Chapter 1047. A Wind That Blew From Yesterday and Tomorrow

Chapter 1047: 1047. A Wind That Blew From Yesterday and Tomorrow

Morwenna remained silent, her face pale beneath the flickering amber light. The silence stretched between them, taut as a bowstring ready to snap, filled only by the wet, ragged rasp of Theo’s breathing and the distant thunder of temporal distortions.

"I am not on his side," she finally whispered, though the words lacked the conviction Theo needed to hear.

"Then fucking prove it to me!" Theo screamed.

The outburst was primal, a raw eruption of agony that tore through his throat. Blood sprayed from his lips as he roared.

"Prove it, Morwenna! Tell me that what happened to me this fucking month was wrong!"

"Tell me that what that bastard did to this goddamn family was wrong! Say it! Say it without qualifying it, without adding ’but,’ without adding ’if,’ without those fucking pathetic excuses you use to soften the blow!"

He leaned forward in the air, the gravitational distortion around him making his body jerk like a marionette on broken strings. "Say it plainly, or shut your fucking mouth and get out of my way!"

Morwenna closed her eyes. For three agonizing seconds, she said nothing.

Theo watched her. He watched the way her eyelids trembled, the way her jaw tightened.

In that silence, he heard every unspoken word, every hesitation, and every unspoken concession to the new reality Rex had imposed.

"I thought so," Theo said, his voice dropping to a deadly, venomous whisper. "You can’t even say it."

"You’re too fucking terrified of being wrong about him."

"What happened to your position in this household," she began, her voice carefully measured, armored in that academic detachment he now loathed, "was the result of your own choices as much as—"

"FUCK YOU! DONE!" Theo shrieked.

The temporal energy around him detonated in a burst of golden shrapnel. A chunk of stone from the Academy wall tore past Morwenna’s head, missing her by inches.

"I’m done listening to your fucking lies disguised as wisdom!"

His head snapped toward the street level. His neck tendons stood out like cables.

Down there, Rex was still moving, still weaving his web. He was finishing something.

Theo could see it in the way Valentina leaned forward, the way her eyes followed Rex’s lips; she wasn’t just listening anymore; she was being consumed. The conversation had moved past debate; they were approaching the inevitable conclusion of Rex’s design.

Theo’s gaze locked onto Rex. His vision was swimming in crimson; his ribs felt like they were grinding together with every breath, but his hatred was the only thing keeping him upright in the air.

Rex, as if sensing the exact moment his puppet’s strings were being cut, slowly lifted his head. He glanced up, meeting Theo’s bloodshot, murderous stare with a terrifying, placid calm.

Rex looked like a man observing weather patterns: patient, detached, and utterly in control of the storm. He looked like a man who had already calculated every variable of this slaughter and found them all wanting.

Rex murmured something final to Valentina, a gentle hand perhaps touching her shoulder, before he fully turned his attention to the monster hovering above.

He looked up at Theo with the expression of someone who had been studying a problem from thirty meters below and had finally seen the entire, ugly picture. His eyes were cold, empty of malice but full of a devastating certainty.

"The same attacks," Rex said, his voice carrying upward through the chaos with unnatural clarity, "will not produce different outcomes, Theo. "

"You already know this... You’re just repeating a failed script."

Theo’s fingers curled into fists so tight his knuckles cracked audibly.

"I know," he spat, a glob of bloody phlegm falling from his chin. "And I’m not planning on using the same fucking attacks."

Rex’s lips curled into the faintest, most predatory shadow of a smile.

"Good," Rex said. "Neither am I."

Theo’s expression fractured. It wasn’t just anger anymore; it was something far more volatile, a twisted amalgam of grief, betrayal, and a psychotic break that severed his last remaining ties to sanity.

His eyes rolled back slightly, revealing bloodshot whites, before snapping forward with a focus that was utterly inhuman.

Rex watched that transformation with the detached fascination of a scientist observing a volatile chemical reaction.

He didn’t flinch, and he didn’t even brace. He simply waited for the inevitable detonation.

The conclusion arrived not as words but as a scream.

It was not the calculated, righteous fury Theo had displayed earlier. That had been a performance, a rehearsed list of grievances.

This was something far more primal. This was the sound of a man whose psyche had been shredded into confetti, a raw, unorganized shriek that tore through his vocal cords until blood sprayed from his mouth in crimson droplets.

It was the sound of someone who had passed beyond the ability to describe his pain and had become the pain itself.

Then, the dam broke.

Every ounce of the temporal designation’s available output erupted from Theo’s position in a catastrophic omnidirectional blast. The amber gold aura, which had previously maintained a soft, controlled glow, suddenly intensified into a blinding, malevolent sun.

It wasn’t a targeted attack; it wasn’t a surgical strike. This was a tantrum of cosmic proportions, the raw, unfiltered authority of the temporal domain asserting itself over reality.

Time did not stop. It shattered.

The distortion field tore through the air like jagged glass, and the world began to scream along with Theo. The buildings surrounding the Nightwing household and the Academy’s outer walls began to hemorrhage their own history.

Stone surfaces flickered violently between states of existence: ancient, crumbling ruins that had stood centuries ago bled through the modern masonry; cracks from Rex’s earlier impacts would spider across the walls, vanish as the stone regressed to its pristine state, and then reappear with renewed violence as the timeline stuttered.

The very fabric of spacetime was being flayed alive.

Morwenna collapsed to her knees, a strangled gasp escaping her lips. The distortion’s effect on biological systems was horrific; it wasn’t a direct assault on her flesh but a byproduct of her cells trying to exist in multiple moments at once.

Her body was fighting a losing war against its own continuity. Her heart attempted to beat in three different seconds simultaneously; her lungs struggled to draw breath from air that was both present and thirty years gone.

The sheer metabolic cost of maintaining a singular biological existence against the temporal flicker was draining her reserves at a suicidal rate.

"Gods above—" Valentina’s voice was swallowed by the temporal howling.

Her training took over before her conscious mind could even process the threat. As the headmaster of the Grand Academy, her reflexes were forged in centuries of magical warfare.

Without hesitation, she raised her hands, weaving a complex temporal stabilization field, a magical anchor designed to insist upon a single, consistent timeline within a defined radius. The shimmering barrier snapped into existence around her, creating a pocket of relative normalcy.

The five-meter radius of her protection included Rex. He stood beside her as the barrier solidified, his expression unchanged, his breathing steady even as the world around them dissolved into temporal chaos.

Then, Rex moved.

With a deliberate, almost casual step, Rex walked out of the protection of Valentina’s field. He stepped directly into the meat grinder of the distortion, leaving the safety of the stabilized timeline behind.

His cloak fluttered in a wind that blew from yesterday and tomorrow simultaneously, but his feet remained planted on the ground as if he owned the very concept of time itself.

He looked up at Theo, standing amidst the wreckage of reality, his eyes cold, patient, and utterly terrifying.