The fire in Azel's cave burned low, casting shifting shadows across the stone walls. Ron sat before the Keeper of Forgotten Hours, sweat dripping down his forehead as he panted, every muscle in his body aching.
His Chronox pulsed faintly on his wrist, but his steel arm was gone. The weight he had felt during the battle with Sedrick — that strange surge of futuristic alloy wrapping his arm — had vanished.
"You look disappointed," Azel said calmly, sipping from a wooden cup. "Do you believe power must always be visible to be real?"
Ron clenched his fists. "That arm… it was the only reason I could fight back at all. Without it, I'm nothing."
Azel set the cup down with a sharp tap. "No. Without discipline, you are nothing. Power without control is as deadly to the wielder as to the enemy. That arm is the Chronox reacting to danger, forging matter from fractured futures. But if you think you can summon it at will without training your own body… you are already lost."
Ron looked down, shame burning in his chest.
Azel's voice softened. "So we begin with the basics. Strength. Speed. Awareness. These are the roots from which all else will grow."
---
The Training
The following days blurred into one long test of endurance.
Ron ran through the mountain paths until his lungs burned, Azel forcing him to sprint while carrying weighted stones tied to his back. He struck wooden posts again and again until his knuckles bled, learning to keep his stance balanced. Azel blindfolded him, tossing pebbles his way, demanding he listen — truly listen — to the subtle shifts of air, to anticipate movements before they happened.
At night, he meditated by the fire, the Chronox glowing faintly. Each time he closed his eyes, he felt faint pulses in the device, as if it were breathing in rhythm with him. Sometimes, sparks of steel would flicker across his arm — only to vanish when his focus broke.
"Do not chase the steel," Azel told him one evening, as Ron sat trembling with exhaustion. "Chase the harmony. The Chronox is not a tool — it is a bond. It amplifies the strength and speed you already possess, but only when you align your heartbeat with its pulse. When that happens, the steel will come not as a crutch… but as an extension of you."
Ron gritted his teeth, pressing his hand against the glowing device. "Then I'll make it happen. I'll keep pushing until it becomes part of me."
Azel's gaze softened just slightly. "Good. That determination… is the seed Sara planted in you."
The name made Ron's chest tighten. He lifted his head, eyes blazing. "Then I'll make it bloom."
---
Meanwhile: The Riots Hub
Far across the desert wastelands of Prime Rift, the Riots Hub stirred with restless energy. Rebels prepared weapons, charged energy cores, and loaded stolen Null Walker rifles. The air buzzed with anticipation.
In one corner, Seraphin sat on a crate, her chrono-blade across her lap. A rag in her hand, she carefully polished the weapon's gleaming edge, each stroke deliberate. The blade shimmered faintly, ripples of temporal distortion flickering along its surface.
"You polish it like it's alive."
Seraphin looked up. A girl stood before her, carrying a compact pulse-rifle slung over her shoulder. She had short silver hair and amber eyes that carried both fire and sorrow. Her stance was strong, her uniform patched with scars of battle.
"I'm Raya," the girl said, dropping onto a crate beside her. "Second-in-command here. Elio told me about you — the time traveler looking for keys."
Seraphin gave a short nod, continuing her work on the blade. "And you? Why are you here?"
Raya's gaze darkened. "Because the Null Walkers took my brother when they destroyed the Greenwich Clock. He believed in its light, believed it would protect us. They made him a slave. I'm here to make sure no one else loses what I did."
The silence between them was heavy, but not uncomfortable. Seraphin finally set the blade aside and looked at her. "Then we fight for the same reason."
Raya smirked faintly. "Guess that makes us allies."
The two girls sat together, polishing their weapons in silence as the sound of preparations filled the Hub. Outside, the rebels' banners rose, the symbol of a broken clock painted in crimson across black cloth.
The counterattack was near.
---
The Crossroads
Back in the cave, Ron collapsed after another grueling exercise. His chest heaved, sweat dripping onto the stone floor. For just a second, the steel arm flickered to life, sparks racing across his shoulder before vanishing again.
Azel watched him, his old eyes sharp but proud. "You are beginning to align. Soon, you will no longer wait for the Chronox to awaken. You will command it."
Ron forced himself to his feet, every muscle screaming. "I have to. If Seraphin is still out there… if Sara's hope is in me… I can't waste another second."
Far away, Seraphin lifted her blade, her reflection shining in its silver edge. Raya stood beside her, rifle primed. Together, they faced the rebels preparing for war.
Ron and Seraphin — separated by distance, but united in purpose — were both readying themselves for the battle to come.
To be continued…
---