Cornea stepped forward, chin raised in triumph.

  “See that, you hag?” she said, voice dripping with smug delight as she looked at Astrea. “My

  The words were sarcastic—but beneath them hid something warmer. Relief. Pride. Concern she would never admit aloud.

  Astrea rose slowly to her feet, her expression unreadable.

  Arlen’s grip tightened around Raikiri.

  he thought.

  Before he could react, warmth crashed into him.

  Astrea wrapped both Cornea and

  “Well done, brat!” she laughed, voice booming with satisfaction. “I never saw that coming. Not even once.”

  She pulled back just enough to grin at Cornea.

  “And you—ha! I really thought you’d turn out just as stubborn and idiot as your father. But no. You picked one hell of an ally.”

  Solon approached, leaning on his cane, wearing an infuriatingly smug smile.

  “Told you,” he said. “Ho ho. This boy’s got far more potential than you gave him credit for.”

  His gaze shifted to Tethys, and the ancient authority melted away instantly.

  “Well then,” he continued lightly, “how about we go inside and talk over some tea?”

  With Tethys present, the Gatekeeper was no longer a cosmic judge—just an old man trying to spoil his granddaughter.

  Dryas quietly served tea to everyone.

  Arlen didn’t waste time.

  “Astrea,” he said firmly, “I have questions.”

  Her gaze flicked to him.

  “You know Chronos,” Arlen continued. “Too well. And I’m certain you also know exactly which relic I need next.”

  Astrea sighed.

  “You’re far too serious for someone your age.”

  She took a sip of tea, then set the cup down.

  “Yes. I do have information. Valuable information. And after that duel… you’ve proven yourself worthy of hearing it.”

  Everyone leaned in.

  “But first,” she said, eyes locking onto Arlen, “let me be clear. Even now, you are still weaker than Chronos.”

  No hesitation. No cruelty. Just truth.

  “It will hurt to hear,” she continued, “but it’s reality. That said—” a faint smile curved her lips, “—with the way you fight, I’d say you have about five percent

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  She shrugged.

  “That’s far more than I ever expected.”

  Arlen raised a hand.

  “Before you go on,” he said, voice steady, “answer me this.”

  The room stilled.

  “Who is Chronos to you?”

  Astrea’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  “You speak like you know him—not as a god, but as a person. You’re Cornea’s aunt, not mine. I don’t trust words for free.”

  He met her gaze without flinching.

  “So give me proof,” Arlen said.

  “Why should I trust you?”

  She smiled—

  not a gentle smile,

  but one carved from pain.

  “You’re sharp,” Astrea said quietly. “Very well. I’ll tell you my past. Listen carefully.”

  She paused.

  Every eye in the room fixed on her.

  Solon, meanwhile, casually slipped a cookie into Tethys’s hands like a harmless old grandfather, completely at odds with the gravity of the moment.

  “Chronos and I are twins,” Astrea began.

  “We were born from Aethel’s being at the same place, the same moment. Time and Space - together.”

  She exhaled softly.

  “I’m only a few moments older.”

  Her gaze drifted, lost somewhere far older than memory.

  “Twenty millennia ago, when we were still young… he was a good boy. A scared child. He always hid behind his big sister.”

  A faint bitterness crept into her voice.

  “But power changes people.”

  She looked straight at Arlen.

  “When Chronos ascended, when he became a throne holder—he didn’t grow cruel like Mortis. He didn’t rely on lies or manipulation.”

  Astrea’s eyes hardened.

  “He grew convinced

  “Convinced that anyone weaker than him exists to serve him.”

  Silence pressed down on the room.

  “And now,” she continued, “his stolen memories have returned. Mortis is gone. There is no one left for him to punish.”

  Her gaze sharpened.

  “So his rage will fall on you, Arlen.”

  Arlen smirked.

  “Perfect,” he said calmly.

  “I’ll take all of his attention. That’s the best scenario possible.”

  His eyes glinted.

  “I him to look at me while I tear him apart.”

  Astrea nodded once.

  “Then listen carefully. The relic you need—the one that gives you a chance against Chronos—is called the Anchor of Causality

  Arlen leaned forward instinctively.

  “It moves forward,” Astrea explained.

  “Always.”

  “When Chronos was under Mortis’s control, his memory of his true power was suppressed. But his real ability is far worse than anything you’ve faced.”

  She raised a finger.

  “He can pause

  time.”

  “And he can rewind

  it—for a few moments.”

  A chill rippled through the room.

  “That’s where the Anchor comes in,” she continued.

  “Even when time is reversed, its effects persist. Combine it with Soul Eater, and you can permanently destroy Chronos’s core.”

  She gave a small, humourless smile.

  “Whether you can

  him long enough to do that…”

  “Well. Good luck.”

  Cornea stepped in before the weight could deepen further.

  “Before any fight,” she said firmly, “you’re taking a break.”

  Arlen turned toward her, surprised.

  “You’ve been fighting nonstop,” she continued. “I won’t have you face Chronos mentally exhausted.”

  She stepped closer and wrapped one arm around him—not possessive, not dominant. Protective.

  “And more importantly,” she said quietly, “you need to see them.”

  Arlen stiffened.

  “Your family,” Cornea continued. “The people you lost. The people you freed.”

  Her fingers wrapped around his. Her grip tightened slightly.

  “That trauma won’t break until you see the result of everything you’ve done—until you see humanity living without the gods’ chains – god’s rule.”

  Arlen went silent.

  For the first time in a long while, he looked… uncertain.

  Then he nodded.

  Astrea smiled, genuinely this time.

  “That’s a wonderful idea. In fact—you all should go.”

  “I have allies,” Astrea continued. “Gods outside Heaven. The god of wind. The god of dreams. And others. They’ll meet with you in a few days. Till then relax and visit the mortal world.”

  Dryas looked up in surprise. “Gods outside heaven? I never knew.”

  She laughed softly.

  “Heaven is a very small, narrow place, a mere community of gods – under the rule of the throne holders. Too small to hold all of Aethel’s children.”

  She looked at Arlen.

  “You’ll understand when you meet them.”

  Then her expression softened.

  “Go, Arlen. See with your own eyes what humanity chooses now.”

  Her voice dropped to a near whisper.

  “Family… or faith.”