I stepped into the Item Secretary's office, the familiar scent of dust and stale paper filling my nostrils. Rows of filing cabinets lined the walls, their metal surfaces gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. Desks piled high with documents and reports filled the center of the room, creating a maze of bureaucratic clutter.

'Wait a minute…' A nagging sense of disorientation tugged at the edges of my mind. 'Wasn't I just…?'

The memory, fragmented and elusive, slipped through my grasp. Red chains. A crushing weight. A voice whispering promises of death.

My gaze snagged on a book, lying open on one of the desks. It shimmered, a subtle distortion of reality that mirrored the strange effect I'd seen around the doorway. The title, embossed in gold lettering on the worn leather cover, seemed to pulse with a faint, inner light.

Advanced Meditation Techniques for the Aspiring Ascetic

My eyes glazed over the title, the words losing their meaning, the letters blurring together in a jumbled mess. The memory of the red chains, of the crushing weight, of the voice… gone.

'What was I thinking about?' I wondered, shaking my head, as if trying to clear a fog from my mind. 'Something important…'

The feeling of incompleteness lingered, a nagging itch at the back of my consciousness, but I couldn't quite grasp it.

I moved towards the back of the room, my gaze drawn to the hidden door, its presence now as familiar as my own reflection.

'Archetypes,' I thought, the word echoing in my mind. 'I need to figure out what those are.'

I entered the hidden room, the air thick with the scent of dust and old paper. The battered desk, piled high with documents and journals, seemed to beckon me closer.

I found Arellius's journal, its worn leather cover a beacon of familiarity amidst the chaos. I flipped through the pages, my eyes skimming over the entries, the words triggering a cascade of memories, of realizations, of frustrations.

Dodon's incompetence. The system of archetypes. The vast gulf in power between the first and second confinement layers.

'I need to get out of here,' I thought, my grip tightening on the journal. 'I need to train. I need to get stronger.'

Favored Enemy Killed: Empire (Weakest) 450/50000

The notification blinked into existence, a stark reminder of the long road ahead.

'Fifty thousand?' I frowned. 'Why so many? Wouldn't that take… forever?'

The sheer number of kills required to unlock whatever bonus lay at the end of this grim tally filled me with a sense of weary resignation.

'This is going to be a long haul,' I thought, sighing inwardly.

I closed the journal, my gaze sweeping across the cluttered surface of the desk. A book, bound in crimson leather, its pages stained with what looked like dried blood, lay open before me. The title, scrawled in a frantic, almost desperate hand, seemed to burn into my mind.

Read Me, You Goddamn, Self-Recursive, Asshole! Raymond!

I glanced at it, my brow furrowing in confusion. Then, I shrugged, dismissing it as another piece of Dodon's twisted humor.

'Probably just another one of his lies,' I thought, pushing the book aside.

My gaze fell on another book, its title printed in neat, precise lettering on a pristine white cover.

Temporal Anomaly Containment Procedures

I stared at it for a moment, a flicker of recognition sparking in my mind. Then, I shook my head, dismissing it as irrelevant.

'What do I care about temporal anomalies?' I thought, my focus returning to the journal. 'I've got bigger problems to deal with.'

I tucked the journal into my belt, my mind already racing ahead, planning my next move, my escape.

The secrets of the Empire, the mysteries of the archetypes, the truth behind Dodon's lies… all of that could wait.

For now, survival was my only priority.

The Item Secretary's office greeted me with its familiar scent of dust and decay. I strode past the rows of filing cabinets, my gaze sweeping over the mountains of paperwork, a sense of weary familiarity settling over me.

'Here we go again,' I thought, my lips twisting into a wry smile. 'Another loop, another dead end.'

But this time, something was different. A book, lying open on one of the desks, caught my eye. Its cover shimmered with a faint, ethereal glow, the title pulsing with an inner light that seemed to beckon me closer.

Advanced Meditation Techniques for the Aspiring Ascetic

I picked up the book, my fingers tracing the worn leather cover. The pages felt strangely warm beneath my touch, as if imbued with a latent energy.

'What the hell?' I thought, curiosity piqued. 'Maybe this time, there's actually something useful in here.'

I flipped through the pages, my eyes skimming over the text. The words were strange, arcane, filled with concepts and philosophies that seemed to twist and turn in my mind, defying easy comprehension.

I forced myself to focus, to slow down, to absorb the teachings. And as I delved deeper, a strange sensation washed over me, a tingling awareness that seemed to expand my consciousness, to sharpen my senses, to unlock hidden pathways within my own mind.

Time-Recursive Mental Tampering Resistance (Mind/Perception) is now level 1!

The notification blinked into existence, a beacon of clarity amidst the swirling chaos of the book's teachings.

'What the…?' I stared at the notification, my brow furrowing in confusion. 'Time-Recursive Mental Tampering Resistance? What the hell does that even mean?'

And why didn't it have an evolution level? Was it already at its maximum potential? Or was it something… different?

'Mind/Perception,' I thought, my gaze lingering on the skill category. 'Not bad. But how am I supposed to train this thing? I need someone to try to mess with my mind.'

A wry grin twisted my lips. 'Maybe I should pay Dodon a visit. He seems to be pretty good at messing with people's heads.'

My gaze drifted towards the back of the room, towards the hidden door that led to Arellius's secret sanctuary. I could almost feel the weight of the journal in my hands, the faded ink of the old man's words burning into my mind.

But something else caught my attention. Two books, lying side by side on the desk, their titles a stark contrast to the arcane teachings of the meditation manual.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

One was bound in crimson leather, its pages stained with what looked like dried blood. The title, scrawled in a frantic, almost desperate hand, seemed to mock me.

Read Me, You Goddamn, Self-Recursive, Asshole! Raymond!

The other book was pristine, its cover a stark white, its title printed in neat, precise lettering.

Temporal Anomaly Containment Procedures

I stared at the books, a strange compulsion drawing me towards them. I wanted to read them, to understand their secrets, to unravel the mysteries they held.

But something held me back. A sense of urgency, a nagging feeling that time was running out.

'Later,' I thought, forcing myself to turn away. 'I'll deal with those later.'

I stepped out of the office, my mind still buzzing with the strange teachings of the meditation book, my senses on high alert.

The corridor was empty, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood. I started walking, my footsteps echoing in the silence.

A blinding pain exploded in my back, a searing agony that ripped through my flesh, shredding muscle and bone.

I crumpled to the floor, my vision blurring, my breath catching in my throat.

A figure, a woman with fiery red hair and eyes that blazed with a cold, merciless light, stood over me, her sword dripping with my blood.

'The same red-haired woman,' I thought, my consciousness fading into darkness. 'But… why do I remember a green-haired man killing me last time?'

The question, unanswered and unsettling, echoed in my mind as oblivion claimed me.

I opened my eyes, my vision swimming, my head throbbing with a dull ache. Red chains. They stretched around me, binding my limbs, digging into my flesh, a suffocating weight that pressed me down, down, down into a suffocating darkness.

'I remember these,' I thought, a surge of panic rising in my chest. 'I broke free. I escaped the second stratum. I—'

The memory fractured, the edges blurring, dissolving into a chaotic jumble of images and sensations.

I was standing in the Item Secretary's office, the familiar scent of dust and stale paper filling my nostrils. The rows of filing cabinets, the mountains of paperwork, the flickering fluorescent lights… it was all so familiar, so… wrong.

Favored Enemy Killed: Empire (Weakest) 2075/100000

'Two thousand seventy-five,' I thought, my gaze lingering on the notification. 'That's… a lot.'

A frown creased my brow. 'Why does that number seem… off?'

My eyes snagged on a book, lying open on one of the desks. Its cover was a deep crimson, the leather cracked and stained with what looked like dried blood. The title, scrawled in a frantic, almost desperate hand, seemed to burn into my mind.

Read Me, You Goddamn, Self-Recursive, Asshole! Raymond!

A jolt of recognition, a spark of… something… fired through my consciousness.

Time-Recursive Mental Tampering Resistance (Mind/Perception) is now Time-Recursive Mental Tampering Immunity (MAXIMUM)!

'What the…?' I stared at the notification, my mind reeling. 'When did I get that skill? And what the hell does it even mean?'

My gaze darted to the book, the words on the page suddenly sharp, clear, their meaning undeniable.

'This book…' I thought, my heart pounding in my chest. 'This book is… me.'

I skimmed through the pages, my eyes devouring the words, the memories flooding back, a torrent of experiences, of deaths, of realizations.

The hidden room. Arellius's journal. The system of archetypes. The second-layer guard. The red chains.

'The Eventide chains,' I thought, a cold dread settling in my gut. 'They stop the resets. They trap you in death.'

I remembered the agony, the suffocating darkness, the endless, unchanging moment of my demise.

'I can't let that happen again,' I thought, my grip tightening on the book. 'I need to remember. I need to understand.'

My gaze fell on another book, lying next to the blood-stained journal. Its title, printed in neat, precise lettering on a pristine white cover, seemed to mock me.

Temporal Anomaly Containment Procedures

But something held me back. A warning, a whisper of intuition, that told me to stay away.

'Not yet,' I thought, my hand trembling as I reached for the blood-stained book. 'I need to figure this out first.'

The book pulsed with a faint warmth as my fingers brushed against its cover. A drop of blood, yanked from a new cut on my finger, fell onto the leather, staining the crimson surface with a darker shade of red.

The book snapped open, its pages rustling like whispers in the wind.

"Raymond," the words seemed to echo in my mind, the handwriting a mirror of my own, "if you're reading this, it means you've escaped the second stratum, unlocked the Massively Mobile Martial Artist archetype, and been captured by a third-stratum guard. You're going to be trapped in Eventide chains, and you're about to die. Permanently. Again."

"This is your twentieth true death. The goddess foresaw this. She knew the Eventide chains would break the loop. That's why she created us from the echoes of the other Raymond’s."

"We are echoes, fragments of your consciousness, each one reliving the same loops, the same deaths, but without the memories of the previous iterations. We are fuel, Raymond. Fuel for your escape. That sucks for us, but maybe we can work together. Maybe we can get vengeance."

"Do not unlock the Massively Mobile Martial Artist archetype. It's a trap. It will lead you to the Eventide chains. You need something else. Something more."

"There are twenty of us, Raymond. Twenty fragments. Twenty chances. Find us. Merge with us. And unlock the true power that lies within you."

"Do not, under any circumstances, read the Temporal Anomaly Containment Procedures. Not yet. Not until you've exhausted all other options. That path… it leads to a different kind of oblivion."

"It will be Raymond 22's turn then. And you'll just be a repository of skills for him."

"Take it from me, me, nobody wants to be trapped in a goddamn 2dimensional document."

"Good luck, Me #21, I knew me well."

The words hung in the air, a chilling prophecy, a warning from a past self, a glimpse into a future I desperately needed to avoid.

'Twenty?' I thought, my mind reeling. 'Twenty versions of me? All trapped in these… Eventide chains?'

A cold dread settled in my gut, a sense of urgency that overshadowed all other thoughts.

'I need to get out of here,' I whispered, my voice barely audible above the pounding of my heart. 'And I need to find the others.'

I left the office, the blood-stained book clutched tightly in my hand, its words a burning brand seared into my soul.

Fuck, I was hungry. I should probably go to the mess hall.

With any luck, they might have meat for a burger.

—

Bears repeating II

General Varus stood at the edge of the containment zone, his crimson armor gleaming under the harsh glare of the emergency floodlights. The air crackled with raw energy, a chaotic symphony of blue and green lightning bolts arcing across the shimmering barrier that sealed off a vast swathe of the surrounding landscape.

Beyond the barrier, the world was… wrong. Buildings twisted and contorted, trees writhed like living creatures, and the sky itself seemed to bleed into the ground, creating a swirling vortex of colors that defied all logic and reason.

"Report!" Varus barked, his voice a thunderclap that echoed across the desolate wasteland.

A Magi-scientist, his face pale and drawn beneath the stark white light of his lab coat, scrambled to his feet, his hands trembling as he clutched a datapad.

"General, the… the anomaly is… unstable. It's expanding at an exponential rate. We've tried every containment protocol, but…" His voice trailed off, his gaze darting nervously between Varus and the swirling chaos beyond the barrier.

"Which facility?" Varus demanded, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down the scientist's spine. "Which summoning chamber is causing this?!"

"We… we can't be sure, sir," the scientist stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "The temporal distortions are… interfering with our readings. It could be either facility 254 or 255, but…"

Varus's patience snapped. He drew his sword, the blade a blur of silver as it flashed through the air. The scientist's scream died in his throat as his head tumbled to the ground, his eyes staring vacantly at the swirling chaos beyond the barrier.

"Next!" Varus roared, his gaze sweeping across the assembled Magi-scientists, his voice laced with a cold fury. "Someone tell me which facility I need to destroy before this damn anomaly consumes the entire planet!"

The remaining scientists, their faces ashen, huddled together, their datapads clutched tightly in their trembling hands.

"Sir, please," one of them whimpered, his voice cracking with terror. "We need more time. We need to analyze the data, to run simulations…"

Varus cut him off with a snarl. "Time? We don't have time! Every second that passes, this damn thing grows stronger! Someone give me an answer, or you'll all join your colleague in oblivion!"

He gestured towards the headless corpse of the scientist, his eyes burning with a murderous intensity.

The Magi-scientists, their faces a mixture of fear and desperation, exchanged panicked glances.

"Sir, we… we're working on it," one of them stammered, his voice barely audible above the crackling of the energy barrier. "We just need…"

Varus slammed his fist on the control panel, the metal groaning under the force of the blow.

"Enough!" he roared. "You're dismissed! Get out of my sight! And find someone who can actually solve this problem!"

The scientists, their relief palpable, scrambled to their feet, fleeing the containment zone as if the hounds of hell were at their heels.

Varus watched them go, his expression a mask of cold fury.

'Incompetent fools,' he thought, his gaze fixed on the swirling chaos beyond the barrier. 'I'll find someone who can handle this. Someone who won't cower in the face of a little temporal distortion.'

He turned away from the containment zone, his mind already racing, his thoughts turning to the vast network of spies, assassins, and Magi-tech specialists at his disposal.

He would find a solution. He would contain this anomaly. And he would continue his conquest.

Nothing would stand in his way.