The realization hit me like a thunderclap.

The transport to this world, the power I possessed, its unnatural growth, and the constant, gnawing desire for control—all of it made sense now.

Even my dullness of emotions, the void where my humanity once thrived, felt like a deliberate manipulation.

It was all according to Abyss’s plan.

I clenched my fists, a bitter laugh escaping me.

I wasn’t the architect of my destiny.

I was just a pawn on a board far greater than I could have imagined—a pawn in Abyss’s grand design.

But there was still one question that burned within me.

One piece of the puzzle left unanswered.

"Who was that man?" I asked, my voice strained but demanding, eyes locking onto Selven.

Selven’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze turned heavier, as though the weight of the truth he was about to share bore down on him.

"Hmm... I was about to tell you," he began, his tone calm yet somber.

I straightened, bracing myself for whatever revelation would come next.

"As I mentioned before," Selven started, "Abyss created seven Egos and scattered them across the worldlines, embedding them into chosen vessels like yourself. The gods, unable to sit idly by, devised a countermeasure."

My heart pounded in my chest as I hung onto his every word.

"They selected seven beings of extraordinary strength, resolve, and potential and granted them a fragment of their divine authority. These chosen ones became Guardians, tasked with locating and destroying the Egos before Abyss’s influence could spread further."

Selven’s voice grew deeper, more reverent.

"These Guardians were no ordinary individuals. They were blessed with unparalleled power, their mortal limitations shattered by the divine energy they wielded. They became something more—forces of nature, protectors of the balance."

"And the man?" I pressed, my voice hoarse with anticipation.

Selven nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly.

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"The one you faced was one of those seven Guardians. His name is Jökull—the God of Winter and Hunting."

I froze.

"A... god?" I asked, the word foreign on my tongue.

"Yes," Selven affirmed.

"Though he was not always so. Jökull was once a mortal—a powerful ice elf whose mastery over frost and relentless dedication to the hunt caught the attention of the gods. His strength, his resolve, and his unyielding pursuit of balance made him the perfect candidate."

Selven’s gaze bore into mine, his voice unwavering.

"Through rigorous trials and divine intervention, Jökull transcended his mortality. His body and soul were reforged, granting him dominion over winter itself."

I felt a shiver crawl down my spine as the memory of Jökull surfaced in my mind: the frost crystallizing under his every step, the way his touch reduced my strongest golems to brittle ice, his unrelenting aura that screamed of death and inevitability.

"And that power," Selven continued, his voice quieter now, "is why he is feared. Jökull’s very presence is enough to shift the tide of any battle. He does not hesitate. He does not falter. His mission is singular—eliminate the Egos before they can threaten the balance."

I clenched my jaw, my thoughts a whirlwind.

The being I had faced wasn’t just strong—it was inevitable.

A god tasked with hunting down me, and I had barely escaped with my life.

"But why now? Why didn’t he act sooner if he knew about it?" I asked, my voice rising with the weight of my frustration.

"Because he couldn’t," Selven replied, his tone firm yet tinged with something I couldn’t quite place.

"What do you mean?" My confusion deepened.

"Guardians are powerful beings. Too powerful for many planets to handle," he began, his voice carrying an air of reluctant authority.

"That’s why the system enforces time restrictions according to their strength and the planet’s capacity to withstand them."

I frowned, trying to piece together the threads of his explanation.

"Jökull must have exhausted his allotted time the last time he was here, before he even met you. And don’t forget—there are countless planets within each Worldline. Searching takes time," he added.

The puzzle pieces began to fall into place, though the picture they formed left me uneasy.

My thoughts flickered to the Mystic Tower—the enigmatic structure that had always seemed out of place, an anomaly in a world already rife with mysteries.

"It was created by him, wasn’t it?" I said, more a statement than a question.

Selven nodded. "Yes. He built it to find potential Vessels and Egos."

A chill crept down my spine as I realized the implications. Jökull’s arrival wasn’t a coincidence. Every move had been deliberate, calculated.

"Either way, since he’s here now, the next battle will likely be the last," Selven said grimly.

My chest tightened at the certainty in his voice.

He wasn’t wrong.

My player status was temporary, and when it ended, the portal would open on its own.

The final confrontation would be inevitable.

"Listen," Selven continued, his voice lowering conspiratorially, "I have an idea to weaken the world energy."

"What?" I recoiled, incredulous.

"Why would I want to do that? Wouldn’t it be better to surrender than to let the Abyss run free?" My voice cracked, a mixture of fear and outrage spilling over.

To weaken the world energy was to invite ruin.

The Abyss would escape, its darkness consuming everything in its path.

My plan is to rule over the world, not to ruin it completely.

Surrender or flight seemed far better options—anything to delay the inevitable.

Perhaps I could even find a way to strike when Jökull was forced to leave due to the restrictions Selven spoke of.

Selven’s gaze bore into mine, unflinching.

"Don’t be ridiculous," he snapped.

"You wanted this. The destruction of the world."

My blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?"

"Answer me this," he said, his tone darkening.

"Why do you think the Abyss bothered to change your race to Matrivan instead of simply summoning you as a human?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words refused to come.

My mind was blank.

How would I know that?

"Because the body you’re in now was your life before your human one," he said, his words landing like a hammer blow.

"What… what do you mean?" My voice wavered, a tremor betraying the storm of emotions within me.

"Let me show you," he said, stepping closer.

Before I could react, his finger pressed against my forehead.

A sudden surge of energy coursed through me, and then it came—the flood of memories.

Visions of a life that wasn’t mine, yet somehow was, crashed into me like waves against a fragile shore.

I saw a world cloaked in perpetual twilight, its sky streaked with hues of violet and crimson.

I saw myself—or rather, the Matrivan I had once been.

I felt the raw power of that body, the weight of choices made and the burden of regrets carried.

Emotions I couldn’t name overwhelmed me—grief, rage, longing.

The memories painted a story of sacrifice, of betrayal, of a desperate attempt to halt a cycle that now threatened to resume.

I fell to my knees, clutching my head as the torrent of images continued.