Asher closed his eyes.
The world around him faded—stone walls, candlelight, the muffled hum of the palace—gone in an instant.
He stepped into another space.
But it was not a realm of darkness, nor the dead grey lands where spirits linger.It was a place untouched by time: where the sun blazed high and the moon shone just as brightly above a field of endless red roses.
At the center of this blooming garden stood a single silver chair.Upon it sat a young girl—no more than fifteen by appearance—draped in a flowing crimson gown, her pale hair shimmering under sun and moonlight alike.
When she saw him, her lips curved into a gentle, bittersweet smile.
"So… it took you a whole year to come back here, hmm?"She tilted her head. "I've been waiting, you know."
Asher's eyes were cold, his voice colder still.
"I didn't come here to play your games, Neith. You know why I'm here."
She pouted, childlike yet ancient all at once.
"Why are you always so angry at me?"She flicked a rose petal from her sleeve."I never forced you to do any of this. You chose to be the hero because you thought it would pay for your sins."
She leaned forward, voice softening, almost tender.
"I offered you a quiet life, Asher. A life without war or burdens. A chance to find love. A chance to forgive yourself…"
She looked away, biting her lip.
"…But you said it yourself: 'I don't deserve to be loved.'"
She laughed, but there was no joy in it—only sorrow, echoing across the timeless garden.
"I am Neith—the goddess who dwells outside time itself. I bend the years, but not the strings of fate. You were chosen, Asher. Not by me. By something… someone… far older than me."
She touched the silver chair, as if it were chains binding her in place.
"You think you're the prisoner here? You fool. I am the one who is sealed inside you. I gave you my power—my gift of Timebound Resurrection—so you could fix what you could not bear to lose. And yet…"
A single tear slid down her youthful cheek.
"…even now, you hate me for it."
Asher hesitated. Thoughts coiled through his mind like venomous snakes.
"She's right… I chose this. Not her. I cursed her in my rage—but how could I not? On the day of the Cataclysm, when the sky bled and the world drowned in prayers, I called her name. I begged. And she never came. She gave me this cursed skill instead… and vanished."
Neith's soft voice cut through his thoughts, as if she heard every bitter word.
"I know what you're thinking, Asher. Why didn't I help you then?"
She lowered her eyes.
"Because… sometimes, one must lose everything to understand the worth of having it. I wanted to spare you, too. But as I said—"
She looked at her bound wrist, shimmering faintly with runic chains.
"I am a slave. To him."
Asher's anger snapped.
"Him? Who is he?! Who makes a goddess of time his slave?!"
His voice thundered across the timeless garden.
"Don't feed me riddles! You exist outside time—you could have undone everything, but you didn't!"
Neith flinched. For the first time, her immortal poise cracked.
"I thought so too… once. Until I found him."
She shook her head slowly.
"To him, I was a perfect piece on his chessboard. Nothing more."
Asher's jaw tightened. His fingers curled into fists.
"A piece? You—"
But she cut him off, her voice trembling.
"You cannot fight him, Asher. Not yet. He made me. He caged me. And through me… he chose you."
"Asher… Why don't you become my successor?"
Asher blinked.
"Successor? What the hell does that mean? You want me to be… a god? Take your place?!"
She giggled softly, shaking her head.
"No, foolish Hero. I mean within my order. My believers, my temples, my saints and knights—they've existed for centuries. A successor is the second highest seat under me. A mortal who bears my mark and my power. But this world… drains faith, spirit, even Qi. No one has ever been worthy. Until you."
She snapped her fingers, and an ethereal crown flickered above his head—then vanished.
"If you accept, I'll grant you everything: my full power, my protection. And your 'Timebound Resurrection'? No more recharge. No more 24-hour limits. Use it whenever you wish, however you wish."
Asher's mind raced.
"If I can control time freely… I can fix every mistake. Save everyone. No more helplessness. No more Cataclysm…"
Yet his reply was ice-cold:
"And what's the price, Neith? Don't insult me—I'm no fool. I've lived long enough to know everything comes with a cost."
Neith stared at him—then laughed. Not mockingly, but with sad delight.
"Hahaha… Asher, you truly are my favorite human."
Her smile turned cruel and tender at once.
"Fine. The price: every time you twist time, the pain will double. Your body, your soul—both will tear apart bit by bit."
She rose from her silver chair, roses blooming at her feet.
"And the more you bend time's flow, the more your soul will radiate navigated energy. It will draw horrors to you… or worse, drive you to slaughter the ones you swore to protect."
Her voice fell to a whisper.
"And one day, you might wish to end your own life just to make the pain stop."
She extended her pale hand toward him.
"So, my dearest hero—do you still want it?"
Without another heartbeat wasted, Asher answered. His eyes, cold and bright, met Neith's endless red gaze.
"Sure."
His voice didn't tremble. Not once.
"This is nothing but a test of my beliefs—and my will. Pain? I've known worse. Losing myself? I already did, once. But hurting those I love?"
He stepped closer, so close her rose-red hair brushed his cheek, so close even a goddess felt his conviction.
"I'd sooner tear my own soul apart than raise a hand against them. So mark me, Neith. Bind me. Test me. I won't break—ever."
A ghost of pride flickered in Neith's eyes—then something darker rippled beneath it, a storm swirling behind a glass smile.
She whispered:
"Then, my stubborn knight… may you endure eternity for them."
She lifted her pale hand. With a soft breath, she pressed two fingers to Asher's forehead.
The sun and moon overhead froze—time itself halted.The field of roses blackened, their petals drifting upward like embers drawn into a vortex.
A voice, not hers but older than the universe, echoed through Asher's bones:
"Heir of the Timebound Throne. Bear the weight. Bear the pain. Be the knife and the balm. Be ruin—and resurrection."
Lines of silver light carved themselves into his veins. Burning. Freezing. Time flooded backward and forward inside him. Memories not his own flickered like shards of broken mirrors—worlds that died, lovers that wept, gods that fell.
Then silence.
Neith pulled her fingers away, her smile bittersweet.
"The chains are yours now. There is no undoing them. Use them well… and do not hate me when the agony comes."
Asher fell to one knee, breathing hard. His vision blurred—then sharpened like a predator's.
Above him, Neith's form flickered—child, maiden, crone—then settled again into the crimson-gowned girl.
"Go back, my knight. Save what you can. Lose what you must. But never forget…"
She leaned close, whispering so only he could hear:
"In the end, even time kneels to will."
The field dissolved into white.
When Asher opened his eyes—
—he was back in the real world.
Beside Lady Ariel's chair.
The wind was gentle. The war drums in the distance beat slower, as if afraid.
On the back of his right hand, a faint silver sigil glowed—an hourglass split by a sword.
Asher flexed his fingers. The pain was there already, coiled under his skin like a sleeping dragon.
He only smiled and then ran.
"Time was a beast I now leashed to my will."
He looked at Ariel's gentle sleeping face. The world didn't know yet — but time itself now bowed to her knight.
This gently reminds the reader why he fights.