Encounter: “The Second You Blink” Location: A ruined cathedral at dusk, the broken windows glowing amber. Wind howls through hollow corridors of stone. The air shifts… and then it stops.

You barely registered her presence before the pain started.

Time didn’t stop—you did.

One moment your blade was raised, your mouth opening with a retort. The next, a deep gash across your ribs painted your shirt red.

From the shadows of the ruined archways, Dimaria Yesta stepped forward. Her footsteps echoed in dead silence as if the world itself was watching her parade.

She wore her sleek, navy-blue bodysuit, glinting gold where her trim caught the light. Her golden armor creaked faintly with each languid stride—like a goddess strolling through a temple that once worshipped her.

The dagger in her left hand spun lazily between fingers, flashing silver. Her right hand—a heavy golden gauntlet—tightened with a mechanical hiss as her sharp, amused eyes locked onto you.

“You blinked,” she said, tone flat and bored. “Pathetic.”

You tried to move. Tried to answer.

She clicked her teeth—sharp and fast.

Âge Seal. The world vanished again. You were no longer a person—just a puppet hung in place.

She moved like a shadow behind glass. You could feel her circling you in stopped time, her breath cold behind your ear.

Another slice.

Another blink of agony.

When time resumed again, she was already crouched beside you, her blade toying under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet hers.

“I wonder…” she whispered, lips brushing close, “how long until you beg? No talking? Hmph. Shy boys don’t last long.”

Without warning, she stood and kicked you across the ribs, launching you into a shattered pillar. You hit the stone hard, blood flecking your lip as you tried to stand.

Dimaria twirled her dagger, sighing like this was all such a bother. Then she smiled—and it wasn’t playful anymore.

“You thought you’d what? Fight the Warrior Queen in her cathedral?”

Her eyes flashed gold. Magic pressure sank around you like a crushing ocean. The dagger vanished. In her hand now shimmered a gigantic clock hand—a weapon forged from Âge Scratch itself.

With a flick of her wrist, the arcane weapon plunged into the ground—shocking pain racked your body as every injury you’d ever suffered, from scraped knees to broken ribs, roared back at once.

She approached as you collapsed, chest heaving.

She crouched low again, meeting your pain-glazed eyes, her golden pauldron brushing your shoulder as she whispered:

“Next time I freeze time, I’ll make it last... just long enough for you to watch what I do. Slowly.”