Ch.123Chapter 123 Interlude) Palace of Time

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A space filled with an indescribable mystique.

In a void so dark and dim that one could not distinguish what lay even an inch ahead, where one had to rely on a single beam of light.

At the same time, the only device insisting that this place, completely devoid of human presence, was not merely an empty void was…

Tick! Tock!

The cheerful sound of gears meshing together.

It was a sound with such clear purpose that one needn’t even wonder what it might be.

It was the sound of precise components installed inside a clock, turning to meticulously announce a specific point in time.

And besides the sound of these meshing gears, there was another sound making its faint assertion.

It came from the opposite side of where the gears were meshing.

Rustle…

The gentle sound of fine particles descending through a narrow opening from top to bottom.

Rustle…

Compared to the sounds produced by small, intricate works of art—crafted with heat and dedication from metal by unnamed master craftsmen—faithfully announcing the time, this sound might seem to lack power and distinction.

Yet this sound of fine particles grinding against each other was also related to time.

More precisely, rather than announcing a specific point in time, it revealed the flow of time itself.

An hourglass.

Though its structure and principle were far simpler than the mechanical clock that precisely indicated specific moments in time.

This device made of glass and sand, which flowed continuously from top to bottom, had advantages no less impressive than any intricate mechanical device when it came to tracking the passage of time.

Forever—unless someone laid the slender vessel horizontally.

Yes, forever.

If there was one difference between this hourglass and an ordinary one, it was this:

Though its size was no different from a common hourglass.

The sand falling from top to bottom was endlessly supplied from an unknown source.

And despite the endless cascade of sand from top to bottom.

When the accumulated sand at the bottom reached a certain level, it would reveal the bottom again.

All to fulfill its function as a device that always accurately indicated the flow of time.

Compared to the distinctive features of the mechanical device worthy of being called a work of art, this might seem lacking except for the simple advantage of not requiring human intervention.

Yet the mysterious or divine aura emanating subtly from this slender vessel of sand indicated that this hourglass was no ordinary object.

Why would such mystique dwell in something that appeared to be merely an hourglass?

Clank, clank.

This would be explained by the presence that now disturbed the space filled only with the sounds of meshing gears and finely grinding particles.

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Clank, clank.

In this mysterious space devoid of human presence, a sound emerged that came not from a device but from a living being.

It was the kind of sound made when someone wearing heavy, extremely heavy metal armor moved their feet.

What could be the source of this sound breaking the emptiness?

Moving toward the origin of the sound to identify its source.

What was there indeed displayed a presence substantial enough to shatter the emptiness of this space.

The first thing one could discern was a pitch-black color asserting itself without borrowing any power from this space.

This color, darker and deeper than obsidian that seemed to completely absorb what little light entered, eventually took the form of what could be called armor.

Clank, clank.

Though not as regular as the meshing of gears, the rhythmic footsteps of the armored being, accompanied by the sound of metal boots striking the floor, broke the silence.

Clank, clank.

“…”

The mouth of the unidentified being, slowly but steadily approaching from the distance, remained closed.

Clank, clank.

As if the sound of metal boots striking the floor was its own voice.

The mouth of this unidentified being, whose face was covered by a helmet even as it continued its steady approach from afar, seemed as though it would never open.

“…Huff.”

As something resembling a human voice finally emerged from the mouth of the armored figure.

The heavy air began to fill with an appropriate level of warmth and lightness.

Even though the sigh was so faint that it was difficult to discern the emotion behind it.

Since the face was covered by a helmet, the emotional state of the being who sighed could only be left to imagination.

But, quite fortunately, the armored being apparently did not intend to end with just one sigh.

“Ah… Today’s tedious duties are finally over.”

The voice that followed the sigh, though deep, clearly revealed relief and showed the current emotional state of the figure continuing its casual steps.

Despite the voice resonating slightly due to the full-face helmet.

“I’ll just check the status of the Eternal Hourglass and then get some rest today.”

The voice of this unidentified being, continuing its footsteps without pause while talking to itself, was quite cheerful and light.

And as the words ended, the footsteps that followed seemed to harmonize with the voice, adding to its cheerfulness.

Now, let’s take another detailed look at the appearance of this black-armored being.

The black armor, which seemed capable of absorbing even a single beam of light, exuded an imposing presence that could overwhelm anyone who faced it.

However, this imposing aura dissipated like smoke due to the objects held in his right and left hands.

This was because the items in his hands were so incongruous with his current appearance that anyone would acknowledge it without exception.

In his left hand was a pure white cloth that completely contrasted with the black armor he wore.

And in his right hand was what appeared to be a feather duster made from bird feathers.

How awkward it must look for someone dressed in armor that seemed ready for battle to be holding tools typically used for household chores.

This awkwardness was apparently felt by him as well, as he continued his unceasing footsteps.

Halt.

As he momentarily stopped his continuous footsteps.

“Sigh…”

A deep sigh emerged from his lips, clearly revealing his dejection to anyone who might hear.

“After failing the mission, I was prepared to be scolded by Lord Renium, but I never imagined the punishment would be like this…”

Though his voice, heavy with dejection, revealed his difficulty with the punishment imposed by his master, there was not the slightest hint of disrespect in his lament.

This was only natural when one considered the name of his master that had left his lips.

Renium.

Commonly known as the Time Demon God, a great being who ruled over all demons was his master.

He was not foolish enough to harbor disrespectful thoughts toward such a great being.

Thump, thump.

After lightly tapping his head with the back of his cloth-holding left hand and ceasing his self-pitying monologue.

He resumed his footsteps to make up for lost time.

Clank, clank.

Though still noisy but also rhythmic, his footsteps had lost some of their earlier cheerfulness.

“Let’s get to work, Laplace. That’s what I’m supposed to do, after all.”

With these words, he, Laplace, composed himself after his brief moment of dejection, and his voice now carried a calmer tone.

Clank, clank.

How long would this clamorous sound of metal boots striking the floor continue?

Only Laplace, who continued his footsteps, would know the answer.

Fortunately, that answer seemed imminent.

“I’ve arrived.”

With these words, Laplace’s footsteps finally came to a halt.

His bluish gaze, visible despite the full-face helmet, was directed at an object at the edge of his vision.

That object, which appeared to be an hourglass with fine particles inside a slender vessel made of impeccably transparent glass.

It exuded the most mysterious aura throughout this entire space surrounded by mystique.

Even more so than the artistically perfect clocks that worked tirelessly in regular motion to announce precise moments in time.

“The Eternal Hourglass seems… fine as always. Well, if something were to go wrong with this, it would truly be a disaster.”

After carefully examining the condition of what he called the Eternal Hourglass, Laplace knelt to bring himself eye-level with it, and from his lips came:

“Then let’s finish today’s final task.”

His voice carried the determination to complete the last moment of his day’s only permitted task during his disciplinary period.

Both his hands then began the procedure to perfectly execute the duty assigned to him.

First, he carefully used the feather duster in his right hand to transfer dust from around the hourglass onto the duster.

“…Is this ostrich feather? It doesn’t seem properly deodorized. I’ll have to summon those servant fellows and give them a thrashing after I’m done.”

While grumbling about the strangely unpleasant smell from the feather duster, he continued his work.

After successfully transferring dust from the hourglass to the duster, he carefully applied an extremely soft cloth to the surface of the hourglass and wiped it.

With that, the maintenance of the mystical object called the Eternal Hourglass was complete.

Though I’ve explained it at length.

Yes, it was cleaning.

Tick-tock.

Rustle…

Only the sound of gears meshing together with inexorable regularity and the sound of fine particles falling from top to bottom.

These sounds alone indicated that the space, rendered empty by Laplace who had firmly closed his mouth to concentrate on cleaning, was not entirely void.

“I have returned!”

Ah.

The movement of his left hand holding the cloth wiping the hourglass surface stopped at the sudden sound of his master’s voice.

“Gasp!”

When the startled Laplace examined the surface of the hourglass where the cloth had just touched.

“…A scratch.”

There was a clearly visible scratch on it.

He panicked and tried to somehow repair the surface damage, but.

“Laplace. You’ve been working hard even during your disciplinary period.”

The beautiful voice that followed behind him halted all of Laplace’s attempts to fix the hourglass, and then.

“My lord. You have returned.”

Thud.

“Laplace pays his respects.”

There was dignity in his transformation from the ridiculous sight of someone in black armor doing household chores to a knight-like figure who turned toward his master and knelt on one knee.

Of course.

Even while kneeling on one knee to show respect to his master.

He made sure to keep his upper body as straight as possible while bowing his head, trying not to reveal the scratched surface of the hourglass.

Unfortunately for Laplace, his master Renium, whose voice was clear and gentle but whose mood was not good, had senses sharp enough to immediately notice the mistake his subordinate had made.