—Tick… tock.
Something wasn't right.
Not in the cell. Not in the prison.
In the world.
Even though I didn't yet know why.
In an underground prison where not even a single ray of sunlight could reach, in the deepest and coldest cell of all, I lay there.
I couldn't feel the passage of time.
I didn't know whether it was day or night, or whether it was yesterday or today.
But there was something else.
Something that didn't fit.
Boom!
A heavy sound, accompanied by approaching footsteps.
Rhythmic. Firm. Familiar… and yet strange.
Military boots.
A voice, sharp as a blade, spoke:
—It's been a year.
His silhouette, beyond the bars, remained steady.
Edmon Bryndol.
A former comrade from the order of knights.
At some point, he had become one of the greatest enemies of the Empire…
and now, as a member of the new cabinet, he stood before me.
I asked:
—How is it outside? Is the weather nice?
—More than nice. Every day shines like gold.
Too perfect.
He had always been like this… but today, there was something in his voice.
Something that didn't quite sit right.
—Oh… and have you gotten married yet?
—I've been too busy. But I think I will soon.
When speaking to me, Edmon still retained that tone from the past.
A way of speaking that, though awkward due to the difference in status, still carried a hint of compassion.
I smiled.
—Congratulations.
—…There's no need to congratulate me.
Thirty-five years old.
At just that age, he had managed to overthrow the Empire.
My father, an important figure within the Empire, was "justly" executed, his head hung in the central plaza.
I fled for years… until I was finally captured.
Even misguided beliefs deserve a certain respect if they've been upheld for a lifetime.
But a defeated man like me, who fled until the very end, receives nothing but contempt and humiliation.
The only reason I'm still alive…
is because Edmon hasn't decided to kill me yet.
—Maximilian. Stay down here and watch. Watch as we, the ones who brought down the Empire, rise.
His voice was full of hope.
—Watch? I thought you came to execute me.
—It's better to keep you alive. Your father was a pillar of the Empire and had to be destroyed. But you… you're nothing more than a damaged jewel. Perfect as a trophy.
Trophy.
I tasted the word.
A living trophy… it almost sounded elegant.
—Thank you. For letting me live.
I meant it.
Edmon smiled faintly, turned around, and walked up the stairs, leaving me behind.
—Take care, Max. I'll come see you from time to time.
Maximilian von Ebenholtz.
A name abandoned, without value.
My life rotted in the shadow of my father.
I could wield a sword a little, use a bit of magic… nothing more.
But thanks to that incompetence, I'm still alive.
What irony.
—Tick… tock.
How much time passed?
The cell opened again, and Edmon appeared once more. His face had more wrinkles.
—…
—How many years has it been? The guards don't say anything.
—Three.
—That's quite a while. Has the outside changed?
—…Yes.
But his voice no longer carried the same certainty.
There was fatigue in it.
—In three years… you must be married by now. Do you have children?
—…
—Not yet. I've been busy.
—When are you not? Did you get rejected?
A faint smile trembled on his lips.
—You're still the same.
The way he addressed me shifted from informal to formal.
A subtle distance.
—Ah… I see. Have you realized how difficult politics is? The revolution was a success, but what comes after is complicated, isn't it?
Edmon sighed.
—It's more complicated than I thought… but I suppose that's part of change.
It felt like he was searching for something.
Not an answer.
Validation.
—And you're asking me?
He nodded silently and left.
He no longer carried a sword.
The candidate for the Empire's greatest swordsman… had abandoned the blade.
—Tick… tock.
I opened my eyes.
Footsteps again.
—…Has it been ten years?
He appeared once more.
I nearly fainted when I saw him.
—Edmon! What happened to your hair?!
His thick black hair had thinned by half. The rest had turned gray.
—Hair isn't important.
—That's what all bald people say.
He looked at me in astonishment.
—You're still the same… it's incredible.
He sat down in front of me.
He was dressed like a politician.
—How is it outside?
—…
Silence.
Too long.
—…It must change. No… we have to change it.
—Politics must be tough. Your face has changed more than the world.
He laughed.
—Maybe you're right…
—They say people soften with age… but you've aged thirty years. Where did the knight go?
—…Somewhere, rusting.
—Maximilian.
For the first time, he said my full name.
—And you? Have you changed in here?
—I don't know. I just train.
—In a place like this?
—What do you think?
We both laughed.
Then I said:
—The world will change.
His expression stiffened.
—Because there are people like you out there.
I looked at him closely.
—You're worth far more than useless nobles like me.
His brows arched with sadness.
—My father used to say the same about you.
—Duke Sebastien…
—Not a father I wish to remember.
—Tick… tock.
The sound of the clock echoed in my mind.
Always.
—It's been twenty years…
Edmon… was now an old man.
—Max…
He collapsed into the chair.
—How much time has passed?
—Twenty years…
—But you're still the same…
—Nah, I've probably aged too.
—Max… lately, I've been thinking this…
His voice trembled.
—Maybe… if the Empire had lasted longer… humanity would have survived longer too.
—What?
—The Ezenheim… do you remember them?
—Yes.
His face twisted with despair.
—The Empire was right.
They weren't human… they were a plague.
The air grew heavy.
—What…?
—They deceived us. Their underground cities… were meant to open dimensional portals.
—…
—They summoned beings from another dimension. We lost… completely.
Something inside me broke.
—Did they destroy us?
—At first we resisted… with the help of the Yaken… but…
He shook his head.
—It was useless.
—…
—I'm sorry.
—You don't have to apologize…
—The prison was destroyed seven years ago —he added—. I thought you had died.
He threw me a key.
—Goodbye… I'll go accept my end.
—Edmon.
I stopped him.
—I never hated you.
He smiled… and disappeared.
I opened the cell.
Climbed the stairs.
And found…
a ruined world.
Ashes. Ruins.
The air tasted like death.
Papers scattered across the ground:
[The magical weapon has failed]
[Prepare for the end]
[The Ezenheim devour dimensions]
—What the hell have they done…?
Then…
something appeared.
A formless creature.
It opened its "mouth."
And—
—Tick… tock.
Everything stopped.
The world reversed.
Destruction rewound.
Time flowed backward.
And then…
—Tick… tock.
I was twenty years old again.