And some kind of rhythmic, faint rubbing sound.
Scylla raised her head and looked into the room, her crimson pupils shrinking to pinpoints in an instant.
"Sorry, I came at the wrong time." Scylla's voice was filled with emotions too complicated to describe. After quietly tossing out those words, she recoiled out the door as though electrocuted, retreating into the hallway.
Bang.
Scylla slammed the door shut from outside.
"No, you came at exactly the right time." A lazy, seductive voice ignored the laws of physical soundproofing and slipped precisely into Scylla's mind.
Istaroth's tone carried faint, irrepressible gasps, every word burning with startling heat. "Come give us a hand. We... can barely hold on anymore. Miss this chance, and there won't be another."
The flow of time inside the room was clearly completely different from that outside.
Istaroth, the Ruler of Time, had actually used her authority over time for something like this!
She had forcibly severed the timelines inside and outside the door, brutally stretching out the sensory strain and physical exertion of the battlefield!
Scylla leaned her back against the corridor's cold wall. Her silver-white hair slid over her shoulders, covering most of her face, while turbulent, tangled emotions churned wildly in those normally tranquil crimson eyes.
Scylla tilted the back of her head slightly and rested it against the wall, her unfocused gaze fixed on the corridor light above.
Her breathing was exceedingly soft.
Yet the pounding in her chest was as heavy as war drums.
Three seconds later.
Scylla suddenly shut her eyes, then opened them again. The hesitation in them had been utterly burned away by something resolute as she pressed the doorknob once more.
This time, Scylla did not flee.
Instead, she strode inside.
Then she slammed the door shut behind her.
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