Global Gods : Skill-Resonance Awakened Chapter 385 385: Ch 385 : One Year of Time

Within the suffocating grip of the negation domain, Sunny navigated like a phantom through an ocean of darkness.

Each moment spent adrift in this dense void felt equivalent to a year of rigorous physical exertion. Yet, his determination held firm, solidifying rather than fracturing. The initial shock of severing his connection had subsided, replaced by a glacial rage.

"When I first pierced the veil, my senses were overwhelmed by the energies of countless beings," Sunny mused, his jaw clenched. "Billions of ancient deities... yet after days navigating this final resting place, I've only encountered Chronos. The sheer magnitude of this deception is astounding."

He understood the bleak odds of his survival. If he were to spend centuries aimlessly searching for every fallen deity, his own finite existence would inevitably run out, a stark contrast to the preservation he sought.

"Seeking them out one by one is a futile endeavor," Sunny murmured, his voice barely disturbing the oppressive silence. "By the time I locate even a small portion, the rest will have succumbed to the decay of mortality. The only viable approach is to find the origin, the very core driving this negation, and eradicate it from existence. Should the domain collapse, the natural laws will reassert themselves, and consequently, the deities will awaken."

The imperative to rescue these reincarnated beings was not merely an act of compassion; it was a crucial strategic objective.

Sunny had already formulated a plan to assimilate the unique Void-born endowments of the ancient deities. To truly contend as an equal among the Nihilium Royal Family within the Real Void, he couldn't merely be a master of the localized sphere; he required the foundational authorities bestowed upon these deities by the primordial Void during their genesis.

As he traversed the void, more spectral forms came into view. Some appeared to be in their prime, their skin still retaining a resilience absent in the aged, parchment-like state of Chronos. Others were nearing their end, trembling in the darkness as their divine essence slowly dissipated.

Sunny surmised that the more youthful apparitions were simply more recent casualties, having entered the domain years or perhaps decades after the God of Time.

A wave of vexation washed over him; he could perceive them, even reach out to them, but their salvation was beyond his current capabilities.

Without his Inner World's portal, he was unable to secure them within the safety of Veridia. Lacking the Soul Weaver's abilities, he couldn't even preserve their essential forms for a potential future revival. He felt like a magnate stranded in a desert, utterly incapable of procuring a single drop of water.

While Sunny grappled with the void's profound silence, the Real Void was engaged in a different kind of conflict, a ballet of veiled animosity and treacherous machinations.

Within her secluded sanctuary, Lady Sansa occupied a throne meticulously crafted from interwoven starlight, her countenance noticeably pale. Standing at her side were two individuals of considerable influence: her father, Samson, and her betrothed, Verion.

To fortify her spiritual core against the insidious corruption of the Beyonder, she was being infused with both Heavenly and Earthly Treasures—primordial energies that carried the essence of ancient terrestrial realms.

These sacred artifacts were designed to bolster the dimensional barriers of her inner sanctum, thereby impeding the Beyonder's expansion and, more critically, preparing her domain to withstand the immense conceptual gravity associated with the simultaneous arrival of two Nihilium royals.

Sansa's gaze remained fixed upon Verion. The animosity she harbored towards him had long since transcended a mere flicker; it now blazed like an uncontainable inferno.

"Verion," she projected telepathically, her voice resonating directly within his consciousness, "My father and I possess the capability to expel this Beyonder. Your presence serves only as an unnecessary imposition upon my world's delicate equilibrium. I suggest you return to your own domain."

Verion waited until Samson had departed to the adjacent chamber for discussions with the attending physicians. The instant they were alone, his veneer of chivalry dissolved, revealing a flicker of cruel, predatory desire in his cosmic irises.

"How can you be so unyielding, my dear Sansa?" Verion inquired softly, advancing until he encroached upon her personal space. "The woman I desired for marriage was meant to be an obedient and gentle soul. Now, you regard me as if I were some sort of monstrosity. It is quite a transformation, wouldn't you agree?"

"You dare speak of marriage?" Sansa's eyes turned a menacing, luminous red, her voice quivering with an undercurrent of deeply buried trauma.

"My past feelings for you are irrelevant now. I was a naive child then, utterly captivated by your allure. Today, I perceive the deep-seated corruption within your very soul. I am fully aware of the lengths you would go to achieve your selfish desires."

Verion emitted a laugh, the sound akin to shattering glass. Feigning a wounded expression, his countenance shifted into a facade of practiced innocence.

"Do not utter such unkind words, my love. My affection for you has always been profound and unwavering. Perhaps some malicious whispers have reached your ears? Fabrications designed to undermine me for political advantage?"

"Cease your deceitful games!" Sansa declared, rising to her feet, her aura erupting with such potent force that the very walls of the palace seemed to tremble.

"You corrupted my inner world. You introduced a venom into my being with the intent of severing my connection to my own creation—a transgression punishable by myriad deaths. However, that is not the ultimate offense, Verion. The demise of my sister... that is where my forbearance reaches its absolute limit."

"I may not end your life today due to the watchful eyes of the High Court, but I swear upon my soul: one day, I will flay the very skin from your being with my own hands."

Verion’s smile remained unwavering. As he prepared to respond, the air shimmered, and Samson reappeared, his beard, a cascade of white light, exuding a comforting warmth.

Sansa’s demeanor shifted instantaneously. Her fury melted away, replaced by a charming, gentle smile directed at her father.

"Father," she murmured softly.

"Sansa, my child, are you managing?" Samson inquired, his brow deeply creased with a parent’s profound, agonizing concern. "Is the corruption from the Beyonder inflicting pain upon you?"

"It is manageable for the moment, Father," Sansa replied, her thoughts in a whirlwind. She needed to create time for Sunny. Her objective was to keep Verion away from the bubble for as long as possible.

"Why don't we allow the Gods residing within my inner world to confront this? I have many powerful beings situated there, and I place great faith in their capabilities."

"We cannot afford such a gamble, Sansa," Verion interjected, stepping forward to stand alongside Samson, projecting the image of a solicitous partner. "That would be an irresponsible risk to your subjects. We must utilize every available second for direct intervention. To hesitate is to permit further loss of life."

"Indeed, daughter," Samson added, nodding with solemnity. "I have already expended thousands of treasures to fortify your vessel. To allow your Gods to perish now, and for those medicinal investments to go to waste, would represent a tragic squandering of both life and resources."

A chilling knot of dread tightened within Sansa’s chest. 'Father, if only you knew that he is the one responsible for your daughter's demise and now seeks to do the same to your grandson,' she thought with profound bitterness. Taking a deep breath, she played her final card.

"Father, I implore you for but a single year," Sansa declared, her voice resonating with regal command.

"Grant the inner world one year of our time to contend. Should the predicament remain unresolved by then, I shall personally guide both of you into its depths. By that juncture, the treasures will have fully assimilated into my soul-space, rendering the peril of the world fracturing under your presence utterly nonexistent."

Samson’s gaze shifted between his daughter and Verion. He perceived an unspoken distance between them, a chasm he could not comprehend.

As a warrior of the old guard, he found himself ill-suited to the intricate politics of the heart. His sole desire was for his daughter’s safety; she was the last remnant of his family.

"Very well... if you are confident," Samson conceded at length. He gently patted Sansa’s head before moving towards the balcony, granting the younger pair their privacy.

The instant the doors sealed shut, Verion turned to Sansa, his face contorting into a wide, derisive grin. "A year? Do you truly believe ten years of inner-world time will suffice for that boy to vanquish a Beyonder?"

Note: Inner worlds operate on a 10:1 time dilation. One year in the Real Void is ten years for Sunny.

"You are placing too much faith in your Cosmos, Sansa," Verion whispered, his tone laced with scorn. "Even a lesser Beyonder is a being capable of annihilating a Nihilium royal. Do you honestly believe a child from a bubble, stripped of his inherent abilities, could even hope to lay a hand upon it?"

"Cosmos is a royal, just as we are, Verion," Sansa retorted, her heart pounding fiercely against her ribs with a fear she was determined to conceal. "He is the Chosen One of the Void. He will discover a way."

Verion’s laughter echoed through the chamber. "The Chosen One? Perhaps. But you cannot perceive what lies within that profound darkness, can you? Your laws hold no sway there. That realm is known as the Domain of Negation, Sansa. I trust you grasp the gravity of that designation."

"Your Chosen One is not confronting a mere monster. He is battling sheer emptiness. And after ten years, even a chosen one will cease to draw breath. Perhaps by then, my presence will no longer be required within your inner world."

He turned and departed, his cape billowing behind him like a funereal banner. Sansa watched his retreat before slumping back onto her throne, tears welling in her eyes as she gazed at the dark sphere within her inner world.

"Ten years, Cosmos," she breathed. "Ten years to achieve the impossible. Please... do not perish in that darkness."