[B3]Chapter 189: When Time Held Its Breath

Inside the dome, the townspeople gasped in horror as they witnessed the devastating sight. Emma rushed to Theo’s side, her face drained of color with fear.

She knelt down, pulling Theo into her lap, her hands and clothes quickly stained with his blood.

"Idiot!" she cried, her voice trembling. "Don’t you value your life at all?" Tears welled in her eyes as she struggled to make sense of his recklessness.

Theo’s condition was terrifying—his blood soaking into the ground, his face pale, and the daggers still embedded in his body.

Emma’s heart pounded with panic, wanting to help the boy but knowing that pulling the daggers out without a way to stop the bleeding could make things worse.

Liliana, on the other hand, stood frozen in place. Her complexion had turned ghostly, her usual calm shattered. She stared at the boy’s battered form in disbelief, her mind spinning with emotions she couldn’t understand.

Why was her heart twisting in agony at the sight of this boy suffering? She barely knew him, had only met him recently. Yet the pain she felt watching him like this was unbearable. It was as if something inside her was breaking.

Even if her own parents had been lying there, the feelings wouldn’t have been as intense as they were now.

"Why?" she whispered to herself in a barely audible voice.

She didn’t understand the emotions crashing inside her. Why was she feeling like this for someone who was practically a stranger?

Emma, too caught up in trying to help the boy somehow, didn’t notice Liliana’s inner struggle. But then, Liliana’s voice broke through the silence again.

"Why?" she repeated, louder this time, her voice trembling with confusion.

Emma’s attention snapped to her friend. She had no idea why Liliana was reacting this way, but at that moment, even she was struggling with the same question: Why?

What drove him to such madness?

However, outside the dome, Linwe and the demon army cared nothing for the emotions of those within. With Theo down, the Monarch demon turned its attention to Bloom, unleashing its fury.

In response, Bloom summoned more demonic crop soldiers around her, commanding them to shield her from the onslaught. But the Monarch demon was relentless, tearing through the monstrous crops with ease, slicing through them as if they were mere nuisances.

The battlefield was filled with the sound of plants being shredded, their twisted forms falling like withered leaves.

As Bloom became increasingly occupied with the rampaging demon, the chaos caused by the Twin Hellhound only escalated. Its fiery attacks wreaked havoc, spreading destruction across the battlefield. Any hope of victory was slipping further and further away.

At that moment, a dark fire began to dance above the magic circle engraved for the sacrificial ritual, flickering and twisting wildly in the air.

Linwe's lips curved into a wicked smile as he intensified his chant, his voice growing louder with each passing second.

The fire above the circle grew fiercer, and dark, smoky snakes materialized, slithering into the sky before converging at a single point above.

Suddenly, the sky turned pitch black, thick clouds swallowing the sun, plunging the battlefield into an eerie twilight. Day turned to night in the blink of an eye, casting an unsettling shadow over the land.

Linwe’s brow furrowed slightly as he glanced up without uninterrupted chanting.

Within the dark clouds, numerous shadows began to descend, their forms similar to the Monarch demon’s but far more imposing. Leading them was a towering figure of nine-feet, a menacing helm atop his head with blood-red horns protruding from it like jagged blades.

The moment this figure landed on the earth, the air itself seemed to freeze. A suffocating pressure radiated from him, thick and heavy, as if the atmosphere had been crushed under an unbearable weight.

The fighting ceased immediately, and every demon on the battlefield fell to their knees in reverence. Even Bloom mentally commanded her forces to halt, sensing the overwhelming presence before her.

The Twin Hellhound, which had been wreaking havoc moments earlier, stilled and lowered its heads to the ground in submission.

The Monarch demon was no different, dropping to his knees, bowing slightly as the figure's presence filled the battlefield. Agnes, too, knelt without hesitation, her head bowed in respect.

Only Linwe continued his chant, though his eyes darted nervously toward the towering figure that now stood before him.

The towering figure’s gaze swept over the battlefield, lingering for a moment on the barrier before locking onto Linwe.

"Halt the sacrificial ritual," the figure commanded.

The power of the command seemed to reach deep into Linwe’s soul, and without a second thought, he ceased his chanting.

As the words died on his lips, the black fire that had been dancing above the magic circle began to flicker and slowly die down.

Linwe, now kneeling like the others, raised his head slightly, daring to meet the figure’s eyes. "Ascendant Malachor... why... why have you ordered the ritual to be stopped?"

Malachor’s cold eyes met his, unflinching. "Do you truly believe such a crucial ritual could be conducted in this wretched realm?" His voice was laced with disdain. "The binding forces here are weak, pathetic. Sovereign Thanatos and I have been charged by the higher powers to transport them to the upper realm for the ritual."

Linwe gasped, shock flickering across his face. He had known the ritual to awaken the Forgotten One was of paramount importance, but for the task to be entrusted to Sovereign Thanatos himself... that was beyond anything he had imagined. Sovereign Thanatos was the feared Demon Lord—his name alone struck terror across the land.

"But..." Linwe stammered, barely able to process the revelation. "The Demon Lord... himself?"

Malachor's gaze hardened. "Yes, the Demon Lord. Do not think for a second that you’re worthy of completing this ritual on your own. Your part is done here."

Malachor then turned toward the barrier, his face hardened at what he saw.

[Five minutes earlier...]

The ritual was at its peak. The black fire danced above the magic circle, flickering with dark energy, moments before the arrival of the uninvited guest.

Liliana, standing a few meters away from where Theo lay in Emma’s lap, was still wrestling with the turmoil inside her.

"Why..." she called out, her voice breaking as she yelled at the boy, who appeared to be locked in a desperate battle with death.

Why would he sacrifice himself like this?

However, her continuous questioning was interrupted by an unexpected sight. A dark door materialized in front of her, emerging from thin air.

From within, a figure stepped out, cloaked in black. The moment their eyes met, both their expressions froze—shock mirrored in each of their faces.

Liliana’s mind went blank. The puzzlement she had felt moments ago evaporated, replaced by an entirely new wave of questions.

She could feel her heart racing, her thoughts spinning out of control. "Why are you here?" she demanded.

The figure seemed just as surprised to see Liliana. Her sharp gaze scrutinized the princess for a moment before darting behind her.

The moment she saw the scene unfolding on the battlefield, her face darkened with fury. "Why are these bastards attacking Bloom?" she growled, her voice tight with barely contained rage.

It was Lilith.

She didn’t know why the door had opened, nor did she care at that moment. All that mattered was the chaos in front of her.

The battlefield and the assault on Bloom blurred into the background as her eyes darted frantically, searching for something—or rather, someone.

Pivoting on her heels, her breath quickened. A sense of dread clawed at her chest as her gaze swept across the battlefield with increasing desperation. Then, as she completed her turn, her eyes landed on him.

Theo, lying in a pool of his own blood in Emma’s lap, countless daggers embedded in his body.

The world seemed to stop for Lilith.

"Nooooooooooooo!" The agonized scream tore from her throat, raw and filled with such pain that it seemed to shake the air itself.

Her chest tightened as if a thousand thorns had pierced her heart all at once. The pain was indescribable, a searing anguish that tore through her soul.

In an instant, Lilith appeared beside Theo, pulling him from Emma’s lap and into her arms. She held him tightly, completely disregarding the daggers that pressed against her own skin, uncaring of the sharp blades digging into her flesh.

Emma, still kneeling beside them, was dumbstruck by the sight of Lilith. The girl resembled her friend Liliana so closely, it was impossible not to wonder if they were sisters. But even more shocking was the bond she shared with the boy—something deeper than words could explain.

But Emma couldn’t ask. The sight before her was too raw, too heavy with grief.

Lilith's face, streaked with blood and tears, trembled as she clutched Theo to her chest. Her grip was desperate, her arms trembling from the strain of holding him so close, as if sheer willpower alone could stop him from slipping away.

Blood soaked through her clothes, and the sharp blades that had torn through her skin gleamed in the dying light, but Lilith didn't care. All that mattered to her was the boy lying limp in her arms.

"You fool... why would you do this?" she whispered hoarsely, her voice breaking as she searched Theo's pale, lifeless face for any sign of movement, any flicker of life. Her fingers, now stained red, brushed through his matted hair with a gentleness that defied the violence around them.

Tears fell freely, mingling with the blood on her hands as she rocked him. "Why didn’t you call me?" she choked out, her voice breaking. "I would've slaughtered them all. Every last one."

Her words faded into a soft, broken plea, her heartache raw and tangible. "Please... wake up. Please wake up..."

As her cries filled the air, Liliana appeared at her side, her gaze intense, eyes locked down on Lilith, who lay cradling the boy on the ground. A question burned behind them. "Why are you crying for him?" Liliana's voice was sharp, edged with disbelief.

Lilith's grief morphed into fury in an instant, her eyes snapping up to meet Liliana's. She looked like a wounded animal, vicious and ready to strike. "Shut your mouth, bitch... or I swear, I’ll slaughter you first," she snarled.

Pat!

The sound of the soft slap echoed louder than it should have. Lilith’s words stopped instantly, her eyes widening in shock. The anger on her face flickered into disbelief.

Emma, and even those trapped within the barrier, stared in stunned silence—not at Lilith’s vicious threats, but at the source of the slap. It hadn’t come from Liliana or anyone else nearby.

It had come from the boy.

Theo, lying bloodied and broken, had raised his hand, slapping Lilith with what little strength he had left. His near-lifeless body had moved—not to defend himself, but to stop her.

Liliana’s lips parted, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes darted from Theo’s limp hand to his pale face, her mind reeling.

In that moment, something shifted inside her—a memory long buried flickered to life. All the pieces began to fall into place.

There was no more doubt in her heart. No more confusion clouding her mind. She knew now, with painful clarity, why Lilith was here, why this boy had thrown himself into chaos to save her. The answer was right before her, too obvious to deny any longer.

And then, just as suddenly, the floodgates she had been holding back broke. Her eyes welled with tears, and before she could stop them, they came crashing down, unstoppable.

The boy with the cyan hair—the boy lying on the brink of death—was the answer to all her questions.

"Theo...!" she screamed, collapsing to her knees beside him. Her fingers trembled as she grasped the hand that had silenced Lilith. The realization hit her like a tidal wave, washing away the confusion, the questions, everything.

Emma's gaze darted between Liliana and the boy lying motionless on the ground.

Theo?

Her heart raced, confusion coloring her face. How could Liliana call this boy Theo? How could that boy be here now when the last she heard, he was supposed to be in Ashenvale Village?

She opened her mouth, about to ask the burning question, but the words never came. They froze in her throat as something... impossible happened.

The tear sliding down Liliana’s face halted mid-air, suspended like a droplet of glass. Everything stopped.

The battle outside the barrier, the warriors locked in a frenzy, now stood like statues, as though the entire world had been trapped in a three-dimensional painting crafted by the twisted hand of modern technology.

Even the wind that had been whipping through the blood-soaked battlefield was still, as if the very air had forgotten to move. Time itself seemed to hold its breath.

In the midst of the eerie stillness, Theo’s body began to stir.

Bloodied and broken, he shifted in Lilith’s arms, gently pushing her away as he slipped his hand from Liliana’s desperate grasp.

Slowly, impossibly, Theo sat up, covered in countless blades, his blood still pooling around him. The sight was surreal—he was like a ghost rising from his grave, torn and battered but alive, somehow.

His gaze swept across the tear-streaked faces of the two women before him, their expressions filled with despair, as if they were helpless children trapped in the raw agony of a moment that refused to end.

Why were they frozen, trapped in their sorrow?

It puzzled him. How could he be moving while everything else was stuck in place?

Have I died? The thought slipped through his mind as he looked around, the strange stillness making the world feel like a dream. However, it seemed worse than a dream, a nightmare where nothing made sense.

He rose to his feet, wincing as he reached for the blades embedded in his body.

One by one, he pulled them out, tossing each to the ground—or so he thought.

But the blades never fell. They stayed in midair, suspended as if frozen by the same invisible force that held everything else. His blood, too, hung there in droplets, refusing to obey gravity.

It was surreal, but Theo didn’t stop. He removed each and every blade, tossing them aside, only to watch them float around him like debris in a frozen sea of time.

He was still pulling the last blade from his back when the sound of approaching footsteps broke through the silence.

A familiar voice followed, laced with amusement. "Oh, boy, what kind of trouble have you stirred up this time? You've really outdone yourself—making my granddaughter shed tears over you. Now that’s a new level of chaos, even for me."

Theo turned to see the man—Grandpa Ryuk—standing there with a sly grin on his face, hands tucked casually into his white coat pockets.