Chapter 1: 1. The Loop of Decay
The sky above Caelus Rynne was always the same. A muted gray, clouds hanging low like a suffocating blanket over the city. The streets, worn and cracked, carried the stench of decay that never seemed to fade. Every day, it was the same. Every day, time reset, trapping him in the stagnant reality of a dying world.
Caelus had long stopped trying to remember when it began. There was no point. Time had no meaning here, not anymore. He would wake up, walk the streets, see the same hollow faces of people repeating their meaningless routines. They didn't notice the loop. They couldn't. They were trapped, just like him, in the endless cycle.
But Caelus could feel it—the weight of time pressing down on him, each loop gnawing at his mind, his very soul. Every step he took felt like walking through thick mud, each breath heavy with the knowledge that tomorrow would be no different. And the day after that.
He stood in the middle of the street, eyes cast upward to the gray, lifeless sky, as if searching for something—anything—that might change. The sky never answered.
His hand clenched into a fist. "Why?" he whispered under his breath. "Why can't I get out?"
The familiar sound of the bell tower echoed through the city, signaling another passing hour. A pointless marker of time, reminding him of the futility of each day. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the bell reverberating in his chest. It was always the same. Always.
Until it wasn't.
It was subtle at first, a mere shift in the air, like the faintest brush of wind in a stagnant room. Caelus opened his eyes, scanning the street. Everything was as it always had been. The vendor at the corner stall wiping down the same counter. The old man across the street feeding pigeons. The distant hum of conversations from the open-air café. The scene played out like clockwork, identical in every loop. But now, something was different.
It was the sky.
Caelus frowned. The clouds… they were moving. It was imperceptible at first, but now, he could see it. Slowly, they shifted, parting just enough to let a sliver of light pierce through, casting a faint glow on the desolate city. His breath caught in his throat. This had never happened before.
"Impossible," he muttered to himself. He took a step forward, eyes glued to the break in the clouds, as if afraid it might vanish if he looked away. The light was dim, barely more than a suggestion, but it was there.
Something was changing.
His heart raced, a mixture of excitement and fear bubbling up inside him. He'd been trapped for so long, repeating the same meaningless days. He had almost given up hope that anything could be different. And yet, here it was. A sign. A break in the monotony.
As he stood there, staring up at the sky, a voice cut through the stillness. A voice that didn't belong in this world.
"You've noticed it too, haven't you?"
Caelus whipped around, his eyes narrowing. Standing in the middle of the street, shrouded in a cloak that seemed to shift and shimmer like the very air around him, was a man. He was tall, his face obscured by the hood of his cloak, but his presence was undeniable. It was as if the world bent around him, distorting ever so slightly.
"Who are you?" Caelus demanded, his fists clenching instinctively. He hadn't seen this man before, not in any of the loops. He was an anomaly, something new.
The man chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through the street. "Names are meaningless in a place like this," he said, taking a step closer. "But for your sake, you can call me the Arbiter."
The Arbiter. The word felt strange on Caelus's tongue, like it didn't quite belong here. But there was something about the man—an air of authority, of knowledge—that made Caelus hesitate. He was no ordinary person.
"What do you want?" Caelus asked, his voice steady but his mind racing. This was it. The change he had been waiting for. But what did it mean?
The Arbiter tilted his head slightly, as if appraising Caelus. "The better question is, what do you want, Caelus Rynne?"
Caelus froze. How did this man know his name? No one outside the loop should know him. Not unless…
"You're not from here," Caelus said, his voice low, but there was no mistaking the accusation.
The Arbiter smiled beneath his hood, though the expression was more knowing than friendly. "Correct. I'm from… elsewhere. A place far beyond this decaying loop you find yourself in."
Caelus's pulse quickened. "Then you know what's happening here. You know why—"
"I know everything about this place," the Arbiter interrupted, his voice calm but firm. "I know why you're here. I know why this reality continues to repeat itself. And I know how you can escape it."
Caelus stared at him, his mind spinning. "Escape?" The word felt foreign, unreal. Could he really escape this endless cycle? After so long?
The Arbiter nodded slowly. "Yes. But the path is not easy. It requires… sacrifice."
Caelus felt a chill run down his spine. "What kind of sacrifice?"
The Arbiter gestured to the sky, where the clouds continued to part ever so slowly, the sliver of light growing. "Beyond this world lies the Tesseract—a nexus of infinite realities. It is there that your journey truly begins. But to ascend the Tesseract, you must confront versions of yourself—alternate selves from other realities."
Caelus swallowed hard. "Why me? Why am I the one who has to do this?"
"Because you are a Convergence," the Arbiter replied simply. "A being connected to all of your possible selves across the multiverse. Only a Convergence can ascend the Tesseract."
The words hung heavy in the air, sinking into Caelus's mind. A Convergence. He didn't fully understand it, but somehow, the term felt right. Like a piece of a puzzle finally clicking into place.
"And what happens if I refuse?" Caelus asked, though he already knew the answer.
The Arbiter's gaze darkened, and for the first time, Caelus felt a true sense of gravity in the man's presence. "Then this loop will continue. Forever. You will remain trapped here, endlessly repeating the same decaying reality, with no hope of escape."
Caelus's heart pounded in his chest. He couldn't stay here. Not anymore. He had to move forward. No matter the cost.
"What do I have to do?" he asked, his voice firm, resolute.
The Arbiter smiled again, and this time, there was a hint of satisfaction in it. "Follow me."
Without another word, the Arbiter turned and began walking down the street, his form shimmering like a mirage. Caelus hesitated for only a moment before following. His mind raced with questions, but his feet moved forward, step by step, toward the unknown.
Toward the Tesseract.
As Caelus followed the Arbiter through the crumbling streets of his city, he couldn't help but glance at the people around him. They moved with the same robotic motions, repeating the same tasks they'd been performing for… how long? Days? Months? Years? He didn't know. But there was no spark in their eyes. No realization that they were stuck in an endless loop.
Caelus had tried talking to them once. In the early days—if he could even call them "days"—he'd gone to his neighbor, an old man who ran a small shop down the road, and told him about the loop. About how every morning, the same events repeated without fail. The old man had smiled kindly, offering him a cup of tea and telling him not to worry so much.
The next morning, when the loop reset, Caelus found himself sitting across from the old man again, drinking the same tea, having the same conversation. It was then that he realized that no one else knew. No one else could see it. They were all trapped, but only he was aware of the chains.
Now, as he followed the Arbiter, he wondered what made him different. Why was he the only one who could remember? And why did it matter?
"I know what you're thinking," the Arbiter said, his voice calm, almost amused. He didn't turn around as he walked, his stride slow but purposeful. "You're wondering why you're the only one who remembers the loop."
Caelus frowned. "Are you reading my mind now?"
"No," the Arbiter replied with a soft chuckle. "But I've seen it before. You're not the first to ask these questions."
Caelus's steps faltered for a moment. "I'm not the first?"
The Arbiter stopped, turning to face him. Beneath the shadow of his hood, Caelus could just make out a faint glimmer of eyes, deep and ancient, as if they had seen more than any human should.
"There have been others," the Arbiter said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Others like you, who have been trapped in their own decaying realities. Some of them realized they were in a loop, like you have. Some… did not."
"What happened to them?" Caelus asked, his throat tightening.
"They were given the same choice you're being given now," the Arbiter replied. "Some chose to ascend, to face the Tesseract. Others…" He paused, his gaze darkening. "Others refused. And they remain trapped in their loops, even now, endlessly repeating the same moments for eternity."
A chill ran down Caelus's spine. The idea of staying in this decaying world forever, with no hope of escape, was unbearable. But the thought of ascending—of facing these alternate realities and the versions of himself that lived there—was almost equally terrifying.
"Why me?" Caelus asked again, his voice quieter this time. "Why am I the one who has to do this?"
The Arbiter's eyes gleamed beneath his hood. "Because you are a Convergence."
There was that word again. Convergence. Caelus didn't fully understand what it meant, but something about it resonated with him, like a distant memory he couldn't quite grasp.
"What does that even mean?" Caelus asked, frustration creeping into his voice. "What is a Convergence?"
The Arbiter studied him for a long moment before answering. "A Convergence is a being connected to multiple versions of themselves across the multiverse. You are not just Caelus Rynne of this world—you are connected to every version of Caelus Rynne in every reality that exists. And because of that connection, you are the only one who can ascend the Tesseract."
Caelus shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around the idea. "Multiple versions of myself? In other realities? That's… impossible."
"Is it?" the Arbiter asked, his tone almost challenging. "You already know that this reality is broken. You've seen it with your own eyes. So why is it so hard to believe that there are other realities, other versions of you, that exist beyond this one?"
Caelus opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat. He couldn't explain it, but something about what the Arbiter was saying made sense. As impossible as it seemed, the idea of multiple realities, of multiple versions of himself, felt… right.
"And the Tesseract," Caelus said, his voice a bit steadier now. "What is it, exactly?"
The Arbiter turned away, continuing to walk down the street. "The Tesseract is a nexus, a point where all realities intersect. It exists beyond time and space, beyond the limitations of any one world. It is there that you will face your alternate selves, and it is there that your journey will truly begin."
Caelus followed him, his mind spinning with questions. The more the Arbiter revealed, the more Caelus realized just how little he understood about the world—or worlds—around him. The loop he had been trapped in for so long was just the beginning. There was something much bigger, much more complex, waiting for him beyond it.
They reached the end of the street, where the decaying buildings gave way to a vast expanse of gray mist. Caelus had never ventured this far before. The mist had always seemed impenetrable, a barrier preventing him from leaving the city. But now, as he stood at the edge of it, he could see something shimmering within the mist—something that hadn't been there before.
"The portal to the Tesseract," the Arbiter said, gesturing toward the shimmering light within the mist. "Once you step through, there's no turning back. You will begin your ascent, and the path ahead will be fraught with danger."
Caelus stared at the portal, his heart pounding. This was it. His chance to escape the loop, to leave behind the decaying world that had been his prison for so long. But the Arbiter's words echoed in his mind: the path ahead will be fraught with danger.
He looked back at the city, at the familiar streets and the hollow faces of the people repeating their routines. He had lived in this world for so long, but it had never truly been his home. Not anymore.
There was nothing left for him here.
Caelus took a deep breath, his fists clenched at his sides. "What do I have to do when I get there?" he asked, his voice resolute.
The Arbiter's eyes gleamed beneath his hood. "You will face versions of yourself—alternate Caelus Rynnes who have lived in different realities, with different powers, and different lives. Some will try to help you. Others will try to destroy you."
"And if I win?" Caelus asked, his gaze fixed on the portal.
"Then you will ascend," the Arbiter replied. "You will gain the power of each alternate self you defeat, and with it, the ability to reshape your own reality."
Caelus nodded slowly. The decision had already been made. He couldn't stay here, not when the possibility of escape was within reach.
Without another word, he stepped forward, the mist parting as he approached the shimmering portal. He could feel the energy radiating from it, a low hum that vibrated through his bones.
"Are you ready?" the Arbiter asked, his voice softer now, almost solemn.
Caelus glanced over his shoulder at the Arbiter, then back at the portal. "I don't think I'll ever be ready," he admitted. "But I can't stay here. I have to move forward."
The Arbiter nodded, as if he had expected that answer. "Then step through. Your journey begins now."
Caelus took one final breath, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead, and stepped into the portal.
For a brief moment, everything went white. The world around him dissolved into pure light, and he felt as though he were floating, weightless and untethered. Then, just as suddenly, the light faded, and Caelus found himself standing in a place unlike any he had ever seen.
The Tesseract.
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