The Goddess's Might Saves the World - Chapter 5

Having traversed the cooled Iron Lake, the Hero and the Goddess stepped onto the ancient, northward stone path. The sky was unnervingly silent, and even the wind seemed paralyzed. When they crossed the final, broken precipice, the sight that met them made the Hero gasp.
It was a gigantic spire suspended in shattered space—the Aeviternal Clocktower.
It had no base, the entire structure hanging in the void like a fractured, impossible monument. Its walls were etched with ancient fissures, tangled with rust and moss, yet they pulsed with a cold, alien light. Around it, countless colossal gears rotated slowly in the emptiness. As the teeth of these gears ground together, they seemed to tear the very sky, mingling daylight and starlight in chaotic disruption.
The Hero stared, speechless. “This… this isn’t part of the world… this is the grave of time…!”
The Goddess offered no reply, her gaze fixed straight ahead. The sacred light from her [Sacred Core] seemed frail here, flickering as if ready to be consumed by the invisible current of time at any moment.
Suddenly, the Clocktower’s pendulum began to swing violently.
Dong—!
With a single, heavy chime, the world convulsed. Day became instant night, stars plummeted, and in the very next heartbeat, the sun was back on the horizon. The Hero’s eyes widened in terror—a thousand years had cycled in one terrifying second.
“That is… the rhythm of time…” the Goddess murmured, her voice steady but heavy with dread. “This Tower is Chronos’s own body. Every chime is a declaration of judgment.”
The Hero’s heart pounded, his legs threatening to give way. He desperately tightened his grip on the broken Holy Sword, only to see micro-fissures lace the blade under the chime’s influence, as if even the metal could not withstand time’s relentless tearing.
“Can we… can we truly defeat a foe like this?” His throat was dry, his voice a ragged whisper.
The Goddess turned, the holy light on her [Sacred Core] gently pulsing, grounding the Hero with its steady radiance.
“Never forget, we have endured the abyss and the molten iron,” she said, placing a hand over her heart, her eyes unwavering. “Even the flow of time will ultimately be quelled by the [Sacred Core].”
Dong—!
The second chime rang out, and the ground shattered and reformed like disturbed water. Time inverted and folded beneath their feet. The Hero watched in horror as he stumbled backward, his body seemingly outside his control.
“He is coming…” The Goddess lifted her head, her silver hair whipping in the temporal chaos, her eyes locked on the tower’s summit.
“Chronos is awakening.”
As the second chime faded, the base of the Tower began to peel away. Stone slabs were ripped apart by an unseen force, the fragmented pieces spiraling upward, gradually assembling into a suspended staircase leading directly into the endless Clocktower.
Clutching the broken hilt of his Holy Sword, the Hero struggled to breathe. He felt as if he were treading in an invisible river of time. With every ascent, his body produced disjointed phantoms—sometimes the blurred image of a ten-year-old child, sometimes the withered appearance of a white-haired elder.
“My Lady Goddess… am I… am I being devoured by time?”
The Goddess looked back. The sacred light from her [Sacred Core] illuminated his face, her voice deep but full of resolve:
“Don’t stare at the ghosts of yourself. Hero, you only have one present moment. And this [Sacred Core]… embraces only the you of the present.”
The third chime—Dong!
The sky instantly exploded, and the entire galaxy plunged downward, only to be yanked back the next instant. Day and night repeated in a single, wrenching gasp; the sun and moon rose and fell like frantic puppets.
Clutching his head, the Hero groaned in agony, feeling his soul being ripped into a thousand fragments.
“This is… the Cage of Aeviternity…” The Goddess’s pupils reflected the chaotic space-time. Her tone held a terrifying solemnity. “Every chime is the birth and ruin of a millennium. Chronos stands at the summit, judging our souls with his bell.”
Suddenly, wisps of black mist oozed from the tower’s cracks. Broken gears, overturned hourglasses, and countless human figures churned within the fog. Some were being born, others aging, others dying—but all were frozen halfway, forming grotesque, tormented statues.
The Hero looked on, his throat cold, barely able to speak. “Th-those… are…?”
The Goddess fixed her stare on the frozen phantoms, her eyes hard as iron. “They are the humans and gods whose fates were sealed in the chimes, stolen by time. Hero, if we fail, you will join those statues.”
No sooner had she spoken than the fourth chime rang out—
Dong—!!!
This time, the sound struck his very core. The Hero nearly collapsed, bl00d seeping from his lips. His eyes trembled, as if he saw his own ‘death images’ across countless possible futures.
The Goddess stood tall on the steps, the light of her [Sacred Core] expanding fiercely to resist the pressure. She looked up at the summit and whispered, yet her voice was clear enough to defy the heavens:
“Chronos… we have heard your chime. If you seek to use time as a shackle, I shall use my [Sacred Core] as a needle to shatter it, piece by piece.”
The fifth chime followed—at that moment, the heavens and earth seemed to be torn to shreds, and all sights collapsed simultaneously: sunlight and moonlight entwined, the galaxy reduced to dust, gears roared, and the pendulum swung wildly. Countless temporal echoes poured down like a flood, engulfing the Hero and the Goddess.
The Hero staggered, strange illusions flashing before his eyes: himself crying in his swaddling clothes, instantly becoming an old man covered in wrinkles; he saw himself fall on a battlefield, turn into a skeleton, and then be crushed into dust. Every version of ‘him’ simultaneously reached out and screamed in despair and warning.
“Who… who am I?!” the Hero roared in terror, his voice swallowed into a clock’s fissure.
The Goddess reached out and seized his shoulder. The light from her [Sacred Core] washed over his face, her voice deep and resolute:
“Do not let the phantoms claim your soul! Hero, you must remember—only the you of this moment is real!”
Her tone was utterly resolute, a hymn resisting the chime.
Yet, the sixth chime immediately descended. This time, it no longer merely shook the soul but tore at space itself. The entire outline of the towering spire warped, transforming from an upright structure into an infinitely spiraling maze. The stairs stretched in all directions, as if every step would plunge them into a different era.
The Hero looked up, his forehead slick with cold sweat, and stammered. “This place… is no longer reality… it’s…”
“—It is Chronos’s domain,” the Goddess finished, her eyes like ice.
As she spoke, a jet-black beam of light leaked from a massive crack at the tower’s summit. The light carried no heat, yet it scorched the soul more painfully than fire. Clock faces plummeted one after another, suspending themselves above their heads, combining to form a gigantic ‘Judgment Canopy’.
The Hero could barely breathe, collapsing onto the steps. “He… he is truly about to appear…!”
The Goddess spread her Holy Wings, the sacred light of her [Sacred Core] burning to its extreme, sheltering the Hero behind her.
The seventh chime roared, detonating.
The sound didn’t echo; it burst directly inside their hearts. Bl00d flowed backward, and bones emitted a sharp, cracking sound.
In that instant—the black mist at the tower’s summit surged, condensing into a tall figure.
It had no face, only two rotating hourglass eyes that slowly opened in the black mist.
Chronos, the Time Spectre, finally descended upon the Aeviternal Clocktower with an overwhelming, silent presence.
The chimes on the tower summit vibrated step by step. The black mist condensed into a form, and finally, a towering figure slowly emerged from the temporal fissure. It was a silhouette beyond human comprehension, clad in a long robe stitched together from white bones, like a relic exhumed and given form. Its face was utterly blank, yet in the center of that hollow space, two spinning hourglasses were deeply set. Sand flowed up and down, symbolizing the simultaneous existence of ‘life’ and ‘death’.
Behind him, countless broken clock faces floated, their serrated edges constantly grinding, emitting the screeching sound of shattering steel. Within the cracks of every clock face was hidden a slice of ‘lost time’—some were broken kingdoms, others cities turned to ashes. They could even glimpse the fading shadows of the Hero and the Goddess dying in past battles.
The Hero’s sword-hand shook violently, cold sweat tracing his jawline. He couldn’t feel the rhythm of his breathing, because everything around him—the wind, his heartbeat, even the pulse of the Goddess’s light—had been instantly drawn away. Chronos merely raised a hand, and the entire space froze.
“…!” The Hero’s pupils contracted. His sword, which should have been pointed at the enemy, stopped mid-air, as if pinned against a transparent glass wall. Drops of lava ceased their fall, sparks hung motionless, and even sound lost its trajectory.
“This is… the power of the Time Spectre…” the Goddess murmured, her voice carrying undisguised solemnity. Her Holy Wings drew tight, the sacred light of her [Sacred Core] flickering rapidly as she struggled to maintain her resistance.
In this deadly silence, Chronos spoke.
The voice did not come through the air; it was carved directly into their minds:
“You shall die countless times, until even your souls tire of existence.”
The next moment—he gently snapped his fingers.
The Hero’s vision was instantly ripped apart. A broken clock face cleaved down from the void, instantly cutting his entire body in two. The pain was so real his soul convulsed; he could even hear the sickening sound of his bones cracking.
Before the bl00d mist could disperse, the scene abruptly reset: the Hero stood once more at the Clocktower entrance, covered in cold sweat, his heart hammering, yet he clearly remembered the exact details of his recent ‘death’.
He staggered back, his voice trembling. “I… I just… died?”
The Goddess stared at the tower’s summit, her gaze fixed on the hourglass eyes. The sacred light of her [Sacred Core] fluttered like fire, reflected on the fragmented clock faces. She answered softly:
“No… that wasn’t a dream. Chronos has trapped us in—the Judgment of Reincarnation.”
The scene returned to the start. The Hero was drenched in cold sweat, his chest rising and falling rapidly, yet he was horrified to find the sword wounds on his body had vanished, his body perfectly intact. Only the terror in his heart remained, as if that instantaneous death had been permanently engraved into his soul.
“…This is no illusion.” The Hero’s throat was parched, cracking with fear. “I… I truly died once…”
The Goddess held out her hand to block him, the sacred light of her [Sacred Core] flickering unevenly. She whispered, “Be careful… Chronos is testing us. His power is ‘Reincarnation’… every death is an extension of his authority.”
The chime rang out again. The low boom was like the chilling heartbeat of the world. Instantly, the sky cracked, and a giant gear plummeted from the clouds. It was not metal, but condensed ‘Time Itself’. As its teeth turned, space was forcibly ripped apart.
The moment the Hero raised his Holy Sword, the gear crashed down with a deafening roar.
“Ah—!”
His body was instantly flattened, bones crushed, organs pulped. As his consciousness plummeted into darkness, he heard the Goddess’s furious shout: “Do not surrender!”
The darkness abruptly scattered. When the Hero opened his eyes, he was back at the Clocktower entrance. His body was whole, but his legs gave way, and he fell to his knees. His hands shook uncontrollably, as if the pain of being ground to dust still lingered in his flesh and bl00d.
“This is… infinite… reincarnation…” the Hero muttered to himself.
Chronos’s voice rang out again, piercing his mind like a chilling chime:
“Death offers no release. Only despair is the answer.”
The Goddess gritted her teeth, the divine light on her [Sacred Core] shining faintly. She whispered to the Hero, “Do not be afraid. Our souls have not yet shattered.”
The Hero’s pupils trembled, but he forced a nod. He gripped the Holy Sword tightly, even though he knew he might be crushed the next moment.
The cluster of clock faces in the sky spun, and phantoms in countless fissures began to whisper—they were visions of the Hero and the Goddess’s ‘future deaths’. Lost limbs, shattered skulls, immolation… every scene was faithfully reflected in their eyes.
“This is Chronos’s judgment…” the Goddess murmured, the sacred light of her [Sacred Core] gradually expanding, like the only unextinguished white flame in this decaying temporal space.
The third death came faster than the previous two. The Hero had just swung his sword when a broken clock face turned into a sharp blade and instantly cut him in half at the waist. Bl00d and spirit light twisted into fragments in the air.
The fourth time, the Goddess tried to take flight. Before the sacred light of her [Sacred Core] could fully expand, she was frozen by the glare from Chronos’s hourglass eyes. The next moment, she and the Hero were churned into dust by the gears, dissolving without a trace, like ashes between the teeth.
They returned to the starting point once more.
The Hero covered his head, stammering. “Why… why did even you…”
The Goddess’s breathing was ragged, and cold sweat beaded on her forehead, yet she managed to maintain her composure. “Chronos doesn’t just control time… he can prematurely display future deaths to us.”
The chime fell again.
The fifth time, they were entangled by hundreds of ‘time-reversal chains’. Their flesh and bl00d were forcibly pulled backward until even their souls were snapped. The Hero screamed, only able to watch the Goddess regress into fragments before his eyes.
The sixth time, he tried to rush in front of the Goddess to shield her, but before he could even swing his sword, he was frozen in mid-air, his head instantly claimed by a ‘future decapitation’. As his head hit the ground, he clearly heard his own consciousness screaming.
“A-a-a-a-h—!”
Back at the starting point. The Hero knelt on the ground, his hands shaking maniacally. The ‘pain of decapitation’ seemed to linger in his fingertips. His breathing was ragged, his chest feeling as if it had been shattered by a thousand hammers.
The Goddess knelt down, placing her hand on his shoulder. The light of her [Sacred Core] struggled to hold back the darkness. “Hero, do not forget. As long as the memory remains, we can find a way to break the deadlock.”
The Hero lifted his head, his eyes scattered but a spark of defiance reignited. “…But how many more times must we die?”
The chime in the distance seemed to sneer. Chronos raised his hand, and countless shattered clock faces descended again, like a cold judgment announcing the start of a new cycle.
The first death was swift and silent. The moment the Hero took a step, the entire space suddenly ‘folded backward’—as if a scroll had been ripped in reverse. His body instantly split into dozens of broken shadows, his entrails and bl00d sucked into the spinning hourglass eyes, vanishing into nothingness.
The next moment, he opened his eyes and found himself and the Goddess standing back at the Clocktower gate. It was as if nothing had happened. But the pain of his body being ripped apart was fully preserved deep within his soul, like a thousand needles stabbing his heart.
“This… this is impossible…” The Hero’s breath was erratic, his throat raw from screaming.
The Goddess frowned slightly, the sacred light of her [Sacred Core] pulsating unsteadily. She whispered, “This is Chronos’s judgment… death will not be an end, but a prison of memory.”
The second death descended more cruelly. The Spectre waved his hand, and countless broken clock faces rained down from the sky, embedding themselves in the ground like giant blades. The Hero instinctively tried to rush to protect the Goddess, but he was sliced in half by a clock face along the way. The last image in his eyes was the horrifying scene of the Goddess likewise being torn apart by gears and pulverized in the dark temporal space.
Back at the starting point. The chime rang again.
The Hero was practically choking. His knees trembled, and he couldn’t help but yell, “This is not a battle! This is… this is a nightmare!”
The third time, he swung his sword with all his might, only to find that before his blade could even touch the enemy, time was forcibly frozen. The next instant, he saw his and the Goddess’s hearts pierced by a ‘reversing minute hand’. Bl00d flowed backward, and their souls fractured in reverse. The pain was not just physical; it felt like existence itself was being repeatedly crushed until even his convictions turned to dust.
“Hero!” the Goddess reached out in the fragmented time, but could only watch him dissipate before her eyes again and again. The sacred light of her [Sacred Core] pulsed relentlessly, yet it was always unable to contend with the shackles of time.
The fourth time, she was instantly killed. The gears spun silently, grinding her body into countless motes of light. The Hero only managed to lunge at her lingering shadow, but his hands grasped only air.
“Stop… please, stop!” His voice was hoarse, bearing the crack of despair.
But deep within the tall tower, the spectral chime remained cold, as if announcing: this is merely the beginning of an infinite cycle.
The fifth death was from a backlash of ‘time reversal’. The moment the Hero took a step, he found his physical body starting to regress. Bl00d flowed backward, skin peeled off layer by layer back to an infantile state, and then vanished into nothingness amidst painful screams.
The sixth death, gears fell from the sky, crushing the Goddess’s wings and his own skull. Bl00d and holy light splattered together. He didn’t even have time to call her name.
The seventh death, the Spectre merely touched them with a fingertip—they instantly withered, decayed, their bones pulverized, turning into dust. The Hero’s final sight was the Goddess’s pale face turning to bone before his eyes.
The scene reset again and again. The Clocktower’s entrance, the broken gears, the suspended pendulum. The Hero stood unsteadily, his body trembling, the knuckles of his hands white as he gripped the Holy Sword. With every rebirth, the light in his eyes dimmed a fraction more.
The eighth time.
“My Lady Goddess!” he screamed, his voice strained.
But the answer was not her voice, but the Spectre’s cold sneer: “In infinite time, faith is the first thing to shatter.”
He saw the Goddess beside him pierced by invisible needles. The sacred light of her [Sacred Core] exploded, turning into countless fragments. The Hero charged, arms wide open, but embraced nothing. She vanished before his eyes, leaving behind the terror that ‘she, too, could be taken’.
The ninth time. The Hero knelt on the ground, having forgotten how to swing his sword, only muttering, “If I can’t even protect her… what is the meaning of my life?”
The tenth time, he finally broke. He stood on his fractured body, his throat raw as he screamed, “No matter how we fight… we can’t escape this clock!” Tears mixed with bl00d, dripping onto the broken stone slabs of the Clocktower.
The chime echoed coldly, like a merciless scythe, cutting away the last hope in his deepest heart.
As the eleventh cycle began, the Hero’s hands were so weak he could barely hold the Holy Sword. His fingertips trembled, his palms covered in bloody gashes, and the blade felt like a heavy shackle weighing him down.
Inside the Clocktower, the grinding of gears was like an endless judgment. Even the air was crushed into fragments. Chronos’s hourglass eyes fixed on him, as if whispering: “Time will erase your will, sooner or later.”
The twelfth cycle, he tried to dodge, only to find the seams of space were all cut by ‘minute-hand fissures’. No matter where he fled, he would be instantly sliced, his head and body separated, yet retaining a conscious terror.
The thirteenth cycle, the Goddess reached out to shield him, only to be dragged into the gears with him. The Hero watched as the light of her [Sacred Core] was crushed into dust and sand. For the first time, he conceived the most desperate thought: “Perhaps even she cannot win…”
He fell to his knees, bl00d and tears mingling as they flowed. Only one voice repeated madly in his heart:
—There is no escape.
—I cannot protect her.
—This is all meaningless.
Chronos’s voice resonated overhead, like a cold judge: “This is the infinite truth. Mortals and deities are equally insignificant. Before time, all things shall sink.”
The Hero screamed towards the heavens, his voice hoarse and broken: “How many times… how many times have I died?!”
His answer was the fourteenth instant kill. His chest was directly pierced by a time-reversal needle, his heart turning to ash in a moment.
However, just as he collapsed again, a warm, soft light supported him in his lingering consciousness. It was the Goddess’s [Sacred Core], still flickering amidst the fragmentation of countless cycles.
“Hero, don’t close your eyes…” Her voice came through the temporal cracks, trembling, yet firm as iron.
The Hero’s clouded pupils trembled slightly, as if hearing a call: ‘you cannot give up yet’.
And so, before the fifteenth cycle of death began, he did not completely collapse for the first time, but stared intently at the light from her [Sacred Core].
He whispered in his heart: “If even she can still burn… then I cannot fall.”
The fifteenth death had just ended. The Hero lay slumped on a broken clock face, his chest weakly rising and falling like a torn rag. His eyes were unfocused, yet still fixed on the figure not far away.
In the infinite resets, the Goddess’s knees were stained with the ashes of time, her silver hair torn by the temporal flow, her Holy armor shattered, and the light of her [Sacred Core] pierced and reborn by the time needles repeatedly. Yet, she still stood.
“Chronos…” Her voice was low, carrying a chilling resolve forged by reincarnation. “If time is a cage, then let my [Sacred Core] be the needle that shatters it!”
Saying this, she slowly placed both hands over her [Sacred Core]. In that instant, the Hero felt the entire Clocktower freeze. The gears stopped, the pendulum solidified, and night and day were simultaneously extinguished.
Her palms pressed against the sacred flesh. A silver-white light burst forth suddenly, rushing towards the sky like a flood. The light extended, transforming into a shining clock hand that slowly rose from the depths of her [Sacred Core], embedding itself into the illusory, colossal dial of the sky.
Dong—!
A heavy chime echoed through the heavens and earth. This time, it was not Chronos, but the Goddess’s heartbeat striking time.
She closed her eyes, but her voice clearly resonated throughout the shattered space-time:
“Divine-Tier Skill: ‘The Epochal Aegis of the [Sacred Core]’!”
A torrent of silver-white light instantly unfolded a vast clock face, suspended in the infinite sky. All the broken gears and shattered clock faces gradually halted under the gravitational pull of her [Sacred Core], as if embraced by her gentle yet irresistible hold.
The Hero watched, stunned. For the first time, an unprecedented thought arose in his mind:
“The [Sacred Core] can become the core of time… she is not resisting time, but pulling time into her embrace!”
The moment the silver-white dial unfolded across the sky, Chronos’s empty, featureless head snapped up. His hourglass eyes spun rapidly, and countless shattered clock faces flew out from behind him, as if the time of a thousand worlds screamed simultaneously.
“Foolish Goddess… time is not something you can seize!” The Spectre’s voice was a low rumble, as if from the abyss of the universe. Every word was accompanied by an invisible pressure that nearly suffocated the Hero.
But the Goddess did not recoil. The sacred clock hand on her [Sacred Core] slowly turned, pointing directly ahead. In that instant, the entire surging tide of time paused, contained by her [Sacred Core], no longer raging violently.
Boom!
Chronos raised his hand and smashed a ‘Past’ at her. It was his own lingering shadow, wielding a gigantic Time-Blade. The flash of the blade contained the history of billions of slashes. If struck, she would endure all accumulated deaths simultaneously.
“This is the authority of infinite reincarnation, Goddess. Your [Sacred Core] will be pulverized under the weight of history!”
The Goddess spread her arms. The sacred light of her [Sacred Core] transformed into a colossal needle, violently stabbing into the celestial clock dial. Amidst a deafening roar, the lunging shadows froze instantly, as if forcibly locked within a painting.
The Hero froze, his throat emitting a trembling whisper:
“She… she truly holds time in her [Sacred Core]…”
However, Chronos did not stop. Countless hourglasses shattered around him. A reversing flood of light erupted from the ground, transforming into a boundless tide interwoven with the ‘Future’ and the ‘Past’. It ripped apart the Clocktower, eroded space, and engulfed the Goddess and the Hero.
The Goddess groaned in pain, the sacred needle on her [Sacred Core] shaking violently, as if about to be snapped by the giant wave. But in this most dangerous moment, she looked up at the Hero, her gaze resolute, yet her tone gentle:
“Hero, you must remember—the [Sacred Core] is not for opposing time, but for bringing time back to order.”
As her voice faded, she fiercely injected more sacred light into her [Sacred Core]. The clock dial expanded again, transforming into a gigantic ring spanning the entire sky. It was the ‘Law of Time’, re-woven with her [Sacred Core] as the core.
For the first time, the Hero felt that the cycle of reincarnation was no longer dominant, but had been assimilated by the Goddess’s heartbeat, forcibly brought into a new order.
The giant silver clock dial revolved slowly across the sky. The clock hand chimed Dong—Dong— with the pulse of the Goddess’s [Sacred Core]. Every heartbeat was a provocation and a judgment against Chronos.
“This is impossible… how can a mortal [Sacred Core] bear the law of time!” Chronos roared, his voice turning into a thousand chimes that shattered the stairs of the entire tower.
The next moment, his body splintered into countless shadows, like the fragmentation of time itself. He simultaneously stood in the Past, Present, and Future. A thousand Chronos’s overlapped, all reaching out in unison, attempting to break the light needle on the Goddess’s [Sacred Core].
Boom!
The entire Aeviternal Clocktower turned into a furnace. Countless gears reversed, and the sun and moon frantically exchanged places. The Hero watched the sun and moon rise simultaneously in the sky, his heart nearly torn apart by the temporal chaos. He fell to his knees, bl00d flowing from his ears and mouth, yet he still screamed, “Goddess—I will not allow you to bear this alone!”
The Goddess lowered her eyes, her gaze briefly softened, but immediately flared with a flame-like resolve. She pressed her [Sacred Core] deeper, forcing the sacred light needle violently into the core of the clock dial. The silver-white torrent exploded, turning into infinite chains that bound the shadows one by one.
The chains glittered in the darkness, like a mythical net woven from starlight.
“Chronos!” Her voice shattered the firmament. “Time no longer belongs to your judgment, but to my [Sacred Core]!”
Dong—!
The giant clock chimed abruptly, and the entire battlefield solidified. Chronos’s thousand shadows paused mid-air. Countless hourglass cracks spread, his body struggling in the net of light, but he could no longer control the flow of time.
The Hero looked up and saw the light wheel behind the Goddess illuminating the entire fractured space-time. Her [Sacred Core] had become the only stable needle, forcefully unifying the shattered time. At that moment, an unshakeable thought surged in his heart:
—She is the true ‘Heart of the World’.
Chronos shrieked madly, his voice like a torrent of ten thousand years collapsing. “No! This is not the truth—!”
But his voice was swallowed by the sea of light.
At this moment, the cycle of reincarnation ceased, and the battlefield stilled in the deepest breath of myth.
The giant silver clock dial, suspended in the sky, still trembled from the Goddess’s [Sacred Core] light-needle. However, the next moment, Chronos’s body violently solidified. She spread her arms, and the sacred needle of her [Sacred Core] spun fiercely, pressing down with an irresistible force, sinking hard into the Spectre’s chest.
Dong Dong—Dong Dong—
The chimes of the Clocktower no longer cycled arbitrarily but merged with the Goddess’s heartbeat. Every vibration was a judgment against Chronos.
“No! I am Time! I am the End of All Things!” Chronos shrieked, his hourglass eyes spinning frantically, attempting to reverse everything.
But the Goddess merely whispered, “If time is infinite, the [Sacred Core] is the eternity that bears it.”
With a deafening crash—the needle pierced his entire chest. The sacred light transformed into a milk-white inferno, incinerating the Spectre’s body. Gears and clock faces were all shattered. Chronos’s final roar echoed at the tower’s summit, and then fell silent.
The Hero stared, feeling as though he had witnessed myth itself.
—Silence.
With the final broken chime, the gears that had spun across the Aeviternal Clocktower finally stopped. They hung in mid-air like giant, soulless iron beasts, no longer meshing with one another. The fissured space-time slowly healed, as if an invisible hand had separated night and day again, pushing the stars and the sun back to their respective positions.
The sky gradually returned to order—the dawn and dusk that had endlessly swapped places in a single second now settled. The blue canopy and the distant golden sun displayed themselves simultaneously. Light spilled from the clouds, gentle yet bearing the weight of history, illuminating the debris scattered across the ground: fragments of shattered hourglasses, broken clock faces, and the residual echoes of the Spectre dissolved into dust. This was all that remained after Chronos’s collapse.
The Hero stumbled upon the tower steps, his breathing shallow, his chest trembling from the fear and the overwhelming relief of the battle. His eyes were still bloodshot from the continuous cycle of deaths, but looking at the static world, he felt a long-lost sense of security. The broken sword in his hand threatened to slip, yet he gripped it tightly, as if he had finally grasped the undeniable proof of his fate.
The Goddess stood at the tower’s center, her silver hair gently swept by the lingering temporal currents, her armor scarred with dark silver marks from the intense burning. Only the sacred light of her [Sacred Core] still shone. It was the only rhythm still beating, a stark contrast to the now-static gears of the Clocktower. She lowered her head slightly, her eyes holding no victorious arrogance, only a deep serenity—a serenity that announced the end of the battle more profoundly than any chime.
The Hero finally sank to his knees in the shadow of the tower steps, his broken sword thrust into a stone crack, serving as the last pillar supporting his will. His breathing was heavy, his chest felt as if it had been crushed by ten thousand gears, yet he also felt an incredible sense of wonder that he was still alive. His eyes were fixed on the Goddess—the silver-white halo flickering in the frozen space, delicate like a candle flame, yet burning brighter than anything else.
“…Am I truly still alive?” he whispered tremulously, as if unable to believe he had escaped the infinite loop of death. The residual memory of every decapitation, every moment of being torn to pieces, was still deeply branded into his soul. It was an ordeal deeper than any nightmare, yet now, he could touch the solid air with trembling fingers.
The Goddess turned around. Her armor was shattered, charred marks seeped from her shoulder, yet she stood straight. Her gaze carried no aloof majesty, only a sincere comradeship. She slowly extended her hand, pulling the Hero up from the cold stone steps. Her voice echoed in the tower’s remnants: “Your sword protected me. Your will withstood that strike from the future.”
The Hero’s entire body shook, his throat constricted, yet he couldn’t help but speak. “No… my sword is broken. If not for you… if not for your [Sacred Core] holding time still… I would have died a thousand times over.”
The Goddess gently shook her head, her silver hair shimmering in the boundary light between night and dawn. “No, Hero. A broken sword is still a sword, because you used it to protect me. Time can steal a thousand lives, but it cannot steal your heart. That perseverance is the proof that you stand beside me.”
The Hero’s heart felt as if it had been set alight. He tightly gripped the shattered hilt of his sword. Tears finally trailed down his cracked cheeks. This time, they were not tears of pain, but because after infinite death and reincarnation, he was certain for the first time that he was ‘truly alive’.
The high tower gradually sank into silence, as if even the pulse of the heavens and earth had ceased. The gears were static mid-air, like a frozen stellar map of iron, bearing the scars of the battle. Fragmented clock faces floated around, like pieces of a broken moon, reflecting the sacred light that still pulsed from the Goddess’s [Sacred Core].
The Hero looked up at the night sky, feeling for the first time that ‘time’ could indeed be rewritten. The broken sword in his hand reflected a cold sheen in the moonlight, yet it felt heavier than any intact divine weapon. Though broken, this sword carried the memory of a thousand cyclical deaths and witnessed the proof of breaking fate alongside the Goddess.
“My Lady Goddess…” he spoke softly, his voice trembling yet firm. “If fate can truly be severed, then no matter how many more abysses lie ahead, I am willing to walk alongside you.”
The Goddess returned his smile, her eyes reflecting the Hero’s image. Her voice was no longer a high-and-mighty oracle, but a companion’s response: “Hero, your resolve is the new minute-hand. Even if the abyss draws near again, as long as our [Sacred Cores] face forward, we can sustain a new light.”
Just as they gazed at each other, the night sky in the distance suddenly trembled. A demonic wind swept from the far horizon of the desert, carrying the scent of bl00d and curse. Within the wind, a colossal serpent shadow faintly emerged, its eyes like flowing fire, its tail dragging endless yellow sand. It was a pressure entirely different from time—ancient, chaotic, and full of temptation.
“…What is that…?” The Hero held his breath, unconsciously tightening his grip on the broken sword.
The Goddess looked up, her expression finally becoming grave. She whispered a name that would completely change the future: “The Serpent Mother—Lilith.”
The night sky seemed to darken because of it. Above the cooled Clocktower, their shadows overlapped in the starlight. Having survived the judgment of time, they had barely taken a step, and a new abyss had already opened before them.