When Azriel opened his eyes, he felt his back pressing against the countless shards of rubble beneath him. Above him, there was only darkness.
But around him… the remnants of the floor were bathed in an ethereal glow, illuminated beautifully by the white mana stones.
Azriel groaned and sat up.
'I'm back…'
"Haaa…"
He exhaled loudly, his mind more of a mess than ever.
'What am I supposed to do with all this? Seriously… messing with me however he wanted.'
He didn't even know where to start. Where to think. All he knew was that he had somehow—against all reason—met the God of Time.
It was convenient. Too convenient. Just like how the god had suddenly decided to help him. But Azriel was not deceived by such grace.
He knew perfectly well—it was all an act. That god was using him as a mere pawn on a chessboard for a purpose he couldn't yet comprehend. Not now. He was still too small, too weak to see the bigger picture.
