The tomb was bathed in a haunting silence, its cold, oppressive weight settling over Alastor and Aurora like a shroud. The air was still thick with the revelations from the ancient scroll Aurora had deciphered, and the knowledge of the loop's origins—an endless cycle of death, rebirth, and time manipulation—pressed down on them both. The Pyramid was no longer just a powerful organization; it was a prison, a web that ensnared all who entered its deadly embrace.

But Alastor was not ready to give up. He refused to be another victim of the Pharaohs’ twisted legacy.

The faint glow of the hieroglyphs along the walls flickered as they moved deeper into the tomb, their steps cautious and measured. Alastor could feel it—the pull of something ancient and powerful, something that called to him from the heart of the tomb. It was as if the very stone around him whispered of secrets long buried, waiting to be uncovered.

His fingers still tingled from the residual effects of the Symbol of Ra, the hieroglyph that had burned itself into his skin and granted him the ability to manipulate the time loop in subtle ways. But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore. The curse had shown him that the loop was stronger than he had imagined, its roots stretching back to the very foundations of the Pyramid. If he was going to break free, he needed more power—something that could allow him to not just influence the loop, but control it.

That was when they found the relic.

It was hidden at the far end of the tomb, tucked behind a series of ancient stone pillars covered in dust and centuries of neglect. The walls here were lined with hieroglyphs, each one telling the story of the Pyramid’s creation—of the priests who had first sought immortality, of the blood sacrifices, and the manipulation of time. But it was the centerpiece of the room that drew Alastor’s attention: an altar, low to the ground and carved from obsidian, and resting atop it was a small, intricately designed scarab.

The scarab was unlike anything Alastor had ever seen. Its surface was polished and smooth, shimmering in the faint torchlight with an eerie, unnatural gleam. The body of the relic was black as night, with veins of glowing red light running through its surface like molten lava. The wings were tucked close to its body, and at its center, a single, pulsating gem glowed faintly, as if it held the power of the sun itself.

Aurora stopped beside him, her neural interface flickering faintly as she scanned the relic. "This is it," she whispered, her voice a mix of awe and fear. "The Scarab’s Mark."

Alastor didn’t need to ask how she knew. He could feel it, too. The energy emanating from the scarab was undeniable—dark, ancient, and pulsing with the kind of power that made his skin crawl. This was no ordinary artifact. This was a relic of the Pharaohs, a tool created by the high priests of the Pyramid to enhance their control over time itself.

"The scroll mentioned something like this," Aurora continued, her eyes fixed on the relic. "The scarab was designed to amplify the power of the loop, to give the bearer near-total control over the cycles of life and death. But…" Her voice trailed off, her brow furrowing. "There’s a catch."

Alastor stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied the relic. "What kind of catch?"

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Aurora’s neural interface flickered as she processed the information, the glow of the scarab reflecting in her augmented eyes. "Using the scarab requires a sacrifice. A dangerous one. The user has to give up something—something vital. Their memories, their humanity, their soul… something that can’t be regained."

Alastor felt a cold knot form in his stomach. He had already lost so much—his old life, his freedom, his sense of control. To sacrifice more… it was almost unthinkable. But the power that the scarab offered—the ability to control time, to manipulate the loop completely—was within his reach. If he could master it, he could escape the Pyramid’s prison. He could break the cycle once and for all.

He could be free.

The scarab pulsed faintly as if sensing his thoughts, its glow intensifying with each passing second. Alastor could feel its dark energy pulling at him, tempting him, offering him the power he so desperately needed. But the cost… the cost would be steep.

Aurora’s voice broke through his thoughts. "Alastor, you need to think about this. The scarab is dangerous. It was created to enhance the loop’s power, but that kind of control… it doesn’t come without a price."

He looked at her, his mind racing. The curse had shown him the endless cycles of death he had already lived, the countless lives he had lost to the loop. If he didn’t take control, he would be condemned to repeat those deaths forever. But if he used the scarab, if he made the sacrifice… what would he become? Would there be anything left of him?

"What kind of sacrifice are we talking about?" he asked, his voice low, though he feared the answer.

Aurora hesitated, her gaze flicking between the scarab and Alastor. "It’s not clear. The scroll suggests that the scarab takes something from you in exchange for its power. It could be memories, emotions, your connection to humanity… maybe even your soul." She swallowed hard. "The more you use it, the more it takes."

Alastor stared at the scarab, its dark, pulsating glow almost hypnotic. He had come this far, survived countless trials, endured the curse’s torment. He couldn’t turn back now. But the thought of losing more of himself, of becoming something monstrous, gnawed at him.

Aurora stepped forward, her voice soft but urgent. "You don’t have to do this. We can find another way. We still have the Symbol of Ra, the scroll…"

Alastor shook his head. "No. The Pyramid is too powerful. We’ve seen it—this isn’t just about surviving anymore. It’s about breaking the system, destroying the loop at its core. The scarab is the key to that." His gaze locked onto the relic, determination hardening his features. "I won’t be trapped in this prison forever."

He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he hovered over the scarab. The relic’s energy surged, the red veins glowing brighter, and Alastor could feel it pulling him in, its power wrapping around him like a cloak of darkness. He knew this was a dangerous path, but there was no other option.

With a deep breath, he grasped the scarab.

The moment his fingers closed around the relic, a shockwave of energy ripped through him, knocking the breath from his lungs. His mind exploded with images—visions of ancient Egypt, of the high priests performing rituals in the darkened temples, of blood sacrifices and the flow of time bending to their will. His heart raced, his entire body shaking as the scarab’s power surged into him, filling him with a dark, ancient force.

He gasped, his hand gripping the relic tighter as the energy pulsed through his veins. The scarab glowed brighter, the gem at its center burning with an intense, almost blinding light. But beneath the power, Alastor could feel it—the sacrifice. Something was slipping away from him, a piece of his mind, his soul, being pulled into the scarab’s depths.

But the power... it was intoxicating.

The scarab pulsed again, the ancient power within it merging with his own, amplifying his control over the time loop. Alastor could feel the loop bending to his will, the cycles of death and rebirth shifting at his command. He could rewrite the past, change the future. He could end the loop, break the Pyramid’s control.

But at what cost?

The scarab glowed in his hand, the ancient power pulsing with dark energy.