"Temporal Displacement Shot!"
The words weren't shouted—they were whispered like a divine invocation.
And the world responded.
The moment Damien activated the only skill of his soul weapon, Epoch Breaker, the atmosphere shifted.
Reality twisted.
The sky dimmed. The horizon bent unnaturally, as if the very concept of time had been pulled taut like a stretched string on the verge of snapping.
Behind Damien, a phantom clock emerged from thin air—colossal, ancient, and shrouded in otherworldly mist.
But there was something deeply unsettling about it.
Its needles spun backward.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Each movement of the hand echoed like a chisel striking the wall of fate.
The backward spinning was not chaotic—it was calculated. Like it was scanning the river of time itself, seeking one perfect moment.
A single, decisive instant that would change everything.
Damien's expression was grim.
His brows furrowed.
His hand trembled as he gripped Epoch Breaker.
