She’d always been like this. Catherine enjoyed betraying people who trusted her. How much it hurt her to hurt them. She adored it. Catherine lived to inflict suffering upon herself. But Miseria just peered into her with those eyes, those cold blue eyes. Like pouring cold water on her head.
She wanted to betray her.
She wanted to hurt her.
Catherine had realized she was a witch two thousand years ago. Her friend had been attacked by bandits, and she’d tried to save her but been too late. An arrow had gone right through her stomach. She wiped out the bandits and cradled her friend in her arms, feeling her body go cold, her eyes going empty.
At the time, she was still alive.
But the coldness of her touch, the fear that her friend might die—it left Catherine stunned, and before she recovered, her friend had passed.
There was no taking this back. Her heart filled with grief and guilt.
But also joy.
It had been a point of no return for Catherine, too. From that point on, she was always betraying people. Wearing a mask of benevolence, fooling herself and others, and reveling in it.
That’s why Miseria had to die. Catherine had to kill anyone she couldn’t deceive.
Catherine crossed her arms. The two spells shot toward the Puppeteer.
Rogue was running flat out. He could hear Chronos’s footsteps up ahead, and that was his guide.
He had no idea where in the warehouse the nobleman was.
Damn, this place is big!
He heard an explosion behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a tornado. Their battle was underway. Several more booms followed.
Are we really the same species?
The scale was too different. It was hard to believe there were any restrictions on their magic.
Then Chronos’s footsteps abruptly disappeared. Rogue skidded to a halt. He looked around the passage between the containers. No signs of Chronos.
“Done playing tag?” he yelled, checking each container in turn.
“Tag?” Chronos’s voice came from somewhere. “I was never trying to run at all. I intend to kill you here. While she’s dealing with that irritating witch.”
“All you’ve done is run. You really think you can win?”
Rogue was just keeping him talking. If Chronos lost his temper and his cool, great. And Rogue himself was too angry not to talk back.
“You’re asking me that? A foolish question. Have you forgotten your time is flowing backward?”
Startled, Rogue glanced down at his arms. His sleeves were getting longer— No, he was getting smaller. Checking further, he found much amiss. His gaze felt lower to the ground, and his shoes were too roomy.
“Go on, shrivel away! See if you find me.”
“Dammit! Where are you?”
He knew the man was close.
He could hear him but not see him. Miseria had shot him, but he must have staunched the wound; there was no blood to follow.
Rogue kept running. And Chronos kept calling.
“Not that way!” and “Where are you going? You’re getting colder!” then “Better hurry, before you disappear!”
That voice was always in his ears. One moment behind him, the next ahead. It would come from his right, then his left.
Sweat poured down Rogue’s brow.
He was out of breath, starting to struggle. He tried to take a hard left, and his shoe went flying off.
“Hah…hah…”
Out of breath, Rogue came to a stop.
His feet no longer fit his shoes. They were far too big, like they belonged to a giant.
His jacket was loose. He’d have to fold the sleeves multiple times to get his hands out.
……Shit.
His body had shrunk too far to ignore.
He couldn’t believe the reversal of the biological clock happened so quickly. A wave of panic hit him. But he knew Chronos must be nearby. He hadn’t left the warehouse. He’d be close, waiting to verify Rogue’s death.
“What, have you given up?”
The voice came from a container on the left.
That’s where he is. Rogue didn’t budge.
He’d had an idea.
Chronos’s footsteps had vanished…not because he’d stopped and hidden, but because he’d taken off his shoes.
Rogue listened closely.
Rustling cloth. Even though he wasn’t moving himself.
I thought so. He’s right there.
The faint sound of his breath. Soil shifting. So soft, someone would never catch it if they weren’t listening very carefully. He’d never have managed it while he was running around.
The sound of shifting soil came closer.
Shhh, shhh.
______Wait. Not yet.
Rogue began to walk.
Shhh, shhh.
He moved forward, resisting the impulse to turn around.
______Still not the right moment.
The sound behind him changed from a shhh to a crunch.
______Almost.
He was close. He could hear Chronos breathing.
Feel it on his neck.
And when he did, Rogue flung his jacket behind him. It landed on the invisible man, floating in the air, and Chronos appeared, like a splash of color on a blank page.
“______Huh?! Clear’s gone?” Chronos yelped.
Rogue tackled him with all his might. Chronos fell over backward. Rogue clenched his glove and punched Chronos in the face.
“Drop dead, shitstain!” Rogue roared. He was relieved. It had been a close call. If he’d blown the timing, he’d be dead now.
Then there was an even bigger explosion. It rocked the entire warehouse, and the light fixtures sounded ready to shatter.
Is Miseria okay?
No, his priority was subduing Chronos. He tried to grab the man’s arm to cuff him, but he felt a sharp blow to his left cheek and was thrown backward.
______Wha—?!
Rogue was knocked off balance.
Unable to catch himself, his back hit something hard. It took his breath away.
Chronos was up on his feet.
“That hurt…a lot,” Chronos spat. There was blood in his spittle. “You cut the inside of my cheek!”
Rogue’s head spun. He’d soaked a counter?
All he could do was watch Chronos approach.
“Is that disbelief on your face? I’m not sure why. You have a pebble’s worth of magic. I mean, you’re a child again.”
Backed up against a container, Rogue tried to stand. His legs were shaking and refused to support him.
Chronos was blathering on.
“I told you I was turning back your time! No child can defeat an adult. Think it through!”
Pushing himself against the container, he finally made it to his feet, fists raised. His legs were still shaking, but he forced them to stop.
“Give it up. It’s over.”
“……I’m just glad you didn’t cast some invulnerability spell.”
“What? Do you still think you can win?”
“……And what if I do?”
Chronos threw up his hands, appalled.
“Inconceivable,” he declared. “Resign yourself. I was born in the Two Great Noble Houses. I’m inherently superior to you. I have a purpose to fulfill! Only I can change the world! If I am to restore the age of witches, I cannot let myself be stopped—”
Rogue rushed in close, his fist slamming into Chronos’s unguarded nose.
“Gah?!”
Chronos was on his heels, clutching his nose.
“A fluke hit won’t—”
Rogue didn’t let him finish. He was in the air, a roundhouse kick striking Chronos’s brow. The man staggered and failed to catch himself, landing on his ass.