Chapter 4: Edward’s Misgivings

“Hey, sit, sit.” Yulia tugged his sleeve like a willow frond snagging cloth, her breath a small ripple in still water.

“What’d you drag me here for again, to meet that guy?” Edward rolled his eyes, impatience prickling like nettles under skin.

“Mhm. I called you.” Eli stepped out of the shadows, his black robe a night tide swallowing his face. “There’s something you must know.”

“Me?” Edward’s confusion rose first like fog, then his gaze followed, sharp as flint.

Eli nodded. “Yes.”

“Aren’t you always Mr. Untouchable? What, trouble hits and now you think of me?” Edward’s arrogance strutted like a rooster at dawn.

Eli tilted his head, looking him over, then shook his head with a faint, helpless smile. “Has anyone told you you’re insufferable?” His words fell like cold rain.

Off to the side, Yulia nodded so hard she was a woodpecker on bark.

Edward’s face froze, turning dark as a soot-stained pot; he sat beside Yulia, stiff as a stake in frozen ground, pride burning like a coal he refused to drop.

So he jerked his chin up, glare like a drawn blade. “If you can’t make sense, I’m marching troops to smash you tomorrow.”

Eli ignored the bait; he lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. The snap cracked like ice.

Seven figures stepped from the space behind him, slow as ghosts through a paper screen, each robed near-identical to Eli, each a shadow with a slightly different shade.

Edward frowned at the parlor trick, arms folded like bars across his chest, a cold smile curving like a hooked knife. “What are you pulling?”

“I forgot to tell you earlier. Our emissaries sent to aid you, counting me, number nine.” Eli’s voice was level as a still pond. “Two has been sent to track a target. The rest are before you.” He pointed at the avatars, fingers steady as a metronome.

“I am One. The one at my side is Three. Then Four through Nine. Those are our names.” Eli’s gaze swept them like wind over reeds. “We showed only me at first to watch which of you is the rightful one Zero spoke of.”

Edward’s face darkened again, stormclouds rolling. “So I’m not qualified, huh? You did all this to lure me out and dress me down? How bored are you.”

“No.” Eli’s reply moved slow, a river under ice. “Our views differ. We decided to support you separately, not all fold under one banner.”

“I, Three, Four, and Six will follow Yulia. Seven and Eight will follow Ghoulia. The rest are for you, Edward.” Eli paused, weighing Edward’s expression like a scale measuring grains of salt.

Edward snorted, the sound dry as sand. “You think I care about your power?”

“At least with me here, I can still steamroll either of you.” Eli’s face stayed cold, voice flat as slate.

Three clapped Eli’s shoulder, a playful slap like a sparrow landing. “Hey—uh—One, don’t get so heated, yeah? He’s just stuck in his head. If you didn’t needle Edward, he wouldn’t needle you back, right?”

Eli turned, eyes falling on his own reflection in another skin.

Split-souls had a bothersome quirk. Each avatar carried its own way of thinking, like a seed cut from one fruit and planted in different soil.

Simply put, a single thought from Eli’s heart was set into a living shell and, for all kinds of reasons, magnified like a lantern’s shadow.

You could call them his emotion-splits, each a mask carved from a mood.

Clearly, the one before him was the old, unruly Eli, the jester at the root.

Three arched a brow, smile easy as spring breeze. “Alright, stop poking. Let him talk.”

Eli’s face stayed wooden, but he nodded once, a stone’s assent.

Edward studied the group for a beat, eyes narrowing like shutters against glare. The scent on them matched, yet each carried a subtle difference, like nine cups poured from one jar with nine different rims.

He frowned, thought turning like a millstone, and finally pinned the reason on Zero.

Maybe Zero had copied soldiers for convenience. They didn’t need full independent souls, only overwhelming power—the rest was varnish.

That thought settled like warm wine in winter. His chest unwound, pleased as a cat in sun.

He nodded. “Good. Any emissary who wants to come with me, stand at my side. I’ll take you back to my lands.”

“Five, Nine—go with Edward,” Three stepped forward, blocking One with a casual body-check, grin bright as lacquer. He waved the others on like a shepherd with a switch.

Five shot Nine a crooked look; Nine shrugged, a leaf flicked by wind. They stepped out and dropped to one knee, blades of grass bowing. “We’re willing to serve.”

“Hold up. You two aren’t his plants, are you?” The thought stabbed Edward; suspicion flared like a match.

“Same as I said. If we stood together, flattening you would be easy. Why bother with tricks?” Eli pulled Three back behind him, a quiet motion like moving a pawn, voice mild as ash.

“Tsk. Still talk like sandpaper.” Edward sneered without smiling, lips a thin knife. “For your people’s sake, I’ll let it slide.”

Eli lifted his head, helplessness washing through his eyes like a tide. Fine. No need to butt horns with this bull.

“Hey, hey—don’t rush off. There’s one more thing.” Three raised a hand to bar Edward, palm up like a gate.

Edward frowned and turned, his patience a frayed rope. “What now?”

Three glanced at Eli; Eli gave a small nod, a quiet bell.

Truth be told, for many things Three spoke softer than he did now, like rain instead of hail.

With his current attitude, anyone would get hot just listening. Better hand it to one of the three he’d crafted with care.

Three smiled, voice warm as tea steam. “Edward, do you know there are other universes in this world?”

“Other universes?”

...

“The wine doesn’t drunk the man; the man drowns himself.” The man flicked his wine gourd away like a skipping stone and grinned at the newcomer. “Well, well—look who’s here.”

Abyss frowned, a trench cut into calm water. “Why are you still here?”

“Oh? If not here, where should I drift?” The man’s eyes were glazed with drink, his laugh frosty as hoarfrost. He cut a glance at Abyss. “I’m not your chess piece. Go play your own game.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t see it.” Abyss’s gaze cooled, a winter moon over a frozen lake.

The man turned his head aside, bored as a cat, then pulled another wine gourd from his spatial pocket. Glug-glug, he poured it down like a waterfall over rocks.

“I’ll ride the wind and cut the waves—cross yellow sands and seas—”

“Stop singing.” Abyss’s voice sighed, a breeze through pines.

The man shrugged, shoulders loose as reeds. He rolled his eyes. “And you can stop caring.”

“I don’t get it. At a moment like this, why the tantrum?” Abyss looked at him, puzzlement a knot in the wood.

“Tch. You stand outside time. Of course you don’t care.” The man flung the gourd at Abyss’s face, a hawk stooping on prey.

The gourd didn’t hit. It slid through him like through a glass veil, then thumped the floor behind, a hollow drumbeat.

“You—what’s that?” The man blinked, stunned, eyes widening like shutters blown open by wind.

Abyss nodded, helpless as a man at the river’s ford. “Just like you think. I’ll soon let all this go, and return where I long to be.”

“Then what about Time?” The man’s brow furrowed, a plow cutting rows. “Right now is the crux—past Eli is changing the future. If you stop guarding Time, what if something special crosses the Sea and kills Eli while he’s still weak?”

“That’s why I came to you.” Abyss smiled, faint as starlight through fog.

“Me? You joking.” The man laughed and shook his head, then flopped into a sleeping Buddha pose, turning his back like a door shutting.

“You were born in the age before ages, and besides me, you’re the one who’s touched Time the most in the long river.” Abyss picked up the gourd, his steps unhurried as drifting clouds. He sat beside the man and handed it back.

“By that logic, others could do it too. Why me?” The man rolled his eyes, distaste wrinkling like a crumpled fan.

“You each have your own charge. You think just because you can handle Time, the others have nothing else to hold? Think bigger, kid. The cosmos needs more than steady Time.” Abyss’s smile was wry as bitter tea.

“No. Too much trouble. I don’t buy it. You’re just tricking me back.” His gaze went hazy for a heartbeat, like heat over desert, then snapped clear. He shook his head hard. “Yeah. You’re scamming me to go back.”

“Ah. Fool.” Abyss sighed, the sound like a tide ebbing. “You’ve exiled yourself in Time so long. In real Time—if I wanted to catch you, you think I couldn’t? This is life-and-death now. If you don’t go, everything turns to ash. Every effort to dust. You willing?”

“Come with me to the Sea of Time and you’ll see.” Abyss watched him keep that oil-and-salt-won’t-enter face, and his tone turned resigned, a reed bent by wind.

“Tch. Old liar.” Interest sparked in the man’s eyes like flint. He sprang up from the floor in a single motion, light as a cat.

“Let’s go. Let’s see this Sea of Time.” Excitement bubbled, a spring breaking through stone.

“...You were faking?”

“Nope. Just got curious. How’s curiosity faking?” His grin flashed, a fox in moonlight.

“...Fine.”

“Heh-heh-heh.”

“Wipe that grin. If you can’t pass the trial, even if I help, you’ll fail. Get lost.”

“Okay, okay... Oh—right... Abyss... how is she?”

“...At the end of Time, waiting for his arrival.” Abyss’s answer fell like a bell in mist.

“Man. A little regret, a little loss.” The man lowered his head, a faint smile like a thin crescent.

“Don’t overthink it. You’ve got plenty of lady friends. You think I don’t know?”

“Uh... hah. Guess you saw through me.”