Awakened Talent: 10,000 Exp Converter!

Vincent's expression remained firm as he spoke, his voice carrying a weight that made the atmosphere tense. "Do you realize that you're already dead?" His words made Ara's brows furrow, while Aevara's face twisted in displeasure. "Are you cursing my Granny?!" Aevara snapped, her small fists clenching, her vibrant eyes blazing with anger and disbelief. Before Vincent could respond, her grandmother, Tayma, intervened with a sharp tone. "Aevara! Do not be rude to the Divine Lordship." Aevara's expression darkened in frustration. "Granny!" "Enough. Go upstairs. We will speak later about your attitude." "!!" Aevara was speechless. She had only wanted to protect her grandmother, yet she was being reprimanded instead. A deep curiosity stirred within her. What exactly was a Divine Lordship? Her thoughts simmered as she turned and ascended the stairs, making a silent vow—one day, she would become a Divine Lordship herself. Tayma turned back to Vincent, offering an apologetic smile. "I apologize for my granddaughter's rudeness, My Lord." Vincent merely waved a hand dismissively. "I don't mind." "Thank you for your understanding, My Lord." At that moment, Ara spoke up softly. "I'll check on Aevara. You two may continue your conversation." She didn't wait for a response before following Aevara upstairs. Though her curiosity about Vincent's identity and his conversation with Tayma burned within her, she understood that this was a private matter. She was simply grateful that Vincent had not asked her to leave outright. However, her concern for Aevara took precedence. Vincent, observing Tayma's worried expression as Ara departed, spoke reassuringly. "Don't worry. She won't harm your granddaughter." Tayma shook her head slightly. "That is not my concern, My Lord." Vincent frowned but set the thought aside for now, returning to the topic at hand. "You haven't answered my question." Though Tayma still wore an apologetic smile, Vincent sensed a shift in her demeanor. A profound sadness surfaced in her eyes. Then, in a melancholic tone that made his eyes widen slightly in surprise, she answered, "Yes, My Lord. I am aware of my situation. I am painfully aware of my race's situation." Vincent was taken aback. He hadn't expected such an answer. According to Dio, Phantolisks had no means of realizing their predicament. Yet here stood Tayma—the very first Phantolisk he had questioned—fully aware of her plight. And from the way she spoke, it seemed she knew much more than she let on. Intrigued, Vincent leaned forward. "Explain it to me." Tayma's expression remained sorrowful as she began her tale. "My Lord… ours is a story of arrogance and regret, a tragedy woven into time itself." "We were once the Chronolisk, children of the Ethereal Flow—the current that binds all moments as one. Aeternis was our home, a realm where time was neither a master nor a prisoner, but a symphony. The rivers defied their course, the skies shimmered with eternity's hues, and past, present, and future wove seamlessly together." "But harmony was not enough. We sought dominion over time itself. We longed to break free from its grasp, to create a sanctuary beyond its reach—a place where decay held no claim and death could not touch us. The Eternal Spire was to be our triumph. Our salvation." "Instead, it became our ruin." "The moment it was activated, the Spire fractured the delicate balance we had maintained for so long. A singularity was born—an open wound in time that tore through Aeternis. In mere instants, our world collapsed, and we—the architects of this catastrophe—were cast into the abyss." "And now… we are but remnants, My Lord. Ghosts adrift in the wreckage of our ambition. We exist in the Lost Grove, where time itself lies shattered. We are no longer Chronolisk. We are the Phantolisk now, forever trapped in an endless cycle of illusion. We relive fragments of our past lives, clinging to the belief that we remain whole. But the truth? We are neither alive nor dead. We are prisoners of our own folly." "At the heart of this cursed grove, the ruins of the Eternal Spire still pulse with unstable power. It is our tether and our torment, the source of our strength and the chains that bind us. There is no escape, My Lord. No end. Only the endless turning of the wheel we ourselves set in motion." "And so, we rage within our eternal prison, cursing the ancestors who brought ruin upon us. The Chronolisk—our own forebears—were blinded by ambition, seeking eternity without consequence. They doomed us all, condemning us to this wretched half-existence. We were once destined to inherit a future unbound by time… but they have left us with nothing but an unending nightmare." "They betrayed us. They destroyed everything. And though they perished long ago, our hatred remains. It festers, deep as the wounds carved into time itself. So long as we remain trapped in this forsaken cycle, our wrath shall never fade." Vincent sat in silence, absorbing her words. When he had first asked Tayma if she was a Chronolisk, she had seemed reluctant to acknowledge it. He had assumed that meant she held her ancestors in high regard. But the venom in her voice as she spoke of them now… Vincent could feel the seething hatred she harbored for those who came before her. And he understood why. If he were in her place, aware that he was trapped in an endless loop of time, he too would likely hold the same fury. After a moment, he asked, "How long have you been enduring this endless cycle?" Tayma's voice was steady as she replied, "My Lord, as you know, time within the Lost Grove is unstable. But if this old mind of mine is still accurate, we have been trapped for at least three eons." Vincent's eyes widened. 'Three eons? That's… billions of years!' He had thought he could understand her hatred before. But now, envisioning the reality of living through the same events for countless eons—trapped in an endless, repetitive cycle—he realized he could not begin to fathom her suffering. He couldn't imagine how he himself would endure such an existence. With a deep frown and pity in his gaze, he asked, "You said you were aware of your race's situation. Have you ever sought a way to break free?" "We have, My Lord." "We?" "Yes, My Lord. I am not the only one who has retained awareness despite being caught in this cycle." Vincent nodded, waiting for her to continue. "We did find a solution. However…" Tayma hesitated. "However?" Vincent pressed. "However, we are bound to the timeline we exist in. If we attempt to act outside its parameters, we risk deletion by the Eternal Spire." Vincent's expression darkened as realization struck him. "Aren't you risking yourself right now?"