When Lynch opened his mind and used his consciousness to sense everything around him, the world seemed to split into two within his perception.
One was the vision of his mind. His perspective grew increasingly detached, and the pillar of light he stood in appeared narrower and narrower. Soon, countless identical light pillars entered his mind's eye. Densely intertwined, these blue pillars wove a three-dimensional net within the pitch-black chaos, stretching infinitely in every direction to the very limits of his perception. Within each pillar, a current of blue light flowed gently, resembling a surging torrent within a riverbed.
A torrent of time, the River of Time—it truly was an apt description.
The other perspective was what Lynch was visually seeing. Yet without him realizing it, his gaze had penetrated the surrounding blue light pillars, allowing him to clearly see everything beneath his feet.
The sensation was somewhat like overlooking an area from high above, yet what met his eyes was beyond his comprehension.
Below was no longer pitch-black chaos. Through the blue glow, he could see countless bizarre worms emitting a faint light, squirming and crawling through the darkness.
Varying in length and thickness, these worms slowly contracted and squirmed in the dark like earthworms burrowing deep underground. Yet they were far more densely packed than earthworms. Looking down, hundreds of millions of these “earthworms” filled Lynch's entire awareness as far as the eye could see.
Lynch stood mouth agape, unable to utter a sound for a long moment. He stared blankly at the grand yet terrifying spectacle below for quite some time before speaking in a dry voice, “W-W-What on earth are these things?”
“What your consciousness observes is the complete picture of the River of Time—or rather, the portion you are capable of perceiving,” the Yithian explained. “In truth, aside from deities, no mortal creature can perceive its true, entire form. Explaining the specifics is rather complicated, but in short, after being rectified by the power of laws, all time in the entire world and each of its branches manifests like this. What you directly observe is the time corresponding in the normal world to our current point on this time tributary. I believe your capacity for comprehension surpasses most people of this era, so you should understand what I mean. Good, as long as you understand. As for the exact time, determining it is somewhat troublesome and unnecessary, but I estimate it to be around the late Fourth Age.”
“What about those glowing worms?” Lynch was equally concerned about this.
“Worms? Ah, those are everything you normally see.”
“Huh?”
“When we are within the River of Time, everything in the normal world presents itself in this form to our observation. If we were to look at you, or your two girlfriends, or even the Milt residence, we would see them in this state as well.”
“Why is that?”
“Because the relative coordinates are different. When we observe the outside world from within the River of Time, we do not see what they are doing at a single moment, but rather the traces left by their entire lives in time. Every moment of an existence leaves a footprint in time, and when these images gather together, they form the temporal trajectories you see before you. Each trajectory represents a conceptual individual.”
“So the length signifies how long they exist?”
“Correct. The longer ones are mostly inanimate objects, while the shorter ones are living beings. Among living beings, since variations in lifespan are relatively minor, there are no obvious differences.”
Even with the adaptability he had accumulated from his past life, Lynch still found this immensely difficult to grasp. Moving silently along the same vector, he watched the worms representing temporal trajectories squirm back and forth along bizarre paths. It was as if he were witnessing countless hardworking ordinary people leading unchanging lives—being born, growing up, marrying, having children, and ultimately fading into nothingness in the depths of time.
It brought a wave of silent contemplation.
“What about Supreme entities?” Lynch asked. “Even if deities aren't eternal, their lifespans must be extraordinarily long, yet I don't see any similar traces.”
“...” A distinct sense of speechlessness and contempt resonated through his consciousness. Only after a pause did the Yithian resume communicating. “You wish to observe deities?”
Right, I forgot. Deities are unobservable and incomprehensible. Those who attempt to do so rarely pass away peacefully.
Lynch gave an embarrassed laugh, intending to change the subject. But in the next instant, the scene before his eyes shifted dramatically.
The hundreds of millions of worms rapidly dwindled, shrinking from a dense carpet covering his entire view to a sparse scattering of less than one percent. Lynch stared in dumbfounded shock.
“That was likely some disaster, one that terminated a substantial number of lives,” the Yithian noted, its tone devoid of emotion as if discussing tomorrow's weather. “A hurricane, tsunami, earthquake, though a volcanic eruption is more probable.”
“What about a great catastrophe?”
“It was not a great catastrophe. In a great catastrophe, far more individuals vanish, which appears far more distinct in the River of Time.”
Lynch nodded. Gazing down at the world of worms, he asked thoughtfully:
“So if we jump down from the River of Time, does that mean we transmigrate to another point in time?”
“Indeed. However, I do not advise you to do so. Unless you can return to the River of Time through your own power or receive assistance from other time-ability wielders, you will remain trapped at that time point forever. Every action you take will face resistance stemming from the potential alteration of time's original course. Most endeavors will end in failure, like an extraordinarily unlucky individual, and you will never be able to return to the ‘present’ until your eventual death.”
Lynch subconsciously took a step back, moving away from his spot.
“Then again, you entered the River of Time with a materialized spirit body, guided by the Silver Key. There might be other variables, though I am not entirely clear on what they might be.”
Lynch's lips twitched. The more he heard, the more he wanted to conclude this journey as quickly as possible.
Although the direct threat had diminished after shielding himself from the hounds' perception, everything here exceeded the limits of his cognition. Moreover, every single action seemed to harbor irresistible dangers; one wrong step could spell utter disaster.
This was no place to linger. Furthermore, the hounds here were indeed exceedingly dense. In the brief span since entering the River of Time, he had already encountered five packs of hounds swarming together to feed on Time Dust. Seeing yet another massive, glowing blue pack ahead, Lynch's heart leaped into his throat.
“I understand. In short, I'll stay as far away from other time points as possible. Besides, I don't know how to enter them anyway. Let's just find the Lord of Tindalos and get this over with quickly. How exactly do I find the Corner of Time and enter it to meet the Lord of Tindalos?”
“Pay attention to your mind's eye—the crisscrossing temporal network of branches.”
“Yeah, I see it. Do you mean the angles formed at the branching points?”
“No, those are temporal branchings, not the Corner of Time. You must look at the nearest 'river channels' beneath your feet. If your perspective aligns correctly, two or more 'channels' will form an 'angle' of less than one hundred and twenty degrees—that is the Corner of Time. If the perspective is wrong, you must adjust your position until you find a spot where such an 'angle' forms right under your feet. Once it does, you can enter. Thus, there is no need to search specifically; all corners are connected. As long as you enter, you can follow the tracks of the hounds to find the Lord of Tindalos.”
“And then? What actually happens when I throw the box to it?” Lynch paused in his tracks and asked. “The fact that I've waited until now to ask shows plenty of trust and respect. But if I still don't ask now, it's not respect—it's stupidity. So what exactly is that box? What happens after it gets it?”
“A stagnation block.”
“Huh? What's that?”
“It is a piece of Yithian technology that can help the Lord of Tindalos turn the tide in this war.”
“What war?”
“The war spanning all points in time between Yog-Sothoth, the Lord of a Billion Radiance, and Mulsith-ha, the Lord of Tindalos. Therefore, even if you hurl the stagnation block right at its face, Mulsith-ha will not do anything to you—at least in theory.”
“And in practice?”
The Yithian's voice fell silent. The prolonged silence drew a quiet sigh from Lynch, who understood that the creature couldn't guarantee it either.
At least it hadn't lied or offered brushed-off platitudes. Demonstrating this degree of sincerity was good enough. Lynch nodded, and following the previous instructions, began attempting to find the proper angle.
In his physical perspective, Lynch roamed through time, traversing back and forth across eras. The blue light pillars extended forward with his footsteps while hundreds of millions of temporal worms contracted and squirmed beneath his feet.
In his mind's eye, the spherical network rotated slowly as Lynch carefully adjusted his perspective, trying to piece together an angle of less than one hundred and twenty degrees underfoot.
This was no simple task. For one, the spherical network composed of time was vast; traveling a great distance rotated the perspective by only a tiny margin. For another, the River of Time formed by these pillars of light consisted of curves rather than straight lines, and the angles between them were almost always greater than one hundred and twenty degrees. Extreme patience was required to shift into a suitable angle.
And of course, there was a third factor: endless packs of hounds occasionally hurtling past him.
As the sole denizens of the River of Time, the hounds' actions were governed purely by appetite and commands. Commanded by Mulsith-ha, the Lord of Tindalos, they dwelt in the Corner of Time—or rather, the City of Tindalos deep within angular time. Only when driven by hunger would they leap into normal, curved time to devour Time Dust.
According to the Yithian's explanation, they were entities formed of Time Dust, usually remaining mist-like. Only at the exact moment of an attack would they solidify into physical form. Thus, counterattacking at that precise instant was the only way to harm them, which was why they could pass through human bodies at will.
Even without the Yithian's prior warning, Lynch was unwilling to let these seemingly immaterial monsters pass through him. It felt like a blast of freezing wind piercing straight through his body—a thoroughly unpleasant sensation. Thus, whenever Lynch encountered them, he gave them a wide berth. This undoubtedly increased the difficulty of adjusting his angle. He didn't know how much time had passed, but finally, in his mind's eye, the River of Time beneath his feet warped into a suitable angle.
Licking his lips nervously, Lynch stopped and looked around. The River of Time remained as it had always been, showing no change simply because he stood upon this angle.
“The River of Time belongs to curved time, whereas the Corner of Time we wish to visit belongs to angular time—akin to an isolated island in a river,” the Yithian explained. “A barrier exists between the two, one that cannot be pierced by mere observation.”
“Then how do we cross over?”
“This world is grounded in consciousness. All change relies upon consciousness.”
“Through visualization?”
“Yes, but it is useless right now,” the Yithian replied unhurriedly. “We must wait.”
“Huh? Wait until when?”
“I do not know... Right now.”
The sudden shift in speed made Lynch's heart tighten. Immediately after, he saw the surrounding specks of blue light surge violently. Countless plumes of mist spewed out of nowhere, rapidly twisting and churning amidst the glowing specks before coalescing into shape.
The hounds had emerged.
Grasping the moment, Lynch focused his mind in visualization. In the next instant, light and shadow shifted around him.
“The barrier between curved time and angular time is extraordinarily sturdy—unbreakable even for legendary experts,” the Yithian explained to Lynch regarding what had just transpired. “Yet for the hounds, passing through it is as effortless as jumping out of water. We are merely capitalizing on the ripples they leave when breaching the surface to slip into their territory.”
The Yithian was explaining everything to Lynch, but Lynch wasn't listening.
He was completely dumbfounded.
For the first time, he realized that so-called “distortion” was not merely a conceptual metaphor, but could also be a literal description.
Lynch discovered his body had been bizarrely stretched into a long strand, spiraling upward loop after loop. His hands and feet were the same, strangely elongated and bizarrely twisted. Had his consciousness not still resided within, he wouldn't have believed this weird mass of spiraling distortion was actually a human being.
Only then did he realize he had departed the River of Time and emerged in an even stranger realm.
There was no sky, no ground, no sun, moon, or stars. A thin mist drifted through the air, emitting a pale blue light—hazy and surreal, making everything around him resemble a dream.
A nightmare.
All around stood countless structures resembling buildings, composed of mist. They too spiraled upward in twisted shapes, pointing toward the sky like soaring towers. The edges of the mist twitched and shuddered intermittently, yet never dissipated.
Between the towers, countless hounds crouched or stood, occupying the expanse.
The only reason he could tell they were hounds was purely by their color and size. In truth, they too had been stretched into long strands and twisted into tangled piles, rendering their original forms entirely unrecognizable.
“This is the City of Tindalos—the domain of the Lord of Tindalos hidden deep within the isolated island,” the Yithian offered proactively, seemingly sensing the shock in Lynch's heart. “In the Corner of Time, both time and space are distorted. What you see is merely the image fed back into your consciousness that your mind can comprehend after being warped. Thus, no matter what you behold, do not be surprised. In essence, they are no different from everything you see outside.”
“No, what surprises me is... after being twisted like this, I'm still alive?”
“In theory, no. Normal living beings find it exceedingly difficult to enter angular time. However, you are currently a spirit body, not a physical entity, so you do not need to concern yourself with biological survival.”
“Alright... but there are actually buildings here? Those are buildings, right?”
“Animals build nests as well; constructing architecture is not the sole privilege of intelligent beings. Furthermore, although Mulsith-ha failed to master Divine Authority, it is capable of contesting authority over time with Yog-Sothoth. Its intellect far surpasses that of mortals, so the presence of structures in its domain is hardly astonishing.”
As they communicated through consciousness, Lynch suddenly heard a genuine sound.
This was the very first real sound he had heard since entering the River of Time.
“Awoooo~~~”
A long, drawn-out wolf howl echoed with terrifying penetration directly into his ears. Imbued with overwhelming deterrence, the howl subjected Lynch to a sudden, crushing pressure that involuntarily made him want to prostrate himself on his knees.
Yet before he could bow down, a surge of unyielding defiance swelled within his chest.
I'm a transmigrator, I'm Luna's neighbor, and I'm a practitioner on the path of immortality. I don't care what the hell you are—if you think you can make me bend my knee, you don't have the damn right.
Get the fuck out of my way.
Rate on N.U.
