Unfortunately, things are progressing rather slowly in the reading department, although that was to be expected. I won't fret over it. Instead, I'll just try and work some self-advertisement: if you like the style this story is written in, then you could always go to my profile to check out similar works. I'm just putting that out there.

Chrysaor briefly struggled with his helmet as he attempted to remove it; it had been attached to the neck of his armor for nearly a decade, and it was resisting the force he exerted to disconnect it from the rest of his metal shell. A minor increase in strength applied was all it took to finally detach it, and as he removed the helm from his head and cradled it in his hands, he noted the reactions of the people that he shared this cabin with.

Both Talim and Seoung Mi-Na were blushing, and Hwang looked at him with a cocked eyebrow and a 'not bad' kind of look. He wondered what the reason for their reactions was, but more importantly, he was interested in how he himself looked. Turning his head to face the lone mirror in the wooden room, he laid eyes on his own countenance.

At first he was not sure if what he saw was really him. For the last ten years, his face had been nothing more than an invincible metal helm that served as his appearance. He had forgotten his own identity; a mindless drone that showed no personality or motivation, other than obeying the one above it. But what he saw in the mirror was... a human. A man, not a machine, simply covered by a sturdy and magnificent suit of armor.

He rubbed the side of his face with his gauntlet, testing the cold feeling of the metal against his exposed skin. He watched his reflection copy him in the mirror. A man with chocolate brown hair that halted just above the tips oh his ears imitated him in the reflective glass. The brown bangs he sported covered his forehead and stopped just short of his eyebrows, which framed cobalt-blue eyes that had a serious intensity to them. The man had no scars, nor any distinguishable facial deformity.

This was... him? This was what Chrysaor looked like, under his stalwart helm of enchanted steel? This was the face of a person, a man who had lived a quiet and unassuming life in a quaint little town that had been the home of both he and his family?

Lifting his armored fingers away from the smooth skin of his cheek, Chrysaor mentally reprimanded himself. No, this was not any of those things. This was the face of a Sentinel, one who no longer belonged to this world; one whose existence had a single sole purpose; fulfilling the will of The Four. That was what this was; not a man.

He turned his gaze from the mirror on the wooden wall to the faces of his companions. Seoung Mi-Na was fidgeting nervously with her fingers, and Hwang was smirking at the sight of it. Talim, on the other hand, made a little gesture at Chrysaor and spoke.

"May you please look at me? I need to see your eyes."

Chrysaor made no response, but merely shifted his scrutiny to the short girl, complying with her wishes. She stared into Chrysaor's eyes for many minutes, in something that would have been awkward had not the both of them been indifferent to the situation. Seeing as how this procedure was going to take a good bit of time, Chrysaor devoted it to finding an exact shade to label the girl's eyes.

Hazel was too light of a color, but her eyes were not a very dark brown either; the most accurate description he could currently think of was sepia. After several minutes, the girl tore her gaze away from Chrysaor's and nodded to her two friends. "We can trust him. His intentions are good, and he means us no harm."

Mi-Na humphed. "And you know that just from looking in his eyes? You just wanted an excuse to stare at him, didn't you?"

Talim's face reddened at the thought of it. "N-no, I, I really can tell you know! It's not because of that..."

Hwang, seeing Talim's distress, decided to defend her. "You shouldn't tease her Mi-Na. She maintained her composure much longer than you."

The new target of harassment blushed furiously and punched Hwang in the arm. "W-what on earth are you implying Hwang?!"

Chrysaor cocked an eyebrow at the group of friends. He did not understand the reasons for their reactions. "I don't understand what troubles all of you."

Talim looked down at the floor and fidgeted with her fingers as she answered. "Well... you are a very handsome man, Sir Sentinel. We were just surprised, that's all."

Mi-Na, having recovered from her embarrassment, made another jest at this. "Yeah, you sounded like a grizzled old man with all of your terrible premonitions."

Chrysaor sighed, returning his helm to where it belonged; over his head. He felt exposed without it. "Well then, now that you know you can trust me, I think you will be more sympathetic to my plight. I do not need any help from you beyond the acquisition of names and locations."

Hwang nodded. "Indeed. I'm assuming that you would like to know where we are. For now, we could only tell you that we are near the coast of Europe. We don't know the exact location of course, as all seafaring is done with a rough estimate."

Chrysaor was a little disappointed at this: he needed exact locations if he were to know where to go. "I see. Spare me a moment of silence, if you will."

His three companions made silent agreement, not uttering a sound. Chrysaor took advantage of the quiet to tap into the web of energy that Valhalla nourished. Using it, he could detect faint traces of energy from around this world. Three of them were easily recognizable; his fellow Sentinels, elsewhere on this Earth. Other powers were not so easily distinguished. They came from every direction, but a large majority of them were originating in the east.

Having finished his magical reconnaissance and making his decision, Chrysaor broke the silence with his comrades by saying, "To the east; what lies there?"

Hwang stroked his chin for a moment in thought. "As long as we haven't had any unplanned turns, to our east should be Asia. Don't tell me you've never heard of it?"

The Sentinel shook his head. "I know of it; and that is where I must go. A great number of anomalous energies flow forth from that place. How long will it take to get there?"

Hwang calculated in his head. "Three weeks, at the very least..."

He was cut off by Mi-Na. "I thought you said you only needed information! We aren't going to ferry you around; can't you fly or something? You have a wing, surely it flies, right!?"

Chrysaor sighed and shook his head in dismay. "The wing is purely aesthetic, as far as I can tell. Besides, three weeks is far too much time to waste on travel. I will have to use other methods... excuse me."

With that, the Sentinel of Lightning exited the cabin, with a call of "Where are you going?" following from the two girls behind him.

As he stepped out on the deck, he turned to face the three who had followed him out of the Captain's Cabin. "Where is the least important part of the ship?"

Mi-Na answered before Hwang could. "Uh, why? What kind of question is that?!"

Chrysaor garnered her annoying question with a very truthful response. "The method of travel I am about to employ will cause damage; that is unavoidable. I'm just asking you were you would prefer to have the ship scorched or shattered."

Mi-Na's countenance changed to one of disbelief upon hearing Chrysaor's answer. "Y-you want us to tell you where to damage our own ship?!"

Hwang sighed and pointed towards the prow of the ship. "If you're going to have to break anything, do it over there. It's only for looks anyway."

Mi-Na tried to make an objection, but she was at a loss for words in this whole situation. Talim made a futile attempt to comfort the woman with a pat on the back.

The Sentinel of Lightning pushed past the trio of comrades and made his way to the front of the wooden ship that carried him over the frothy waves. Instead of a mermaid at the front, there was a giant, mahogany eagle, pointing its beak in the direction that the ship sailed. Chrysaor stepped onto the wooden beam that protruded out from the front of the ship. Even in his heavy armor, he effortlessly balanced on the water saturated wood. He made his way all the out to the very tip before stopping and casting his gaze out to the boundless blue sea. The beautiful sight reminded him of why he was here. This world was in danger. Its people, its beauty, even its very existence, were all in danger of being annihilated. That was why he was here; to save it.

Chrysaor snapped out of his own thoughts, knowing that valuable time was being wasted. He proceeded to gather the immense energy he would need for the method of travel he was about to employ, when the voice of Talim from behind broke his concentration.

"Sir Sentinel? One question before you leave!"

Chrysaor turned to face the petite girl, struggling to contain the stored energy that greatly desired release. "Yes?"

"May we have your name? Your real one?"

The question caught Chrysaor off guard. His name was another aspect of his person that had not been shared with anyone but Eros for almost a decade. He had a brief feeling of reluctance at the thought of sharing something personal with these people, but it only lasted for a moment. He was back in the world; he couldn't keep acting like he was in Valhalla, where he could almost always stay in solitude.

"My family name is Atkins. As for my first... I'd prefer to keep it to myself for now."

The petite girl nodded. "I understand."

Chrysaor turned away from the dark-skinned girl and faced the sea once more. But his energy charge was interrupted by Talim a second time.

"O-one more thing!"

He turned to face her again, containing his irritation only because she was such a kind person. "Yes?"

"If you run into a man named Yun-Seong, tell him that Mi-Na and I are looking for him."

Chrysaor nodded. "I will. I wish you and your friends safe travels."

Finished speaking, Chrysaor continued to charge the required energy for transport without interruption. He didn't know if Hwang and Mi-Na had come to watch him leave alongside Talim, but whether they had or nor held little importance. But if they were watching, then they had probably noticed that the sky above was filling with a peculiar vortex of storm-clouds, with the eye of the strange formation centering over their ship. Chrysaor had never used this method of travel before, so he hoped that the ensuing lightning strike that was about to hit would have relatively low power.

As his ritual neared completion, Chrysaor could feel the concentrated electricity crackling in the air. He looked up at the eye of the storm that centered itself directly above him. A pulsating, flashing blue light was illuminating the clouds, marking the spot where the lightning would originate. He barely had time to finish that train of thought as a blue, super-heated bolt of lightning shot forth from the vortex and streaked towards the armored Sentinel below. It took a split second to reach him, seemingly disintegrating his body, causing a massive sonic wave, and no doubt blasting the prow of the Valiant Gale to pieces.

"Won't you take more soldiers with you, Princess?"

Hilde Von Krone turned her gaze from the window in the castle hallway to her blonde, wavy-haired lieutenant, Luana. "I won't. If I bring too many troops with me, we won't be able to move with any decent speed. Besides, I wouldn't undermine Wolfkrone's defenses by removing knights I don't really need. Especially with the state that Fath- I mean the king, is in."

Luana scowled at the stubbornness of her commander. "But you're advancing on Ostreihnsburg, where Soul Edge itself is residing! Surely you need more than one platoon for such an assault!"

"I've already made my decision, Lieutenant. And I have no intention of changing it."

Despite Hilde's affirmation on her decision, Luana persisted. "But-!"

"That's enough!"

Luana recoiled from the verbal anger that originated from Hilde's impatience. For a moment she was without words, so Hilde took advantage of it to reiterate her decision.

"I will not weaken Wolfkrone's defenses by robbing it of the soldiers it needs to defend it. I only need a small, elite force to accompany me. The king needs to be protected in this time of crisis he is currently facing. Trust me, Luana."

But it was obvious her Lieutenant didn't trust her. Not one bit. "Princess...Hilde, please listen to me. Your father, the king... the chances of his health returning are-"

"Stop, Luana. Don't say that."

The interruption did nothing to halt the woman. "The chances are very slim. You are the next heir to the throne, and your time will come all the sooner when your father-!"

"Stop it! The king has a long life ahead of him yet, and I will not hear otherwise!"

Luana grabbed Hilde by the shoulders, trying to get her point across the woman's delusions. "When your father passes, you will have to lead this country! If you die on a foolish charge against Ostreihnsburg, who will lead us? Because your father can't! Not anymore."

Hilde shook Luana off of her, and turned away from the woman to walk down the hallway. She had heard enough of this. As she retreated from the confrontation, Luana said nothing. The blond woman merely watched her hurting commander and princess run from her problems at home, and towards conflict elsewhere.

Again... there it was again. That undeniably unnatural interruption in the flow of time.

Zasalamel sat cross-legged on one of the giant gears of the clock tower he called home, disturbed by strange vibes that echoed through the Memoria Crux. Time was being distorted, by some force more powerful than his own. As far as he knew, he was the only being capable of manipulating time to any extent, so these anomalies perturbed him greatly. As the clock tolled twelve, Zasalamel looked up at the face and hands of the time counting device. The very existence of such a thing was funny to him. Time could not be counted or measured; days, months, years, centuries... all of those measurements were just humanity's feeble attempts to make sense of something they could not possibly understand.

His train of thought was interrupted as another vibe pulsed through the Memoria Crux. Every time the anomaly made itself known, Zasalamel felt a terrible pain in his skull. He rose to his feet after the second vibe had passed. Even if he did not have an obligation to preserve the timeline now that he had seen the future, the sheer annoyance of the headache the anomaly caused him was enough to spur him to deal with it. Whoever was tampering with time could have no good intent, and he would eradicate them without mercy. Certain things were not to be meddled with.

Of course, he already had a rough idea of who would dare mess with such a fragile thing; Nightmare was not one to worry about the order of the universe when he used Soul Edge. Still, if Zasalamel was correct, he couldn't confront Nightmare directly; Soul Edge had failed to kill Zasalamel once, but he was a man who preferred to stay cautious. Instead, he used one of his many useful abilities to locate someone close to Night,are, and he figured that she would do well enough for an interrogation.

Tira scowled as she picked a piece of bloody flesh out of her hair. "Yuck... I don't mind blood and all, but not in my hair. Stupid Polish people! They shouldn't be so messy!"

The demented servant of Soul Edge sat on a chopped log leaning against the wall of a solitary cottage, whose inhabitants she had just slaughtered. The family of Poles had been boring; only the father had offered any real resistance, and all he had done was swing a clumsy wood axe at her. Although, having been so bored and deciding to test the axe for herself, Tira found that she enjoyed the cleaving power of such a weapon. She would never choose it over Eiserne Drossel of course, but it was still a unique experience.

Having finished removing the bloody mess from her raven-black hair, Tira withdrew a cloth napkin that she had pilfered from the cottage out of one of her undergarment's many pockets, and proceeded to wipe the gore off of her precious ring blade. She whistled some jolly tune she didn't even recognize as she did so. Poland was a pretty country: she liked it here. Not as much as she liked Germany, but it was still pretty close. Besides, it had a lot of colorful birds, which made her happy. Her scattered and disjointed thoughts wandered so far in this direction, that she didn't even notice a dark hole that was seemingly tearing a rift in the air, nor did she see the robed man with the scythe that came forth from it.

The mysterious figure was already standing over her, his shadow blocking out the morning sun, before the girl noticed him. She looked up to meet his face, and the man got exactly the reaction he was expecting from her.

"Oh, hi Zassy! Long time, no see! What do you want?"

Zasalamel cocked an eyebrow at the girl. He knew Tira well enough to know that she usually managed to at least finish her thought before shifting personalities. "I think you know why I'm here, Tira."

"Is it to badger and annoy me? Because that's what you usually do."

The scythe wielder scowled. "I don't have time for games, girl! There is a serious disturbance in time. I know who is responsible for it, and he must be stopped before he finds some way to damage the River and distort the future of the Memoria Crux, lest he-!"

Tira yawned to cut him off. "Even if I did understand what any of that meant, it would bore me. Get to the point."

Zasalamel's scowl intensified as the girl interrupted him. "Fine. Then I'll make this quick. Where is Nightmare now, and what is he doing?"

"He's sitting on his throne in Ostreihnsburg, moping around and yelling at everyone; what else would he be doing?"

"Do you take me for a fool, Tira? You cannot hide the truth from me! I know Nightmare is meddling with my domain somehow. You will tell me."

A spark in Tira's purple eyes preceded her shift in personality as she spoke. "Hm... I know! Let's make a deal! You do something for me, and I'll tell you what I know. How's that sound?"

Zasalamel's scowl did not lessen. "It sounds like something ridiculous that I should not go along with. Why should I do anything for you when I can just force the information I need out?"

Tira smirked. "Aw, c'mon Zassy! You wouldn't really hurt a cute little innocent girl like me, would you?" She finished her sentence of with the cutest puppy dog look she could muster.

Unfortunately for Tira, Zasalamel was not affected very strongly, though he could still admit that it was probably more him than the fact that Tira wasn't cute. It was ironic how such a monster like Tira could be so deceptively cute when she wanted to be. Either way, Zasalamel decided to go along with Tira, to reduce his own headache if nothing else. "I don't know about innocent, but I suppose a favor won't hurt, so long as you aren't asking for something ludicrous."

Tira cocked an eyebrow at him. "Ludicrous? Like what?"

While not being one for jokes, Zasalamel could not resist such an opening. "Like asking for me to find you a lover; even I could not scare someone into loving you."

He had meant it quite seriously, but had not expected Tira to actually be offended, though apparently she was. She even teared up just a little bit. "T-that's mean... you didn't have to say that you big jerk! Now you definitely have to do me a favor! And I shouldn't tell you anything after you're done, you asshole!"

Zasalamel sighed. "Calm down Tira, I meant no harm by it. Besides, if you wanted a husband, you'd have to give up your hobby. A good wife doesn't kill for fun, you know."

The damaged servant of Soul Edge briefly speculated on this. "Hmm...yeah, I guess that's true. That kind of life sounds boring. Killing things is way more fun!"

The manic girl loosed a giggle as she finished her exclamation. Zasalamel wondered what truly went on behind her violet eyes, but the mere thought of the mania and dementia that ruled in her mind scared even him. It was something he did not wish to dwell on.

"So, Tira; what do you wish of me?"

The girl ceased her giggling to look at the man who guarded time. "Well... I need you to take me somewhere..."

Well it's been awhile, but I hope this update will garner some more readers. Feel free to comment, but keep negativity to constructive criticism.