"No, no, no, Master. It's fine. I'm the one who should apologize. I didn't perform as well as Linda did," Celia said, voice tinged with embarrassment.

"Who told you that?" Nolan said firmly, shaking his head. "No, you did. You were actually outstanding. Don't doubt that. Focus instead on getting stronger for your next match."

Celia nodded, determination returning to her eyes. "Yes, Master," she said, her resolve clear.

"So now, other participants can go rest. Those who have already performed today may retire, and those who haven't, stay and entertain the crowd," the emissary announced.

"Finally, when do we get a break?" Celia asked, stretching.

"Well, I don't know," Nolan replied, glancing at the emissary.

"Don't worry. It's a little hectic, participants, but you may go and rest. The others who are scheduled to fight will still do so. If you wish to stay in the arena and watch with the crowd, that's your choice, but it's advisable to rest. Every match must be completed today," the emissary said.

At his cue, Nolan stood, followed by Kyrion and all remaining participants who had already fought. They walked toward the back of the arena, guided by royal knights to a small building. Each participant was shown their private room, where food was prepared to help them regain their strength.

Celia and Linda, exhausted, immediately went to bed. From his own balcony, Nolan glanced outside before retreating to his room. He closed the balcony door and lay on his bed.

"Ah, such a huge day. Not just that, since becoming a Chrono God, I've had so much on my mind. There are people traveling through time—some from other universes entirely. Most of them are harmless, but if anything dangerous arises, I'll have to stop it," Nolan thought.

With a snap of his fingers, he cast a protective shield over his room, covering himself as well as Celia and Linda. Even from his bed, he could rest safely. It was late by the time he finally drifted off to sleep.

the participants who had already fought were allowed to return to the arena. Many had failed, and some—like Asta and the Paladin Knights—had been defeated. Asta, being outstanding, would return to the arena. Only a few fighters remained to compete.

Nolan returned to the arena, his presence drawing the attention of the crowd. The remaining daily contestants were few, but each was formidable: Zevric, Asta, Kyron, Sela, Celia, Linda, and a young boy named Israel.

The emissary's voice boomed across the arena. "Contestants, you have all fought well so far. Only a few of you remain. Prepare yourselves for the next round!"

The crowd erupted with cheers, eager to see the battles unfold. Nolan's eyes swept over the remaining fighters. Each had their own style, their own strengths—but today, only the strongest would rise to the top.

Celia, still catching her breath from her previous fight, tightened her grip on her sword. Linda's gaze was sharp, her bow ready. Israel, despite his youth, showed a determined look that belied his age. Kyron flexed, cracking his knuckles. Zevric and Asta exchanged a brief nod, silently acknowledging each other's power. Sela adjusted her gloves, muscles tensing as if ready to spring at any moment.

"Now, the next fighters," the emissary announced, "are the young, outstanding warrior Israel versus Kyrion."

Israel stepped into the arena, his sword at the ready, muscles tense and eyes sharp. Kyrion followed, radiating strength and confidence. The crowd murmured, sensing the gravity of the matchup.

"Now what?" Nolan muttered under his breath, watching closely. "Israel is skilled… but Kyrion is no ordinary opponent. If he takes this fight too far, Israel might not come out unscathed."

The crowd shifted nervously as the two faced each other. Some were uneasy at the pairing, whispers spreading through the stands.

The emissary's voice cut through the noise. "Everyone, remain silent until Tashim arrives, along with the kings, the hero, the prince of Sinjar, and the king of Sinjar himself. Rules are rules. Watch the match."

Israel's gaze locked onto Kyrion. He's big. He's strong. I can do this… I can pierce through him with my sword. I've been perfecting my skills every day.

Yet his body betrayed him—his leg trembled, his hands shook. I saw his last match. He's too fast… I couldn't even follow his movements. How can I possibly beat him?

Israel paused, breathing in deeply, then exhaling shakily. I can't do this… I can't…

He gripped his sword tighter, pointing it toward Kyrion.

"Now… once again, I say it, the match must begin," the emissary intoned.

Suddenly, Israel felt himself collapsing. What… what's happening? He hit the ground hard, pain shooting through him. Bending to look at his legs, he realized both were severed—magic had struck before he could even react.

He tried to push himself up, but Kyrion pressed forward, sword raised menacingly.

"Ah!" Israel cried out. "Can't you see I'm already down? I'm done! Don't—please!"

The crowd roared in shock and horror, but Kyrion didn't relent, continuing his assault with a cruel smile.

"That boy… he's getting beaten badly," Celia murmured, concern etching her face.

"Yes… but there's nothing we can do. No matter how injured he is, we can only hope he survives," Nolan said quietly.

"What? Master… did you just say you could bring him back to life?" Linda asked, astonished.

"No, no… you're imagining things," Nolan replied with a faint smile, though his eyes never left the arena.

Kyrion continued striking, relentless yet calculated. Israel's mind raced, pain overwhelming every thought. I've never felt anything like this. I can't give up… my village… they sent me here. I'm their only hope. I've failed… I've failed them…

Finally, he raised his hand weakly, surrendering.

"Winner… is… Kyrion," the emissary announced.

The crowd bowed in respect as Kyrion strode away, smiling. Immediately, two healers rushed to Israel, beginning urgent healing magic to save him before it was too late.

The healers panicked. Their magic wasn't working. No matter how many healing circles they summoned, Israel's wounds refused to close.

Meanwhile, outside the ring, Kyrion walked away calmly, his sword dripping with blood. He had done more than stab — he had cursed Israel. A hidden spell, woven with forbidden energy. "No healing shall mend his body, no light shall restore his life," the spell whispered through the air.

It was Life on Doom — one of the forbidden immortal arts. Kyrion didn't kill Israel immediately. He wanted the boy to die slowly, painfully, after the match. That way, no one could accuse him of murder inside the arena.

The healers grew desperate. "It's not working!" one shouted. "His body rejects every spell!"

Israel's breathing grew shallow. His vision blurred. The crowd's cheers turned into cries of horror.

Then — a flash.

From the stands, Nolan leapt down into the arena. His cloak whipped through the air as he landed beside Israel.

He extended his right hand, his voice sharp and commanding.

"Cross. Break. Reverse."

A radiant circle flared beneath them, the runes spinning backward like gears turning against time itself. The air trembled.

Israel's body began to rewind.

The wounds sealed.

His severed legs reattached.

His blood flowed backward into his veins.

Every cut, every break, every mark of death — gone.

In seconds, it was as if the battle had never happened.

The entire arena went silent. The crowd stared in disbelief. Even the kings and nobles watching from above stood without words.

Israel blinked, looking down at his hands. No pain. No blood. No wounds. Only warmth.

He looked up at Nolan — trembling — and bowed deeply.

"Thank you… thank you, sir."

Nolan's gaze softened. "You don't understand what you mean to me. Why did you come here, boy? You're not meant to be in this tournament."

"I'm fourteen," Israel said quietly. "I'm not a kid. My village needed me. We're poor… and even though I lost, they'll still be proud of me. But if I'd died today—" He paused, his eyes glistening. "—that would've broken them."

Nolan exhaled slowly, then smiled faintly. "You've got courage, at least."

He turned, leaping gracefully back to the stands. The crowd erupted in thunderous cheers, chanting Nolan's name.

"Wow, Master, you're amazing!" Linda said, her eyes shining. "Everyone's chanting your name! You saved them — the whole crowd's in awe. That skill of yours really stunned them."

Nolan smiled faintly. "Well, yeah. I just did what anyone would've done. If you two had the same power, I'm sure you'd have done it too."

Celia and Linda exchanged glances, then nodded.

"But Master," Celia said after a moment, "that skill you used — isn't it almost the same as Life Consume? The one warriors like Kyrion, Sela, and even Korra used before?"

Nolan shook his head. "No, it's different. Life Consume drains life to restore it — a trade of energy. But what I used was Time Reversal. I didn't heal Israel's body… I rewound his body's time to before the wounds existed. The world itself wasn't affected — only him."

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