Wandering Witch: Penance of a thief

One by one, they fell.

Men and women alike crumpled to the ground—cut down by blades, pierced by steel.

The sound of metal slicing through flesh echoed relentlessly through the blood-soaked battlefield.

Screams rang louder with each passing second, reverberating among the lifeless bodies that now carpeted the earth.

Amid the chaos, a lone woman sat calmly atop a broken crate, a smile tugging at her lips as though she were enjoying a performance staged just for her.

She was the commander. The one who had led the mercenaries. And she was very pleased.

"Good job," she said, almost lazily.

One of the mercenaries—face smeared with dirt and blood—glanced her way with a grimace.

"Ma'am, I know you paid us and all, but... could you maybe help a little?"

The short-haired woman tilted her head, the strands of her blue hair catching the sunlight.

"I'd love to," she said, her voice sweet yet distant, "but if I step in, everything will be over in an instant."

"I want you to at least try to be useful."

A few of the mercenaries exchanged doubtful glances.

Was she mocking them?

"You don't believe me, do you?" she asked, a playful lilt in her tone as she stood to her full height.

Then, without warning—snap.

The world froze.

No wind. No sound. No movement.

Time itself held its breath.

In that perfect stillness, she walked forward, leaned down, and gently sliced open the arm of the mercenary who had just spoken.

Not deep, just enough to prove a point.

Another snap, and time roared back into motion.

"AAAGHH!" the mercenary howled, clutching his arm in shock.

The woman raised her fingers again—this time glowing faintly—and whispered, "Rewind."

In an instant, the wound closed as if it had never been. The pain vanished.

"Hahh… If Arche and the others find out I've been hurting the mercenaries, they'll definitely scold me," she muttered with a sigh.

The mercenaries stared in awe.

That power…

To freeze time. To undo wounds.

She wasn't bluffing.

"…Alright!" one of them finally shouted. "Let's go again!"

"Ready!" the others chimed in, their voices ringing with newfound confidence.

Chronia smiled.

Yes. Now they understood.

But then—the air changed.

A sudden, sharp chill cut through the battlefield like a whisper of death.

The mercenaries who had stood proudly beside Chronia stiffened.

And when they turned around—They were already frozen.

A web of jagged, glistening ice encased their bodies, crawling from their feet to their chests, then to their necks, until only horrified eyes remained visible beneath the transparent frost.

Their mouths parted in silent screams, but no sound escaped.

The frost seeped inward.

It was killing them from the inside out.

"Well, well," a voice rang out—low, smooth, and frigid. "You're surprisingly good at leading others, Chronia."

From amidst the mist of cold, a man stepped forward. His presence alone seemed to darken the air.

"Too bad your little soldiers are going to die slow, agonizing deaths," he said, his tone devoid of empathy.

"Oh?" Chronia turned, unfazed, arms still folded as if bored.

Her eyes locked onto him like blades. "So you're the one behind this. Zepharion."

The man—tall, cloaked in shades of black and blue, his breath visible in the air—snapped his fingers.

CRACK.

The ice didn't just break.

It shattered.

And with it, so did the mercenaries trapped inside. Their bodies fractured like glass sculptures, collapsing into crimson shards across the ground.

Now, only two remained.

Chronia.

And Zepharion.

"Long time no see," Zepharion said, walking slowly over the corpses of her comrades. "My former captain."

Chronia didn't flinch. She met his approach with a sardonic smile.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever find someone to replace me."

"I did," Zepharion said darkly, clicking his tongue. "But it seems your replacements... weren't up to standard."

Chronia let out a small, cold laugh. "What a shame. You always did have poor taste in people."

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you, Chronia." Zepharion halted mid-step, turning to face her with calculating eyes.

"Hm?" Chronia raised an eyebrow, her tone as indifferent as ever.

"Why did you join this war?" he asked, voice low. "You have no deep grudge. No need for revenge. So why?"

A breeze passed between them, cold and quiet. Chronia let out a soft chuckle, her grin returning. "I just wanted to help Arche."

She shrugged. "Is that answer good enough for you?"

Zepharion's lips curled into a smirk—cruel and sharp. "Fighting for someone who doesn't even love you back, huh? That's pitiful."

Chronia's smile vanished.

Her emerald eyes narrowed, now laced with annoyance. "Watch your tongue, Zepharion."

"Oh?" He let out a mocking laugh. "Struck a nerve? So it is true."

He stepped closer, his voice lowering into something almost venomous.

"I heard from Valth... the woman Arche likes is nothing like you."

His grin widened. "Tell me, Chronia—do you really think you can win his heart?"

A muscle in Chronia's jaw twitched. Her composure cracked, just slightly.

"You and Valth really love to gossip, don't you?" she spat, her tone clipped.

But the words cut deeper than she let on.

Her expression darkened.

Her fists clenched tightly at her sides as she tried to hold back the heat of frustration rising in her chest.

"Keep your words to yourself," she snapped, her voice sharp like a blade drawn in warning.

The temperature dropped.

A glimmer of frost danced in the air as ice began to crawl over Zepharion's arms, forming crystalline gloves around his hands.

"Then let's settle this," he said coldly. "A fight between people who no longer belong to this world."

Chronia exhaled, her body relaxing into a ready stance. Her coat fluttered behind her, and a wild gleam lit up her eyes.

"If that's what it takes to shut you up…" she smirked, stretching her limbs casually.

"Then come at me, Zepharion."

Zepharion struck first—his fist rocketing toward Chronia's face, but she deflected it with ease.

In a fluid motion, she countered with a vicious uppercut aimed straight at his chin.

He caught her wrist mid-air. A chilling sensation spread through her arm as frost crept along her skin.

Without hesitation, Chronia slammed a sharp kick into Zepharion's gut, forcing him to leap backward.

With a snap of his fingers, time froze.

Chronia stepped forward slowly, calmly, like a predator savoring the moment.

Then—just as time snapped back into motion—she drove her blade into Zepharion's abdomen.

"This all you've got?" she taunted, a smirk playing on her lips.

But his body shattered into shards of ice. It wasn't him. Just a decoy.

Chronia slid her knife back into its sheath and scanned her surroundings—only to find herself surrounded by countless versions of Zepharion.

"Oh, come on… One of your faces is already enough to make me sick," she groaned. "But hey, at least I get to smash that smug look over and over again!"

"She's terrifying, isn't she?" one of the Zepharions muttered.

"Yeah… you're absolutely right," another replied grimly.

Chronia dashed forward like a bullet, her eyes locked on her target.

One of the Zepharions swung at her, but she effortlessly parried the blow—then unleashed a furious barrage of punches to his gut and chest.

Without missing a beat, she slammed his head into the wall. The clone shattered instantly into a storm of ice shards.

Another Zepharion lunged at her. Chronia sidestepped and swept his legs from under him, sending him tumbling across the floor before he too exploded into frozen fragments.

No pause. No mercy.

Yet another Zepharion hurled himself at her, trying to tackle her down with brute force.

But Chronia met him head-on—slamming her fist into his back, then following up with a brutal elbow to his spine.

She seized his waist, lifted him clean off the ground, and hurled him against the wall. Another ice corpse.

Still more came.

One swung left, then right—both strikes blocked. Chronia countered with a fist to the face, followed by a savage kick to the knee.

As he stumbled, dazed, she spun and launched a vicious kick straight to his skull.

CRACK.

Ice burst in every direction.

"You're not using your time manipulation ability?" one of the Zepharions asked, tilting his head.

"I will… after I've had my fun beating the hell out of all of you!" Chronia laughed darkly, cracking her knuckles.

"Is that so?" another Zepharion replied, as the air around them grew colder. "I hope you can handle the cold."

"Don't underestimate me, bastard," Chronia snapped, her eyes burning.

"You've changed a lot, haven't you? At first, you seemed like such a gentle and feminine woman," one Zepharion sneered.

"Yeah, well… less than a year in this organization turned me into this," Chronia shot back with a smirk.

"And let's just say... my teammates aren't exactly rays of sunshine," she added. "We're not some team of heroes, after all."

"Ah, I see," another Zepharion nodded, the corner of his lip twitching.

Another Zepharion launched a high kick aimed straight for Chronia's face—but she blocked it with ease, her forearm catching the strike mid-air.

He followed with a punch, trying to break through her guard, but she caught his wrist with a cold, iron grip.

Chronia struck first—her fist slammed into his gut, folding him forward.

Then, with vicious precision, she drove four fingers into the right side of his neck—then the left. Arteries crushed.

She gripped his throat with both hands, lifted him clean off the ground, and slammed him into the floor with bone-cracking force.

His body exploded into frozen shards.

No pause. No mercy.

Another Zepharion came flying at her, foot first—but Chronia raised her knee, stopping the strike dead.

Before he could recover, she smashed her fist into his face, sending him crashing to the ground.

Without hesitation, she brought her heel down on his skull—hard—slamming his head into the floor.

Ice erupted. Another gone.

From behind, yet another Zepharion lunged. But Chronia triggered her time ability, her perception sharpening to a razor's edge.

She spun around in a blur, grabbing his incoming arm before it could touch her.

Her fist crashed into his jaw—once, clean and brutal. He hit the ground, stunned but still intact.

That didn't last.

Chronia grabbed his head with both hands and began slamming it into the floor—again, and again, and again—until finally, his body could take no more and burst into ice.

Silence.

Then her breath, steady and unshaken.

Chronia was panting, her breath ragged, her body marked by the chaos—but her eyes still burned with fury. More of them were coming. More Zepharions to crush.

"I'm impressed," one of them remarked, stepping forward with a smirk.

"You used to be the kind of woman who relied solely on her powers."

Chronia wiped blood from her lip and let out a short laugh. "Before this, I was trained—relentlessly—by Arche and the others. Hand-to-hand. No shortcuts."

She stepped forward, her presence like a blade. "Besides... what kind of idiot walks into war with a major organization without being prepared?"

Another Zepharion chuckled darkly. "But you're starting to look tired now."

Chronia cracked her neck and gave a cold, wild grin. "Yeah… maybe I've had enough of holding back."

She dropped into stance, fists ready.

"Let's end this game."

One of the Zepharions surged forward, throwing a heavy punch straight at Chronia.

She deflected it—barely—but he was already following up with another strike.

She wanted to freeze time, to gain the upper hand… but she couldn't.

Her focus was locked on the relentless attacker in front of her. No opening. No break.

Chronia kept deflecting, dodging, blocking—each blow testing her limits. She was holding up, but her arms were getting heavier.

Her movements slower. Every breath burned.

She tried to counter, throwing a punch of her own—but Zepharion caught her arm, twisted, and retaliated with a strike of his own. Chronia parried it just in time.

Then came a kick aimed at her head—she raised her arm and blocked it, the impact ringing through her bones. Another punch followed—she deflected it.

But the next one landed. A solid hit to her cheek.

Chronia staggered.

A brutal kick slammed into her ribs. She gritted her teeth, tanking the pain, just as Zepharion grabbed both her shoulders—knee to the gut. She choked back a cry.

Chronia shoved him off with a snarl, but he retaliated instantly with a low kick to her hip, forcing her to step back.

Another kick came, aimed upward—Chronia blocked it with her forearm, but the pressure was intense.

Then came a spinning kick toward her face—she ducked, breath sharp and focused.

But it didn't stop.

Zepharion launched another kick, faster, heavier—she blocked it, barely, the impact sending her stumbling.

With a surge of rage, Chronia twisted her body and kicked back, slamming her foot into his chest and sending him crashing to the ground.

This was her shot.

She activated her time acceleration, channeling everything into her legs—blurred movement, pure speed—and launched a crushing kick to his face.

CRACK.

Zepharion was flung back like a ragdoll, smashing into the wall with bone-shattering force before shattering into shards of glittering ice.

Chronia dropped to one knee, panting, sweat dripping from her brow, blood trailing from the corner of her lip.

Chronia took a long, sharp breath—then snapped. Time surged through her veins like lightning as she activated her acceleration, her body pulsing with raw speed and force.

From behind, another Zepharion leapt toward her, foot swinging toward her head.

But Chronia caught his leg mid-air with one hand.

Her eyes blazed with fury.

With a growl, she swung him like a wrecking ball and slammed his entire body into the wall with bone-crushing power.

The impact echoed through the room—and in an instant, he shattered into a thousand shards of glimmering ice.

Another Zepharion charged her—fast. His fists flew like a flurry of knives. Chronia blocked each strike, sparks of force clashing between them.

Then she countered—one clean punch to his face that made his head snap sideways.

Before he could react, she grabbed his throat, lifted him slightly off the ground, and spun him around.

Her hands gripped his skull, and with a snarl, she hoisted him up—

—and slammed his head down with unrelenting fury onto the table beside her. Wood cracked. The table shattered.

But she wasn't done.

She stomped down on his skull with her heel—once, violently—CRACK. Ice exploded beneath her foot.

Another Zepharion screamed and lunged at her from the side, flying through the air with a reckless charge.

Chronia twisted, caught him mid-flight by the gut, and spiked him into the ground like a meteor—BOOM—the floor beneath them dented, and his body instantly shattered into ice and mist.

Chronia stood amidst the ruin—bloodied, breathless, unbroken.

Chronia drew her knife again—the same one Zack had taught her to wield. Her grip was steady. Her breath cold.

She turned on her heel and charged toward one of the remaining Zepharions. He lashed out, a wild swing of desperation—

—but Chronia blocked it effortlessly, her eyes locked onto him like a predator.

With one swift, merciless thrust, she buried the blade into his chest.

He screamed, but only briefly.

Behind her—movement. Another Zepharion lunged.

Chronia spun, catching the attack just in time, parrying the strike with a surge of strength.

Then, without hesitation, she drove her blade into his knee, crippling him.

She pivoted sharply—back to the first Zepharion—who was now writhing in pain.

With surgical precision, Chronia plunged the blade into the side of his neck, then immediately rammed it through the front of his throat.

The sound of cracking ice was all that was left as his body shattered.

She turned again—the crippled Zepharion still kneeling in agony.

Chronia didn't hesitate. She stepped forward and drove the knife into the back of his neck, sending him into icy oblivion.

One left.

The final Zepharion locked eyes with her, panic setting in. He tried to move, tried to escape—too late.

Chronia hurled her knife with flawless aim.

Thunk.

It landed deep in his back, making him stumble forward with a gasp of pain, his hand instinctively reaching to pull it out.

But Chronia was already there—too fast, too precise. She ripped the blade free—

—and plunged it straight into his skull.

His body froze for a split second…

Then shattered into frost and fragments.

Chronia stood in the silence, her knife dripping with what little warmth remained.

Before she could even rest, Chronia felt the temperature around her drop sharply. In an instant, the floor beneath her turned to ice.

She looked around—everything was slowly being engulfed by frost. The air turned cold, sharp like blades against her skin.

As she tried to move forward, her foot slipped. She crashed to the ground.

Gritting her teeth, she struggled to stand—only to fall again. The ice was mercilessly slick.

"You can't even stand, can you?"

A cold, mocking voice echoed.

Chronia slowly lifted herself and turned around. Behind her stood Zepharion, clad in jagged armor sculpted entirely from glistening ice.

His presence was overwhelming, the sheer cold radiating from him like a blizzard given form.

"I'll admit, it looks pretty cool," Chronia muttered, forcing a smirk.

"Thank you," Zepharion replied smoothly. "I do have a knack for style."

Then his voice dropped, darker, heavier. "You're exhausted now, aren't you? This will be easy."

He wasn't wrong. Chronia was spent, her limbs heavy and sluggish. Even breathing felt like a chore.

The frozen floor was sapping what little strength she had left. "Tch… So that's why you stalled… to prepare all this?" she asked, panting.

"Correct," he said with a cruel smile. "I am the one who can freeze time itself."

"Bastard…" Chronia gasped, her breath visible in the freezing air.

Zepharion shot forward like a bullet, effortlessly gliding across the icy terrain.

With full control over the frost beneath his feet, not even a hint of a slip betrayed his speed.

Chronia met his charge with savage precision. Her leg snapped upward in a ruthless arc, her heel crashing into his face with a sharp crack.

Before he could recover, her other leg followed—slamming hard into his abdomen and sending him skidding backward across the frozen ground.

Without mercy, she launched another kick, but Zepharion caught her leg with his knee and shoved her away.

The slippery surface betrayed her—Chronia lost her footing and crashed down hard.

In a blink, Zepharion conjured a jagged chair of ice and hurled it straight at her.

But time itself bent to her will. Time Stop. The world froze—and so did the deadly ice.

With a flick, the frozen projectile shattered into crystalline shards.

Chronia sprang back to her feet, only to be met with a vicious kick to her ribs.

This time, she blocked it—then twisted upward in mid-air, her foot driving straight into his chest, launching him backward like a ragdoll.

No pause. No mercy. She darted forward and spun, unleashing a brutal kick aimed at his skull—but Zepharion's arm shot up, halting it just in time.

Chronia's fist followed in a blur—only for Zepharion to deflect it again, sending her momentum spiraling.

She rotated with the force, regaining balance—and then, another kick, dead-on for his face.

Zepharion ducked beneath the strike. Another kick came from her, relentless—but once more, he stopped it cold.

"You're pretty good with your legs," Zepharion muttered, breath heavy.

"A friend of mine named Murphy taught me," she shot back, voice sharp as a blade.

Then Zepharion's knee exploded forward, ramming into her gut with enough force to knock the wind out of her.

Chronia flew backward, the ice screeching under her as she skidded across it, body curling from the impact.

Chronia slammed into the wall with a sickening thud, cracks spidering out behind her like veins of pain etched into the ice.

Her breath hitched—but there was no time to recover.

Zepharion was already there.

He lunged at her, fist flying, a blur of fury and frost. She blocked the strike just in time—but another blow followed, aimed for her head.

She caught it again, though her arms trembled.

He didn't stop.

Another punch came—Chronia ducked beneath it, her vision swimming from exhaustion.

Then came the worst—Zepharion's fist, now encased in jagged ice, slammed into her stomach with brutal force.

Crack.

She coughed violently—blood splattering onto the frozen ground, painting her pain in vivid crimson.

Her legs buckled. Her breath came in broken sobs. She tried—tried so desperately—to reach into the depths of her power, to grasp the threads of time again... but they slipped through her fingers like mist.

She couldn't focus.

She couldn't move.

Zepharion stood over her, the cold in his eyes even crueler than the ice around them.

A blade of frozen energy shaped like a triangle coiled around his hand—gleaming, sharp, merciless.

"This is where you die," he whispered.

Chronia could barely keep her eyes open. Her world blurred into light and sound. Her body screamed in pain. Her mind began to drift.

And in that moment… the memories came.

A flicker. A breath of warmth in the cold.

She saw him. Arche—smiling, laughing, the light in his eyes brighter than the sun itself. She saw the way he looked at her, every emotion painted so clearly on his face.

Every memory with him came rushing back, aching and beautiful.

And then—

She saw it.

The moment of his death.

His voice echoed through the emptiness of her mind, soft and trembling.

"Nia… you're strong. You always have been. It's just… you've never really learned how to carry that strength properly…"

"It's okay to break sometimes.. It's okay to let it all out…"

"Chronia… you're the most incredible woman I've ever known.. Please... live."

"…I love you."

She saw his face draw close. Felt the warmth of his lips against her forehead—his last act of love.

And then he was gone.

"Let it all out… huh?"

The words echoed quietly in Chronia's mind, a whisper against the chaos, a fragile thread in the storm.

Her lips couldn't move, her body was broken… but her thoughts, her heart—they were still alive. Still burning.

"Even in death… you're still giving me good advice, Arche."

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

"I finally understand… no matter how similar the Arche in this world may be, he'll never be you."

"You were… are… the only Arche that holds my heart."

Her breath trembled, barely a sigh.

"And I see it now. I can't force his heart to be mine. He's already in love—with another woman."

"And he loves her deeply… so deeply, he's fighting for her. He would die for her."

"That woman… she's lucky, isn't she?"

She smiled—just barely. A smile carved from heartbreak, from realization.

"But maybe… that means I'm lucky too.

Because someone once loved me like that."

"You loved me like that… Arche."

A pause. Then—

"I love you too."

It began as a whisper in her soul, but it surged like a wave.

Suddenly, she screamed.

A raw, soul-shattering cry ripped from her lungs, not of pain—but of release.

Of every buried sorrow, every locked-away truth, every suppressed emotion finally freed in one devastating breath.

Zepharion staggered back, eyes wide. The air around her rippled. Power erupted from her like a tidal wave, shaking the ground beneath her.

It wasn't rage. It wasn't vengeance.

It was liberation.

Chronia's wounds vanished in an instant. The blood on her skin faded.

Her trembling limbs steadied. Her eyes—calm yet ablaze.

"Rewind," she whispered.

Time folded around her like a gentle cloak. She was no longer exhausted. No longer broken.

Zepharion's jaw clenched. "Is this… Awakening?"

Chronia shook her head slowly, her voice low but sharp as ice.

"No. This is me finally letting go."

She stepped forward, graceful like a flame in the wind, unafraid. Her aura coiled around her like a storm waiting to break.

"Now then, Zepharion…"

"Shall we dance again?"

Zepharion's instincts screamed at him. The aura around her was different now—untamed, pure, and overwhelmingly human.

She wasn't fighting to win anymore. She was fighting because she had nothing left to hold her back.

And that, he realized, was far more dangerous than any power he had ever faced.

A loud crash echoed through the chamber.

Zepharion's eyes snapped wide as he turned around—only to see Chronia standing right behind him, her breath calm, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Damn it, Zeph, this slippery floor is really pissing me off," she grumbled, brushing off a bit of frost on her shoulder.

"Totally crashed into the wall… but hey, I still made it."

Before he could react, he felt his collar jerk back sharply.

Wham!

His world flipped upside down—literally—as Chronia hurled him over her shoulder with devastating force, slamming him spine-first into the ice.

The floor cracked beneath the impact like a spiderweb under a hammer.

"Oops. Did that hurt?"

Chronia didn't wait for an answer. She straightened her leg with deadly precision, spun once like a dancer with blades for feet, and launched Zepharion through the air like a broken doll.

But she wasn't finished.

She flashed forward—faster than he could blink—and caught him midair with both hands, twisting him downward, and—

CRACK!

—her foot collided with his chest in a bone-crushing kick.

Zepharion barely managed to summon a shield of ice—but it shattered the instant her strike connected.

The force sent him rocketing upward like a ragdoll caught in a tornado.

Blood sprayed into the air.

His back smashed against the ceiling, and a sharp grunt escaped his lungs as he spat blood midair.

His body began to plummet—but he regained just enough clarity to create a makeshift ice slide.

Sliding down it, he landed with a rough skid, coughing, groaning, pain screaming through his ribs.

He staggered to his feet, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth.

Chronia stood across the battlefield, a smirk curling on her lips.

"Aw, you're still standing? I was hoping that last one would at least knock a tooth out."

She rolled her shoulders, stretching slightly—like she wasn't even trying yet.

"Don't keep me waiting, Zepharion. We're just getting started, and I'm having fun."

Her aura flared again, chaotic and graceful—like a violent storm that enjoyed the destruction it caused.

Zepharion's breath hitched.

She was toying with him.

And she was just getting warmed up.

Another sickening crash echoed—louder this time.

Before Zepharion could even process the sound, Chronia was already standing in front of him, eyes lit with an eerie delight.

"Hey," she said with a grin, tilting her head, "I wanna try something."

Without warning, her foot snapped upward in a devastating arc, slamming into his chin.

CRACK!

Zepharion's body launched skyward like a ragdoll, head ricocheting against the icy ceiling.

Too battered, too exhausted to even conjure another ice slide—he plummeted like dead weight.

THUD!

His body smashed into the floor. Blood pooled beneath him, bones screaming in protest.

Death felt like it was already clawing at his consciousness.

But then…

"Nope. Not yet."

Chronia's voice rang out like a twisted lullaby. She knelt down casually, placed two fingers on his chest, and whispered—

"Rewind."

In an instant, every broken rib, every torn muscle, every inch of suffering vanished.

And then she muttered again—calmly, coldly:

"Time loop."

Zepharion's body snapped upward again—forced into the air by invisible force—and just as quickly, slammed back to the ground.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

And again.

BAM.

CRACK.

CRUNCH.

The floor fractured. His body jerked like a puppet with cut strings.

Chronia stood back, watching it all unfold. And then—she laughed.

A cruel, delighted laugh. The kind that didn't just mock pain… it savored it.

"This is so much fun!" she cackled, clapping once like a child watching a magic trick. "You bounce better than I expected!"

Zepharion's limbs twitched. His voice—if it existed anymore—was drowned in the thuds of his own suffering.

Right as death crept close again, her fingers snapped out once more.

"Rewind."

His body healed. Perfectly. Horribly. Just to be broken all over again.

Over and over.

Chronia leaned against a pillar of ice like she was watching a circus, eyes gleaming with manic glee.

"Come on, Zepharion. Dance for me."

And he did.

Not by choice, but by the cruel will of a woman who turned pain into a performance—repeating the act until death became a mercy she refused to grant.

Chronia let out a long, dramatic yawn.

"Ugh, getting boring," she muttered, lazily lifting her hand to stop the spell.

Zepharion collapsed like a broken marionette, sprawled on the cold, unforgiving ice.

He didn't scream anymore. He didn't struggle. He just… lay there. Broken. Defeated.

Chronia crouched beside him, poked his cheek with her finger, and grinned.

"Oh?"

Without hesitation, she pressed two fingers to his chest and whispered with a cheerful tone—

"Rewind~"

His body shimmered, bruises vanished, bones re-knit. He was whole again.

Too bad for him.

"Hey, I've got a new game!" she said, clapping her hands. "Not sure what to call it—but I think you'll love it."

Before he could even groan in protest, she activated a time-acceleration spell—only on him.

"Go fetch, Zepharion."

She gave him a little push.

His body zipped across the icy floor like a pinball on steroids.

SLAM!

He hit the far wall.

BOUNCE!

Ricocheted to the next.

BANG!

And again. And again.

The ice beneath him was slick enough to make every impact worse, his limbs flailing uncontrollably as the time spell launched him from wall to wall like some cursed amusement ride.

Chronia threw her head back and laughed, pure joy lighting up her face.

"Oh my gods, look at you go! This is a new game! I should patent this!"

Her eyes sparkled with glee as she watched Zepharion bounce helplessly from one end of the chamber to the other.

He was no longer a warrior.

Just a toy. A spectacle.

No pride. No dignity. Just the sound of thud-thud-thud echoing as Chronia's newest invention played out in all its brutal glory.

"Best. Day. Ever," she whispered, giggling behind her hand.

And Zepharion?

He didn't respond.

He was far too busy flying face-first into another wall.

But eventually, it became boring. Chronia stopped, her smile fading as she approached Zepharion's broken, bloodied form on the ground.

"Hey... still breathing?" she asked, almost mockingly. "Oh—never mind. You're half-dead."

Grinning, Chronia used rewind again. She'd done this countless times—too many times. Healing him... just to break him again.

But this time, something changed.

As Zepharion's body mended, his hand shot out—clutching Chronia's ankle.

Frost erupted from his grip, creeping upward with terrifying speed.

Ice began to snake along her leg, hungry and alive.

"You know..." Zepharion muttered, his voice low, sharp as shattered glass.

"You were supposed to be my key."

"I came here to become a god... to gain strength beyond imagining..."

"And you were going to open the portal back home for me. That was the plan."

His eyes gleamed with something darker than madness.

"But I've changed my mind. No, now I'll kill you slowly—so painfully slow that you'll feel death crawling toward you through every inch of your frozen flesh."

"I'll preserve your body in my ice—immaculate, unchanging—and display it in my chamber like a trophy."

"And because your body will be mine, sealed within my power..."

"I can do anything I want with it."

He raised his face then. His eyes—burning with hate—met hers.

Chronia's expression twisted in disgust. "You're a filthy piece of shit."

In a blur, she shattered the growing ice and broke free.

"I've played with you long enough," she said coldly. "I wanted to savor your suffering…"

"But after hearing those words—"

Her eyes narrowed, rage boiling beneath her calm. "—you don't deserve time. You deserve to die now."

A jagged fist of ice erupted and shot toward Chronia like a spear.

"Time stop," she muttered coldly. The world froze in an instant.

She walked slowly—deliberately—toward Zepharion. Time snapped back. The space between them was now razor-thin.

"You think I'm that easy to kill?" Chronia hissed.

Without warning, a shard of ice tore through her gut, the sickening crack of flesh and bone echoing in the frozen silence.

Chronia's eyes widened in shock. Zepharion gave a cruel smirk.

"Yes."

From beneath his coat, a glimmer of ice pulsed—malleable, living. He had shaped it into a hidden spike, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"Rewind!" Chronia roared, ripping time backward to the moment before the fatal blow.

The pain still lingered like venom in her veins. Then—ice rained from above like a storm of razors.

"Time stop!" she barked, halting the deathfall mid-air, the deadly daggers frozen mid-plunge.

But from beneath, another spear of ice lunged upward. Chronia had to burn her time acceleration to dodge, her heartbeat a blur, her vision warping.

Too focused—too slow. The suspended shards above dropped again like executioners.

Chronia twisted, barely dodging the barrage—her breathing ragged, her mind screaming. She spun—and saw it.

Another frozen fist, barreling toward her.

No way out. No escape.

"Time stop!"

Everything died in motion. Silence reigned. But time was bleeding—her control fading. She had seconds.

She dashed toward Zepharion, eyes locked in fury. With a swift motion, she tore away the ice hidden beneath Zepharion's coat—his secret weapon.

As time resumed its flow, Zepharion found a blade pressed tightly against his throat. "It's over," Chronia said, voice low and final.

Panic shattered Zepharion's composure. Sweat streamed down his face, his breath ragged and uneven.

"No… I can't lose. I won't lose!"

Desperately, he shoved Chronia away, stumbling back. His trembling hand clutched at his chest—then, suddenly, his lips curled into a manic grin. A terrible idea had bloomed.

A gamble. A suicide.

"You can't kill me, Chronia!" he screamed, laughing in panic-stricken hysteria.

Without hesitation, ice exploded from his core, crawling up his body like a parasite. Freezing. Encasing.

Chronia stood in silence, watching as the frost devoured him inch by inch.

"One day... I'll return for you, Chronia!" Zepharion's voice cracked into madness—just before the ice swallowed his face whole, his twisted grin immortalized in frost.

A grotesque statue. A mockery of defiance.

Chronia stepped forward, boots crunching against the frozen ground. She stood before the frozen shell of her enemy.

"...How unfortunate."

"I wanted to win."

With those quiet words, Chronia reached out and placed her hand upon the ice.

"Rewind," she whispered.

Time unspooled.

The ice vanished. Zepharion's body un-froze, the moment unraveling, rewritten.

He never froze himself. He never had the chance.

Before Zepharion could even understand what had changed—Chronia was already in front of him.

The blade tore through flesh and bone, driven straight into his heart.

A guttural gasp. A splatter of blood. Zepharion's knees gave way.

He collapsed to the ground—twitching once, then still. Eyes wide. Breath gone.

Silence.

Chronia stood above the body, the blood on her blade still warm.

This time, there would be no rewinding.

Chronia collapsed to her knees.

Her blade clattered to the floor beside her as she leaned weakly against the cold wall, her chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.

Her power was drained—completely. There was nothing left to give.

"Hah... I did it," she whispered, the words trembling on her lips.

A soft, weary smile crossed her face as she tilted her head back, gazing up at the ceiling like it held the stars she longed to see again.

"Arche..." she murmured, her voice almost fragile. "Even if you're not the Arche I once loved..."

She paused, emotions tightening her throat. "...I still loved you all the same."

Her voice cracked—half a confession, half a farewell. Tears shimmered in her eyes but never fell. She wasn't crying. Not yet.

"And this... this was the answer to everything you did to me," she said, not with bitterness, but with the quiet finality of a wound closed by its own healing.

"Arche..." she whispered again, this time softer, more tender.

"Thank you... for everything."

Her words weren't only for the man in this world—but for another Arche, the one in the world she had left behind. The one she could never return to.

The ice around her began to melt slowly, the bitter cold lifting with Zepharion's death.

Warmth returned to the room, gentle and bittersweet—like a sunrise after a storm.

Chronia's body, too weary to fight, slumped further against the wall. Her eyes fluttered closed as the last of her strength faded.

She surrendered to the silence, unconscious—but at peace.

She had won.

And understand her own feelings now.