“What if memory wasn’t linear?

  What if regret wasn’t retroactive, but recursive?”

  The moment Kai entered the node, everything repeated.

  He blinked—he was standing at the threshold again.

  He took a step forward—blinked—threshold.

  He said, “What the—”

  

  “—hell.”

  Same words.

  Same motion.

  Same heartbeat.

  Same mistake.

  The Loopwell wasn’t infinite—it was rhythmic.

  Every time he moved, it played his actions back with slight variations, like a song being remixed by a chaotic composer.

  He tried using Void Leap. He was thrown six seconds into his own past, only to watch himself failing to cast Void Leap.

  

  “You're not moving through time,” a voice finally spoke, “You’re moving through your own perception of causality.”

  

  “That’s the same thing!”

  

  “No. That’s what you think.”

  The first enemy was a version of himself.

  Not alternate.

  Not future.

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  Not past.

  Simultaneous.

  It grinned with too many teeth and whispered:

  

  “I'm every time you wanted to give up and didn't.”

  Then it attacked with delays.

  It struck three seconds before moving.

  Its blade pierced Kai’s back before the monster even took a stance.

  Kai rewound.

  And now it was two of them.

  The Loopwell punished resistance with duplication.

  

  ?? Kai is now affected by CHRONO-TREMORS.

  Memory, actions, and emotions will begin to bleed across timelines.

  He suddenly remembered a conversation he never had… yet.

  

  “Don’t open the blue door,” whispered someone familiar.

  Kai turned.

  The Architect, bruised and bleeding, stood in a flicker of light, dying.

  

  “You told me you couldn’t die,” Kai said.

  

  “I lied. We all do. Eventually.”

  Kai blinked.

  Gone.

  

  “Was that from the future? Or a lie from the past?”

  It didn’t exist.

  Until it did.

  It grew on the wall like a tumor of data.

  Every part of Kai screamed don’t.

  But he opened it anyway.

  Inside?

  A single memory playing on loop.

  

  A child—Kai—watching the TV as his father walked out forever.

  No crying.

  No screaming.

  Just silence.

  And the child turned.

  Looked directly at present-day Kai.

  And mouthed:

  

  “This is why you break everything.”

  The Loopwell wasn’t meant to be solved.

  It was meant to fail.

  

  Chrono Stability: 17%... 12%... 5%...

  The node began to self-destruct.

  And if Kai didn’t escape now, he’d be caught in a recursive loop forever, reliving his worst self.

  He took one breath.

  Sliced through the blue door.

  And screamed:

  

  “I choose NOW!”

  The Loopwell imploded.

  Kai fell forward—vomiting data, memories, and some part of himself he couldn’t name.

  He stood.

  Alone again.

  Except—

  In his hand was a shard of the blue door.

  Still whispering.

  

  “See you soon.”