Entering my realm is really just a last-ditch effort before going to that cave. I don't know if this will do anything or even if it has any real implications. I feel like a coward for saying this, but it's probably my safest option. After all, I don't want to die.
Thinking this, Elios sighed. Although the action was self-deprecating, he couldn't make himself stop—because, in a sense, it also alleviated his nerves.
I know the method of entering my realm, but I've never actually had to do it. Every other time, Sentinel had done it for me.
Looking out at the endless ocean, Elios moved closer to the water—just enough that when the waves rose to the shore, his toes would get wet. Sitting down on the pale sand, he closed his eyes in a cross-legged meditative position.
He focused on what he was—all the good, all the bad. He needed to find the place where balance was always kept. For him, it was the sea of endless clouds that divided his realm into two halves.
He looked deeper, as if trying to find a gateway within his heart. The longer he did this, the more he felt something foreign—but not unwelcome. It felt similar to the time when Gaia had used his body as a conduit.
It was that same energy—but much less potent.
That energy coursed through his body, growing and exploring every single inch from the inside out. It spread like a raging fire, unwilling to be extinguished. It surged from the tips of his feet all the way to his brain, exploring every inch of his being.
The more he felt it, the stronger he became—until he tried to take actual control over the energy. It was foreign and uncontained. Even with difficulty, he could still control it. At this point, he was going off instinct, as if it was something ingrained—something he knew how to do, even though he had never done it before.
Focusing all the energy at the center of his heart, he pushed—as if opening the gates to Valhalla.
And in that instant, his mind was dragged into the familiar place he called his realm.
Opening his eyes within his realm, he immediately saw the familiar clouds that held his weight, ensuring he never fell to the world beneath. The brilliant golden stairs stretched infinitely—so close, yet so far.
The bleeding room, cut in half in this red world that lay beneath his feet.
These familiar sights would be breathtaking in any other situation. But instead of focusing on the beautiful decorations within his realm, his gaze locked onto something else.
His body was outlined in green.
And it wasn't just a trick of the eye.
He moved his hand—and so did the green energy surrounding it. It was a bright, brilliant green that shone with power. As he lifted his hand, wisps of raw energy escaped before ultimately falling back onto it.
It was mesmerizing.
Yet he couldn't help but ask himself—what was going on?
What is all this?
Sentinel never told me any of this. Never explained any of this.
As he began to test and play around with this new power, he saw differently than before. As the energy coalesced around his eyes, the world stopped—as if time had ceased to flow.
Everything was eerily still.
Yet he could feel it.
Something was moving across everything. And the more he focused, the more he saw it—unrecognizable until acknowledged.
It was flowing green energy—similar to the bright green surrounding his body, but much more potent. And darker.
Yet the more he gazed upon it, the more he felt drawn to it—as if it was begging him to move along with it. To follow this stream of unknown energy to the end. To find out what had happened to this realm of his.
I feel everything in this place.
More than that—I see it.
Every step I take is one second. Time flows again. The clouds are parting, as if allowing my existence in this area—when before, they completely denied it.
The more he observed, the more it filled him with joy.
After so many dead ends, who would have thought that a last-ditch effort—a coward's last-ditch effort—would be what brought him closest to being free from this island?
Then the thought came to him.
Was this actually good?
Would it try to kill me—whatever was at the end?
Yet, unlike before, he smiled.
A smile filled with relaxed joy.
Why?
Because this was his realm.
No matter if a creature or an entity could enter—the one who held power was him.
Confidence stirred within his mind. His realm began to reflect that confidence—becoming stronger, more dense in every sense. From the clouds to the red sky beneath his feet.
Yet as his steps guided him along with the potent green energy, the clouds dispersed—revealing a clearing.
Within that clearing lay a throne.
The throne itself was silver, outlined by beautiful green. Its emerald color dazzled in his gaze, drawing him in even further.
But what truly caught his eye—what made his gaze widen—was a scythe.
Or, more precisely, the look of this beautiful weapon.
It had a long black pole—at least three feet long. Carved into it were markings. The more he looked, the more he saw—markings of a river, flowing constantly. Of people falling into that river and never emerging.
But the blade.
The blade had only a singular marking at its center—one that connected to every other marking on the pole with lines that swiveled and curved, linking them perfectly.
The marking showed a clock.
Unlike others, this one had four hands—each pointing at 3, 6, 9, and 12.
What truly astonished him was that it wasn't written in normal binary numbers.
Elios could barely recognize them as numbers at all.
If it weren't for common knowledge and logic, he would have had no clue that this weapon had anything to do with time.