Ryan floated in what felt like a void, an expanse so vast and empty that even the concept of movement seemed irrelevant. There was no up, no down, no horizon to orient himself. The silence was so absolute it almost seemed alive. With nothing to see or hear, his sense of self was his only anchor.

He tried to keep his worries at bay. "There’s no use panicking," he muttered, though the words vanished into the emptiness. He resolved to wait, hoping that something—anything—might happen. But the void was mercilessly uneventful. Time lost all meaning; seconds might as well have been hours. The endlessness of it all gnawed at his mind.

"Is this how it ends?" he thought at times, the silence feeding his doubts. Yet, Ryan wasn’t one to give up so easily. His mind wandered to the moment this chaos had first touched his life.

Back then, when he had come into contact with the Infinitum chaos, he knew something had changed. It wasn’t physical—at least, that’s what the advanced machines at the Monarch headquarters on Earth had concluded. They had scanned him thoroughly, probing for abnormalities, but nothing unusual came to light. The Type-4 civilization, with its incomprehensibly advanced technology, had also run their own diagnostics when Ryan asked for it, but their findings were no different.

Still, Ryan had felt it. Something deep within him had shifted. At the time, he couldn’t explain it and had no means to explore it further. But now, suspended in this infinite nothingness, he decided to dig deeper.

Closing his eyes—though the action was redundant in this place—he turned his focus inward. For a long while, there was nothing. He felt like he was staring into a blank slate, the same featureless expanse that surrounded him. But then, faintly, he noticed it: a kind of energy, elusive and barely there. It pulsed gently, like a whisper on the edge of perception.

Ryan concentrated harder, pushing against the intangible boundary between himself and whatever this energy was. At first, it resisted, unmoving and inert. Frustration bubbled within him, but he kept at it, probing and testing, determined to uncover its secrets.

Eventually, he felt it shift—just a fraction, but it was enough to fuel his resolve. Encouraged, he continued his efforts, and slowly, the energy began to respond. It was clumsy and sluggish at first, like trying to move a rusted mechanism, but it became more fluid with each attempt. Time slipped by unnoticed as Ryan worked to master this newfound connection.

And then, without warning, the void around him changed.

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Light erupted into his vision, flooding the space and banishing the oppressive darkness. A cascade of sounds followed—a rush of sensation so overwhelming it took him a moment to process it all. When he finally regained his composure, he found himself standing, or perhaps floating, in an entirely new expanse.

What lay before him was unlike anything he had ever seen. A vast network of shimmering lines stretched out in all directions, intertwining and branching endlessly into the distance. Each line glowed faintly, pulsing with an energy that seemed alive. The scale of it was incomprehensible, an infinite web that defied the very notion of limits.

Ryan stared in awe. "What... is this?" he whispered, though no one was there to answer.

Drawn by an irresistible curiosity, he reached out to touch one of the lines end point. The moment his fingers brushed its surface, a swirling ball unfolded before him. At first, it appeared as a swirling mass of energy, chaotic and unformed. But as he focused, the image began to take shape. It expanded, revealing what looked like a universe—a cosmos of stars, planets, and galaxies spread out in a mesmerizing display.

The realization hit him like a thunderclap.

"This... this is a universe," he murmured, his voice trembling with wonder. "So that means all of the points are different universes."

The web of lines before him was no ordinary structure; it was a nexus connecting countless realities. Each branch represented a universe, and the network extended infinitely in every direction. The sheer magnitude of it was overwhelming.

Ryan’s thoughts raced. If he wanted to return to his own universe, he would need to find it among this endless array. The task seemed impossible—an infinite search with no guarantee of success. He didn’t have the luxury of time.

Reaching inward, he focused on the energy he had discovered within himself. If it had guided him before, perhaps it could do so again. He concentrated, letting the energy flow freely, and soon felt a subtle pull. It was faint but distinct, a gentle tug directing him toward one of the branches.

Following the sensation, Ryan moved through the expanse, drawn toward a specific endpoint. When he arrived, he touched the branch, and a wave of familiarity washed over him. This was it—his universe. Relief coursed through him, but it was short-lived. The energy within him stirred again, pulling him toward another branch.

Curious, Ryan followed the new pull and found himself before a second branch. This one felt different, yet still familiar. As he touched its surface, he realized why.

"The Type-4 civilization’s universe," he said aloud. "Of course... I’m connected to both because I have been to both universes."

Now he faced a dilemma. He had found his universe and the Type-4 civilization’s universe, but how could he re-enter either one? Touching the branches only allowed him to observe; it didn’t grant him access. Could the energy within him bridge the gap? And if so, would it work outside the Infinitum chaos, or was its power confined to this strange nexus?

These questions weighed heavily on his mind as he stared at the infinite network. The possibilities were as vast as the multiverse itself, but so were the uncertainties. "For now, all he could do was experiment and hope for answers, and maybe he could finally be of some use in the larger picture."