As Evodil stepped onto one of the stray floating islands, the height gave him a clear view of Menystria spread out beneath him. Every building he'd walked through, every place that held a memory, every mistake he'd dragged through more lifetimes than anyone else would ever know.
The Citadel came first. In this timeline James actually kept his word: no roof, just an open courtyard boxed in by stone walls with towers at each corner. Inside were cages, rough tables made from boulders, and training dummies that looked as beaten as their owner's patience. Barebones. Practical. Exactly the kind of style James never had.
Below, the city of shades moved with its usual lifeless rhythm. The shapes drifted back and forth through the dim streets, their glowing white eyes lighting the way like scattered lanterns. The blocks of the city matched the dark blue ground beneath them — some gray, some black, some navy, with a few bone-white structures breaking the pattern. And there, in the far corner, sat the ruined building Jasper had claimed. Still untouched. Still a ruin.
His gaze moved last to the manor. His place. The place where he hid with his "plans" and "ideas," even though half the time he wasn't sure he had any at all. Books he never read, memories he remembered too clearly, death and life packed together in the same wooden walls.
He walked across the island's rough surface, letting out a slow breath as his thoughts pressed in. How do you kill something like him… like IT? Whatever Azraem is, every time he throws me into that void, I can't see him. Not until it's already too late. Not until I'm on the ground dying again.
Every time, I'm at my worst.
He kept walking, pace steady, no longer paying attention to the buildings below. He tried to force a plan into shape, anything to anchor his next step, but every thought blurred into another. The deeper he went into the city's shadow, the hazier his mind became, as if the darkness below dragged at his focus.
He crossed another bridge, this one leading to a larger floating island. A wide lake sat at its center, water spilling over the edge in slow, thin streams that fell endlessly into the abyss. It gave the illusion of stillness even as it moved.
Evodil stepped closer, kneeling to look at his reflection.
The face in the water wasn't the version of himself he knew.
Where was the joy he took in chaos?
Where was the hatred he had for careful planning?
He was doing exactly what he despised — thinking things through — and he hated every second of it. But he couldn't stop. He needed to end this. He needed to prove he wasn't just something fate pushed around like a loose page in the wind.
He stood after a moment, grunting when a fish in the lake jolted upward, splashing close enough to brush his cloak. He narrowed his eyes behind the white blindfold.
Then he heard it — a sharp buzz of energy from across the sand. A bright light flickered, the glow snapping open like a pulse.
In the brief illumination, he saw someone.
A figure clutching its head, thrashing, screaming curses into the empty air, convinced no one was listening.
The light died for a heartbeat, then flared again. In that moment, Evodil saw the full shape.
Around three and a half meters tall.
Bigger than most of the statues in Menystria, even the ones carved of him or his brothers.
Its hair was indigo, fading into a faint orange at the tips. A dangling angler-like bulb hung near its forehead, flickering with unstable light.
From the waist down, a long tail made up most of its size. Slight scales shimmered along it, though from where Evodil stood it looked almost like smooth skin. Navy in color, matching the island's ground.
Its eyes glowed white, the spiraling irises twisting and tightening like they were searching for something while drowning in panic.
Its clothes were brown and white with flashes of orange — a strange mix between a 1300s scholar and a 1500s pirate. A black piece of coral clung to the leather on one shoulder, and on the opposite side sat a skull symbol etched into the material.
The creature kept thrashing, the light sparking with every movement, curses echoing across the sand.
Evodil stepped toward the creature, shifting one hand toward the lake behind him. The darkness pooled beneath the surface and rose in thin strands, forming a solid bridge that stretched out over the water with each step he took. The abyss below fed it, shaping the path as naturally as breath.
The figure ahead didn't acknowledge him. It only kept thrashing in the sand, its voice breaking through the distance now — clearer, raw, strained with pain that twisted every word into something jagged.
When Evodil reached the shore, the bridge dissolved behind him the moment his hand slipped back into his cloak. He stood still, waiting for the creature to notice him. Its tail whipped out in a wide arc, forcing him to move aside with a quiet huff.
He waited longer than he wanted to, the creature's nonstop curses grating at him until annoyance crept over his face. When it paused — only for a breath — Evodil finally stepped closer.
The creature looked down at him. Confusion flickered, then anger, spiraling eyes narrowing as it leaned in.
Then it froze.
A flinch — sharp, full-body — like it had just walked into a wall of its own senses.
Oh, how it wished it hadn't looked.
Oh, how it wished it didn't see.
Oh, how it wished it didn't witness.
The future this man would survive.
The past this man had carved his way through.
The things he had broken, saved, erased, revived — people extinguished like dying stars, people lit again like supernovas.
This was no ordinary man standing in front of it. There was no heart inside him, yet the creature could hear one anyway. It saw futures branching like fractures in glass. It saw memories twisting into one another. Too many. Far too many for a terrified mind to endure.
It screamed — a desperate, panicked sound — and stumbled back.
"Stay away from me!"
Its fist swung forward with no hesitation. Evodil stepped aside with ease, raising an eyebrow at the outburst.
He tried to speak.
"I'm not here to—"
The creature lunged again, this time with all its weight. Its fist connected square with Evodil's stomach.
A sharp crack echoed between them.
Evodil stared up at the creature with a puzzled expression, half convinced it had stepped on a twig and snapped it under its own weight. That thought vanished when the thing collapsed backward, clutching its arm as another scream tore out of its throat. It hit the sand hard, tail whipping violently — the end of it smacking Evodil across the face.
He exhaled through his nose, tired more than angry, and stepped forward.
"Punching a god isn't the smartest idea," he said. "Especially one who's taken volcanic warhammers to the ribs."
Instead of offering his hand, a tendril shot out from his back, coiling forward like an extended limb. The creature stared at it through its spiraling eyes, still gasping, still gripping its clearly broken arm. It hesitated, thinking hard enough for the pause to be noticeable, then accepted the help anyway. It knew refusing would be even dumber.
Once upright, it brushed off its clothes — mostly a jacket and a loose shirt beneath — knocking sand free as it pulled away from the tendril. The suspicion didn't fade. Rows of sharp teeth showed as it snarled, another groan slipping out as its arm shifted wrong again.
Evodil let out a tired groan of his own, done with the day and done with the confusion.
"What's your name?" he asked, pointing directly at the creature's face.
The creature blinked at the gesture — confused that someone with a reinforced blindfold could point so cleanly. It leaned down, lowering its height enough that its spiraling eyes lined with the cloth over Evodil's.
"Neruin," it said. "Humble… creature of these lands. Wanderer. Historian, somewhat."
It paused, squinting.
"And I think I've seen you before. Somewhere. But I can't tell when."
Evodil's head tilted at Neruin's claim.
It had seen him somewhere before?
Normally, he'd assume someone was trying to sound cryptic or dramatic — Menystria had no shortage of idiots who thought being vague made them interesting — but this thing had just broken its own arm punching him. It didn't feel like a performance.
Still… not once, in any loop, had he ever seen a creature like this. Not even by accident.
That alone made his mind tighten.
Unstable things slipped through the cracks of the loop. This one was clearly unstable. That meant potential — and danger.
He looked up at Neruin, voice edged with a trace of paranoia he didn't bother hiding.
"Where would you even know me from? This is the first time we've met."
Neruin didn't hesitate.
"The laboratory," he said. "Where else? You were the main attraction. The centerpiece of that whole circus of creatures trying to twist fate. The rotten core of humanity's rush into technology."
Evodil stopped breathing.
A lab?
When had he ever been inside a lab?
Noah had labs, sure — underground ones, private ones, ruined ones — but Evodil would've remembered stepping into one. Even in another loop. Even if it meant nothing at the time.
So why did this thing remember him?
Then it clicked.
Azraem.
That bastard still had a grip somewhere. A memory cut out, blocked, buried. A meeting he wasn't supposed to recall. A place he must've been trapped in.
He inhaled slowly, steadying himself.
"What was this laboratory like?" he asked. "What happened there? How are you out here now? And what exactly are you?"
Neruin narrowed his spiraling eyes, groaning at the sudden barrage of questions.
"You don't remember," he muttered, annoyed. "Figures."
He straightened, speaking slower this time.
"When you woke up from your little endless nap, you butchered everyone in that place. Every scientist. Every guard. Even that Amanda woman running it. All of them."
Evodil didn't react at the name — not outwardly — but something in him shifted.
"They made me into… this," Neruin continued, gesturing at himself with his unbroken arm. "Twisted the others too. Trapped us down there. But when you tore the place apart and the power died, the cages unlocked."
His tail curled slightly behind him, as if remembering something painful.
"Most of us ran. Most of us died. A few of us… survived the mutations."
He tapped his own chest.
"I was one of the lucky ones."
Amanda.
I've heard that name before. From Azraem.
Not spoken — pushed into my head, like everything else he does.
If I killed them in that lab… and Azraem knows their names… and he keeps coming back to kill me because of it — then it wasn't random. It never was.
He didn't just hate what I am.
He hated what I did there.
And the fact I can't remember it?
That seals it. I locked it away myself. Or someone forced it shut. Either way, it mattered enough to bury.
But then there's him.
Neruin said "them."
Which means he was something before this.
He speaks English cleanly, just bent at the edges — an accent that doesn't belong to Menystria. No monster grows that naturally.
So he was human.
Once.
Evodil didn't ask anything else.
Instead, he raised an eyebrow behind the blindfold, a crooked smirk pulling at his mouth as he looked up at the towering creature who had just shattered his own arm trying to punch a god.
"Well," he said lightly, "it's nice to finally meet someone who's actually from around here… before 'around here' turned into this."
Neruin let out a short, strained chuckle, shifting his broken arm to keep it from twisting again. His lips pressed together, briefly revealing the unnatural rows of teeth beneath as he groaned. His tail swished irritably, cutting too close—
Evodil caught it mid-motion with a tired sigh, holding it just long enough to make a point before pushing it aside.
"Careful," he muttered. "It's not my fault you broke your own arm."
Neruin huffed, repeating the words back in a mocking tone, but he nodded anyway, slithering a little farther away. Then he looked back at Evodil, eyes spiraling faintly as he finally asked his own question.
"So," he said, voice steadier now, "what do you do now that you know where we came from?"
A pause.
"And why are you even here at this hour?"
His gaze flicked over Evodil slowly.
"Someone like you should be doing something more important than talking to an… abomination from a lab that tore itself apart just to crawl one step forward."
Evodil looked up at him for a moment. He didn't think long about the answer — there was no need to.
"I don't know," he said plainly. "Right now it's almost nothing. A loose thread. Maybe it leads somewhere important. Maybe it's just filler. That's all it is for now."
Neruin blinked. Slowly. Painfully slowly. So slowly that for a brief second Evodil genuinely wondered if his eyelids were moving sideways.
Then he let out a long, exhausted sigh.
"Are you stupid," Neruin asked, voice flat, "or actively suicidal—"
"Both," Evodil answered immediately, not even letting him finish.
Neruin flinched.
He tilted his head, studying Evodil again, as if reassessing the situation entirely — trying to decide whether he was talking to an actual god… or a deeply depressed human child wrapped in too much power.
Evodil caught the look and smirked.
"Betting everything on a guess is a dumb idea," he continued, unfazed. "I know that."
A pause.
"But what else am I supposed to do right now?"
He gestured vaguely toward the city below without turning.
"I wait. The others do their parts. I just… push."
His smile sharpened a little.
"Fuel them. Or in James' case, piss him off enough to get him moving instead of sitting around watching the world rot."
Neruin opened his mouth, then stopped.
His spiraling eyes slowed — actually slowed — staring at Evodil like he was witnessing a new, undocumented form of madness.
"What the hell does any of that mean?" he finally asked.
Evodil shrugged.
That was the final confirmation Neruin needed.
Either he himself was already dead, or this god was completely insane — and Neruin was just unlucky enough to meet him today.
Evodil took a step back, breaking the strange tension between them. He went quiet, thinking, staring off at nothing in particular.
Neruin watched him closely, muscles tense, tail coiled beneath him — ready to flee… or to break another arm and pass out if that's what it took to make the confusion spilling out of the being in front of him finally stop.
Finally, Evodil hopped right back up to Neruin, closing the distance in less than a blink. One moment he was a few steps away — the next he was directly beneath him, staring straight up. Too straight up. So much so that it genuinely looked like his neck should've snapped to make that angle possible.
Neruin stiffened.
Something about the presence pressed in on him — not violent, not hostile, just wrong. Existence-level wrong. He wasn't sure whether to be more unsettled by Evodil being there at all… or by how casual he seemed about it.
After a few seconds of this, Neruin finally spoke.
"Are you just going to stare at me," he asked carefully, "or are you going to say something?"
Evodil didn't answer. He just kept staring.
That was enough.
Neruin slithered sideways, just a little, his tail brushing the water at the edge of the lake as if testing an escape route.
Only then did Evodil clear his throat.
"What were you freaking out about?" he asked casually. "Earlier. On the sand."
Neruin blinked.
Once.
Twice.
He'd been fully prepared for another incomprehensible statement, another layer of madness stacked on top of the last — but this?
"…That?" he asked, genuinely caught off guard.
He paused, thinking.
Why had he freaked out?
Nothing unusual had been happening. He'd been moving through the city like always, drifting toward the beach to catch fish in the lake. Same routine. Same quiet. And then—
Something.
A presence. A glowing eye in the corner of his vision. Watching. Existing where it shouldn't.
He didn't say any of that.
Instead, after a moment, he just shook his head.
"I don't know," Neruin said. "It just… happened."
Evodil went quiet.
Then, simply, "I see."
He stepped back again, a faint smirk forming as he turned away. As he walked, a strange tune slipped from him — low, almost absent-minded. Neruin froze when he heard it.
It tugged at something old.
Not quite a church hymn… but close. Too refined to be ancient, too solemn to be new. Something remembered rather than learned.
Before Evodil disappeared into the shadows of the floating island, Neruin called out, a hint of nervousness slipping into his voice.
"…Hey. Thanks. For showing up. And, uh… snapping me out of that."
Evodil laughed softly without stopping, lifting a hand in a lazy wave.
"Nice meeting someone as crazy as you for once," he called back. "Maybe we'll run into each other again. If we're lucky."
Neruin watched him go, then nodded, lifting his unbroken hand in a small wave.
"Yeah," he muttered to himself. "Hopefully before one of us gets hurt."
Or worse.
With that, he turned away, slithering back into the city — the lake behind him falling endlessly into the abyss, and the echo of that strange melody lingering far longer than it should have.