The single Temporal Hound in the center of the chamber finally noticed Ryan. It stopped its restless pacing and tilted its head.
The movement was strange, disjointed, like watching a video that was skipping frames. Its body, made of what looked like shimmering, wavy air, rippled as it focused on him. Its eyes were not eyes at all, but two swirling vortexes of pale blue light.
Ryan stood his ground, his hand gripping his knife so tightly his knuckles were white. A Level 7 Anomaly with a threat level of "Extreme."
This was a whole new level of danger. He was a Seasoned Vanguard, but this creature felt like it was from another league entirely.
The Hound opened its mouth, but the sound that came out was all wrong. Ryan heard the howl a full second before the creature's jaw actually opened.
It was a deeply unsettling, discordant sound that echoed not off the stone walls, but through time itself. It made his teeth ache and his thoughts feel scrambled.
And then, things got much, much worse.
In response to the strange howl, the very air in the chamber began to crack. Not like breaking glass, but like reality itself was getting thin and brittle.
Eight thin, jagged lines of darkness appeared in the air around the first Hound. They looked like rips in the fabric of the world. From these time-fractures, eight more Temporal Hounds stepped out, one by one.
They weren't born or summoned in a flash of light; they just calmly walked out of a tear in the moment, as if stepping through a doorway.
Ryan stared, his mind struggling to catch up. A moment ago, it was one versus one. Now, it was one versus nine.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," he breathed out, his voice a low whisper. "One was bad enough. Nine is just plain rude."
The Hounds, however, seemed to share a single, arrogant mind. They looked at the lone human before them, a Level 6 intruder in their Labyrinth, and clearly decided he wasn't much of a threat.
They probably figured it was like nine wolves cornering a single sheep. One of the new Hounds, looking to prove itself, separated from the pack. It let out a short, stuttering bark and leaped forward.
But it didn't try to bite or claw him. Instead, as it flew through the air, it projected a strange energy field. The air around Ryan suddenly grew thick, heavy, and sluggish, like trying to move through a giant vat of invisible honey.
The god Interface flashed a warning: "You are within a 'Stutter-Time' field! Agility and reaction speed are severely reduced!"
His own movements felt jerky and disconnected.
He tried to raise his arm, and it felt like it took a full second for the command to travel from his brain to his muscles. This was bad. He was a sitting duck.
But then, something else happened. The Cracked Chronometer Shard in his pouch, the strange artifact he'd gotten from Elias, pulsed with a faint warmth. It didn't block the field, but it resonated with it.
This resonance fed into his newly awakened D-Tier "Temporal Sense." For a split second, he didn't just feel slow; he could see the slowness.
He saw the shimmering lines of the time field around him, and more importantly, he saw the safe path through them, a narrow corridor where time flowed normally.
The attacking Hound was already materializing near the edge of the field, preparing to strike him while he was trapped. Ryan didn't have time to run. He needed to move now.
He poured his will into his legs and called upon his Precursor Skill Cipher, the one that gave him Phase Step. It was still unstable, still not fully integrated. Using it felt like a gamble every time.
"Here goes nothing," he thought, and pushed.
His body lurched forward in a chaotic, jarring teleport. It wasn't smooth like his gauntlet's Short Blink. It felt like being ripped apart and put back together in the wrong order.
For a painful moment, his vision doubled, and he felt a wave of nausea. But it worked. He reappeared just outside the Stutter-Time field, right next to the attacking Hound as it finished its lunge.
The Hound's swirling blue eyes widened in what could only be surprise. It had expected a trapped, helpless victim, not one who could dance through its time trap.
That surprise was all the opening Ryan needed. With a surge of adrenaline, he thrust his chitin-reinforced knife forward. He didn't aim for the body; he aimed for the spot his system had identified earlier, the Temporal Gland at the base of its skull.
His strike was perfect. The blade sank into the shimmering, time-distorted flesh. The Hound let out a silent scream, its body convulsing violently.
A brilliant blue light erupted from the wound, and the creature dissolved, not into dust or ash, but into a shower of glittering, sand-like particles that faded away before they even hit the ground.
A wave of notifications hit him.
"+250 god Points!"
"You have acquired x20 'Temporal Shards'!" [The system noted these were rare Precursor crafting materials used in time-related devices].
"For defeating a Level 7 Anomaly with a unique temporal ability while being a lower level, you have gained +1 Influence!"
And on the floor where the Hound had been, a small, intricate object lay shimmering. It was a pendant, shaped like a tiny, elegant hourglass, though its glass was cracked.
A "Cracked Hourglass Pendant." Another piece of the time-puzzle.
His small victory was short-lived. The remaining eight Hounds were no longer arrogant or playful. Their collective mood had shifted to one of pure, focused rage.
They had seen their packmate dismantled with shocking efficiency. This sheep had teeth. Very sharp teeth.
They began to circle him, their movements becoming a blur. The god Interface flashed another warning: "Temporal Hounds are activating 'Temporal Acceleration'!"
Their bodies stretched and distorted, their forms becoming little more than hazy, fast-moving streaks of light. They were moving so fast that Ryan's normal vision couldn't even track them.
He could only see the afterimages they left behind, like ghostly trails crisscrossing the chamber floor.
Then, they began to howl in unison. It was that same horrible, out-of-sync sound, but now multiplied by eight. The sound waves, both past and present, began to weave together, creating a visible web of chaotic energy in the center of their circle.
They were combining their power, creating something far more dangerous than a simple Stutter-Time field.
"WARNING! The Hounds are creating a 'Temporal Feedback Loop'! Extreme danger! This field is designed to overload and collapse a target's personal timeline!"
"Collapse my what now?" Ryan thought, his mind racing. That sounded spectacularly bad.
He tried to run, to get out of the circle before the web of energy was complete. But he was too slow. The Hounds were too fast. The web of chaotic time energy snapped shut, with him caught just on the very edge of it.
He wasn't in the deadly center, but the backlash from the field washed over him like a physical wave. It was the worst feeling he had ever experienced.
His thoughts, which were usually sharp and clear, suddenly felt like they were wading through thick, cold mud. Trying to form a coherent plan was like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands.
His body felt heavy, uncooperative. He felt his own movements become sluggish, as if invisible chains were weighing down his limbs. The world around him seemed to lag, his vision stuttering.
A new, terrifying status icon appeared on his god interface: a red, broken clock.
"DEBUFF: Temporal Disjunction. All actions are slowed. Cognitive function impaired. Threat Level temporarily reduced."
His own power, his own sense of self, felt frayed and disjointed. He felt vulnerable in a way he hadn't since his very first day in this world.
Through his lagging vision, he saw the eight Temporal Hounds stop their weaving. Their goal was achieved. They had him trapped, crippled, and helpless.
Their forms, still blurring with incredible speed from their Temporal Acceleration, turned toward him. Eight streaks of angry, distorted light, eight sets of swirling vortex eyes, all locked onto him.
They closed in for the kill.