[Loop Count: 17]
I woke up on the metallic bench in my holding cell.
One glance at my Inventory raised more questions than I could count. The biggest one: what in the world was ZK-0? And why was it labeled as Key Item? Scratch that - what did ‘Key Item’ even mean?
The name was followed by a weird sequence of letters and numbers – something that was called Aetherprint.
I had no idea what to make of it at the moment.
Afraid of what ZK-0 might be, I didn’t dare summon it here - better to wait until they released me.
I watched the two Memory Fragments I had. Sadly, there was nothing about ZK-0. Though there were plenty of other things there that I’d learned. Some connected to bits I could still remember we discussed in Chronos’ realm - for example, that I had a sister.
Then my eyes landed on an item labeled simply as ‘Brass Medal’.
That sounded harmless. I summoned it carefully, turning away so my cellmates wouldn’t notice, and examined it.
The front had a simple engraving: the number 1 – first place. The back had a stylized B – something about it looked familiar.
Then it hit me. My mother’s old guild. Blackthorn. That was their logo.
It looked like the kind of breadcrumb I’d leave for myself.
Considering the rest of the items in the Inventory directed me to back to Skyhaven - a place I knew from my conversations with Chronos should not be my focus for the time being - was this my next stop?
But why Blackthorn specifically?
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. I needed to trust my past selves. The answers would surely come as I moved forward.
My gaze shifted to another item in the Inventory – Thea’s COG.
My pulse spiked.
Why…why did I have it? Did I find her, and she was…dead?
Fear and curiosity drove me as I moved to the corner of the cell, out of my cellmates’ eyes completely, and summoned it.
The Skyhaven-level COG materialized in my hands, glowing purple.
[Temporal Trace: Time Plane Memory #5 - Available]
[Would you like to watch the memory?]
[YES / NO]
So…past me chose not to watch this. Makes sense considering the Obsidian Crow would show up right after.
Was I aiming for myself to watch it here? In the cell? Was that my plan?
Sure, having an entire station try to stop the Crow might work in my favor…but they wouldn’t stop him. Not really. And I still needed to get my COG back if I wanted even the slimmest chance of surviving.
I stored it away for now.
Next, I summoned another odd item. The Red Ribbon.
The hair accessory materialized in my hand, glowing purple too.
[Temporal Trace: Time Plane Memory #7 - Available]
[Would you like to watch the memory?]
[YES / NO]
Another one.
Damn it, past me. Were you that afraid of the Crow that you decided to dump the consequences on me? Not cool, man…
What should I do? How should I play it?
I couldn’t skip these memories. They might give me the context I was missing on why my past selves were pointing me at Blackthorn.
Then, thinking about Thea’s COG, an idea formed in my mind. Something I wondered if I'd ever tried before.
I took a deep breath to steel my nerves, hoping my assumption was correct.
I just needed to retrieve my bracer as quickly as possible.
***
One of my cellmates was released fifteen minutes later.
I was released at noon.
***
“Come on out, Halegrim,” Devin said, frowning as he unlocked the cell. “Looks like you’re not Libra after all.”
Okay. Now.
[Checkpoint Set: Your progress has been saved at this point in time]
[Current anchor will be lost upon death, or after thirty minutes. The earliest of the two.]
[Checkpoint lvl. 1: Time left until Anchor expires – 00:29:59]
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“Told you,” I said, rising from the bench and stepping out.
He stuck out a foot to trip me, but Deja vu rang in mind and I noticed it just in time to hop over.
Devin chuckled behind me. “What a loser…”
I ignored him. I had better things to do.
At the holding cells’ front desk, a bored Enforcer looked up, rolled his eyes, and sighed – realizing my release meant actual work for him.
“Name?” he asked.
“Viktor Halegrim.”
“One moment.” He shuffled into a side room, returning five minutes later with my COG.
“There,” he said. “Still works. Try not to get flagged next time. You’ve already been arrested before.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” I snatched it from his hands.
Alright…moment of truth.
Store.
The COG vanished from existence, slipping into the Inventory.
- Key Item: Civic Omni-Gear: Viktor Halegrim, ID: 260604
It worked.
And it was labeled as a Key Item, just like ZK-0.
Why hadn’t I tried this before? Did I just assume storing my own COG wouldn’t work? Or maybe I just thought it wasn't necessary since my COG was already connected to the Deja vu System and was saving progress because of that.
“What the fuck…” the Enforcer muttered in shock, having watched the whole thing.
I gave him a quick glance, realizing how it probably looked to him. But it didn’t matter right now. I was going to die soon anyway.
Now, for the next step of my plan, I summoned Thea’s COG again.
[Temporal Trace: Time Plane Memory #5 - Available]
[Would you like to watch the memory?]
[YES / NO]
YES.
The world vanished, and my mind was yanked into the past.
***
[Time Plane Memory #5]
Primarch Dalton Rose walked down a wide corridor, wearing the same official white suit he’d worn for his meeting with Stanford. That meeting.
He kept rubbing his face methodically – either massaging away stress or working something into his skin.
Beside him strode a tall man in his late forties, short black hair streaked with gray. He wore a dark-blue suit, elegant and clean. A foldable sword was attached to his belt while a handgun was holstered to his thigh. In his left hand, he carried a deactivated Skyhaven-level COG – not his own. His was still buckled to his forearm.
The corridor was spotless and neatly stylized – classic Skyhaven interior design – but there was something…plain about it as well. Like it wasn’t the kind of place that tried to impress. The atmosphere was utilitarian. A hospital, maybe.
“Well, Casten?” The Primarch addressed the man without looking at him. “I’m waiting.”
“Right,” the man replied, voice steady, eyes locked ahead. “She doesn’t know anything.”
“So you say, but are you sure?” Dalton Rose asked. “What we’re about to do to her today will make her worthless – not just to him, but to us as well. We won’t be able to interrogate her again and – “
“Dalton,” Casten’s voice cut in, sharp. “We tried everything in the book. Started soft – promised to let her go if she told the truth. Then we escalated to physical measures – kept her awake for days, beatings, restraints. After that, mental breaks – sensory deprivation, feeding her false information, making her think time had stopped. She never cracked because there was nothing to crack. She doesn’t know a damn thing. The only reason I pushed that far was because you kept insisting she did. I knew from the start she was telling the truth – that she was clueless about him.”
“Then you should’ve put your foot down and insisted that I was wrong,” Dalton Rose shot back, his tone hard. “Don’t dump the responsibility on me. You knew exactly what you were doing. Knowing you, you probably enjoyed every moment of torturing that girl.”
"I would've preferred torturing the snake herself," Casten said.
"And whose fault is it you failed to capture her alive?" Dalton Rose said, his tone slightly accusing.
Casten’s gaze didn’t flicker - he stayed calm. “Either way, like I said – the girl's of no use to us.”
Dalton Rose didn’t look fully convinced, but after a pause he sighed and nodded. “Well, you are the Prime of House Security, so I suppose I’ll trust your word.”
“My word’s the only one you can trust, Dalton,” Casten replied casually. “Other than your own, maybe.”
The Primarch chuckled. “That’s true. For better and worse.”
They walked in silence for another minute until they reached a set of double metallic doors, locked by a nearby embedded recognition terminal.
The Primarch stopped and waited.
“You forgot how to work a door?” Casten asked impatiently, already stepping forward and scanning his COG at the terminal.
Dalton Rose smiled. “With you around, why would I ever dirty my own hands?”
“You truly are despicable, Dalton.” Casten muttered as the terminal beeped and the doors opened.
"I'm only matching your level," Dalton Rose said, stepping inside first. “And by the way, that’s exactly why we work so well together.”
Casten followed, locking the doors behind them.
Inside, the room was painted entirely white and almost completely bare. Its only purpose was observation. The front “wall” wasn’t a wall at all – it was a window.
Through it, the view opened into a large operation room. In the center, strapped to the table, was a teenage girl no older than fifteen, with long, dirty, and messy black hair. She was bruised, battered, and – most of all – exhausted. The dark bags under her eyes made her appearance worrying.
Two people – a man and a woman in white lab coats – stood beside her. On a nearby tray lay three flat, circular devices, each the size of a small saucer. They glowed white – an Aetheris crystal placed inside of each.
The Primarch approached the right-hand wall of the observation room, just beside the window, where an embedded microphone was mounted – transmitting into the operating room.
“You may begin,” he said.
Then he stepped to the window, leaning a shoulder against the frame as the doctors began adjusting the girl’s head restraints so she couldn’t move even a fraction of an inch.
“Did you try telling her we won’t kill her mother if she cooperates?” the Primarch asked suddenly.
Casten let out a tired sigh, tinged with annoyance. “I already told you – I tried everything in the book. Next time I’ll let you handle the torture.”
Dalton Rose laughed. “No need. You’re the master.” Then his expression hardened. “But I assume you didn’t tell her Cecilia’s already dead?”
“Of course not. She was already useless; there was no need to break her further,” Casten replied, then his voice turned curious. “Why are you doing this, Dalton? Really? Why not just kill her? He’s not going to use her.”
The Primarch shrugged. “Can you say that for certain?”
Casten sighed. “No. But realistically – what could a little, broken girl possibly do to help him?”
“Casten, Casten, Casten…” Dalton Rose muttered. “Still underestimating our enemy?”
“No,” Casten said firmly. “He’s already proven himself.”
“Exactly,” Dalton Rose nodded. “And yes, I’ll admit – there’s a limit to what a teenage girl could do if he ever recruited her. But I’d rather stay on the safe side – take out the piece before he ever gets to use it. And if he wasn’t planning to use her, killing her wouldn't achieve anything. Instead, imagine his reaction when he learns what we did to his greatest ally’s daughter.”
“He’d be furious,” Casten said.
“And that’s exactly what I want,” Dalton Rose replied. “When we’re furious, we’re most likely to make mistakes.”
“I suppose there’s truth in that,” Casten said, moving to the window and leaning his shoulder against it, facing the Primarch.
Inside the operating room, the two “doctors” forced the saucer-shaped devices into the girl’s mouth – one after the other – until all three were wedged between her teeth. They strapped a restraint around her head and jaw to keep them in place.
She barely resisted. But she cried. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, her face still locked in that same hollow, exhausted expression.
The male “doctor” worked his COG briefly, then glanced at the Primarch through the observation window before activating the devices.
The girl’s body jerked violently, arching against the restraints.
The man continued…
At the other side of the window, Casten didn’t look away.
“I don’t enjoy this,” the Primarch said, starting to turn.
Casten’s hand clamped on his shoulder, holding him in place. “You need to watch this, Dalton. It was your call to do this.”
“Let go,” Dalton Rose muttered through gritted teeth, anger flaring in his eyes.
But Casten didn’t. Instead, he pulled Dalton Rose back to the glass. “I said watch. You always make me do the dirty work while you keep your eyes pure. I’m fine with this arrangement. I’ve long grown accustomed to it, and I don’t expect you, in your position, to handle it yourself. But…you need to see my side of our quest for our survival.”
The Primarch exhaled hard, shaking off Casten’s grip but returning his eyes to the scene. “You make it sound like I don’t dirty my hands every once in a while.”
“You do more than enough,” Casten said, drawing a slow breath. “But you need to see this. It's dark, twisting, and inhumane. But these are the prices we must pay to save our world from extinction.”
Dalton Rose nodded. “I know. That’s why, all those years ago, Master Dolos chose us to save the world.”
[Time Plane Memory #5 – END]