"Be glad," Kael muttered, gripping the scythe tight. "I kept this a secret—even from the gods."
The weapon trembled in his hands.
It wasn't listening.
It kept twisting, trying to pull free—like it still wanted to return to its old master. The more Kael held on, the more it drained from him. His arms were shaking now.
Time was running out. Kael could feel it in his bones—if he didn't end this soon, the weapon would tear itself from him.
He stepped forward, dragging the scythe behind him. The blade scraped across the dirt, leaving a long, shallow scar on the ground.
That's when Victor roared and lunged, his massive body shattering the ground beneath him. His claws swept forward, aimed straight for Kael's chest—fast and heavy.
That moment time itself slowed down. He could see his movement—like time itself bowed to him.
He wondered to himself as he dodged, Is this how Kronos sees the world?
