A psychopath revels in destruction, but they aren’t scary. It’s the believers who follow a flawed idealism that scare me. They are focused too heavily on the Mind and do not realize how easily Chaos corrupts their underdeveloped Spirit.

~Balor, The Primordial God of Chaos

Crow spent a day at the glacier breaking apart the Frigid Starburst. It was backbreaking labor because he had to use his heavenly fire and brute force to break chunk after chunk off. He brought all that into his Soulverse along with some of the glacier water that didn’t freeze despite its extremely low temperature.

Afterward, another acorn formed. Crow didn’t quite understand how the planet seeds worked, but it seemed as long as the intent was there and enough resources were present to create the core, it would work.

He knew just by observing that those things weren’t actual worlds because they lacked an ecosystem. It was something he’d have to figure out later. Like his original Soulscape, he built a system that could replicate and cycle mana—they could sustain life.

Hooligan met him on his return, and after a good night’s rest, they went out exploring. Using his mental map, he identified the likely locations of the Shrines, and with the compass, locating the hidden places became easier.

A few more months passed, and they cleared eighty-eight Shrines. There were only eleven Shrines and two zones left to complete. During that time, the number of people they saw dwindled more and more.

Since we rarely saw Scath anymore, Crow felt that most of the people were leaving on their own accord. Anyone that survived to this point was intelligent or lucky. Hooligan and Crow even socialized with those people more because there was healthy respect among the people remaining.

Since this was a team event, Crow knew early on that the downfall of all groups was arrogance and mistrust. Just by that alone, he knew most of these people at least had a firm grasp of what should and shouldn’t be done. In fact, when they came across each other out in the wild, there was no conflict either. Sometimes they even camped together.

All in all, the last few months were almost pleasant and harmonious, but Crow felt more and more anxious. He didn’t understand why he was so agitated but knew it had to do with his people. He only hoped it was some kind of homesickness rather than any real trouble.

Even Hooligan noticed his distracted state but didn’t say anything because she understood his moody disposition. In some ways, she was the same. While she didn’t have anyone waiting for her, she wanted to go back and see her parents.

Oddly, besides the flirting mock fights, she never fought with Crow. Their relationship was pure and without guile—as if they’d always been a couple. It was to the point that Hooligan didn’t even care about the previous twenty-odd years of her life. While the event with her sister was traumatic, she had a good life. Her parents loved and protected her, and many people respected her. If her face hadn’t been scarred, she might have lived her life as a small-time cultivator, but fate messed her up.

The day after they cleared the ninety-first Shrine, Colossus summoned them. More accurately, the energy sphere within the giant guardian. Standing before the massive stone giant, they felt insignificant. However, the sphere never appeared.

Instead, an old man stood off to the side and waved the two over. Silently, he turned and led them toward the wall of Sanctuary and walked right into it. The solid stone rippled, and the elder disappeared.

Crow could see the formations, so he followed with Hooligan directly behind him. The wall pressed against him like water until he popped through and stood at the top of a long set of stone stairs. The stonework looked ancient compared to Sanctuary above. Still, the air was dry and clean even though he half expected it to be dank and musty.

The old man was halfway down the stairs, so they descended. At the bottom was a vast hall with thick metal doors on each side and a small window with sharpened bars—like razer sharp daggers. Each cell also had a meter-long window that was no taller than a hand. No normal person could fit through that slot, but they still filled it with a thick glowing glass that Crow had never seen before.

“The blades are made from Silvered Steel imbued with mana—it can even harm ghosts. The glass is mostly made from the sand of crushed Mana Crystals and bits of melted silver. You may not be able to see it, but small formations are etched into the deepest parts of the glass that protect it from being destroyed. It even has a self-repair function,” the old man explained before leading them through a large archway on the left side of the hall. They’d already passed at least a dozen cells by that point.

Inside, a Scath was floating in the center of the room, surrounded by a cylinder of energy. If Crow wasn’t so fascinated by all the new stuff he was seeing, he’d be creeped out by how sinister this place appeared.

The old man paused before the Scath and lightly coughed to clear his throat. Crow and Hooligan stood by, not saying out of respect.

“Are you curious why I brought you here?”

“Depends on if the answer will get me killed or not,” Crow replied, and the old man laughed until he broke into a coughing episode.

“You’ll live,” the old man said, his head bobbing because he approved of the boy’s quick wit. “Did you know that no one has passed ninety Shrines in tens of thousands of years?”

“Is that time based on this world or the outside world?” Crow asked.

“As you progress with your cultivation, you need to know that the outside world is called the Origin Realm. It is the basis for all time in this universe. However, I meant this realm when I mentioned tens of thousands of years. Time is faster here than the Origin Realm, but the rate at which time passes varies based on when this realm is active,” the old man explained. “Realms and worlds are all part of the same universe, but that only makes the complexities of time even more maddening. If you pursue the Truths of Time, prepare your Mind to prevent insanity.”

“You claim there is a single universe? Can there not be multiple verses?”

The old man sighed. “Unexpectedly, you’ve already touched on the Truths of Time, but to answer your question… it is possible provided they have their own Origin Realm. A person can only belong to one origin, which becomes even more complex when considering all your potential futures.”

“Are you talking about a… multiverse?”

“No. That idea is predicated on having multiple existences based on every choice every person or thing makes. It is better to think of this universe as a mesh of interwoven actions. We can have infinite potential choices, but others also have the same, and when those choices conflict… time events happen. The multiverse or parallel universes don’t actually exist in the way you are thinking.”

“So parallel universes aren’t a thing?”

The old man pulled at the front of his baggy shirt and turned to face Crow. His long, bony finger tapped Crow’s chest. “Parallel universes don’t really exist, but parallel entities do. Your Soul has its own energy, and within this realm, multiple versions of yourself exist within that single Soul. All of them have choices and have taken different paths, but the Origin You is here and is the only choice that matters.”

“Does that mean I can see the past potential versions of myself and their choices? Maybe things they’ve discovered?”

“Heh, your brain is marvelous to think in this way. You didn’t ask about futures but pasts. I’m curious… why is that?”

“Because I don’t like things influencing my actions.”

“Such a simple and succinct way to explain the unfated,” the old man laughed. “As to your question, it is possible to see the choices your parallel selves could have taken. But, they degrade pretty quickly after splitting from the Origin You. It might be interesting to study, but I don’t recommend it. Even if you gain enough understanding of Time, the lost paths are part of Chaos. You are too weak, so the attempt would instantly destroy your consciousness. The Origin You is like the trunk of a tree. Your path is wide and usually straight, but the number of branches can grow infinitely. If that tree forks, it means you’ve reached a dangerous split, and each side has consequences and gains.”

“That applies to other people, not me. If I don’t like the path, I’ll make a new one,” Crow said softly.

The old man paused and stared at the boy before him in a new light. After contemplating what Crow had just said, the old man chuckled. “You dare defy anything, and that is a powerful mindset for a cultivator. As a mentor, I’ll give you one piece of advice if you will listen to an old man?”

“I never reject wisdom.”

“Heh, I really do like you. If I wasn’t…” the old man sighed and didn’t finish his line of thought. Crow knew the old guy had secrets and didn’t press him for them. Everyone had their own troubles. “Discussion aside, don’t rush into exploring abilities related to Time. Savor them and understand the concepts that helped create those techniques or spells before attempting them. Wielding Time as power is dangerous, and the consequences are unfathomable. There is a reason that factions focused on the study of Time ultimately disappear—the only exception is the Clockwork Sect. I don’t want to scare you away from it completely because your vision abilities should be fine since they aren’t influencing Time. They are the shallowest of all Time-related abilities because they are only glimpsing it and extrapolating information. Influencing or using time for other purposes is when things become complicated.”

“Like Time Warping?” It was an ability that Crow had read about. It was like the Acco’s ability to warp. The only difference was the way it worked.

“Yes. That technique works by excising part of your timeline. Imagine if you screwed it up and cut out too much. Like the events where you met the pretty lady next to you. Do you understand? Time isn’t a novelty like the other elements because it is one of the primal Truths—laws that define existence.”

Crow paled at the thought of what the old man had just said. Hooligan was looking at Crow anxiously.

“Relax, little Hooligan. He lacks the power to do that. At least for now. I’m just warning him, so he knows to exercise caution.” The old man pointed at the Scath. “Now, let me explain why you are here. I know you both want to know who I am, but I won’t tell you for now. If we meet again in the future, I’ll explain. Every time this event opens, I watch for the most exceptional talents and provide them with a reward.”

The loose clothes on the old man billowed in the windless room as he called upon his Source. There was no Shield on his chest, and the power and purity of his Source left both the kids stunned.

Shhhriiiiiieeekkkkk!

A horrible screech filled the room as the Scath tore at its flesh, trying to escape its own skin. The shadow-like flesh liquefied into a black, amorphous mass, and black humanoid bones fell to the ground. Floating in the air above the bones, the black mass continued to writhe, tormented by whatever the old man was doing to it. A face kept appearing on the glossy black surface, causing it to ripple like it was screaming in torment.

Bony fingers clenched as if they were closing into a fist, and the amorphous orb floated over to the old man. An invisible force emanated from the man’s palms as he tried to push them together the sphere in between. Not only was it flattening, but the thing became more solid while condensing and looked like an onyx coin.

The old man frowned while staring at his creation and poured more energy into it before allowing the finger-thick coin to spin in the air. Using Light Mana, the man drew rune after rune until a Sigil formed. Crow hadn’t done much research into Sigils, so the only thing he really knew about them was that they were created through layering runes together. Its theory and principles were similar to formations. However, Sigils were Spirit based and often required an organic medium—live targets were the best, but flesh or bones worked just as well.

Unlike formations, the tricky thing about Sigils was that the pictorial symbol created had to represent the intent. As the Light Mana faded and was pushed into the black coin, the unsettling image of a Scath superimposed on a person became clearer. As the Sigil was burning its way through the Shadowman’s flesh, it could be heard screeching through their Spirit instead of physically. The sound was overwhelming, and typical practitioners couldn’t hold up. Hooligan’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, and Crow struggled to retain his consciousness so he could hold her.

The primary reason he didn’t want to lose focus was because of the Sigil. Crow didn’t feel danger from the old man, so he continued to trust him, but the Sigil felt wrong. It wasn’t just because it was created by sacrificing a Scath but because of the merging of Light and Dark Mana. Using both elements to suppress each created a balance in which the two could support each other indefinitely. Or so he thought.

In his heart, he knew this wasn’t meant to be a passive creation. But, if he influenced in any way, he knew the balance would unravel, and the consequences felt dire.

Hooligan came to in Crow’s arms just as the old man approached them. His finger lit up brightly, and he sliced the coin down the fat edge creating two identical Sigils. Before either of them could respond, their bodies were seized, and they were trapped in cylindrical chambers like the Scath before it was destroyed.