Chapter 21 — The One Who Steals Time
"Ryo… who exactly is he?"
The question slipped into the room like a stone into water that was far too still. For a moment, no one answered—not even the usual sound of breathing or the wind against the windows. It was as if the world itself were holding something back. Zayn, leaning against his bed, stared at Kai with a new kind of intensity, different, almost wary. Yojuro, motionless, observed without speaking, his eyes slightly narrowed, already analyzing what he had not yet heard. Cynthia, arms crossed, simply waited, but her gaze had shifted—more serious, heavier. As for Kai, he lost a bit of his energy—just a little, but enough to be noticed.
— My brother…
He hesitated.
It was rare.
— He's… complicated.
Zayn let out a short breath.
— Everyone is complicated here.
— No… not like him.
A silence passed.
Kai rubbed the back of his neck, searching for a way to explain something that shouldn't exist.
— Ryo… he ages.
Zayn frowned.
— Huh?
— Like… for real. If he doesn't use blessed energy… his body… it ages. Slowly… but surely.
— And?
Kai looked up.
— And when he absorbs it…
A small, strange smile.
— He gets younger.
The silence that followed was heavier than the one before.
— Wait… Zayn said softly… you mean your brother…
— He's over 700 years old.
The words hung in the air.
Seven hundred.
Not as an exaggeration.
Not as a legend.
As a fact.
Even Yojuro found nothing to say immediately, but in his mind, the calculations were already stacking up—possibilities, limits, anomalies, everything that didn't fit into a logical system. Cynthia looked away slightly, thinking of something else: a being who lives that long… never remains human.
— And how does he do it? Zayn finally asked.
Kai breathed in.
— He takes.
A silence.
— The energy.
Far away from there, in a Japan where time seemed to flow differently—as if slowed by the weight of centuries—an ancient house sat in the middle of a nearly forgotten neighborhood, caught between modernity and silence. Inside, on a tatami worn by the years, an old man sat upright despite his age, as still as a statue that had learned to breathe. His long white hair fell softly over his shoulders, and his gaze… was too clear, too awake, too present to belong to a body so worn out.
Ryo Akamibara.
Facing him, a young man was talking, relaxed, entirely ignorant of the crack in the world sitting right in front of him.
— Honestly, Ryo-san, you should get out a bit. The world has changed, you know, now there are—
He laughed lightly.
— Anyway… you're always here, drinking your tea as if time didn't exist—
He coughed.
A little.
Then again.
His hand trembled.
The cup wavered.
The liquid spilled.
And in that mundane gesture… something broke.
Silence fell.
The young man blinked.
— Huh… ?
His arm no longer responded.
His fingers remained frozen.
His breath became short.
Irregular.
— What is… ?
Ryo looked at him.
For a long time.
Then a smile was born.
Calm.
Almost kind.
— Sorry.
His voice was soft.
— It was a particular infusion.
The young man tried to move.
Nothing.
Fear rose.
— A mixture… Ryo continued, leaning slightly toward him, that paralyzes the body… without touching the mind.
The young man's eyes widened.
Understanding.
Too late.
— Y… you…
Ryo stood up.
Slowly.
Every movement seemed fragile… but perfectly controlled.
— Don't worry.
He stepped behind him.
— It doesn't last long.
His hands rested on the boy's shoulders.
And the world changed.
Not with noise.
Not with violence.
But with a disappearance.
The young man trembled.
His breathing shattered.
His skin lost its warmth.
His eyes remained open… but were already empty.
Something was draining away.
Not blood.
Not life as we understand it.
But… essence.
Energy.
Invisible.
Irretrievable.
And Ryo… took it.
Without effort.
Without emotion.
Like a natural gesture.
Like breathing.
Again.
Again.
Until—
The body fell.
Empty.
Silent.
Forgotten even before hitting the ground.
Ryo remained still.
For a moment.
Then he closed his eyes.
And the change began.
His wrinkles vanished.
His skin regained its tension.
His hair darkened.
His back straightened.
His fingers regained their strength.
And the weight of centuries…
Slipped off him.
Like a skin being shed.
When he opened his eyes again…
He was no longer an old man.
But a youth.
18 years old.
Bright eyes.
A slight smile.
Almost… happy.
— Ah…
A breath.
— That's better…
He looked at his hands.
Turned them.
Observed them as if for the first time.
— So much better…
A laugh was born.
Discreet.
Then it grew.
Then it erupted.
— HA… HAHAHA…
And suddenly—
The energy surged.
Violent.
Pure.
Instable.
The room shook.
The walls vibrated.
The floor cracked.
The ceiling—
Exploded.
The sky.
Free.
Infinite.
And in the middle—
Ryo.
Floating.
His blessed energy swirled around him, distorting the air, driving the clouds away, as if the sky itself refused to contain him. He opened his arms, laughing without restraint—a joy almost childlike, yet twisted by something far more ancient.
— There it is… !
His voice was lost in the wind.
— This is what I love…
He breathed in deeply.
— Being alive.
His gaze grew darker.
— Being powerful.
A silence.
Then a smile.
— Being free.
He tilted his head slightly.
— Maybe…
He reflected.
— I should become a Paladin again.
A laugh.
— After all…
— Fighting…
— And making money…
His eyes shone.
— It was fun.
Very fun.
And in his laughter…
There was no shame.
No doubt.
Only a simple truth.
He would do anything…
To never be weak again.
Back.
In the room.
The silence was heavy.
Zayn looked at Kai differently.
— Your brother…
He hesitated.
— …he's dangerous.
Kai shrugged.
— Yeah.
A small smile.
— But he's cool.
Cynthia sighed.
— You really have a problem.
Yojuro, however, didn't speak.
Because in his mind…
The calculations continued.
But for the first time…
No result came out.
And only one conclusion remained.
That kind of man… follows no rules.