I waited silently, my eyes locked on the entrances of the three underground tunnels. The stillness in the air felt heavy, the kind that pressed against your skin and made you hyper aware of every sound. I didn’t know what exactly Jade had done to stir the metaphorical hornet’s nest, but her confidence in it was enough to make me believe her words.

Actually, Too much confidence, if you asked me.

It didn’t take long for the effects of her meta nature to bleed into the surroundings.

The tunnels suddenly began to vibrate, a low vibration reverberating through the ground beneath our feet. My eyes darted toward Jade, who stood a few steps away with her head cocked up proudly, like some triumphant chicken parading its territory.

“You didn’t just cause an earthquake, right?” My voice cracked slightly as the tremors intensified.

Jade giggled. Actually giggled. “Hehehe.”

“Jade.”

Instead, she just kept smiling that maddening, all-knowing smile of hers—the one that practically screamed, Oh, I know exactly what I’m doing, but I’m not telling you.

What was wrong with this girl?

I collapsed inwardly, metaphorically throwing myself onto the tracks of frustration in my head. She was impossible to comprehend. Speechless and stumped, I stared at her as my forehead broke out in sweat. There were a hundred safer ways to forcefully flush something out of these tunnels, but of course, she had to pick the most dangerous of them all. My gaze flickered to the deep, jagged cracks lining the walls—ancient, crumbling stone that had probably been hanging on by sheer stubbornness for decades. A small tremor, even a strong gust of wind, might be enough to send them toppling.

And yet, she had done this.

“Relax,” Jade said suddenly, slinging an arm over my shoulder. Her voice was absurdly casual, like we were discussing dinner plans, not potential death by cave-in. “You’re overthinking again.”

“You don’t exactly give me much of a choice,” I muttered, rubbing my temples.

She smiled, leaning in. “Oh, come on. I just stirred up a little hysteria in the underground wildlife. No big deal.”

“No big—” I choked on my words. “Are you even hearing yourself?”

Jade shrugged. “Can’t you tell? People are already running.”

As if on cue, muffled shouts echoed through the tunnels. Footsteps—hurried, frantic. The telltale scurrying of rats and other unseen creatures. Realization hit me soon. It hadn’t been an earthquake at all. The vibrations, the rumbling—I had assumed the worst, but in reality, she had triggered a stampede of panicked animals, sending the tunnel dwellers running in sheer terror.

“Oh,” I said, eloquently.

“So silly,” Jade snorted, nudging my shoulder. “You totally thought I was about to bring the whole place down, didn’t you?”

I gave her my best I have no idea what you’re talking about look, raising an eyebrow for emphasis.

“Why would I think that?” I asked, tilting my head just enough to sell the confusion. “You really give my imagination way too much credit.”

Jade’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened, so much so that it was downright infuriating. “You’re so adorable when you panic.”

I groaned. “I wasn’t panicking.”

She let out an exaggerated gasp. “Liar.”

I flicked a glance at her out of the corner of my eye. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said lightly.

Before I could pry further, the air above us shifted. A cold ripple spread through the space, like a breath of wind that didn’t belong here. Then—out of nowhere—three hands manifested. I squinted, instinctively scanning the source. That’s when I saw him—a man lunging out of the middle tunnel, his unkempt beard nearly swallowing his face. His wild eyes locked onto me, and for a split second, I could feel his intent like static in the air. The purple hands phased through me harmlessly, dissolving into thin wisps of smoke.

The man’s expression twisted in confusion, his eyes darting between me and the dissipating shadows. He had expected something else. Expected pain. But instead—

Snap.

A quick, unnatural crack echoed through the tunnel.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Jade looking bored, her posture relaxed yet oddly menacing.

The man's entire body stiffened, fingers twitching, legs locking in place. Then—he started to fold. Not like someone falling to the ground. Not like anything natural. His limbs twisted inward at impossible angles, his very form compressing, sucked into itself like a black hole collapsing in fast motion. His skin, his bones, his everything—

And then—

Nothing.

He was gone. Erased. As if he had never been there at all. A cold chill crawled up my spine. I swallowed hard, my stomach churning. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen Jade’s meta nature in action, but that didn’t make it any less disturbing. I’d thought about her powers so many times, countless hours spent, replaying what little I’d seen in my mind, but I still couldn’t wrap my head around what her meta nature was supposed to be. And now? I was even more clueless.

I turned to her slowly. “Jade…”

“You really shouldn’t kill people like that,” I said, exasperated. “I told you before. We first talk patiently and then take action.”

Jade blinked at me, then turned, looking genuinely offended.

“Huh?” She blinked, “I didn’t kill him!”

I squinted, my expression making it very clear that I wasn’t buying it. My silent glare practically screamed: Then what the hell was that supposed to be?

Jade groaned, rolling her eyes. “Oh my God, you’re so hard to please sometimes.” She crossed her arms and huffed. “I just made sure his dad put on a condom while fucking his mom so he was never born in the first place!”

I froze. Staring at her. Mouth slightly open, brain buffering.

Never—never—had I heard her talk like that. It was an eye-opener in more ways than one, and I wasn’t sure what shocked me more: the absolute crudeness of her explanation, or the sheer insanity of the implications.

“That’s… what?” I managed to stammer, completely baffled.

Jade huffed again, “What’s so hard to understand? I didn’t kill him—I just erased the circumstances that led to his existence. Totally different.”

“Totally different?” I repeated, my voice rising in disbelief. “You erased him from existence!” I gestured wildly, trying to find words for how insane that sounded. “That’s—”

I stopped myself mid-sentence, realizing that nothing I thought could adequately capture the insanity of what she’d just said. Instead, I settled on the question that suddenly burned in my brain. “How did you accomplish that?”

Jade tilted her head, giving me the kind of look you give a kid who just asked why birds don’t have hands.

“What’s so hard about it?” she asked, sounding genuinely baffled. “Don’t you know how time works?”

I stared at her. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, I hate it when you don’t act smart.”

I blinked. “What did I do now?” I muttered under my breath, exasperated. Did I just break one of her fantasies by not acting smart enough?

Jade either didn’t hear me or decided I wasn’t worth acknowledging. Instead, she stepped closer, her expression shifting into something far too smug for my comfort. "Your idea of time—and pretty much most people's idea—is different from how I, or others like me, see and experience it."

I let out a slow breath, trying to keep up with whatever cosmic nonsense she was about to unload. “Wrong about time,” I echoed flatly. “Okay, sure. Enlighten me, Professor Paradox.”

She smirked at that, but I could tell she was barely resisting the urge to smack me upside the head. “Oh, I will,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “And then you’ll feel really stupid.”

I rolled my eyes. “I already feel stupid just listening to you.”

She ignored me. “Time isn’t what you think it is. It’s not a unit of motion or change. It’s not this rigid thing ticking away while everything moves forward.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Okay… then what is it?”

Jade smirked, pleased that I was finally asking the right questions. “Time is an observational unit.”

I stared at her blankly. I waited for her to elaborate. She didn’t.

“…And that means what, exactly?” I prompted, waving a hand for her to continue.

Jade let out a dramatic sigh as if I were a particularly slow student. “It means that time doesn’t exist independently of observation. It’s not some invisible force pushing the universe along. It’s just… a tool to collapse the superposition of matter for a moment of clarity.” She flicked her fingers, as if the explanation was that simple. “Easy.”

“Easy?” I repeated, my voice dripping with disbelief.

Before Jade could respond, another voice cut interrupted our moment.

“Yeah,” the voice said dryly. “That’s about as simple as explaining quantum physics to a goldfish. Try again.”

Jade and I whipped around, both startled by the sudden interruption.

Standing way too close for comfort was a man, his presence unnervingly quiet until now. He looked to be in his late thirties, wearing a rumpled jacket and slightly askew glasses. His expression was one of eager curiosity—like he had just walked into a very interesting lecture. We jumped, practically like startled cats. My hand twitched toward my blaster. Jade, of course, didn’t hesitate—her weapon was already drawn, aimed directly at the man’s chest. “Who are you?” I asked, tilting my head slightly, though my focus was already locked on him, my finger hovering close to the trigger. The man froze, his eyes widening as he threw up his hands in surrender.

“Whoa, whoa, don’t shoot me!” he yelped, his voice going high-pitched with panic. “I swear, I’m not a villain! I was just… interested in your theory of time! That’s all!”

Jade’s eyes narrowed. I feared she might snap her finger and zap him out of existence, but she resisted the urge, “You’ve got about five seconds to explain why you were sneaking around and eavesdropping on us.”

“I wasn’t sneaking!” the man protested, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I’m a scientist! I’m here in this tunnel to collect a specific type of fungus. It only grows here. I come every week—quietly, by the way—and a few minutes ago, I was doing my usual collection when suddenly a huge number of rats started attacking everything! People, walls, me! I had to run for my life!”

Unimpressed stare.

“Then I heard you two talking about time,” he continued, his voice shaky but undeniably intrigued. “And I… I couldn’t help but listen. It’s fascinating, really! Not exactly something I hear every day in a dark, decrepit tunnel, that’s for sure.”

Jade didn’t lower her weapon. Her gaze flicked to me for a brief moment, silently asking my opinion. I kept my gaze on the man, studying him closely. His panic seemed real—no signs of aggression, no weapons, no meta abilities making themselves obvious. Just a nervous guy in a rumpled jacket who had an unsettling amount of interest in our conversation.

“You said you’re a scientist,” I said slowly. “What kind of scientist?”

“Biology,” he blurted out immediately, hands still raised. “My meta nature specializes in fungi and their potential applications.” He gestured weakly toward the walls. “This tunnel happens to be home to a species of fungus that—”

I sighed, shaking my head and stepping away from my blaster. “Alright, alright,” I said, shooting a glance at Jade. “I think he’s harmless.”

The man exhaled shakily, lowering his hands just slightly, clearly sensing that we weren’t about to shoot him—at least, not immediately.

“Look,” he said, his voice settling into a more even tone. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll leave. I really don’t want any trouble.”

Jade and I exchanged a look.

“What do you think?” I asked her quietly.

She sighed, finally lowering her weapon—though not entirely. “I think,” she said, her voice sharp and deliberate, “if he asks one wrong question, I’m shooting him.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The man gave a nervous chuckle, quickly raising his hands again. “Fair enough.”

“Where was I?” Jade asked, glancing back at me.

Before I could answer, she waved her hand dismissively and continued without missing a beat. “Right, what I was saying was this: think of matter as existing from the very beginning of the universe. It’s constantly evolving, transforming, reshaping itself. And all these transformations—the changes matter goes through—they don’t replace each other. They’re superimposed, layered on top of one another, existing simultaneously in multiple possibilities.”

She paused briefly, watching me and our surroundings to check if other villains had existed in the tunnel yet. She continued:

“Now, just because matter is constantly changing states doesn’t mean the previous states are gone. They’re still there—somewhere—like archived information. Think about it like this: you’re an adult now, right? From your perspective, time passed, and you grew up. Simple, right?”

“Sure,” I said hesitantly, waiting for the twist.

“But technically, that’s not what happened. In reality, the matter that makes up your body didn’t just move through time—it evolved. It transformed. And it’s still transforming. The only reason you exist in a stable, physical form right now—rather than being, say, a chaotic soup of atoms sloshing around in some bowl—is because something is observing you. Something is collapsing all those possibilities into one coherent state. That ‘something’ is observation. Or more specifically, your consciousness.”

She paused briefly, letting her words sink in before continuing, her tone more intense now. “You see, consciousness acts like a stabilizer. It observes the superposition of the matter that makes you and collapses it into a single, coherent state. Without that observation, all those possibilities would still exist—but they’d all be equally valid, equally real, and you wouldn’t have any stable form to call you.”

Her eyes flicked toward the sky, as if envisioning something vast and infinite. “Now, let’s take this one step further. Time itself doesn’t exist as some force pushing everything forward. It’s not an arrow or a river. It’s not tied to motion or events. It’s observed. It’s the mechanism by which we make sense of how matter evolves. It allows us to perceive and interact with one coherent/stable state at a time. Without observation, time has no meaning, because all those superimposed states would simply coexist without order or sequence, constantly evolving into higher states. So, there is no past, no future, just us, present, the only true variable at any given moment.”

Silence.

Then—

“Woah.” The man standing nearby suddenly clutched his head, his eyes going wide, caught somewhere between pure awe and absolute mania.

“I’ve only seen theories like this on obscure forums, but never an explanation so clear!” he exclaimed, his breath catching as he practically vibrated with excitement. “This is—this is insane!”

I barely heard him.

Jade’s words echoed in my head, expanding like an explosion in slow motion. My thoughts spiraled, the walls of my mind stretching, cracking. I pressed my palms to my temples, squeezing, hard. Maybe if I applied enough pressure, I could keep my brain from spinning itself into oblivion.

Keep it simple, North. Don’t let her pull you into the rabbit hole.

But it was too late. I was already falling.

The implications swirled around me, heavy and suffocating. If time wasn’t real—not in the way I thought—then what was the point of the time loop? What happens when that observation fades? Do we fade with it? If time wasn’t linear—if it was just observation stabilizing states of matter—then what did that mean for how we understood cause and effect? And if every possibility exists simultaneously, Was I unique? If there were infinite versions of me, which one was the real me? Was there even such a thing as real anymore?

I bit my lip hard, the sharp sting bringing the faintest clarity through the fog. It wasn’t enough. If anything, it made the questions worse. If Jade was right—if her view of time and existence was accurate—then was I even stuck in this so-called time loop? Or was I just one of countless possibilities, a fragment of something far bigger that I couldn’t even begin to comprehend?

Who was I, really?

I thought about the idea of parallel timelines.

They weren’t just theoretical anymore. Not science fiction, not some abstract concept debated in physics circles. Their existence had been proven—hell, they were actively manipulated by metahumans with strange abilities. I had seen them walk between timelines, pull things from them, even collapse them entirely. So what did that make me? Just another product of some anomaly in time? Was I even stuck in time at all?

The man was still rambling on about theories, online forums, and how “groundbreaking” this all was, but I barely heard him. His words blurred into static, white noise against the growing void in my chest.

I felt hollow.

A hand on my shoulder.

Jade.

Her voice was like a lantern shining through the chaos in my head, pulling me back to reality.

“What’s wrong?”

I met her gaze, her piercing eyes watching me with something dangerously close to concern.

What was I supposed to say? That I didn’t know if I could believe her—because believing her might break me?

Instead, I swallowed hard and forced a weak chuckle. “Nothing. Just… processing.”

The ground beneath us shook.

A tremor, violent and deep, but this time, it wasn’t Jade’s doing. From the shadows of the three tunnels ahead came a roar of movement—frantic footsteps, angry shouts, and guttural growls reverberating through the air. Then—like a dam breaking—they poured out. Dozens of them. Villains.

I instinctively took a step back, my eyes darting to Jade. She was already smiling. Loose, relaxed—completely unbothered. She even let out a small giggle, like she had just won a game of chance.

“Hehehe,” she chuckled, stretching her arms above her head lazily. “Looks like I stirred up more than rodents.” There was pride in her voice.

And somehow, in the midst of the incoming chaos, I felt something unexpected—relief. The villains rushing past us, the sheer urgency of the moment—it yanked me out of my spiraling thoughts. Pulled me away from the existential abyss I was on the edge of falling into. Most of them didn’t even glance at us—they were too busy trying to save their own skins. But, as expected, a few had other ideas.

A man with glowing fists caught sight of me and charged, his swings fast and heavy. I didn’t flinch. His fist passed through me like smoke, and he stumbled forward, his momentum carrying him straight into another group of villains. I watched, almost impressed, as they turned on him instantly, fists and kicks flying in a chaotic blur.

“Damn,” I muttered, wincing as one particularly angry-looking guy kneed him in the stomach.

Jade, still busy with her own fight, glanced over. “What happened?”

“He punched a ghost,” I said, “And now he’s getting exorcised.”

Jade snorted. “Natural selection at its finest.”

Behind me, she was already moving. A woman wielding electrified whips cracked the glowing tendrils through the air with a sharp snap. Jade dodged smoothly, shifting just inches away from getting fried.

The woman, thinking she had the upper hand, stepped forward to press her advantage—only for her foot to catch awkwardly on a chunk of debris. Her momentum betrayed her. She stumbled. Her whip lashed out uncontrollably as she fell flat on her face, sparks flying as the energy tendrils recoiled and struck her across the back.

Jade stood there, staring.

“…Seriously?” she muttered, her voice almost offended at how easy that was. Then, shaking her head, she dusted off her hands like she’d just finished some menial task. “Whoops.”

Her grin stretched wide, a little too satisfied.

“Are we keeping score?” she called, throwing me a teasing look as she sidestepped a stray shard of glass.

“No time for games!” I yelled back, ducking under a spiked chain that came whistling past my head.

My body flickered intangible again as the chain swung right through my neck. The attacker snarled in frustration and lunged, clearly not a fan of fighting someone who wasn’t fully solid half the time. Too bad for him—I was ready this time. I turned solid just long enough to drive my fist hard into his ribs.

Crunch.

He let out a choked grunt before launching backward, crashing into a pile of crates with a satisfying thud.

Jade whistled, thoroughly entertained. “See? That should’ve counted.”

I shot her another glare. “We are not keeping score, Jade.”

“Why not?” She pouted, her tone way too playful for the situation. “It’s so much more fun that way.”

Mid-dodge, I asked her incredulously. “This is your definition of fun?”

“Obviously.” She grinned, stepping smoothly into the path of a fleeing villain, blocking their escape like a cat toying with a mouse. “Why else would I be doing this?”

Before I could answer, another villain charged her—only for someone else’s meta nature to go haywire nearby, sending an uncontrolled blast of kinetic force that accidentally slammed into Jade’s attacker instead. The poor guy was flung sideways like a ragdoll. Jade just stood there, watching him crash into a broken emergency lamp, then turned back to me with a completely smug expression.

I groaned. “That does not count as your point.”

She gasped dramatically. “Wow. Rude.”

And that was Jade in a nutshell. I was here trying to survive—trying to avoid unnecessary fights—while she was actively stopping people from running away just to provoke them into staying and fighting her. Yet, I can’t find a single reason in my mind for loving her so much that I was willing to be lost in her madness.

“What a strange fucking world I live in,” I muttered to myself, flickering intangible again to avoid a stray fireball. Jade must have heard me because she smirked, a quick flash of amusement as if she were in complete control of the chaos around her.

And she was. But it didn’t make it any less insane.

The moment I let myself get distracted, I paid for it.

Hard.

A fist slammed into my chest, knocking the air out of my lungs and sending me flying backward. I crashed against the wall, pain exploding through my ribs as dust and debris crumbled around me.

Jade’s voice immediately rang out over the chaos. “Oh noooo, my fragile boyfriend,” she drawled, hands on her hips as she peered over at me. “Are you dying? Should I start monologuing about avenging your tragic fate?”

I sucked in a breath and forced myself back to my feet, brushing off the dirt from my jacket. “Very funny,” I wheezed, wincing.

“I thought so,” she said cheerfully.

I shook my head, my eyes darting around as I pushed the pain aside, trying to focus. Because here was the problem— There was no one there. My gaze swept the area, every sense on high alert. I kept scanning the area, my instincts prickling with unease. “Whoever hit me—they’re either really fast, or they’re invisible.”

Jade let out a low whistle. “Ooooh, fun.”

I shot her a look. “Not fun.”

“Speak for yourself.” She cracked her dainty knuckles. “If they’re fast, I wanna see how fast. If they’re invisible, I wanna see if they scream when I set them on fire.”

It seemed the man—or whatever he was—had not only seen through my intangibility, but he also wasn’t attacking recklessly. That much was clear. Yet his motivations eluded me. We’d stirred up chaos, sure. The animals, the panic—but as far as I knew, the villains didn’t have a clue that we were responsible. And, honestly? I didn’t care to fight him. My goal here was simple: stop a few escapees, get some answers, and conserve as much energy as possible. Wasting effort on random brawls wasn’t just unnecessary—it was infuriating. I stayed ready, intangible, waiting for the invisible man to strike again. But he didn’t. The air around me remained still, the tension thick but refusing to break. A self-deprecating chuckle escaped my lips as I shook my head. Maybe he just wanted to show off. I rolled my shoulders, letting the stiffness ease before turning back toward Jade. The tunnel was emptier now. Most of the villains had bolted, vanishing into the chaos outside. The only ones left were a few still writhing on the ground in agony, thanks to Jade.

And, of course, there was her.

She stood in the middle of it all, grinning, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

Then there was the scientist—huddled in the corner like a terrified rat, eyes darting around, probably questioning every life choice that had led him here.

I barely spared the injured villains a glance—Jade had them firmly under control. Whatever she planned to do next, I didn’t have the energy to stop her. She never listened to me in fights anyway, so why waste my breath? My focus shifted to the scientist. I took a step forward, helping him, but a subtle shift in the air around me made me freeze. It wasn’t obvious—just a faint change in pressure, a whisper of motion too delicate to notice unless you were attuned to it. Years of experience sharpened my instincts, and in that moment, they screamed at me.

Without hesitation, I shifted slightly and snapped my hand up, catching something solid.

My fingers tightened around a throat—hot, alive, and struggling.

A man.

Invisible—until now.

My grip constricted, my palm pressed hard against his windpipe as he thrashed. I felt the shape of him materializing beneath my hold, his body fighting against my strength. My eyes burned with cold anger. I didn’t care who he was. He had attacked me. Without reason. Without hesitation. That was enough. I didn’t even think—just acted. My fist lashed out, knuckles crashing into his face with a satisfying crack. Blood sprayed from his nose. He let out a strangled noise—half shock, half pain—but I wasn’t done. I hit him again, my knuckles sinking deep into flesh, knocking his head back violently.

For the first time, I caught a glimpse of his expression.

Panic. Pain. Fear.

Good. He tried to pull away, gasping, his hands clawing at my wrist—but I didn’t let go. Instead, I lifted my knee and drove it into his leg. Bone snapped.

He screamed—a raw, agonized sound that echoed through the tunnel as he collapsed. His body crumpled, weight sagging against me as I finally released his throat, letting him hit the ground like dead weight. I took a slow, measured breath, watching as he writhed, trying—failing—to activate his meta nature. He was struggling. Desperate. Frustration still boiled in my chest from everything before—Jade’s reality-breaking nonsense, the creeping existential dread, the ridiculousness of this entire night.

And now this asshole had the audacity to attack me?

No.

No more games.

I stepped closer, towering over him as he tried to push himself up with shaking arms. My breath was ragged, my patience gone.

The scientist whimpered from the corner, breaking the silence. “Um.”

Jade wispered. “So cool.”

I barely heard them. The man coughed, spitting blood onto the cracked tunnel floor. His fingers trembled, reaching for something—anything—that might save him. I nudged his broken leg with my boot. He screamed again, his body twitching violently.

Jade crouched beside me, resting her chin on her hand. “Soooo… Are we killing this one, or is this just therapeutic violence?”

I exhaled, barely sparing her a glance. “Not helping, Jade.”

“What?” She felt offended. “I just like knowing where we stand.”

The man groaned, coughing hard, his voice hoarse. “P-please…”

I clenched my fists. If he wanted mercy, he had definitely come to the wrong person.