Teeth erupted from the ground, and in the next instant, the creature was ready to devour us both. But Roger reacted just in time—not only noticing the danger but moving with lightning speed. He shoved me aside and darted in the opposite direction, saving both of us as the massive, toothy monstrosity lunged from the earth, jaws snapping shut.
"What the…"
"It's a rotting root!"—the wizard exclaimed.
Indeed, the creature resembled a colossal, animated root with limbs, a gaping jaw, and sharp teeth. From its mouth, golden flames spilled forth, exuding a warped sort of radiance tinged with decay. I'd already registered Roger's description in my mind: a rotting root.
The being was far from friendly. Roger had already launched an attack, conjuring four shimmering magical blades using a simplified Karian phalanx technique. I, wielding a superior tool and a tighter link to my source of power, swung my spear-staff in a single motion, manifesting thirteen golden blades that immediately surged toward the monster.
"RGHARR!"—the root screamed, coiling like a frenzied serpent.
Its massive tail swept toward Roger, who hadn't dodged in time. Even I would have been struck—there was no escaping the arc of that tail. Reflexively, I slowed time, gaining enough space to retreat while charging a sand shard mid-step.
I considered calling to Roger, checking if he was still alive—but any sound could draw the monster's attention. He clearly had less chance against it than I did. Instead, I stuck to a familiar tactic: creating sand projectiles in slowed time, amassing magical energy to unleash all at once. I thought a few dozen would suffice, but reality proved trickier.
When time resumed, the sand projectiles accelerated, and the monster writhed like a rabid snake, evading nearly half of them. Golden flames clotted its body, forming a shifting aura that didn't stop the attacks but weakened and slowed them. The root's uneven surface and movement caused many projectiles to glance off, leaving mere scratches.
"Hah…"
I barely managed to slow time again as the massive bulk lunged, jaws agape.
"Try this on for size…" I muttered, swinging my spear to create my version of the Karian slicer. Against golems or magical spiders, such blades cut like knives through butter, but here I met resistance. I couldn't merely slice through the root's flesh—I had to press the spell, hacking through the wooden torso as if sawing it in half.
"Damn…"
I finally severed the monster's head and retreated, resetting time to assess the outcome.
"GUOOO…"—the creature's guttural roar came from its neck stump.
The loss of its head wasn't fatal. The creature, though slower, turned quickly. I couldn't react fast enough to strike again. Instead, it swung its tail peculiarly, flinging earth, dust, and debris toward me. Painful and messy, dirt filled my eyes and nose, and before I could recover, a heavy impact struck me.
I heard the wet crunch of my own bones outside my body as the creature pressed me into the mud.
"One more time."
I struck methodically, attacking before it could recover. Now I could feel my magic tearing into the root's essence, shredding its life force—the reservoir of vitality that Melina had once explained, determining its overall endurance.
Heh. With focus, I could sense another being's life force. I couldn't manipulate it directly, but I could measure how much more effort it would take before my opponent finally died.
I carved the wooden serpent into three more pieces before stepping back. It no longer roared, only wheezing painfully, collapsing. In slowed time, its life clung to the remnants, but when normal time resumed, its vitality drained rapidly.
"Hah… what a tough creature…" I exhaled, watching it crumble to ash.
Its essence rose as a silvery mist and seeped into the black roots of the great tree nearby. The monster was defeated, its return impossible—its spirit returned to its origin, the great tree itself.
"Roger, you alright? And where…" I began, scanning around.
A golden glimmer caught my eye in the root's ashes.
It was a golden seed. So this creature had grown from it? I needed to collect these seeds to prevent another nightmare from sprouting. If this one was formidable even with my advantage, it could be lethal to others. The root's erratic movements made it unpredictable—would it strike, bite, or swipe with its tail? Its writhing felt like an epileptic spasm.
Meanwhile, Roger stirred beside the cliff.
"Kha… I… I'm alive…" he wheezed.
I released my spear, sending it back into the desert, scattering golden dust in the instant portal—a dramatic flourish. Then I moved to Roger.
"You don't look good," I noted.
His spine seemed broken, and his legs twisted unnaturally. With a sigh, I grabbed him, reversing his time, separating his body and soul. His memories stayed intact, but his body returned to its state before the root's strike.
"Wow… this isn't healing…" he murmured, stunned. "It's like my body… lived everything backward."
"Stop overthinking," I frowned.
"Uh…"
"Or I'll erase your memory. Don't try to figure out my healing magic."
"Understood," he nodded. "Healing magic it is."
"Good. Now let's survey the area."
I returned to the root's ashes and picked up the seed—potentially useful later. Roger soon located what we needed. I likely couldn't have found it myself.
"Kron, over here!"—the wizard called.
Through the fissure, I reached him.
"What is this… oh… disgusting…" I muttered, staring at a mound of flesh.
At first, I couldn't even discern its nature. Skin and cartilage? But then I made out the face—cut from a giant creature, ten times the size of a troll, its vertical eyelids shriveled, black blood still moist.
"That's Godwin the Golden's face," Roger grimly explained.
"Wait… the firstborn of Marika? This thing?"
"The first demigod, killed after the Order of Marika took power, when she extracted the Rune of Predestined Death from the Elden Ring. Now it's clear…"
Roger approached too closely. The skin twitched, tentacles writhed, and black branches shot forth, embedding into his body.
"No…!"—his eyes widened.
Branches wrapped his legs, piercing and bursting through flesh and bone. His rapier struck futilely. I didn't wait; I reversed time. The branches receded, Roger's body restored—seemingly safe.
But as soon as time resumed…
"Argh…" Roger collapsed to his knees. Blood soaked his trousers. Black branches erupted again. I barely slowed time, dragging him back while flinging magical blades at the roots.
Then—
"Ghh…"—I winced as the black roots snaked through Roger's wounds, entwining him and piercing my hand.
My heart skipped.
For the first time, I faced something unaffected by my control of time. Slowing or reversing it barely influenced these roots; their damage persisted.
"No, wait…" I reflexively shoved Roger away.
Too late. The dark tendrils sank into my flesh, shredding skin as I tore my hand free. Golden sand surged, reversing time—but damage remained. Even retreating from Godwin's face, we were both wounded.
When time resumed normally, I could only watch the black roots lift Roger off the ground, impaling him further.
"Argh… no… kha…"
He crumbled to ash. The black roots disintegrated too. Their dark essence vanished—an ominous, cold force defeated by my sand. It had lingered in Godwin's corpse since death, waiting for a fool to stumble into it. Its intent wasn't malicious—just its nature.
Sadly, Roger was gone. My concern shifted to my own hand. Surprisingly, despite its gruesome appearance, it hurt little. A mild, pulsating irritation—far less severe than the wounds suggested. I could still move it.
"Hah… damn."
I collapsed into my sandy domain. The sand's power seeped into me, expelling the remnants of the corruption. My hand still looked like a massacre, but the skin and muscles had a gilded sheen.
I twisted time, attempting self-healing. The sand cleared the last of the corruption, and restoration progressed. Torn muscle fibers rejoined, skin crawled over them—but a golden vine-like pattern remained.
"Hah…"—I grinned at the bizarre scar, reminded of a character with a stylish gold tattoo.
"Ha-ha-ha… what's next? Schizophrenia? A space-time demon?"
I lay there, examining the scar. It even looked stylish. I had no idea how to remove it; time manipulation couldn't help. The black roots seemed to have ripped a fragment of my soul, leaving the scar manifest in flesh.
Finally, I recovered. The sand restored my torn clothing. Shaking off some tremor, I opened a portal to the Round Table Fortress.
"I was waiting for you," Roger greeted, seated, battered.
"Oh… you're alive…" I sighed.
"Yes… though I no longer see the grace vision. It allowed me to return… but I was closer to death than ever."
"Do you understand what happened?"
Roger flinched, touching his leg. He wore no trousers—just a rag over his groin and tight bandages over his limbs.
"I doubted… but Lady Fia confirmed my fears."
"Oh, you spoke with her… so, what happened?"
"Death," he said firmly.
"What?"
"Predestined death. That's what killed Godwin the Golden. We faced a shadow—or some echo of final death, extracted long ago from the Elden Ring."
"The rune Marika took to prevent her demigod children from dying?"
"Yes… strange that it could be used to kill Godwin. He was beloved of the goddess. Her grief tore our world apart."
"Hmm…"
"Perhaps the rune was stolen. I don't know its current location. Fia wants to speak with you."
I glanced at my hand—no lingering sensation from the black branches.
"By the way, did Godwin look like this in life?"
"No!" Roger nearly shouted. "He was beautiful, but now… his essence is cursed. Life still lingers faintly in his face, but he's long dead."
"I… don't understand…"
"I don't either… seems someone misused the death rune—or intended this from the start, dooming Godwin to eternal torment."
"Yeah…"
I left Roger and headed to Fia's quarters. The power of the death rune dampened my desire to help her further. Time control had offered absolute advantage before, but now the risks were real. I was even less eager to confront Godric and other great runes—if this death could affect me, demigods would be formidable. These weren't mere punching bags outside time.
I considered visiting the academy library—or the Karian reading hall, where Renalla, a non-demigod, held a great rune.
Pausing outside Fia's room, I noticed Roderica questioning the blacksmith. Memories of the brooch from her knightly spirits surfaced, and I approached—but stopped, leaning against the wall, letting them finish.
"I know nothing of him. He never assigned me work," the blacksmith muttered. "And that extinguished one behind you?"
"What?"—Roderica spun.
"Chrono!"
"Pfft…"—he snorted, returning to work.
She turned to me.
"Thank the goddess you returned," she smiled. "I feared something… terrible might happen to you too."
"I told you, I'd be fine," I smirked.
Indeed, the death branches were dangerous. Walking with Roderica, we headed to private quarters. No one else was around.
"Here." I handed her the brooch.
"Ah… ohh…"—she gasped. "I can feel them…"
She too sensed the spirits linked to it. Their strength was weak but still present.
"I passed your words on," I said. "They wanted you to have this message."
"I-I understand… thank you." Her voice trembled.
"You wanted to meet me?"
"Just… to know more about you…" she blushed. "I was worried…"
"It's nice when someone cares for you. And you?" I placed my hand on her hood, stroking her head. A warm feeling, like speaking to a little sister. Roderica really gave that impression—a sweet girl worth protecting.
"I'll be fine…" she smiled faintly.
"Good. I'll leave you for now. I need to speak with someone else."
"Thank you again." She bowed.
I smiled and kissed her hand.
"I hope we meet again."
Finally, I turned to Fia's partially open door, tapping politely before entering.
"Chrono… you… are you alright?" she asked, more worried than usual.
"More or less."
"Sorry… I didn't know it could be so dangerous." She lowered her head.
I suspected that even knowing, she'd still have sent someone. Stormveil was no simple place—especially under a demigod's nose.
"You realize this is connected to the death rune?" I asked.
"Yes… maybe." She sighed. "I'm not entirely sure. If you agree to help me again…"
"Uh…"
I wasn't sure I wanted to help Fia again, even if she looked at me like that.
"I have no one else…" Her voice trembled with desperation.
It reminded me of Irina. But with the blind girl, there was no real risk. Here, the threat was tangible. I didn't want to face those deadly branches again.
"Perhaps later," I said, detached. "I've already diverted from my goals. I'm not ready for this yet."
"I understand…" Fia sighed. "I'll wait as long as needed. You've done much… and still haven't turned away… my Chrono."
And somehow, I found myself in the arms of the companion of the dead.