As quickly as it had come, the sensation left me. I understood that the entire experience had lasted barely the time of a heartbeat, but my consciousness had been shaken and blinded by a terrible light.

—Arceus —the familiar and reassuring voice called me again.

I looked around, trying to orient myself in physical reality.

I still didn't know exactly what had happened.

I turned my head and blinked to hold back the tears that were still forming in my eyes.

At my side, holding my hand, was my mother. Her eyes were reddened and tears were also flowing from her eyes.

—Mom —I said with a dry and hoarse voice—. Why are you crying?

—Silly. —She held back her laughter and smiled while tears fell down her cheeks—. I could ask you the same thing.

Tears ran down my mother's cheeks, evidence of the anguish and fear she had endured.

Her whole being seemed to breathe relief at seeing her beloved son unharmed. She hugged me as tightly as she had rarely done before. In her embrace there was so much love, tenderness, and protection that I was afraid of disappearing.

Still weak, I managed to raise an arm to embrace my mother. The familiar smell of her hair, the warmth of her embrace, everything was overwhelming after so long in the darkness. I wanted to say so many things, ask so many questions, but my body still wasn't responding as I wanted.

Mom separated enough to look at my face, her hands framing my cheeks with too much tenderness.

—Are you okay?

—Yes, why?

—You're too calm...

I smiled bitterly.

—Are you really okay? —She spoke while biting her lower lip.

—I'm sorry for worrying you, mom —I said seeing the pain in her eyes, while my heart sank into my stomach.

Sobbing, mom looked up while tears rolled down her cheeks. Even so, her smile never disappeared, her eyes looked at me with love and concern.

I felt bad, I made her suffer without realizing it.

—I'm glad. Really... you weren't showing any signs of waking up...

—...Really?

—Yes.

A lump formed in her throat as if she were holding back tears.

At the same time, I frowned.

I didn't miss the difference between what I knew when I was awake and what I had just heard from my mother.

It was then that I realized I still had to ask the most important question.

—Mom, how much time has passed since I lost consciousness?

—Mmm... A year...?

—W... what?!

But when I heard my mother's words, my eyes widened.

—A year?

—...Yes...

—It can't be.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I couldn't hide my surprise at the time difference that surpassed my wildest imagination.

—What happened? Where is...? —My voice trailed off, unable to finish the question I most feared asking.

One look at my mother's face was enough for me to know the answer before she could say it. The image of Anastasia appeared in my mind with painful clarity.

—Anastasia... She... she's gone, isn't she?

My chest hurt and I couldn't breathe properly. My vision became blurry and I couldn't see. The world seemed very dark, as if all light had gone with Anastasia.

In the end, I couldn't do anything. I couldn't change anything. A torrent of tears full of sadness fell down my cheeks and wet my trembling and tightly closed lips.

I shouldn't have waited for an opportunity, no, I should have been the one to create it. Even if it cost me my life, but I couldn't even do that. Regret came late, and also a feeling of helplessness and the realization of my weakness.

I had been living a carefree life, oblivious to everything. Simply navel-gazing, taking advantage of others' kindness and affection. I inhaled deeply, what had I been doing?

Getting so excited about how I was going to "live well"... Naively believing I could save them all, that this time would be different. Creating hopes of living a better life.

Tears sprang from my eyes when a vague memory of my previous life resurfaced, the sound of an engine. A cart being pushed, carrying a white coffin. A cold and mechanical sound that accompanied the slow and inexorable closing of the incinerator door.

The death of my parents in their past life... I had caused them quite a lot of trouble. They died before I could recognize my mistakes, before I could give them anything in return. A burning sensation of frustration tore my heart from within.

Seeing the state I was in, my mother hugged me tightly but still, I couldn't stop crying and I hugged her with deep pain.

—I'm sorry.

This time? This time, my ass.

—I'm sorry, I'm sorry...

Once again, someone had died because of me. I kept causing trouble without giving anything to anyone in return, being as useless as always.

—I'm sorry, I'm sorry... Forgive me...

Now I knew, I really was scum. Reborn or not, I was still hopelessly incompetent scum.

You're exactly the same now as before, unable to do something when it really mattered.

My mind had become a deep cavity, separated from the rest, that continued relentlessly its task of receiving data, evaluating and calculating it. It was like a constant and unstoppable rhythm, posing questions and offering answers like a computer.

I knew things I shouldn't know. I had accumulated data that no conscious mind should contain.

The deep cavity that was now my mind wasn't more bearable due to being filled with knowledge. I felt that something had to break, as if the clockwork mechanism of a bomb had started ticking inside me, beyond my own wishes.

"What was happening to me? What had I become?"

I perceived the tiny variations around me: a slight increase in humidity, a fraction of temperature decrease, the slow advance of an insect on the ceiling, the solemn progression of dawn in the angle of star-studded sky visible outside the room.

It was almost as if... I could see everything.

I understood it clearly, I understood why I couldn't save Anastasia. It was because of reality itself, the world lines.

World lines are different versions of the same reality that are created when a significant change in the past occurs that alters the course of future events.

In simple terms, they are the different options to which reality could have deviated throughout its history.

Likewise, only one world line exists active at a time, there are no parallel multiverses, only the active world line that is active at any instant of time exists.

That said, when the past is altered what really happens is that reality itself rewrites its history, altering whatever is necessary to thus give meaning to what has been changed in the past, thus avoiding any kind of paradox.

During this rewriting, the memories of all living beings are also modified. So that these memories align with the change made. And this is what is called: a world line change.

This means that, regardless of the changes made in the past, certain key events will continue to occur.

These world lines tend to converge towards the same final result. Imagine a rope, where it would seem that a rope is a simple object when in reality it is made up of many other cords that end at a common point. These common points are called convergence points.

All events both past and future are already predetermined. Because of this, no matter how much the past is changed, it will always converge to the same result.

The emptiness I felt inside was unbearable. Knowing how the clockwork mechanism had been set in motion made no difference. I could look into my own past and see its beginning: my birth, the birth of the Eyes of Chronos, how the ability awakened after integrating with Noah from the future.

Everything had a purpose, an origin. But what is mine? Was it my destiny to save this world?

I didn't believe myself a hero and especially knowing that my future self had failed, that everything I had seen in my dreams was nothing more than his life in the other world line.

However, I could also look forward, in the most terrible directions, and see where all this led. The future unfolded before me like a fan of possibilities, some bright and hopeful, others dark and terrifying.

«I'm a monster! A freak!»

The realization hit me hard, shaking my being to its foundations. I couldn't accept what I had become, what fate or chance had decided for me.