CHAPTER 495
THE CHRONOMANCER
Thick droplets of sweat poured down Amadeel’s forehead as he reoriented squads of soldiers and cultivators repeatedly, staying at the center of the formation, providing the blanket above that prevented the thousand of elemental songs from descending downward. Darkness, no matter how invasive, could not live for a whole second before being extinguished; fire, lighting, elements of light blazed from every corner, the tremor of earth dancing to their tune.
His robes fluttered in the violent wind as he clasped his hands together, closing his eyes. Invisible sphere jolted into existence around him, spreading rapidly as Qi above, be it the independent one or the one assimilated into attacks, came crawling to a halt. Time bent to his Will as a singular eye arose from his back, projected like a screen behind. Wide, the iris shaped like a slit, golden in hue, it stared down at the creation in frigid apathy.
Time, Amadeel found, cannot be conquered -- it can only be asked and pleaded with. If there is evil in the world, perhaps the Time itself is the closest one to it -- indifferent to everything, to everyone. All bend to its will and whim and all pray it spares them. To appease Time, he has to give Time -- for all that he retains, he gives. He'd already given up his emotions, and now, at the brink of breaking down, as the central lines dragged into the conflict of the Mountain Pass began being pushed further inland, he started giving up more -- his memories. First those distant ones, of his first wife, his first child, a time before he became the Cultivator.
The sphere expanded out, retracting faintly before it exploded, rolling upward like a net, streaking throughout the sky and consuming all the bombarding arrays of elements. Next up were the memories of his first Master -- Enduyun. Such a name didn't exist in the memoirs of history; yet, to Amadeel, he was one of the most important figures he had ever known. After all, it was due to Enduyun that Amadeel understood how Time functioned -- that it cannot be treated as other Laws, other Elements.
His eyes opened -- in concert with the one projected above him -- shining in resplendent gold. His aura rapidly washed over the thousands upon thousands of souls down below him, allowing them to see, perceive and process reality much quicker than their opposites -- the swings of the blades slowed, the rapid lightning became a slowly-moving arrow; they managed to stabilize temporarily as Amadeel raced toward the front.
Leading the charge was a group of Aeonian Elders, some of which he recognized and some of which were new faces; they were heavily armored and virtually couldn't be hurt by those standing against them who, at best, could try and slow them down. Amadeel reckoned the eye behind him as it shuddered, Qi bursting at its seams. He shoved his arm downward, palm open, squaring it against the earth. Gold belted out in pillars, shimmering, as Time married the Space for a brief breath.
Just then, the first supporting bombardment from their flanks came, namely from their right, Myveen’s group. As the elements rained down in individual arrays of light, the world in front of Amadeel spun upside down; what was on the earth was now staring down at it from above, and where there was a patch of dirt and destroyed grass, now beheld only empty space, like a reflection of the sky on the lake’s surface.
Surprised and confused, the Aeonian group was charged immediately by the onslaught; more than half of them, nearly a hundred, were immediately turned to paste and ash, the few managing to scrawl out yet wounded beyond reproach, and even fewer managing to defend in time.
Next to go were the memories of his first Sect, his first Brothers and Sisters. He’d outlived them all, many eons over, yet they were what defined his early days. Why he strove to become stronger, why he tried to understand the Time better. In a breath, all of them were gone, leaving an empty void.
Amadeel trounced his other palm against the earth, crying out in the process as a slither of tears began streaking down his reddened cheeks, his bald head bulging.
The world turned mirrored for a moment, left and right equalizing, the stretch of space and time in-between dulled into an invisible sheet. Those in the sky found the exact replicas of themselves on the other side, the picture-perfect representation of the reality around them mirrored to the tiniest detail.
At the center of the stretch, Time and Space came together in a wind, weaved through the spiraling winds. Though calm at first, it turned into a tempest right after, a raging storm that blew outward like a house struck by the lightning. Shards of the Spacetime knew no barrier and no shield; however, they also knew neither the friend nor the foe.
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Amadeel quickly rose to his feet and into the sky as he felt another set of memories being ripped from him -- those of his second wife, Ilma. They’d stayed married for almost an entire Eon, though never having any kids. He was certain that, back then, he’d loved her more than anyone before. After all, he sacrificed all his other emotions besides love to keep her alive for that long with the help of Time. In a breath, she was gone. A void. Emptiness. Cold. So cold.
He extended his right arm, exhaling into his palm, his breath condensing into a rotating, transparent sphere with golden edges. Like a magnet, it drove all of the shards of Spacetime toward him, pulling them away from the marching soldiers down below who charged forward. With the help of the cover fire from the flanks and him restraining the Aeonians, they felt reinvigorated, charging to retake the lost grounds.
The shards pierced into Amadeel, one by one, though no visible wound could be seen. No trail of blood stood anywhere to show others he was hurt. However, inside, he was breaking, barely holding together. Though he was the Master of Time, he hadn’t mastered Time. It saw him exactly as it saw all else -- indifferently.
With the help of pills and talismans, however, he managed to stabilize his body for the time being. Though already having burned through half his Qi, it was no time to stop, withdraw and rest. He glanced toward his left, where he saw Titus engaging in a brilliant, breathtaking battle -- and losing. He could see it. The young lad, so passionate, so jovial. He could see him falling to the blade. Dying.
With bloodshot eyes, he looked away. All who were here right now knew they might not return. These desecrated lands would probably be where they make their last stand. The lad will die, and so will many others. Perhaps even Amadeel himself might not make it to see the dawn of tomorrow. With Time, after all, everything is relative.
He would be lying if he said he felt anything, staring at the carnage. That was the most frightening aspect of his life -- to feel nothing while staring into the eyes of desolation itself. Thousands dying every single breath, the earth turned upside down by arts that ravage it without a barrier, the world itself bleeding at its seams. He wanted to feel something, anything, but to no avail. What Time takes, it never returns.
Taking a deep breath, he raised his legs and sat cross-legged midair, golden shine radiating from his skin like the sun itself. He could hear it. That low voice. The last words. Another memory. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to give it up as well.
Time around Amadeel sped up all of a sudden as he gave those beneath him the wind behind their sails; charge grew stronger within a breath, the line of the battle drawing further and further into the mountain path. It was all temporary, however. They couldn’t win this conflict. They were outnumbered, well beyond the capacity to handle. All they could do was temporarily buy time, wait for Hannah, Lino, Ella, and others to end their conflicts.
Another memory flashed, like a sheet of paper thrown into the burning hearth. One moment there, the other one not.
The day he became the Chronomancer, the day he finally understood the time. He held onto it for as long as possible, the scene of him sitting on a tall cliff overlooking a swath of ocean. The sun in the distance perching above the horizon, casting a brilliant, blazing overlay across the world. The warmth, the tranquility, the peace he felt at that moment. The day he let go of the last emotion he held onto -- love. The moment he gave up being a complete human being. The day he became something between the dead and the alive. Impassioned, indifferent, almost apathetic. He knew that was the end-point. That was his end.
He would become just like Time; unmoved by anything but its own will. No thoughts, no emotions, no memories to bind it to something real. Just an existence that lives beyond everything else. Something tangible, yet too cold to touch.
As though by the will of the force beyond comprehension, tens of thousands of arts were suddenly ripped from the arms of their creators. Fire, water, earth, shadow, light, dark, life, death, winds, time, space, everything began uniformly moving toward him, forming a transcendent orbit with him at the center. Full circles of arts formed, some rounding him horizontally, some vertically, some diagonally. He stood as though he were the beholder of everything, of all matter. Time drew all else toward it, Time that lived in his heart.
He heard another whimper, a low cry of desolation; he could swear, within that immeasurable moment, one that no one could possibly experience but those entwined with Time, he felt something. A tinge. A trace of the emotions long-gone. He tried to hold onto it, but it slipped through his fingers. He cried. Not because his heart couldn't take it anymore, but because that was the only way he could express what he was supposed to be feeling. Overwhelming sadness. Overwhelming grief. Instead, nothing. He was a stone, entirely unaffected.
Extending his right arm, he turned his palm upside down and pointed it toward a swath of charging enemies down below, ones that had just crossed the threshold of the pass.
The arts that had orbited him for a moment shuddered before trailing over themselves, looping back and shooting toward where he pointed. The Mountain pass turned into hell, carnage beyond description. How many? Two hundred thousand. He counted. What for others took less than a single breath to transpire, he experienced through unspeakable eternity. He memorized all their faces, the expressions that didn't even have time to switch from passionate to horrified. Stuck somewhere in-between before melting off. All of the world moved slowly but one part of it -- the swirl of eternal darkness high above them, where the creatures of Chaos fought. Time and Chaos... two existences forever married in the loop of rejection. Win, Amadeel thought, the last trail of his Qi vanishing from his veins as his body began falling. He heard someone calling his name, but couldn’t distinguish. His mind was too slow. Please, Lyonel. Win. Win. Win...