Alex's fingers paused over the brittle pages as his eyes caught a brief mention of something he had not expected. The text seemed faded, almost as if it was trying to be forgotten.
_"There once was a Titan, a god of time and eternity… one who watched over the flow of time itself. Though his name has been erased from the memory of gods and mortals alike, his influence persists in the unseen currents of fate and destiny."_
A chill ran down Alex's spine as he read the passage. His heart skipped a beat.
"Chronos..." Alex whispered to himself. It was a name that echoed in the far recesses of his memory. A name that shouldn't exist in this world—erased, forgotten, lost to time itself.
Alexius, still in his cat form, had been lazily watching Alex, but at the mention of that name, his fur bristled. He jumped down from the table and padded closer. "What did you just say?" His voice was sharp, suddenly on edge.
"Chronos," Alex repeated, his voice low and steady. "The Titan of Time. Why doesn't anyone remember him?"
Alexius blinked, his golden eyes narrowing. "I… I don't know." He shook his head as if trying to grasp a fleeting memory. "I've heard whispers, vague traces… but it's as if the name itself is slipping through my mind. No one—none of the gods—remembers him. Not Aion, not Kairos. It's like he never existed. But you…" He stared at Alex, puzzled. "How do you remember?"
Alex's mind raced. Why did he know this name? His memories, fractured as they were, held no clear origin for it. But he was sure. As a human from Earth, Chronos was a part of myth and legend that should have existed in this world as well. Yet, the Olympian gods, even those tied to time, like Aion and Kairos, had no memory of him.
Alex slowly closed the book and looked at Alexius. "I don't know why I remember, but it's clear that something's wrong. The world has forgotten Chronos, but if the Titan of Time once existed, what happened to him?"
Alexius sat down, his tail flicking behind him, deep in thought. "This isn't just a matter of forgetfulness. If an entire god—or Titan, in this case—has been erased from memory, then something or someone is hiding the truth. And it must be something powerful, something even beyond the gods we know."
Alex frowned. "Could this have something to do with the 'unknown god' that chose the original Alexius? Or even with the disappearances of certain time gods?"
"It's possible," Alexius replied cautiously. "Time itself is delicate. If Chronos truly existed and he was wiped from history, there must have been a significant event that led to it. But whatever it was, even I can't remember."
Alex leaned back in his chair, trying to piece it all together. The implications of Chronos's existence—or rather, the erasure of his existence—were unsettling. Could it have been a deliberate act to alter the flow of time? Could it be connected to the regression cycles and the chaos that kept consuming the world?
"The Watcher… the Guardians… and now Chronos," Alex murmured. "What kind of balance was this world trying to maintain? And what will happen if that balance breaks?"
Alexius let out a sigh, his feline form more serious than usual. "One thing's certain: if you remember Chronos and no one else does, it means you might hold the key to uncovering what happened. But be careful. If Chronos was erased for a reason, then finding out the truth could be dangerous—maybe even catastrophic."
Alex nodded slowly. "I'll be cautious. But I can't ignore this. Not when so much is at stake."
As he stood up and closed the book, he felt a weight settle on his shoulders. This world was far more complicated than he'd imagined, with layers of forgotten history and hidden dangers lurking beneath the surface.
But if remembering Chronos was part of the puzzle, then Alex was determined to figure it out—even if it meant unraveling the forgotten threads of time itself.
*****
The theater was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the colorful flashes on the screen. Alex sat back in his chair, arms crossed, with Natalia next to him, both staring blankly at the screen as a children's movie about the "power of friendship" played on.
On the surface, the film was cheerful and energetic, full of vibrant characters overcoming obstacles through the strength of their bonds. But for Alex, every exaggerated gesture, every predictable line, seemed hollow and painfully naive. He shifted in his seat, mentally distancing himself from the overly saccharine display of idealized friendship.
Natalia was sitting with a similar expression. Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest, her face calm but bored. Now and then, she would glance at Alex, as if trying to gauge if he felt the same way.
The animated characters on-screen shouted something about "sticking together no matter what!" and launched into a peppy musical number. Alex couldn't help but roll his eyes slightly.
"This is... incredibly unrealistic," Natalia finally whispered under her breath, breaking the silence between them.
Alex raised an eyebrow and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I've seen kids who've gone through worse stick together because they have no choice, not because some magical bond made them invincible." He smirked at the overly enthusiastic characters prancing across the screen.
Natalia's lips twitched upward into a rare smile. "I just don't get how people find this comforting. It's like they're selling a dream where everything can be fixed with a hug and a catchy song."
Alex let out a quiet laugh. "It's not that simple, huh? The world's a bit more complicated than that." His tone held a trace of bitterness as memories of his past and present flickered through his mind. "If only friendship was the answer to everything."
Alex's eyes occasionally drifted from the screen to his companion. Natalia sat beside him, her expression a mixture of boredom and mild irritation. The colorful animation and exaggerated antics of the characters did little to engage either of them.
As the movie's predictable plot unfolded—a tale of friendship overcoming all obstacles—Alex couldn't help but dissect the film's production aspects. He whispered to Natalia, "You know, the cost of making this must have been astronomical. The CGI alone, not to mention voice acting, animation, and marketing. For something so... simplistic, it's quite an investment."
Natalia glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Really? You're analyzing the budget of a kids' movie?"
"Why not?" Alex shrugged, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I can't help but notice how much goes into these films. And honestly, it's a bit frustrating when the story is so predictable."
Natalia chuckled softly, shaking her head. "You're right. I thought it would be more engaging. But instead, it's just... well, boring."
The two exchanged knowing glances, both amused and slightly exasperated by the movie's lack of substance. Their conversation, however, did not go unnoticed. A few nearby parents with their children turned to look at them, some with bemused expressions, as if the children's commentary was an oddity.
"Some people get into these things," one parent whispered to another, pointing subtly in Alex and Natalia's direction. "But it seems these kids are more interested in the behind-the-scenes stuff."
The parents exchanged curious glances, clearly puzzled by the sophisticated nature of the conversation. Alex caught their looks and smirked, though he remained focused on Natalia. "It's a shame. The production value is high, but the story doesn't do much with it."
Natalia nodded in agreement. "It's like they spent all their resources on visuals and forgot about the narrative. I've seen better plots in old folktales."
As the movie continued, Alex and Natalia's discussion shifted to other topics—costuming, character development, and the market trends in children's entertainment. Their voices were low, but the topics of their conversation seemed to draw occasional sidelong glances from other moviegoers.
They both sat in silence for a moment, watching as the movie's characters triumphed over their problems with a final act of unity. The credits began to roll, and Alex and Natalia shared a knowing glance, neither particularly moved by the outcome.
"At least it's over," Alex murmured, standing up and stretching. "Though I'm not sure I'm in the mood for any more of these friendship miracles."
Natalia followed suit, smoothing down her coat. "Agreed. Next time, let's pick something with a bit more substance."
"Deal," Alex replied, his tone lighter now. Despite the boredom of the film, he found some comfort in Natalia's quiet understanding. It was rare to meet someone who saw the world with the same clear if somewhat cynical, eyes.
As they made their way out of the theater, they bumped into Seraphina and Michael, who had starry-eyed expressions after watching their romance movie.
Seraphina looked at the two of them and giggled. "So, how was your little movie?"
"Let's just say we're never picking a kid's movie again," Alex replied with a dry smile.
Michael laughed, nudging Seraphina. "Hey, at least you guys survived it."
"Survived is the right word," Natalia said with a small smirk.
*****
Alex walked into the quiet, dimly lit house, the day's experiences still echoing in his mind. His thoughts lingered on the idea of regressors and the strange feeling of being caught between worlds. He found Alexius, in his feline form, lounging lazily on the couch, a pile of old newspapers scattered around him.
The cat's emeralds eyes flickered open as Alex approached. "Hey, Alexius," Alex said, sinking into a nearby armchair with a sigh. "I've been thinking. Is there any chance of a second regressor? Someone who might have gone through what I did?"
Alexius stretched lazily, then settled back into a more attentive posture. "In my 400 regressions, I've never come across another regressor besides you. If there was a second one, I would have noticed. But as it stands, you're the only anomaly I know of."
Alex nodded, trying to process the weight of Alexius's words. The concept of being singular in such a vast and complex situation felt both isolating and strangely reassuring.
"There's something else I've been wondering," Alex continued, shifting in his seat. "What about Natalia? She seems... different, more mature than other kids her age. Do you have any idea why?"
Alexius's tail flicked thoughtfully as he considered the question. "Natalia's maturity might be due to her being a contractor with Artemis. It's not uncommon for those chosen by such gods to exhibit advanced traits for their age. Artemis contractors are often precocious, exhibiting wisdom and seriousness beyond their years. It's a side effect of their divine connection."
Alex frowned slightly, absorbing the information. "So, her being mature might be a result of her connection to Artemis, not just her personality?"
"Exactly," Alexius replied, his voice carrying a hint of a feline purr. "Gods like Artemis tend to instill certain qualities in their contractors. It's a form of preparation for the responsibilities they're expected to shoulder. Natalia's maturity could very well be a direct consequence of her bond with Artemis."
Alex leaned back, contemplating the implications. Natalia's advanced demeanor and serious attitude made more sense now. It wasn't just a quirk of her personality; it was likely a byproduct of her divine association.
"Thanks for the insight, Alexius," Alex said quietly. He appreciated the cat's advice and the clarity it brought to his thoughts. Despite the challenges and the oddities of his situation, having someone—or something—to turn to for guidance felt comforting.
Alexius stretched again, his eyes softening. "Just remember, Alex, no matter how strange things get, you're not alone in navigating this world. And if you need more answers or just a place to vent, you know where to find me."
Alex offered a small, genuine smile. "I know. Thanks."
*****
The house was silent, save for the gentle hum of the night outside. In the darkened bedroom, Alex lay sprawled across his bed, lost in a deep sleep. The moonlight cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the innocence and youth that his body still bore. But Alexius, curled up in a ball on the end of the bed, was not sleeping. His emerald eyes flickered with a mix of concern and resolve.
Quietly, Alexius slipped off the bed and padded over to where Alex was resting. With delicate care, he tugged the blanket up to cover Alex's shoulders, ensuring he was snug and warm. The gesture was tender, a silent promise of protection.
Alexius's gaze then shifted to the calendar on the wall. The date marked tomorrow loomed ominously. His mind was sharp, calculating, filled with knowledge of the dangers that lay ahead. Tomorrow was a crucial day, one fraught with peril. The Lunatic, an entity known for its chaotic and destructive tendencies, was planning a terror attack—a threat that could put Alex in grave danger.
He knew that despite Alex's current state of vulnerability—being just ten years old physically, despite his mature soul—he was not yet ready to face such threats. The stakes were high, and Alexius's responsibility was clear. He could not let Alex be involved in such a dangerous event.
Alexius curled closer to Alex's neck, his presence a comforting weight. He whispered, though no one could hear him but the sleeping boy, "I won't let you get caught in the chaos tomorrow. You're too young for this, and I won't risk your safety."
His thoughts turned to the terror attack that was planned, orchestrated by the Lunatic. It was a monstrous entity, one that thrived on destruction and pandemonium. Alexius knew that no matter the cost, he had to ensure that Alex remained safe and out of harm's way.
He made a silent vow, one that he knew he could keep. The thought of Alex being caught up in such violence was unbearable. He resolved to take action, to use every ounce of his remaining power to shield Alex from the impending threat. All humans were secondary, but Alex and Leo were different—his safety was paramount.
As the night wore on, Alexius remained vigilant. His eyes darted between the calendar and the sleeping boy, his mind already devising a plan to keep Alex safe. He would not allow his charge to face the terror of the Lunatic. Not now, not ever.
With one final glance at the calendar, Alexius settled back into his position, his form a protective cocoon around Alex. As the night deepened, the cat's purring resonated softly, a lullaby of sorts, and he drifted into a light, watchful sleep. His resolve was unwavering—no harm would come to Alex under his watch.