The world around Alex was silent.
White.
Endless.
There was no sky, no ground, no horizon—only an infinite expanse that felt less like a place and more like an idea forced into shape.
Alex struggled.
His body felt impossibly heavy, as though gravity itself had decided to personally oppress him. His vision swam as he forced his head upward, muscles screaming in protest.
A silhouette stood before him.
Tall.
Still.
Unmoving.
Alex squinted, his eyes burning.
'…I can't even see his face properly.'
His throat was dry as he spoke.
"Who… who are you…?"
The figure's eyes ignited.
Not with light.
But with stillness.
An eternal, suffocating calm that felt like the absence of movement itself.
"I am Chronos."
The voice was loud.
Not because it echoed—but because reality itself carried it.
"I govern time."
"Now tell me… do you know who I am?"
Alex gritted his teeth.
Slowly—painfully—he pushed himself upright.
His knees trembled. His balance wavered. But he stood.
