Baby Vremya frowned, his little face contorting. He had been reconnected with his godly self, and that would only happen if something untoward had occurred. A flood of information attacked Baby Vremya’s brain, and he glanced up at the ceiling. A sigh escaped from his lips, and he shook his head. Since contact had been made with his godly self, his chance at reaching the peak became zero. Well, he had to restart anyway since he was currently cultivating a fire technique. Baby Vremya concentrated his qi into a ball within his heart, and with a grunt, he detonated the ball, blowing himself up.

“Vremya? What was that sound?” an aged voice asked. The old lady who had adopted Vremya walked into the room he had just occupied. She let out a scream upon seeing the gruesome sight, and she fainted. A passing neighbor heard the commotion and came over, his curiosity getting the better of him. When he saw the mangled corpse and the unconscious lady, his face paled. He looked around, making sure there was no one else there. If he were caught standing in the doorway like this, what would people think? They’d think he was the one who did this! With that thought in mind, he retraced his steps and shut the door, pretending as if he had been home all along.

A while later, the old lady came to. She sat up and stared in a daze at the bed. “What the fuck?” she muttered to herself and rubbed her eyes. “What the fuck happened? Since when do toddlers explode?”

Unfortunately for her, there was no one around to give her a response. Like a zombie, the old lady shambled to her feet and shuffled towards Baby Vremya’s corpse. She swaddled it with the bloody blankets and went outside, putting the bundle down by the side of the house. With a sigh, she turned to her left and walked a few feet, picking up the shovel that was propped up against the wall. She dug a small grave and placed Baby Vremya’s remains inside before covering the hole back up with dirt. There was a big rock nearby that she grabbed and placed on top of the barely noticeable mound, using it as a tombstone. She shook her head and sighed as she headed back inside the house, closing the door behind her.

A few days passed. The old lady put her dirty laundry into a bag and headed towards the river to clean them—the same river she had found Baby Vremya. With a heavy heart, she dunked her apron into the water. It was the same apron she had caught Vremya in. There were two new patches where she had to fix some holes, but other than that, it looked the same as the day she had found him. She scrubbed it a few times before pulling it out of the water, half hoping she’d feel the familiar weight of a baby snagged in the fabric. Unfortunately, there was only the usual resistance. A sigh escaped from the old lady’s mouth, and she picked up her next garment to be washed, a dirty shirt. She plunked it inside the river and scrubbed, but there was an unusual feeling in her palms when she did. Her brow furrowed, and she lifted the shirt. It was heavy! Something was caught inside of it!

The old lady heaved the shirt out of the water, making sure to keep it suspended in the air lest she drop whatever was inside onto the ground. She gently placed the shirt onto the ground and opened it up. A large fish flopped out. The old lady’s mouth twitched, and she picked up her basket. With a thwack, she struck the fish’s head, killing it instantly. She might not have fished up another baby, but she did get dinner. The old lady took a knife out of her pouch and descaled the fish. Then, she cut open its belly and tore its guts out. She tossed them over her shoulder, and with a plop, they landed in the river. However, the plop didn’t sound like it usually did. The old lady furrowed her brow and turned to look at what she had hit with the fish’s guts.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

A baby was standing in the river, his chin barely above the water. On top of the baby’s mostly bald head, there were bits of fish organs. The baby glared at the old lady, and the old lady’s eyes widened. “Vremya!?”

The baby nodded and waddled out of the river before falling face first onto the riverbank. The old lady ran over and picked Baby Vremya up. “Are you really Vremya? What happened to you? Are you going to explode again before you turn three?” The old lady shook her head and clicked her tongue. A normal person wouldn’t be asking a baby these kinds of questions, but Vremya wasn’t a normal baby. If it really was Vremya, then the baby would be able to reply with a single-word answer directly in her head. Instead of receiving a reply, all she got was a blank stare. The old lady scowled and shifted her gaze onto the river, scanning it with her eyes as far as she could see. One day, she’d go up there and figure out who was the one throwing babies down the river, but for now, she had to dry Vremya and get him home.

***

Pravos sat in the dark facing what she thought was the couch Vremya and Karta usually sat on. Luckily, even though it was pitch-black, gods could still view their displays with their divine sense; otherwise, there really would be nothing to do. Unfortunately, even though Pravos could use her personal computer, there wasn’t anything of interest. Not only had the blackhole imprisoned the three gods, it had also cut off their signal to the outside world. Even if she wanted to—which she didn’t—Pravos couldn’t communicate with the evil gods’ alliance, the only gods still willing to talk to Vremya’s crew after the boycott.

“So…,” Karta said, dragging out the word for as long as possible. “How long are things going to be like this?”

“I thought time moved slower in blackholes than outside of blackholes,” Pravos said. “Like, if we’re here for a few minutes, a few decades or more would’ve passed by outside. I reckon we’ll be here for a few days at most.”

Vremya snorted. “I’m the god of time. I might not be able to escape from this blackhole, but I’m more than capable of matching the speed of the interior to the speed of the exterior. Besides, I’ve sped up the dimension in my bellybutton. It’s a lot larger than the smaller fast-time world, and the efficiency isn’t as good, but if I focus, I can make a thousand days go by in there for every one day out here.”

“If that’s the case, we’ll only be here for a year if your avatar reaches the peak on your first try.” Karta nodded despite no one being able to see her head move. “On average, it takes the god of masochism a thousand years for his avatars to successfully reach the peak.”

“What if things don’t work out?” Pravos asked. “What if he fails?”

“It’ll be fine,” Vremya said. “Even if I fail, it’ll only be a year of progress lost at most per try.”

“Didn’t you hear what the god of gravity said?” Pravos asked. “He’s going to kill the god of space! If you fail a thousand times, you’ll be giving him a thousand years to act. Don’t you feel any pressure?”

“Relax.” Vremya exhaled and stretched his legs out, resting his feet onto the coffee table. “Who am I? I’m the god of time. I’ve never failed at a single thing I’ve attempted.”

“Didn’t you lose that bet against me,” Karta asked. “The one where you’d have to call me Master if—”

“Shut up,” Vremya said, cutting the dog off. “That bet is still ongoing. Just you wait; in a year, there’ll be another me, but he’ll be a master of gravity instead of time.”