The ship was haunting. Its appearance, though beautiful and obviously well-crafted, looked ancient and tired.
Time around the ship was strong, and the familiar gust of time that had guided him to this area also pushed him toward it. But Elios, captivated, didn't even realize this as he gazed closer at the walls of The Cave, illuminated by the algae.
"These murals… they're kind of like the ones I found when I unlocked the Dragon Path."
Elios could understand none of the writing plastered on the walls. To him, it looked like gibberish, but the closer he examined it, the more it reminded him of ancient Greek, Norse, and even Egyptian scripts.
Framed by the writings lay a singular mural—a man reaching out his hand to claim a blade.
Not too far to the right, there was a similar scene, but instead of a blade, the figure reached for a spear.
Among the stalactites and stalagmites, runes and inscriptions were carved into the stone. The closer he looked, the more he felt time warning him, as if whispering, "Don't you dare."
Yet it wasn't as if time was trying to stop him out of anger or because he was acting beyond its control. No—it wanted to keep him alive.
Closing his eyes, he focused. He focused on everything time was telling him—from the invisible wind of time's flow to the lingering energy that permeated this entire area.
"Unlike what I expected, time is guiding me toward the ship—that much, I already understood. But the remnant energy here… it doesn't feel malevolent or evil. It just feels contained."
Allowing time to guide him, his body drifted slowly toward a broken-down dock next to the ship. Opening his eyes, he felt nothing but awe. Before him lay a marvel of creation.
Although dusty, the floor was beautiful—flawless in color, perfect in shape, unblemished.
Grabbing onto the ropes on the side of the ship, he began to climb. He didn't understand why. Why was he climbing? Why did it feel so calming to be near the ship?
He didn't know. But for some reason, he didn't care. True, it felt odd to have such blind faith in something so unnatural, yet it comforted him. It felt as if they had already formed a bond long ago.
The deck was just like the dock—dusty, yet flawless. No blemish, no deformity.
As he stood on the deck, exhilaration coursed through him. He felt calm. He felt powerful. It was as if he and the ship were one—as if everything belonging to it also belonged to him, like two destined companions meeting again after an eternity.
But time, unlike its usual ragged and untamed self, was tranquil here. In fact, it was the kindest he had ever felt it to be. Time was not against his actions nor his thoughts. If anything, it was embracing them—all of them—with a quiet, loving presence.
"Just what does this ship even represent? And why does it seem so in tune with time?"
Wandering through the ship, he eventually reached the captain's quarters. Inside, there was nothing—only a desk, a bed, and a book. A diary, perhaps.
Sitting down peacefully, Elios didn't mind the dust. After all, he was dirtier than the chair, so why would he care? Honestly, he felt at home. He was calm. He was happy. He found no difficulty in relaxing within the ship.
The book's title read: Diaries of the Remnants of Time.
Seeing this, Elios's eyes widened, his brows lifted, and his gaze gleamed with the excitement of a child.
"Remnants of time…"
"Did this book belong to others who wielded the same Specter as me?"
Opening to the first page, he found a brief explanation of the book's history.
"This book has belonged to the wielders of the Specter of Time, generation after generation. It has recorded the adventures of many Ascenders—even some who fell to sin.
So, as the first wielder of time, I ask of you—write your journey, and let this be your will for the inheritor of our Specter."
"Huh."
Elios didn't react. He didn't know how to react. Was he meant to be shocked? Overjoyed? Pleasantly surprised? He didn't know.
"I guess it makes sense… So the very first wielder of time knew that people would pass this book down, generation after generation. He must have seen into the future—damn, I can't wait to do that."
But to understand the history of this ship, this book, and how both of them arrived here, his best bet was to skim to the most recent entries.
Doing just that, he flipped to about halfway through, where the handwriting changed—not just in style, but in freshness. The ink looked newer compared to the rest.
And the very first words in this new handwriting read:
"The story of the Cycle Breaker and the Pirate Who Saw Through Time."