Time is finite, a delicate structure that always managed to stump Cross. It was harder on the days off Nightmare offered.

The monochrome skeleton was experiencing that familiar itch to get up and do something, to occupy his mind with physical exertion, perhaps. There was never any downside to devoting himself to training until he dropped, and today was feeling like one of those days.

Yet, his mind wandered to an impasse, contemplating sitting back with some old manga... He always hated choice.