Chapter 72: Shattering Screens
The black ruins of the First Temple did not look like a holy place. It looked like a graveyard for giants. Kairos walked slowly through the tall, shattered pillars. The gray dirt of the Ashlands did not blow inside the temple walls. The wind completely stopped at a certain point, repelled by an invisible barrier. The air inside the ruins was rigid and heavy. It felt like walking at the bottom of a deep ocean. Every single step Kairos took required intense effort. His travel boots dragged loudly across the smooth obsidian floor.
Librarian Jovian walked easily beside him, unaffected by the crushing pressure. The old immortal kept his hands tucked into his faded gray robes. The cursed book, Fallen, levitated near his shoulder, its dark chains rattling against the oppressive holy aura of the ruins.
"This place was built before humanity learned how to write," Jovian said, his raspy voice echoing loudly in the silence. "The Primordial Monarchs stood where you are standing now. They looked at the chaotic, burning world, and they decided to rewrite the rules of existence. They created the Primordial Laws here."
Kairos stopped walking. He wiped a layer of cold sweat from his forehead. He was breathing vehemently, his chest heaving just from the effort of standing up straight.
"The pressure is insane," Kairos panted, resting his hand on his knees. "My base Strength is 88, but my bones feel like they are cracking."
"Your base stats mean nothing here," Jovian replied coldly. "Those numbers are a mortal illusion. They are training wheels for a child."
Jovian pointed a gnarled finger toward the center of the ruined temple. Sitting in the middle of the open courtyard, illuminated by a pale shaft of sunlight cutting through the bruised sky, was a simple, flat slab of polished black stone. An altar.
"Go sit on the stone," Jovian ordered.
Kairos forced himself to stand up. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the agonizing ache in his muscles, and walked the remaining fifty feet to the center of the ruins. He climbed onto the cold obsidian slab and sat cross-legged. He unbuckled the scabbard from his back and laid Asteria carefully across his lap. The silver sword was dull.
Jovian walked up and stood a few feet away, watching him with focusing eyes.
"For the past few months, you have treated your power like a game," Jovian stated. "You look into your mind, you see a shimmering blue interface, and you read the flashing words. You click a button, and time stops. It is clean. It is simple."
"It is how the system works," Kairos argued, struggling to breathe in the air.
"It is a lie," Jovian corrected him. "The ancient gods did not have blue screens in their heads, Kairos. They did not have levels or experience points. When they wanted to stop time, they simply commanded the universe to halt, and the universe obeyed. The blue interface you see is just a mental crutch."
Jovian stepped closer, his gray robes rustling. "When the gods banished the Fallen Monarch, they left a tiny seed of their authority behind in the mortal world. That seed attached itself to your soul. But your fragile mortal brain could not possibly comprehend the raw concept of a Primordial Law. If you saw the true shape of the law, your mind would have melted. So, your brain created the blue screen. It converted a god-like power into simple numbers and shining words so you wouldn’t go insane."
Kairos looked down at his callused hands. The digital interface in his mind suddenly felt different. It wasn’t a magical gift anymore. It was just a safety blanket.
"If the screen is protecting my mind, why are we here?" Kairos asked, looking up at the old ghost.
"Because a safety blanket cannot stop a sword," Jovian said. "When you use Temporal Acceleration, the blue screen acts as a heavy filter. It bottlenecked the power, which forced the magic to rip through your flesh instead. That is why your muscles are almost destroyed on the Great Dam."
Jovian pointed at Kairos’ forehead.
"If you want to fight the dark god and win, you cannot use a filter," Jovian declared. "You must shatter the blue interface. You must rip the safety blanket away and let the raw seed of the Primordial Law fuse with your mortal soul. You must stop using the system, Kairos. You must become the system."
Kairos swallowed hard. The silence of the temple pressed down on him.
"If I shatter the screen," Kairos asked quietly, "what keeps the raw power from just bursting my body into pieces?"
"The sword," Jovian pointed at Asteria resting on Kairos’ lap. "You must draw every single drop of divine holy light out of that silver metal and force it permanently into your own bloodstream. The holy light will act as an anchor. It will rewrite your veins to handle the pressure."
Jovian took a slow step backward, folding his arms.
"I cannot help you do this," Jovian said, his voice devoid of pity. "If you fail, you will die right here on this black stone. Close your eyes, and open the interface."
Kairos took a slow breath. He closed his eyes. The darkness of his mind greeted him. A second later, the familiar blue digital screen flared to life. It was buzzing with static due to the low mana in the world, but the golden letters were still clearly visible.
[CONQUEROR OF TIME.]
[LEVEL 2.]
For a year, those words had kept him alive. They had warned him of danger. They had given him the power to protect Seyana, to fight the shadow assassins, and to hold the Great Dam. But it was just an illusion.
Kairos reached his bare hands down and gripped the leather hilt of Asteria. He didn’t draw the blade. He just clenched the metal tightly.
Break, Kairos commanded.
He targeted his own mind. He visualized his hands grabbing the glowing blue edges of the digital screen. With a silent yell, Kairos ripped the interface apart. The blue screen shattered like a fragile pane of thin glass. The resulting explosion of raw mental energy was devastating. Kairos’ head snapped back. A wet, agonizing scream tore out of his throat, echoing loudly through the ruined black temple.
It felt like a jagged boulder had been dropped onto his brain. Without the blue screen to filter the magic, the raw seed of the Primordial Law expanded inside his soul. It was pure, white gravity. It wanted to expand. It wanted to consume his frail mortal flesh.
The light! Jovian’s raspy voice barely cut through the deafening roar in Kairos’ ears. Pull the light! Now!
Kairos couldn’t see. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, but white sparks exploded behind his eyelids. His skin felt like it was catching fire. He gripped Asteria so hard his knuckles popped. He didn’t just ask the sword for help. He dragged the magic out of the relic. The dull silver blade suddenly shone. A rushing torrent of holy light ripped out of the metal. It crawled up into Kairos’ arms, tearing through his pores and flooding his bloodstream.
The pain was unimaginable. It was far worse than the time stop. It felt like someone had injected boiling acid into every single vein in his body. Kairos fell backward onto the hard obsidian slab, his body thrashing. The glittering white veins under his skin expanded, burning through his old mortal blood and replacing it with divine energy. The raw seed of the Primordial Law hit the new, holy blood. The two ancient forces clashed brutally inside a sixteen year old boy. The temple shook, and shattered pillars rattled.
Kairos couldn’t breathe. His lungs seized completely. He was dying, his mortal body was giving up. In the peak of the agony, a single image flashed in his mind. It wasn’t a blue screen. It wasn’t a warning alert. It was a quiet house. Built near the green trees. Far away from the black mist and the Great Wars, and Seyana was standing on the wooden porch, smiling in the warm sunlight.
I promised, Kairos thought, clutching the image like a lifeline. I promised her I would build it.
He stopped fighting the pain. He stopped resisting the pressure. He surrendered his mortal weakness, forcing his mind to accept the weight of the old gods. He grabbed the raw seed of the law with his soul, and he pulled it into his burning heart.
****
Hundreds of miles away, the cold wind howled across the thick stone walls of Solaris. Seyana stood alone on the highest watchtower. She wore her iron armor, her hands resting on the rough stone parapet. She looked out at the eastern horizon. Usually, she could see the distant, green forests of Sylphyros from up here. Today, she could only see a rolling tide of sick, purple-black clouds. The black mist had swallowed the distant mountains, and it was steadily creeping across the open plains toward the capital. The shadow army was marching.
"You should be sleeping, Princess."
Seyana didn’t turn around. She recognized the thudding footsteps on the stone stairs. Terravarous walked up to the parapet, followed closely by Ignis. The two boys looked exhausted. The bags under their eyes were bruised and dark.
"I cannot sleep," Seyana replied quietly, keeping her eyes fixed on the horizon. "Every time I close my eyes, I hear the dark god saying his name."
Ignis leaned against the stone wall next to her, looking out at the storm of black mist slowly approaching their home.
"It is getting closer," Ignis muttered. He held up his hand and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. Not even a single spark of orange fire appeared, "and my core is dry. The air is dead. If the Black Mist Knights reach the walls tomorrow, I will have to hit them with a plain iron sword. I am basically an angry farmer right now."
"A sharp blade is enough, Ignis," Terravarous said, crossing his thick arms. "We do not need fancy explosions to hold a choke point. We have the high ground. The Solaris army has enough iron spears to turn the gates into a meat grinder."
Seyana looked at the giant. "Can you still shift your diamond armor, brother?"
Terravarous frowned, looking down at his large, callused hands. "It is slow, sister. I can armor a small patch to block a sword, but I cannot sustain it. My internal magic is draining twice as fast without the ambient mana from the dam. We are fighting on empty stomachs."
Seyana sighed, the cold wind lingering her hair around her face. She was the supreme commander of the Solaris military now. She had purged the cowards and locked the gates. But looking at the sheer size of the black mist creeping across the plains, she knew iron spears wouldn’t be enough. The Fallen Monarch was sending an endless tide of nightmares.
"He has been gone for four days," Seyana whispered, the heavy fear sitting in her chest.
Ignis and Terravarous knew exactly who she was talking about.
"The village boy is stubborn," Ignis said, trying to force a confident smirk onto his tired face. "He survived getting thrown across a balcony by an assassin. He survived the Great Dam. He is not going to let a grumpy old ghost kill him in the dirt."
"He will come back," Terravarous agreed. "He carries the sword. He knows we need him."
Seyana nodded slowly, looking back out at the horizon. She desperately hoped they were right. Because if Kairos died in the Ashlands, the entire continent was going to burn to ash.
****
The massive shockwave of holy light blasted outward, shattering the remaining broken pillars of the First Temple. Librarian Jovian raised a hand. The cursed book, Fallen, snapped open in the air, creating a shield of dark mist to block the white shockwave from hitting the old man.
Jovian lowered his hand as the dust slowly settled. The ruined temple was silent again. The crushing pressure of the aura was gone. Lying flat on his back on the obsidian slab was Kairos.
He wasn’t moving. His clothes were soaked in cold sweat. Asteria was resting beside his hand. The beautiful, shiny silver metal of the ancient sword had turned black, resembling a dull piece of iron. The holy magic was drained from the weapon.
Jovian walked slowly toward the altar, his gray robes brushing the ground. He looked down at the boy.
"Mortal boy," Jovian whispered, expecting the worst. "You pushed too hard."
Suddenly, Kairos took a sharp gasp of air. He jerked up into a sitting position, coughing vehemently. He gripped the edge of the black obsidian slab, his chest heaving as he dragged the thin air into his burning lungs.
Jovian stopped walking. His ancient eyes widened in pure shock. Kairos slowly stopped coughing. He wiped a streak of blood from his chin with the back of his hand. He didn’t look exhausted. He looked calm.
Kairos slowly opened his eyes and looked at the old man. His dark brown irises were gone. His eyes were a solid, glowing silver. They didn’t flicker. The holy light he had ripped from the ancient sword had perfectly fused with his mortal blood. He didn’t need to call up a blue digital screen in his mind anymore. The static was gone. There were no golden letters. There were no warning alerts.
Kairos raised his hand. He just had a single, simple thought.
The gray dirt falling from the shattered pillars froze mid-air. The howling wind outside the ruins stopped dead. He didn’t feel a single drop of pain in his chest. His heart beat strong and steady. He had surpassed the cost. He had absorbed the law. Kairos slowly stood up from the black altar. He picked up the dull iron sword and smoothly slid it into his leather scabbard. He looked at the frozen dust hanging in the air, then lowered his hand.
The dust instantly resumed falling, hitting the ground with a soft thud.
"You didn’t explode," Jovian stated, staring at the silver eyes of the boy.
"No," Kairos replied, his voice steady, carrying a quiet authority that commanded the air around him. "I didn’t."
Suddenly a flicker of flash blinked in his mind.
[Finally you made it, my man!]
[BYE!!]
Kairos didn’t understand what was that, and why the voice felt very soothing to him. He walked past the old librarian, heading straight for the temple exit.
"Where are you going?" Jovian asked, turning around to watch him.
Kairos didn’t stop walking. He looked out at the dark horizon, his silver eyes piercing through the gray dust of the Ashlands.
"I am going back to the capital," Kairos said. "The shadow army is marching, and the Monarch wants his sword back, and the King of demons also comes to war at any time."
Kairos stepped out of the dark ruins. He was no longer just a boy relying on a magical trick. The Conqueror of Time was fully awake, and he was ready to kill a god.