Ready to fight Chronus, Jhonathan moved first.
There was no hesitation anymore. No planning. No fear of what came after. Only motion.
He charged forward.
The impact of his own acceleration was so violent that half of his body destabilized on contact with the world itself—like reality couldn't properly process the force he was outputting. Flesh tore, regenerated, tore again, all within the same instant.
But he kept going.
Then—
something inside him shifted.
A shadow touched his heart.
Not outside.
Inside.
Like something had been waiting there the entire time, watching for the right moment to respond.
Sorrow flooded through him instantly.
Not a feeling.
A weight.
It spread through his body like ink in water, consuming his movement, slowing his breath, darkening his presence.
Half of his body turned black.
Not burned. Not corrupted in a normal sense.
Changed.
As if grief itself had taken physical form and decided to live inside him.
Chronus didn't retreat.
He simply reached out.
And caught the next charge with one hand.
Jhonathan froze mid-motion.
For the first time in this fight, his momentum meant nothing.
Chronus tilted his head.
"Me want more," he muttered.
Then he squeezed.
Something inside Jhonathan cracked—not bone, not flesh, but something deeper. A layer of existence itself seemed to bend under Chronus's grip.
Sorrow filled his lungs.
Even his breath felt wrong now.
Heavy.
Unnatural.
Like his body was no longer fully alive in the way it used to be.
Then Chronus did something different.
He didn't strike.
He took.
His hand pressed against Jhonathan's chest—and for a brief moment, something invisible was pulled out.
Not blood.
Not energy.
But something closer to the structure of his immortality itself.
Chronus's eyes brightened slightly.
"Undying… good."
And then—
he stole it.
Jhonathan's ability flickered violently.
The endless revival. The forced return. The cycle that had defined his entire existence.
It warped.
It weakened.
For the first time… it wasn't absolute.
---
Before Jhonathan could react, Chronus slammed him downward.
The impact shattered the ground, splitting stone and soil in every direction. The force buried him deep into the earth, sending cracks racing outward like veins of destruction.
Inside his mind, something distorted.
Memories didn't flow normally anymore.
They bent.
Twisted.
Like death itself was influencing what he remembered.
A whisper filled his thoughts.
Death favors me.
Not a voice from outside.
Something embedded inside him.
---
Jhonathan pushed upward from the crater.
Slowly.
Unsteadily.
Then his eyes locked onto Chronus again.
Something had changed in him.
The sorrow didn't disappear—but it no longer only weighed him down.
It spread outward.
Into movement.
Into force.
He stepped forward.
And then—
he punched.
The fist collided with Chronus's face with a sound like reality snapping.
Chronus staggered.
Just slightly.
But it was enough.
Jhonathan followed immediately, driving another strike, then another, each one heavier than the last, each one fueled by something darker than rage.
Grief.
Loss.
Accumulated timelines of failure.
Chronus was pushed back.
Not defeated.
But forced.
Driven to the edge of the battlefield's meaning.
And for a brief moment, something in his expression changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
---
Then Chronus was gone.
He retreated—not fleeing in panic, but withdrawing like a system shutting itself down after damage.
His voice echoed faintly as he vanished:
"Me… return."
Silence followed.
Jhonathan stood alone in the broken field.
His body was still regenerating.
But slower now.
Different.
Incomplete in a way it had never been before.
His expression tightened.
Not in relief.
In understanding.
Chronus hadn't just fought him.
He had taken something.
And even though Chronus was gone…
Jhonathan knew one thing clearly.
This wasn't the end of the fight.
It was the beginning of a hunt.