The door groaned open, releasing a breath of air that smelled like dust, metal, and centuries of silence. Kael grinned and stepped forward without hesitation. Jorah hesitated a heartbeat longer before muttering, "I officially regret every decision that brought me here," and followed.

The catacombs swallowed them whole.

The narrow stair spiraled down into blackness, each step slick with age. Faint blue runes flickered along the walls, humming softly, like the pulse of something asleep but dreaming. Kael's fingers brushed the stone as he descended. It thrummed against his skin—the rhythm of time itself, slow and deliberate.

"Remind me again," Jorah whispered, "why we're breaking into a divine tomb?"

"To steal from the gods," Kael said easily.

Jorah sighed. "Right. The usual."

At the bottom, the tunnel opened into a vast chamber. Columns of carved obsidian rose from floor to ceiling, etched with moving patterns of light—circles within circles, gears within stars. In the center lay an altar of silver stone, its surface cracked like glass. Floating above it was a fragment of something that pulsed faintly blue.

Kael stopped. His breath hitched.

"The Chrono Blade," he murmured. "Or… what's left of it."

The shard hovered, spinning slowly. Every turn made the air tremble. Kael could feel its call—the same heartbeat he'd heard when he died twenty years later. The same hum that tore time apart.

Jorah whistled softly. "That's it? We risked our necks for a shiny knife shard?"

Kael's lips twitched. "That 'shiny knife shard' rewrote the laws of reality once."

"Uh-huh. And I suppose it makes excellent toast, too?"

Kael ignored him, stepping closer. As he reached out, the runes on the walls flared to life. The ground shook. Voices—hundreds, maybe thousands—whispered from the darkness.

"Careful!" Jorah hissed, drawing a dagger. "I don't like the tone of that whispering."

"Relax," Kael said, though his voice was softer now. "They're not ghosts. They're echoes."

"Echoes of what?"

Kael smiled faintly. "Of me."

Light exploded.

For a heartbeat, time stopped. Kael's reflection shattered into a thousand versions—him as a child, as a warrior, as the dying man on the altar. Every life, every moment, spinning around him like shards of glass.

Then it was gone.

He staggered, clutching his head. The mark on his wrist burned bright blue. The shard pulsed in answer.

Jorah grabbed his arm. "What the hell was that?"

Kael exhaled slowly, his grin returning, sharper now. "Proof."

"Of what?"

"That I'm not insane. Just… inconvenient to the gods."

---

The chamber quieted again, the light dimming to a steady glow. Kael approached the shard, his hand trembling slightly. "You sent me back," he whispered. "You broke, and you sent me back."

The shard's hum deepened, vibrating through his bones. He could almost hear words in it—half a voice, familiar yet alien.

The thread... rewoven... incomplete...

Then silence.

Kael lowered his hand. "So it begins."

"Alright, hero," Jorah said, still on edge. "You got your glowing rock. Can we not die now?"

Kael turned toward him. "We're not done. That thing's incomplete. The rest of it must still exist—in fragments, scattered through time. If I can gather them…"

Jorah groaned. "If you can gather them, you'll do what? Tear another hole in reality?"

Kael's grin widened. "Something like that."

He slid the shard into his cloak. The runes on the wall dimmed further, but not before one line of script flared bright—ancient, unreadable, yet familiar. Kael traced it with his fingertips. "They left warnings," he murmured. "The gods sealed this place for a reason."

"Maybe because of crazy bastards like you?"

Kael chuckled. "Exactly."

---

As they climbed back toward the surface, the air grew heavier. A faint metallic tang filled Kael's mouth. Jorah stopped suddenly. "Do you smell that?"

Kael did. Blood.

A voice drifted down from above, cold and commanding. "By order of the Inquisition, step forward."

They froze.

At the top of the stairs, three armored figures appeared, cloaked in silver and gold. The sigil of the sun blazed on their chests—the mark of the Solar Church. Kael had seen them countless times in his first life. Fanatics. Murderers dressed as saints.

One of them stepped forward, a woman with a shaved head and a scar across her jaw. Her gaze locked on Kael. "You're trespassing on holy ground."

Kael lifted his hands casually. "And here I thought this was public property."

"Blasphemy," she hissed.

Jorah whispered, "Any chance you can talk our way out?"

Kael smiled. "Talking's boring."

He moved.

The first Inquisitor lunged, sword flashing. Kael ducked, grabbed the blade mid-swing, and twisted. The weapon shattered—time itself bending around the strike. The Inquisitor's armor warped like melted wax, freezing her mid-motion.

Jorah blinked. "How—"

"Borrowed a second," Kael said, stepping forward as the others attacked.

He moved like a ripple—his body flickering between moments. Each swing missed him by inches; each counterstrike landed with impossible precision. When the last Inquisitor fell, Kael stood breathing evenly, his cloak barely disturbed.

Jorah just stared. "You're… not human."

Kael wiped a streak of blood from his cheek. "Never said I was."

He turned toward the stairs. "Let's go before more of them show up."

---

Outside, the morning had turned to full daylight. The bells were still ringing, but now Kael could hear the alarm hidden beneath them. Somewhere in the city, the Inquisition would already be mobilizing. Word would spread fast—two intruders in the cathedral, one wielding forbidden magic.

Perfect.

Jorah jogged beside him. "So what now? We've got half the Church after us and you're smiling like it's festival day."

Kael's grin widened. "Because it means the gods noticed."

"Is that a good thing?"

"For me? Absolutely. For them?" He looked up at the sun, its light cutting through the clouds like a blade. "They tried to erase me once. Let's see how they handle me rewriting history."

Jorah exhaled shakily. "I really should've stayed in bed."

Kael laughed—low, dark, and alive. "Welcome to destiny, Jorah. Try not to die too soon."

As they disappeared into the winding streets, the mark on Kael's wrist flickered again, faint and blue. Far away, beyond mortal sight, something vast stirred in response—a clock with no beginning and no end, ticking once more.

---

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