Read Novel Full Chapter 385: One Year of Time
Chapter 385: One Year of Time
Within the suffocating embrace of the negation domain, Sunny moved like a ghost through a sea of black ink.
Every day spent drifting through this viscous non-space felt like a year of physical toil. His resolve, however, did not crack; it crystallized. The initial shock of losing his connection had passed, replaced by a cold fury.
"When I first breached the boundary, my senses flared with the aura of billions," Sunny thought, his jaw tight. "Billions of Old Gods, Yet, after days of wandering this graveyard, I have only stumbled upon Chronos. The scale of this trap is staggering."
He knew the mathematics of his survival were grim. If he spent centuries wandering blindly to find every fallen God, he would eventually run out of the very thing he was trying to preserve: time.
"Searching for them individually is a fool's errand," Sunny whispered, his voice barely a ripple in the dark. "By the time I found even a fraction, the rest would have succumbed to the rot of mortality. The only logical path is to find the source, the engine of this negation and tear it out of reality. If the domain collapses, the laws return. If the laws return, the Gods wake up."
The necessity of saving these reincarnations wasn't just an act of mercy; it was a strategic mandate.
Sunny had already planned to copy the unique Void-born talents of the Old Gods. To truly stand as a peer among the Nihilium Royal Family in the Real Void, he couldn't just be a master of the bubble; he needed the primordial authorities that were given to these Gods by the Void mother during their birth.
As he drifted, he encountered more silhouettes. Some were middle-aged, their skin yet to reach the parchment-like fragility of Chronos's. Others were closer to the end, shivering in the dark as their divinity bled out of them.
Sunny deduced that the middle-aged ones were simply fresher victims, having entered the domain years or decades after the God of Time.
He felt a pang of frustration; he could see them, touch them, but he couldn't save them.
Without his Inner World portal, he couldn't tuck them into the safety of Veridia. Without the Soul Weaver talents, he couldn't even preserve their essences for later revival. He was a billionaire in a desert, unable to buy a single drop of water.
While Sunny fought the silence of the negation, the Real Void was a theater of a different kind of war, one of sharp smiles and hidden daggers.
In her private chambers, Lady Sansa sat upon a throne of woven starlight, her face pale. Beside her stood two figures of immense gravity: her father, Samson and her fiance, Verion.
To fortify her inner world against the Beyonder's encroaching rot, she was being fed Heavenly and Earthly Treasures, primordial essences that tasted of ancient earth.
These artifacts were designed to reinforce the dimensional walls of her bubble, delaying the Beyonder's spread and, more importantly, preparing her world to sustain the sheer conceptual weight of two Nihilium royals entering at once.
Sansa's eyes fixed on Verion. Her hatred for him was no longer a hidden spark; it was a roaring bonfire.
"Verion," she whispered, her voice directly reaching the mind of Verion, "My father and I can purge this Beyonder. Your presence is an unnecessary burden on my world's stability. Return to your own realm."
Verion waited until Samson had stepped into the adjoining hall to consult with the physicians. The moment they were alone, he let his mask of chivalry slip. A cruel, predatory light flickered in his cosmic eyes.
"How can you be such a stone-hearted girl, Sansa?" Verion murmured, stepping closer until he was within her personal space. "The woman I sought for marriage was an obedient, soft-spoken creature. Now you look at me as if I a monster of some kind. It's quite a transformation."
"You have the gall to use the word marriage?" Sansa's eyes turned a dangerous, glowing red, her voice trembling with buried trauma.
"I don't care about what I felt for you in the past. I was a child then, blinded by your charms. Now I see the rot in your soul. I know what you are capable of doing to get what you want."
Verion laughed, a sound like glass breaking. He looked wounded, his expression shifting into one of practiced innocence.
"Don't say such things, dear. I have always loved you from the depths of my being. Perhaps someone has been whispering lies? Framing me for the sake of political gain?"
"Don't play your games with me!" Sansa stood up, her aura flaring with enough power to make the palace walls groan.
"You poisoned my inner world. You planted a toxin within me to sever my connection to my own creation, a crime worth ten deaths. But that isn't the bottom line, Verion. The death of my sister... that is where my mercy ends."
"I cannot kill you today because the eyes of the High Court are upon us, but mark my words: one day, I will peel the skin from your soul with my own hands."
Verion's smile didn't falter. He opened his mouth to reply, but the air rippled. Samson reappeared, his white-glow beard radiating a protective warmth.
Sansa's expression shifted instantly, a charming, soft smile replacing her fury as she looked at her father.
"Father," she whispered.
"Sansa, child, are you holding up?" Samson asked, his brow furrowed with the deep, aching worry of a parent. "Is the Beyonder's corruption causing you pain?"
"It is manageable for now, Father," Sansa said, her mind racing. She needed to buy Sunny time. She needed to keep Verion out of the bubble for as long as possible.
"Why don't we let the Gods of my inner world handle this? I have placed many powerful beings there. I believe in their strength."
"We cannot gamble like that, Sansa," Verion interjected, stepping forward to stand beside Samson, the picture of a concerned partner. "That would be a reckless risk to your subjects. We must use every second to intervene personally. To wait is to allow more lives to be extinguished."
"Yes, daughter," Samson added, nodding gravely. "I have already spent thousands of treasures to strengthen your vessel. To let your Gods die now, and to let those medicines go to waste, would be a tragic waste of life and resources."
Sansa felt a cold knot of despair tighten in her chest. 'Father, if you only knew that he is the one who killed your daughter and now wish to kill your grandson too', she thought bitterly. She took a deep breath, playing her final card.
"Father, I ask only for a single year," Sansa said, her voice echoing with royal authority.
"Allow the inner world one year of our time to fight. If the problem is not resolved by then, I will personally lead both of you inside. By then, the treasures will have fully integrated into my soul-space, and the risk of the world breaking under your weight will be non-existent."
Samson looked between his daughter and Verion. He sensed the distance between them, a rift he didn't understand.
He was a warrior of the old school, uncomfortable with the politics of the heart. He simply wanted his daughter safe; she was the last piece of his family he had left.
"Well... if you are certain," Samson finally said. He patted Sansa's head and walked toward the balcony, giving the youngsters their privacy.
The moment the doors closed, Verion turned to Sansa, his face splitting into a wide, mocking grin. "A year? You think ten years of inner-world time will be enough for that boy to kill a Beyonder?"
Note: Inner worlds operate on a 10:1 time dilation. One year in the Real Void is ten years for Sunny.
"You are overestimating your Cosmos, Sansa," Verion whispered, his voice dripping with condescension. "Even a weak Beyonder is a creature that can slaughter a Nihilium royal. Do you think a child from a bubble, stripped of his talents, can even touch it?"
"Cosmos is a royal just like us, Verion," Sansa snapped, her heart hammering with a worry she refused to show. "He is the Chosen One of the Void. He will find a way."
Verion's laughter filled the hall. "The Chosen One? Perhaps. But you cannot see inside that darkness, can you? Your laws can't reach it. That domain is called the Domain of Negation, Sansa. I hope you understand the implications."
"Your Chosen One isn't fighting a monster. He's fighting a vacuum. And in ten years, even a chosen one will stop breathing. Maybe by then I will not be needed in your inner world."
He turned and walked away, his cape billowing behind him like a funeral shroud. Sansa watched him go, then collapsed back into her throne. She looked at the dark sphere in her inner world, her eyes filled with tears.
"Ten years, Cosmos," she whispered. "Ten years to achieve the impossible. Please... don't die in the dark."