Chapter 41: Explanations

  When I opened my eyes, I realized my arm was bare – my COG was missing.

  The first thought that crossed my mind was that I’d started another loop and was now back in the holding cell. That thought, however, was immediately followed by another, more accurate one: idiot.

  The loop begins with me waking up in the cell – with almost no memories. But the fact that I remember this right now - at this moment - suggests my memories are still intact.

  Which means…

  “Good morning, Mr. Halegrim.” Came Balthor’s familiar voice.

  I blinked at the grass around me, and the full weight of my dumbassery settled in.

  Like, seriously, Viktor – maybe use your eyes next time?

  I sat up, turning forward, and noticed the interior of Chronos’ realm had shifted slightly since my last visit.

  Pixelle sat at the glass table, fiddling with my COG, Balthor standing beside her. But now, behind them, stood a tall backboard. Chronos leaned on it with a piece of white chalk in hand.

  “Take a seat.” He said, gesturing to one of the empty chairs at the table, his expression gravely serious.

  “We just had a conversation like a minute ago, I think you – “

  “Sit. Down.”

  Each word felt like a punch to the gut.

  I sighed, shut my mouth, nodded, and stood. Then walked over and took a seat.

  “I assume it’s time for that lecture you promised me.” I said, only half-interested.

  “Oh, that’s a case of Loop Drift alright.” Pixelle muttered without looking up from my COG, still tinkering.

  “But it’s so early…we're at loop seven...” Balthor added under his breath.

  “What?” I asked, unfamiliar with the term, uncomfortable under Chronos’ piercing gaze.

  Balthor cleared his throat. “It’s a term we use for when the Champion’s mind becomes too mentally fatigued. When the strain of repeated loops wears them down and they start to act…differently. Apathy, detachment…that kind of thing.”

  “Usually happens way down the line.” Pixelle added, still not lifting her gaze. “Like thirty loops in at least. Not after seven.”

  “Well,” I said, unapologetic, “maybe if your Checkpoint glitch didn’t kill me seven times this loop, I wouldn’t be feeling this way.”

  She finally looked up, her expression soft, defeated. “I know. And I’m sorry. I’m fixing it right now.”

  “Glitch or not,” Chronos cut in, his tone sharp and interrogative, “what did you do this loop, Viktor?”

  I blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

  “You see, Viktor,” he said, his tone accusing, “I may be blind to most of what happens to you in Solvane – but my other senses are still very much intact. And I felt what you did this loop.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I still have no idea what you’re talking about. What I did was survive a war zone and actually got a pretty great upgrade that would – “

  “Stop.” Chronos cut in, then turned to Balthor. “Make him the tea. We can’t lose him this early.”

  Balthor nodded before stepping away.

  Chronos, meanwhile, turned back to me. He pulled up the sleeve on his right arm – revealing a patch of dark, rotten skin stretching from his forearm to his elbow.

  A blight.

  “This, Viktor,” he said grimly, “is Erebus’ blight.”

  I leaned in for a closer look. It was severe. Nasty. In Solvane, even the best doctors would’ve called for an amputation – cut the arm to save the body.

  “Each loop you go through isn’t a rewind – it’s a branch,” Chronos continued. “A new world. A new reality. When you die, I don’t turn back time – I place you in an exact copy of your world at the start of your day. That means every loop you fail in becomes a world where Erebus ultimately succeeds. A world he devours.”

  He held up his arm again. “This blight? It’s a gift from him. And with every loop he consumes, it grows. Eventually – and if we fail – it may reach a point where it kills me. For good.”

  I processed that, gears turning in my head. “So…there are seven Solvanes that have already fallen.”

  Then a sharper thought hit me – a possible reason to why he was blaming me for the blight.

  “What about Checkpoint's runs?” I asked. “Do they count? Are they also new realities for Erebus to devour?”

  Chronos shook his head. “No. Checkpoint-worlds are my creation. I won’t go into the details, but I destroy those copies before Erebus can take them. I wouldn’t be able to withhold the strain of possibly double the number of loops.”

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  “Then…” I frowned. “Why are you mad at me? If this is about me not stopping him yet, then – sorry, not sorry – but it’s hard. And I – “

  “No.” Chronos cut in sharply. “I don’t expect you to stop Erebus this early. I know the System's restrictions early on. And I know that Dolos only makes everything harder. That’s not the issue. I willingly carry the blight so my Champions can keep going – determined and unbroken. When we win, I heal. That’s the deal.”

  He stepped forward.

  “My problem is your actions this loop. Because, you see, loosing loops isn’t the only way to feed the blight.”

  “It’s not?” I asked, still unsure where he was getting with this. “Then how else can it grow?”

  “You being a piece of shit.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  “That’s what I asked you.” Chronos said. “What did you do this run? What were your intentions?”

  He wasn’t just angry – he was disappointed.

  “When Champions start acting more like villains than heroes…Erebus takes notice. Even far away from the Divine, he can sense someone acting with Darkness in their heart. You don’t even need to cause a ‘significant change’ to be targeted by him. He’d be able to notice you because your acts are deplorable.”

  “That’s how he marked Master Goren in the past.” Balthor added quietly.

  Chronos nodded. “Exactly.” He looked around as if searching for the black-haired man. “Where is he even?”

  “He’s with Aureon.” Pixelle replied, still working.

  Chronos nodded, then turned back to me. “I’ll ask again – what did you do this loop, Viktor?”

  My mind drifted back to the ending stretch of this loop.

  I’d held innocent civilians at gunpoint. Used a terrified man as a shield. Threatened to shoot people, left and right. Was about to shoot the High Technician just so he wouldn’t escape.

  Was that what triggered that weird headache? Was that why my heart literally exploded in my chest? Because of my villainous behavior?

  Thinking back, I hadn’t even flinched when I walked into the Calibration Hall. After all the deaths I endured, all the pain, I didn’t feel much of anything. It was just like Balthor described it…Apathy. Emptiness.

  Balthor gently placed a porcelain teacup in front of me, steam rising from it.

  “Drink it.” Chronos said – softly, not commanding. “It’ll help with the Loop Drift. Bring some of you back. Even if just a little.”

  He exhaled, rubbing the patch of blight on his arm. “I don’t even have anything to compare this to, Viktor. Dolos never rigged the Déjà vu System before. I’ve never had a Champion use Checkpoint seven times in one run - including four times in the span of five seconds."

  He met my eyes, and his voice turned even gentler. “So no – I’m not mad. Not really. The human mind wasn’t made to continue living after dying. Especially not when the death was brutal. And especially not after it happened seven times in a row. But I need you to be honest with me. And more importantly – honest with yourself. Don’t do the wrong things for the right reasons. That’s not how a Champion should operate.”

  I nodded slowly, then picked up the cup and took a sip.

  A strange floral taste lingered on my tongue. “What’s that weird flavor?”

  “Jasmine.” Balthor replied with a small smile.

  “Jasmine…” I repeated, feeling my sense of self gradually returning. “I read somewhere it used to grow in the Wildlands when they were habitable – ages ago. They probably have it in Skyhaven, but I’ve never seen it. Definitely never drank it in tea.”

  “VIP treatment.” Chronos said, clearly jesting. “Perks of being a Champion.”

  He tried to smile, but his eyes still waited for my answer.

  I sighed, took another sip, and finally spoke.

  “There was a hostage situation I created. I needed a High Technician to calibrate my COG, and I didn’t have time to sort out who was who. So I did what I felt was necessary.” I paused. “You’re right. I was wrong. I was no better than the Libra scum outside.”

  “Good.” Chronos nodded. “As long as you see what you did for what it was, then you’re already on the right path back into sanity.”

  I nodded, wanting to believe this run was just a singular mistake. “I’ll make sure that as long as I’m still me, this won’t happen again.”

  “Good.” Chronos repeated.

  “What killed me, though?” I asked suddenly, curious. “And the headache…I assume it’s related to what I did?”

  Balthor was the one to answer. “As Master Chronos said, a heart full of Darkness is another way to get marked by Erebus. To prevent that, the System includes a failsafe. At first, it analyzes the situation and just applies pressure. But eventually, if it deems the Champion too far gone...it kills them.”

  “Oh…”

  Balthor nodded.

  “It wasn’t the case here, though.” Chronos interjected. “This time you can blame the End of the World protocol. The message you saw meant Erebus was close to succeeding. If you’re alive when that happens – it’s game over. No matter how many loops are left.”

  He sighed, folding his arms. “Past Champions struggled with that. Some had to trick their companions into killing them. Some had to commit suicide - one had to do it twice in one Battle. That was when I decided to implement a failsafe for this scenario as well. To make it easier.”

  I nodded slowly. Whoever that Champion was, Chronos clearly still remembered him.

  Then the God of Time approached the blackboard and tapped the chalk against it.

  “I was going to give you a full lecture in statistics – explaining exactly how Erebus operates.” He said. “But we’re short on time - again - so I’ll make it brief. Erebus gains strength with every loop he consumes. He constantly searches for my Champions to mark them and stop their progression. But he can’t waste power on analyzing everything, not when he’s still so weak in the early loops. So, he takes a shortcut – he averages all the loops that happened up to that point.”

  “Interesting…” I said, surprised by the idea that the Embodiment of Darkness worked more like a machine rather than a god.

  Chronos continued. “He then compares this running average to the original timeline. As long as the differences stay within a certain threshold, he doesn’t act. But in this Battle’s case, he has another, huge disadvantage – Solvane is massive. Too massive. So for now, like I had already told you before, he focuses solely on the Divine.”

  I rubbed my chin, failing to understand one thing. “But if you say his attention is only on the Divine at the moment, then why do I still need to have my memories wiped every loop? Wouldn’t it be more beneficial to let me keep them as long as I stay away from that damn tower?”

  Chronos shook his head. “It sounds tempting. I know. But it’ll just come to bite you later – when he’ll widen his scope. When his focus will exceed the Divine, I want his average to still fall under the threshold. And to do that, I want your early-to-mid-day behavior to still resemble the original timeline, at least somewhat. The memory resets keep that a reality.”

  “I see.” I nodded, understanding it better.

  “It won’t be like that forever.” Chronos warned. “Eventually, Erebus will drop his average calculation and start comparing every new loop to the original.”

  “So you’ve said.” I muttered.

  “Got it!” Pixelle suddenly exclaimed, lifting my COG with both hands. Her smile was proud and bright. “Dolos is officially out of the Déjà vu System. There should be no more glitches, interventions, or anything of the sort.”

  Chronos and Balthor both smiled as well.

  “Good job.” Chronos said warmly, visibly relieved.

  I took the COG back, smiling faintly, growing hopeful. “Thanks, Pixelle. And…sorry. For how I lashed out before.”

  “It’s okay. Just remember – “

  Before she could finish her words, a portal shimmered into existence behind her, and a tall man in full armor stepped through, holding a helm in one hand and a sword that radiated light in the other. He looked unsettled.

  “Aureon?” Chronos turned to him, then searched past him. “Where’s Goren? I thought he was with you.”

  The armored man’s eyes widened. “You’re telling me…he’s not here?”