CHAPTER 62 – THE CHRONO CITADEL
The morning sky over San Juan shimmered like liquid glass, refracting the light of dawn into streams of gold and violet. The city stood at peace again, though whispers of the battle between Moro, Kiro, and the Wolf Hunter still rippled through the streets like ghostly echoes. The air held a strange charge—as though time itself was waiting to see what would happen next.
High above the city, at the heart of the mountain that loomed like a guardian over San Juan, rose the Chrono Citadel—the sacred stronghold of Revo, the Prime Orthodox of Time. Built from stones said to have been carved from the remains of fallen stars, the citadel gleamed with celestial brilliance. Enormous gears rotated slowly on its walls, ancient clockwork machinery that pulsed with the rhythm of eternity.
Now, the warriors gathered.
Moro walked in front, his cloak torn but his eyes sharp and curious. Behind him was Kaya, silent and steady as always, her eyes scanning everything with instinctive caution. Herbet, the strategist, followed with a small device recording the citadel's pulse frequencies—he couldn't resist analyzing such a place. Kiro came next, hands in his pockets, grinning with that fearless energy that never faded. And at the back, walking with measured pace, was the Wolf Hunter, bound no longer but still under Revo's watch. His silver eyes darted between the walls like a predator confined in a temple.
The moment they stepped through the gate, the city below erupted in cheers.
"Glory to Revo!" the people cried. "The Keeper of Time! The Sage of Eternity!"
Golden petals rained from above. Mechanical doves made of silver and glass fluttered overhead, each carrying symbols of infinite clocks on their wings. Monks of the Temporal Order bowed as the warriors passed, chanting in an ancient language lost to all but the Orthodox.
Moro's eyes widened. "This… is the heart of San Juan?"
"Yes," Kaya murmured. "And the center of the world's time flow."
Kiro smirked, glancing at the massive statues lining the pathway—each depicting a warrior who had once stood beside Revo in battle. "I forgot how dramatic Revo can be," he said, half-joking.
Moro turned to him sharply. "You know him?"
Kiro chuckled. "Heh. You could say that."
As they climbed the golden stairs, they were met by the Guards of Continuum, armored sentinels with clock hands embedded into their helmets. When they bowed, the entire hall glowed softly—their synchronization a sign of respect.
Finally, the great doors of the citadel opened.
Inside was a vast, circular hall where time itself seemed to breathe. The ceiling shimmered with constellations, but they moved—living stars tracing the flow of time. In the center sat Revo, on a throne that hovered inches above the ground. Around him, streams of light and fragments of clocks floated like celestial dust.
Kiro grinned and raised a hand casually. "Still sitting on your floating chair, old man?"
Revo turned—and smiled. "Still reckless as ever, Kiro."
They met in a brief, firm embrace, surprising everyone. Even the Wolf Hunter blinked, confused.
"You two know each other?" Moro asked.
Revo chuckled. "More than you'd imagine. Kiro was once my student… and one of my greatest headaches."
Kiro smirked. "Taught me well though. I still remember your rule number one: 'Control time, or time controls you.'"
Revo's glowing eyes softened with nostalgia before shifting toward Moro. His expression grew more focused—almost reverent.
"So," Revo said, rising from his throne, the ground rippling slightly under his steps. "You are Moro, son of JJ."
The hall fell silent.
Moro blinked. "You… knew my father?"
"Knew him?" Revo's tone deepened with respect. "JJ was the man who once saved San Juan from collapse. When the Chrono Veins ruptured decades ago, it was he who stabilized the flow of time. Without him, none of this"—he gestured around the glowing citadel—"would exist."
Moro's chest tightened. He had heard stories of his father's courage but never from someone who had been there.
"Your father," Revo continued, "was not just a warrior. He was a Chrono Guardian—one of the last protectors of temporal balance. You have his energy, his resolve. But you're still learning to control your fusion power, aren't you?"
Moro nodded silently.
Revo smiled faintly. "Then perhaps fate has brought you here not for war—but for awakening."
He raised his hand, and the walls of the citadel shimmered. Symbols lit up across the floor—circles, runes, and rotating gears forming an enormous emblem that pulsed like a heartbeat.
"This…" Revo said, his voice echoing through the chamber, "is the Festival of Champions."
Kiro's grin faded into awe. Even he hadn't expected that.
"The what?" Herbet asked, already recording.
"A tradition older than the citadel itself," Revo explained. "Every century, when the balance of timelines begins to waver, warriors from across the realms gather here to fight. Not for power—but for harmony. The strongest among them becomes the Temporal Vanguard, the one who keeps the flow of time aligned."
He looked at each of them in turn. "This year, the festival will decide the fate of every realm touched by the Chrono Veins."
The Wolf Hunter crossed his arms. "So… you brought us here to fight each other?"
Revo smiled, but there was gravity in his tone. "Not just each other. The Chrono Rift has awakened anomalies—echoes of lost warriors from broken timelines. You will face them first. If you survive… then you'll fight the champions of other cities—Erebus, Kronis, Arcadia, and Veyr."
Moro stepped forward, fists clenched. "So this is no ordinary tournament."
"No," Revo said. "It's a trial of existence itself."
A rumble rolled through the citadel. The lights dimmed slightly, and time slowed for an instant as though the building itself was aware of what was being spoken.
Revo's eyes glowed brighter. "The winner will inherit the Chrono Sigil—a mark that allows one to rewrite fragments of destiny. But be warned…" He raised his hand, and an image of a massive dark figure appeared in the air, surrounded by torn timelines and chaos.
"This festival attracts not only warriors—but entities that defy time itself."
Moro stared at the image. His pulse quickened. "What is that?"
Revo's expression darkened. "That… is the Anachron Lord. A being from beyond all recorded timelines. It has begun feeding on collapsing realities. The festival may be our last chance to stop it from consuming everything."
Silence filled the citadel. Even Kiro's usual grin was gone.
Revo took a deep breath and turned back toward them. "Prepare yourselves. In three days, the Festival of Champions begins. Train, rest, and decide who you want to be when the timelines converge."
He glanced at Moro one last time. "And you, son of JJ… your father's legacy will be tested. Don't let history repeat itself."
Moro lowered his head slightly, determination burning in his eyes.
"I won't."
Outside, the bells of San Juan tolled in unison—twelve times, marking the countdown to the grand event.
The world stood on the edge of chaos, and once again, destiny began to stir.
TO BE CONTINUED...
—CHAPTER 62: THE CHRONO CITADEL