It's been 17 days since I nearly died.
Weirdly, that's not even the part that haunts me the most.
The part that really messed me up? Seeing my future self. Alive. Strong. Calm. Like some twisted mirror version of me who figured it all out... and used it all wrong.
I know I can't beat him in a fight.
Not with raw strength. Not with flashy powers. Not even with time on my side—because he is time. He's been through this before. Maybe hundreds of times.
So I have to win differently.
Through trickery. Through misdirection. Through the very thing he's forgotten to expect from his past self: unpredictability.
After all, time is relative. And in a dimension where time is power, maybe things like strength and durability don't mean anything at all.
But then again—he has that same knowledge too—and probably more.
And that terrifies me.
Oh yeah and also in those 17 days I've had plenty of rest and practice.
I have gained control over my 'Teleportation'?
I guess I'll call it that for now for simplicity.
I can move across short distances just by thinking about spatial coordinates. It still drains me if I overdo it, but it's under control now.
I've gone from collapsing on my bed to at least surviving a few test rounds with Arlie without puking my lungs out.
Progress, right?
Also—speaking of progress—I've finally figured out how to rewind and fast-forward time further than just a few minutes.
It took a hell of a lot of trial and error…and two minor nosebleeds, but now I can jump hours, sometimes even a day—both forward and backward.
It's weird. The more I use it, the more intuitive it becomes, like the time is part of my muscle memory. I just think in the unit—seconds, hours, days—and let the motion guide it.
But there's a catch.
The further I go, the heavier the toll. I don't just mean physically—I mean emotionally. You start seeing all the possible outcomes of the past and future.
In short, It's a glorified headache simulator.
"Why are you just standing there? Get off the platform," Arlie snapped, arms crossed.
"Sorry, I zoned out," I muttered, stepping down.
Why do I even narrate things in my head like someone's listening?
Is this a coping mechanism?
Or am I just... that lonely?
"Alright. Day 19 of testing completed," Seren announced, glancing down at the glowing interface.
Her voice was as flat and professional as ever.
"You've made quite the progress. Good job."
Coming from Seren, that felt like a standing ovation.
Arlie tossed me a protein bar as I walked past her.
"Recharge, time-boy," she muttered. "You look like you're about to phase out of existence."
Is snacks all she eats?
I didn't respond to her. I didn't have the energy to be sarcastic. That's how bad it was.
The corridor lights flickered overhead as I made my way back to my room, each step heavier than the last.
By the time I closed the door behind me, the silence hit me like gravity.
I dropped the protein bar on the edge of the mattress and collapsed face-first.
Naturally, the mattress was stiff enough to punch me back. I pretended it didn't hurt—because of course it did…
I stayed there, motionless. For a minute. Or an hour.
Time starts to lose meaning when you've been twisting it for days.
I turned onto my back and stared at the ceiling.
The fan above me spun slowly, lazily — like it wasn't in a hurry to finish anything.
For a second, I tried matching my breathing to it. Didn't help.
My chest still felt tight, like something was pressing down from the inside.
Everything was... quiet.
Too quiet.
I used to like the silence. Now it felt like a spotlight.
What if this is it?
Wake up. Train. Collapse. Repeat.
Like a hamster wheel, but in a white, futuristic prison. But at least I got people to talk with…
But only at a cost of a big responsibility.
I sat up, elbows on knees, and rubbed my face.
"Get it together" I said to myself.
I stood and walked over to the sink.
It's an unfamiliar sight.
Its not my sink, it's not what i'm used to.
Then it hit me that…I truly am in an unfamiliar place away from everyone, away from my family.
The mirror above the basin showed me exactly what I expected.
Red eyes.
Hair starting to clump from stress.
That same damn look — the one that says
"I'm surviving, but barely."
I washed my face and looked down.
The sink water took its time draining.
I stayed like that for a moment, hands gripping the edge of the basin, just trying to feel grounded.
Didn't work.
Back at the bed, I laid down again. Stared at the ceiling some more.
Eventually, my eyes drifted shut.
I didn't dream.
Or maybe I did — and just didn't remember it this time.
Honestly? I was starting to hope I wouldn't remember.
Because the dreams I have never leave me better off.
Something tells me my life can still get worse. And I hope to god that I'm wrong.
There was a knock.
Not a hard one. Just two light taps. Hesitant, almost like a suggestion rather than a command.
I didn't answer.
The door creaked open anyway.
"You alive in there?" Arlie's voice slipped through the gap.
I was still lying in bed, one arm over my eyes. "Hah…Barely," I mumbled.
She stepped in, bag of chips in her arms, half her jacket still on. "Good. Because Seren was this close to sending in a drone to check if you were decomposing."
I sat up slowly. "Thanks for the concern. Very heartfelt."
She smirked, shoved the rest of the chips into her mouth, and casually tossed the empty bag on the floor—even though the trash can was right there.
Manners? Hello?
She leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching me like I was part of some experiment she didn't want to write a report on.
"Let me guess," she said. "Existential dread finally set in?"
"Among other things."
"Oh no. Poor timeline boy is having his first meltdown. Do you want a gold star or a punch to the throat?"
"Can I pick both?"
She snorted. "Haha…Multitasking. You're learning."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
The silence wasn't awkward. It was just… heavy.
I sighed, rubbed the back of my neck. "I'm just tired, Arlie."
She leaned back on her hands. "Tired's normal. You sound like you're done."
That hit harder than I expected.
"It's just… everything," I admitted. "The training, the pressure, being surrounded by tech I don't understand, people who talk like I'm supposed to save the world just because I got hit by some cosmic mistake."
"It wasn't a mistake," she said. "You were chosen."
"Yeah, well, I hate that…"
Arlie nodded slowly.
"Have you seen Star Wars?" I continued casually.
"Yeah, the old movie?" she said.
Well now I'm offended…
"Yeah, so then you know why I hate this entire
'Chosen One' thing, It never ends well."
"You can't really let a movie dictate your life now, can you? You make your own choices, and you are free"
She looked away, toward the dull blue glow of the window.
"You know," she said, voice softer now, "when I first came here, I didn't speak to anyone for three weeks. Just did my tasks, took orders, went back to my room. Everyone thought I was some cold, hyper-efficient prodigy."
She smirked faintly. "I was just scared shitless."
That surprised me. "You?"
"Yep. Arlie Solaris, emotional mess. Don't spread it around."
I actually chuckled.
"You're doing better than I did," she added. "You're not pretending. You're just... living through it. Barely, maybe. But still."
I leaned back against the wall. "That's what it feels like. Just... existing. Like if I stop moving for too long, I'll unravel."
"Then keep moving. Slowly, if you have to. Crawling counts."
Another silence. This one wasn't awkward.
She glanced at me, then down at the floor.
"You miss her?"
I didn't need to ask who.
"Yeah," I said. "All the time. And I don't even know if she's… if she still exists. Not in the way I remember."
"Memories are their own kind of survival," Arlie said. "Sometimes they're all we get."
She stood up, brushing crumbs off her hands.
"You'll get through this," she said, heading for the door. "I don't know how. But you will."
"Thanks for the motivational speech, coach."
She paused at the doorway, half-turned back.
"Don't thank me yet," she said. "You're still stuck here."
"At least put the empty bag in the trash…"
And with that, she left.
The door clicked shut behind her, and I was alone again.
Silence filled the room again, but it didn't hit as hard this time.
It just... settled.
I got up slowly, stretched, and wandered over to the desk without thinking.
No purpose. Just movement for movement's sake.
I picked up the chip bag she'd left on the floor. Tossed it into the bin.
Guess I'm the janitor now too.
I leaned against the wall and looked around.
It's strange — how something so unfamiliar can become routine.
The sterile walls. The hum of recycled air. The faint vibration from whatever systems keep this place running under our feet.
I've been here for weeks now, Yet I still can't call it home.
Home was full of noise. Mess. My mother's laugh watching TV shows in the other room.
Cheap instant noodles…the only thing I could cook of course, some lightbulbs that flickered for the wrong reasons and the noise of my computer.
This? This is... Organised. Clean. Controlled.
Every variable accounted for — except me.
Don't get me wrong, this room is a mess, and properly Arlie's Room too I bet.
I caught my reflection in the dark screen of the powered-down broken console on top of the desk.
Same tired face. Same weight under the eyes. But I looked different.
Not older, exactly. Just... thinner.
I should be glad I'm losing weight at least.
I sat down in the desk chair and stared at the wall for a while.
No thoughts. Just weight.
It's funny how you can train for hours, fight through exhaustion, and still feel like you haven't moved at all.
Like something is waiting for me — but I'm not ready to face it yet.
Well, whatever.
Worries for tomorrow, come tomorrow.
Eventually, I fell asleep.
No dreams. No voices. Just the dark.
I am getting used to this mattress not gonna lie.
When I woke up, everything felt... normal.
Well that's a first.
Same white dusty ceiling. Same blanket half-kicked to the floor. Same weight in my chest.
I dragged myself to the sink, brushing with the automatic toothbrush mounted to the wall — it's gentle buzzing is oddly comforting.
When I go back, I might actually buy an Electric Toothbrush.
Then a shower. Futuristic thermostat. Perfect water pressure. Perfect water temperature. Too perfect.
After that, White Shirt. Sterile Slippers. Then off to the lab.
The training session was... Nothing noteworthy.
Slowing down targets. Reaction training. Precision tests.
Testing my
My body moved before I could think — muscle memory finally catching up.
Arlie stood by the edge, arms crossed.
"Why are you just standing there? Get off the platform," she snapped.
I blinked.
Same tone. Same glare. Same line as yesterday.
I stepped off without a word. Maybe she was recycling her scolding routine.
Not like she's known for her creativity.
Seren was at her console, typing like always. She didn't even glance at me.
"Alright. Day 20 of testing completed," she said.
Her voice was flat, unreadable as ever.
As I left the lab, something inside me still felt... off.
Not wrong. Just off.
Weird.
I kept walking anyway.
Long day, I told myself.
That's all it is.
Just a long day.
***
[Arlie's POV]
I watched him as he walked down the corridor.
He looked more timid than usual — not physically, just… worn down.
He misses home. That for sure.
But no matter how much he wants to go back, we can't let him.
He's our last shot at fixing this mess.
Our only shot.
Still, watching him unravel piece by piece every day?
Doesn't make it easier.
"Hey, Seren," I said.
"What?" she replied, eyes still on the console.
"How're the test results from today's session looking?"
"Hold on. Pulling them up now."
I rolled my chair closer as she typed in a few prompts. Her fingers moved with that weird hybrid of precision and impatience only she could pull off.
Lines of data filled the screen. Charts. Neural patterns. Readouts.
Then came the subject profile.
Seren mumbled as she scrolled:
"Subject ID… year of origin… 2024..."
SUBJECT IDENTIFICATION
> Subject ID: KA106B89M609339K
Name: Kiran Awasthi
Age: 25
Year of Origin: 2024
Date of Birth: 1/4/1999
Temporal Energy Level: 98.7%
[Updated]
Temporal Energy Level: 99.1%
Threat Level: Unknown
"Huh… that's different," I muttered.
Seren's fingers hovered over the next line. Her voice was quieter than usual when she finally spoke.
"No. That's concerning."
Temporal energy 99.1%. It changed very suddenly.
"Bring him back here. I have to check something,"
she said — not flat, not calm — but sharp. Urgent.
And for the first time in hours, she made eye contact.
That alone was enough to make me stand.
I nodded and headed for the door, every step suddenly felt heavier.
And if Seren was worried, then we were already late.
Something's happening to him.
And I think he's already becoming like him.
-End of Chapter 8-