating love.
Even with my mind clouded by doubts about what she had just said, I couldn't stop the hesitant question that slipped out of my mouth: (Did I... use to fight that tentacle before?)
Chronas watched me in silence for a few seconds before nodding, as if replaying fragments of those events in her mind. Then, her small lips parted, and her soft voice echoed through the air: "Not always... but he started getting annoyed by all your visits. We had a few arguments, and once, he trapped me here so I could never see you again, sister"
Her eyes shimmered for a moment, a mix of admiration and memory glinting in them: "And then... you showed up. You fought him. I remember that after that, he never bothered me again"
I blinked, trying to process what I'd just heard. Victor, who had been quietly listening the whole time, looked just as lost as I was. Our eyes met for a moment—confused, searching for some kind of answer in each other. Then, in a low, cautious tone, he broke the silence: "Sara... do you remember exactly what your sister did that day?"
After Victor's question, Chronas's expression turned slightly pensive. For a few seconds, she remained silent, as if searching her memories for a precise answer. Then she shook her head.
"I don't know" she said with a faint frown: "Sister just took him somewhere else and, when she came back, he... didn't bother me anymore. But..." She paused briefly, her gaze distant: "He seemed terrified of her, every time she showed up after that"
At Chronas's words, Victor blinked, slowly turning his gaze back to me. One eyebrow arched, showing a mix of curiosity and suspicion. His voice was low, but steady: "What exactly did you do?"
Hearing his words, I could only let out a sigh. How was I supposed to know something like that? Besides, if he really messed with my sister, then that's on him—not me. I just reacted. I didn't do anything wrong... at least, that's what I'll keep telling myself until the end.
(Oh, so now it's my fault?) I said with a hint of sarcasm, shooting Victor a look filled with as much disbelief as I could muster. My eyebrows lifted just enough to emphasize the teasing tone while I waited in silence for his response.
Victor made a strange face, clearly unsure what to say. He scratched his head lightly, letting out a small sigh before shrugging: "Well... whatever, I guess" he muttered with a resigned tone: "Though I'll admit, I'm curious. In the end, as long as Sara's okay, I don't really mind"
I nodded at Victor's words — sincere, though tinged with a certain indifference. Then I turned my gaze to Chronas, who was still watching me with that silent look of admiration. I stayed like that for a brief moment before turning back to the "Sea" surrounding us. One way or another, the problem was solved. Now, all that was left was to go home.
***
(POV – Victor Hale)
Victor stayed silent, watching the [Angel of Death] before him. His face remained impassive, but there was a subtle trace of irritation in his expression—as if she were convinced that everything she'd done was perfectly justified. He understood that. He didn't blame her.
Sara mattered to him, and silently, Victor was grateful to the [Angel of Death] for helping her. Still, something about it all confused him: no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't imagine what could possibly make that thing afraid... of anyone.
Even now, with that creature gone, Victor's senses stayed on edge, as if something deep inside him was screaming that the danger was still there.
Every fiber of his body insisted that if he stayed, he would die—that he had to leave, run, vanish from this place as fast as possible. In short, that entity was the most dangerous thing he'd ever encountered.
Of course, even then, it still didn't compare to the [Angel of Death] herself—which was, at the very least, ironic, considering that this being, feared even by time itself, was currently sulking.
At the end of his thoughts, Victor simply shrugged. Deep down, he didn't really care whether "Time" actually feared the [Angel of Death] or not. Maybe it was better that way—if it meant Sara could finally have some peace.
With that indifferent thought lingering, Victor muttered as he stared at the vast "sea" stretching around them: "Since it's all settled, we should probably get out of here. This place is seriously creeping me out" A slight shiver ran down his spine, like a sudden chill crawling upward.
The [Angel of Death], upon hearing Victor's words, slowly turned around. Her gaze swept across the surroundings for a moment before settling on the "Sea" suspended above. Her golden eyes reflected a distant gleam as she nodded silently.
Then, her voice filled the air—calm, melodic, and so serene it seemed to reach the soul: (You're right... I don't really like this place either. I want to go home as soon as possible)
Although Victor found it ironic that an anomaly could consider "home" a metallic facility where she spent most of her time confined, he chose not to comment. From his perspective, there was no denying that the [Angel of Death]'s room felt far more welcoming than this cold, impersonal place.