Walking Into Those Years

“You said that heaven and hell are separated by only a single line...” Li Yue remained silent for a long time, the twin guns in her hands still spitting blood-red fire. “That line... where is it... I can't find it anymore...”

“Monster... she's a monster, run... run!!” Following that howl, several black shadows began moving rapidly toward the sky, seemingly doing their best to distance themselves from the pale shadow on the ground.

Li Yue fired several more shots into the sky. A few figures wearing orchid-blue robes plummeted, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Li Yue waited quietly for their bodies to begin mutating, then casually fired a shot, ending the agony she had bestowed upon them.

“I'm only killing Specter cultists. Why are those enforcement officers in black running so fast too...” Li Yue’s mouth twitched as she twirled the two revolvers in her hands. She suddenly felt a spark of interest; she wanted to see just how fast her draw speed was.

Then she frowned, wondering where this uncharacteristic childishness had come from.

It couldn't be a remnant from a thousand years ago... Heh, unlikely.

As for those enforcement officers in black, let them run. They wouldn't remember her face anyway. Once they finished describing all her physical features, whose face would that portrait show? Li Yue thought for a moment; it would probably look uncanny, a collection of the most striking physical traits of the people they cared about most.

What was the most striking impression Clo had left on her?

Li Yue suddenly posed this question to herself. She became somewhat irritable, unsure of the answer.

Her hair? Perhaps. Or... forget it. It's better not to remember those things...

As for Clo... was she taken away by Chronos’s magic?

If that were true, she would be trapped in that slice of space-time. Although she couldn't change history that had already happened, those things could truly affect her. This wouldn't do...

...

“You're saying a female magic user with twin guns slaughtered the Church's Fourth Mage Regiment?” The black-armored knight raised an eyebrow. Although no one could see the expression beneath his visor, his astonishment was clearly conveyed.

“What does she look like?” a female mage asked calmly. Beside her hand was a thick stack of drawing paper covered in countless faces. At a glance, many would recognize the face as Movella, but upon closer inspection, each one was slightly different.

“Describe the features to me... the ones you thought of, the ones you saw.” The woman's voice was heavy. She was currently working on a sketch, seemingly trying to find the sliver of difference among these thousands of nearly identical images to piece them together.

Her eyes were bloodshot. She didn't even wait for the despondent magic user to finish what he wanted to say; she simply extracted the information directly from his soul. The pressure a Great Mage exerted over a mage was terrifying; in an instant, she could manipulate the other's soul at will, plunging them into endless pain and torment.

This was likely why Li Yue despised certain forbidden Specter spells. She preferred to grant a peaceful death rather than eternal suffering, where one could neither live nor die.

The irony was that Li Yue was currently in such a state herself, though she wasn't that anxious. At the very least, she wasn't in a hurry to die, because Clo needed to live. She needed Clo to live forever.

“Tch!” The woman quickly finished a sketch. She angrily compared the drawing to the face of the magic user before her—they were identical. She furiously tore up the sketch, her charcoal pencil nearly stabbing the man in front of her.

“Don't get too excited, Ephirat. We are also saddened by Movella’s death,” a man whose eyes were sewn shut with needle and thread said slowly. His hands were clasped, and his words were calm and indifferent.

“I wish it were your mouth sewn shut instead of your eyes. At least then I could analyze how much sincerity is in those hypocritical tears, instead of listening to your sanctimonious mourning over and over!” Ephirat stood up, slamming her hand on the table. The drawings began to flutter in the wind as her emotions reached a breaking point.

She could detect the killer's disguise. By repeatedly reading the message Movella sent in her final moments and fitting the features from countless sketches together, she could reconstruct the appearance of the murderer. However, as the completion of the portrait progressed, her spirit became increasingly manic. She felt as if she were going to die...

After the heated argument, the round table fell into complete silence. None of the people in their seats spoke; they didn't even make eye contact.

But it didn't matter; the meeting had to proceed. The agenda was the same as always.

How to thoroughly sweep Death out of the kingdom, and when the old king should die for it to be the best, most dignified moment...

...

“Go on. Go see her. She has been waiting for you for a long time.” Metis stopped before a tall tower. This holy city was bustling; people eating sweets walked past Clo, but no one saw them. Their space-time seemed slightly different.

She and Chronos were currently in a specific moment of a certain time period. Only at this instant could the Tower of Time manifest in this world. Clo felt that this moment was precarious, as if it could vanish into the torrent of time at any second.

“Go. Let her bid a dignified farewell to the world.” Metis waved, using a common human gesture to say goodbye. Clo didn't know the full meaning of the gesture, but she knew she had to move forward.

She slowly approached the tall tower. Time around her froze; all living beings were suspended in this moment. That powerful deity had created a moment belonging solely to her within the torrent of time, just to wait for Clo’s arrival. That was all.

So, where was she headed?

She was, of course, walking into those years.