Chapter 392 The City That Stopped Beating
The sky above the ruins of Ghel-Arkoth—an ancient machine city buried by time—was rust-colored, resembling blood that had long since congealed on its surface. Pillars of smoke rose from the cracks in the earth, and giant, rusted gears hung from the ceiling of the ancient cave once known as Architecture of the Under Ages. This place was the heart of mechanical magic technology from the ancient world, but now only the sounds of creaking and empty steam remained. Each abandoned temple seemed to whisper in the silence, narrating the rise and fall that filled their timelines.
Rui stepped slowly, iron dust clinging to her soles, emphasizing the helplessness in a place that was once bustling with activity. In his left hand, the Spiral relic still pulsed weakly, feeling like a heartbeat guiding him. Yet, in the suffocating quiet, he sensed a deeper rhythm, as if each of his steps were a gear in a colossal machine that had lost its way. Feeling that restlessness, he knew there was more than just that moving within him.
Qayin was awakening.
"You approach the place where I was forgotten," the voice growled, "You know what it means." In her heart, Rui felt it; the tug between the past and the future, a reminder that yesterday and tomorrow depended on her choices in the present moment, as if she was the bridge between two conflicting eras.
Rui did not reply. She simply continued to walk along the cracked steel pathway, passing the skeletal remains of half-collapsed buildings that once transported magic through cylindrical channels and golden pipes. Every second felt like a bullet flying by, turning the wheel of time that brought him to the brink of decision. Would he step into the history that devoured him, or turn back, leaving behind the shadows of the past that constantly haunted his steps?
The walls of this city were adorned with carvings shaped like cylinders and tiered circles, symbols of an ancient era when humanity tried to conquer time not with prayers, but with logic and gears. On one of the layers of the main pillar, Rui saw a carving that took the form of a human face—transforming into a clock, then into ashes, creating a narrative about the unavoidable cycle of time. That face recorded longing and fear, a reminder that time is both a prison and a liberator. Beneath it, an inscription in ancient letters read:
"Those who create time will be consumed by time."
"This place knows you," Rui whispered to the voice within her, feeling a vibration that touched her soul. "Or perhaps... this place knows me. It seems as if every corner of the city absorbs its essence, weaving a fate intertwined with the threads of time, connecting it to all the possibilities that exist."
"This city was built by hands that defy fate. They forged their own paths, just like you," she said, her voice echoing like the clash of gears colliding within a machine. It was clear that this place was an endless labyrinth of hope and regret.
"And they were destroyed," she replied, her heart racing, spinning amidst a vision laden with sorrow. Inside him, regret surged like waves upon the shore, crashing against the fragile rocks of hope.
"Not by me. But by unfinished choices," the voice added, a hint of anger lacing its grip on the darkness. Each word pierced Rui's soul, compelling him to reflect once more.