HAPTER THIRTY-FOUR The Guardians' Decay
Morvayne's footsteps were no longer confident. The precise rhythm of her extraction routines had begun to falter.
The Gluttony core had been feeding for centuries. Not him..her. The energy she siphoned from Leylin burned at her from within, consuming her body as it attempted to consume him.
Her hands shook now, almost imperceptibly, but enough that the runes flared erratically when she touched them. Each misstep caused the chains to pulse violently, as though the prison itself had grown impatient.
The Old Man of Time noticed first.
His voice trembled as he addressed Leylin for the first time in decades.
"Spare them," he said quietly. "Spare the innocents of the age to come. Do not allow your vengeance… your existence… to destroy what is yet unformed."
Leylin's head tilted ever so slightly.
No answer.
Not a word.
The Time King's hands clenched. His shoulders sagged under centuries of unacknowledged guilt. He had watched Morvayne's vitality drain like candlelight in the wind, and he could do nothing.
Morvayne coughed once,a dry, rattling sound. Her face paled.
"The… system… requires it," she whispered to the Time King, voice breaking for the first time in memory.
He shook his head. "No. Not like this."
But the chains held Leylin steady. Pride and Gluttony pulsed quietly, undisturbed.
He did not need to speak. He did not need to act. The very aura around him was judgment enough.
Days stretched into weeks, weeks into decades.
Morvayne's frame diminished. The once-imposing figure now moved with deliberate slowness. The glow of the extraction chamber reflected off her hair, now streaked with gray.
Her voice faltered each time she addressed Leylin, whether asking for compliance or quietly muttering instructions to the equipment.
Sometimes she simply stood, hands pressed to the cage, as if seeking forgiveness from a god she could never understand.
And Leylin watched.
Always observing.
Calculating.
Waiting.
The Time King grew desperate.
"Leylin," he said one evening, voice barely above a whisper. "If you refuse, all life above will perish. I beg you..consider it. Spare them."
Leylin's eyes did not shift from the intricate web of runes binding him.
Not a flicker of recognition.
Not a spark of empathy.
Cold. Clinical. Perfect.
The Time King sank to his knees, trembling. "You cannot remain… unmoved forever."
Leylin exhaled slowly. Nothing more.
Morvayne's coughs became frequent. Her stamina faltered.
One day she did not come to the chamber.
When she returned, the brightness in her eyes had dimmed. Skin drawn, voice a whisper.
Leylin's Gluttony core pulsed ever so slightly slower, almost in acknowledgment of the human frailty before him.
The Time King avoided looking at her.
He could not bear the truth: centuries of servitude had finally taken her.
And yet, Leylin remained unchanged.
Centuries of observation had taught him patience. Every motion, every flicker, every faltering step of those around him was noted, remembered, and cataloged.
He did not react. He did not intervene.
Not because he had no compassion.
But because he was beyond it.
One night, the Time King lingered at the edge of the chamber, eyes wet.
"She's dying," he murmured.
Leylin tilted his head. Not enough for Morvayne to notice.
"Do you…?" the Time King's voice cracked. "Do you even care?"
Silence.
A faint hum. The pulse of the Pride core.
"I see," the Time King whispered. "I understand."
And he left, retreating into the shadows, leaving Morvayne alone with the cage and the sin cores she could no longer fully control.
The first cracks in the guardians' immortality had begun.
Leylin watched quietly.
Centuries had passed.
Yet, the abyss held no power over him.
And now, even those who had once been his keepers were breaking.
The experiment,the specimen..remained flawless.
This chapter sets the stage for:
Morvayne's slow death and the consequences of the Gluttony extraction. Time King's desperate attempts and eventual helplessness. Leylin remaining the unmoved observer. The tension building to the point where he finally speaks or acts, centuries later.