The crack in the sky widened, the air thickening with every passing second. Sylah's heart hammered in her chest, her breath coming in short gasps. She had no idea what the Chrono Tyrant even was, but Drek's reaction was enough to tell her it wasn't something she wanted to face.
"What is that thing?" she whispered, her gaze still locked on the dark shape looming in the sky. The presence it exuded made her skin crawl, like the very fabric of time itself was being twisted.
Drek didn't answer immediately. His eyes were fixed. "It's not just a thing," he finally said, his voice low. "The Chrono Tyrant is the embodiment of time's destruction. He rules over all the timelines that have failed. The broken ones. Those who couldn't survive..."
Sylah's stomach twisted at the implications. "You mean... the loop?"
He nodded grimly. "Every version of us that's ended up here, he's the one who makes sure they don't leave. The loop is his prison. And once he fully awakens, he'll make sure no one breaks free."
"Why hasn't he come after us already?" she asked, trying to steady her racing mind.
"He's not at full strength yet," Drek explained. "The Tyrant feeds off fractured timelines, every failed version of us, every collapsed reality, makes him stronger. But he still needs more. That's why he's manipulating every being … bending them before they can resist."
Sylah clenched her fists. She wasn't about to let some tyrant, some twisted force of time control her fate. Not after everything she'd sacrificed.
"You said I could break the loop. How?"
Drek looked at her, his eyes studying her with the kind of intensity that made her uncomfortable. "You'll have to destroy the other versions of you first. Take their memories. Become the one who didn't fail. But..." He hesitated. "You're not the first to try. The Tyrant has made sure of that."
"Then I'll be the last," Sylah said, her voice hardening with determination. "I've come this far. I'm not stopping now."
She turned toward the city, her gaze scanning the now eerily quiet streets. The world had become too still, too unnatural. Her senses were on high alert.
Suddenly the sound of footsteps echoed, Not the light, constant bustle she had gotten used to, but something... intentional.
Drek tensed beside her, his eyes narrowing. "We're not alone."
Sylah barely had time to react before a figure emerged from the shadow. Tall, dressed in armor that gleamed darkly, the stranger moved with purpose, like they knew exactly who to find.
"You." The figure's voice was cold, cutting through the tension like a blade.
Sylah's hand instinctively went to the hilt of her sword, her eyes narrowing. "Who are you?"
The figure stepped forward, revealing a face she almost recognized, though distorted, twisted by the strange reality of AeonFall. The same face. The same eyes. But something was off.
"I'm you," the stranger said. "Or at least, I was."
Drek's hand went to his side, readying a weapon Sylah hadn't noticed before. "Don't trust it. This isn't just any version of you."
Sylah held her ground, trying to keep her voice steady. "What do you want?"
The other version of her smirked. "I've been here longer than you can imagine. I know what needs to be done. I know what you're here for."
Sylah's heart pounded as she looked at the woman in front of her. This version of herself, tired, worn, eyes empty with time, she was different from the others she'd seen. This wasn't some fragmented memory. This was someone who had lived through the loop, who had fought to survive. And now, she was standing in front of her, telling her things she wasn't sure she wanted to hear.
"You can't break the loop," the woman continued, her voice dark. "No one can. Not unless they're willing to pay the price."
Sylah took a step back. "What price?"
The woman's eyes gleamed with a dangerous knowledge. "To destroy the Tyrant, you'll have to give up everything. Your past. Your future. Your identity." She paused. "And you'll have to destroy the very part of you that keeps fighting."
Sylah's chest tightened. "I won't let that happen."
The woman's smile grew, twisted. "You're wrong. You already have."
The stranger's hand moved faster than Sylah could react, and she barely managed to draw her blade in time to block the incoming strike. The force of the blow sent a shockwave through her arm, leaving her muscles trembling. The other version of her grinned, cold, cruel, as though she knew exactly how this fight would go.
Sylah's heart hammered in her chest. The woman in front of her was an impossible version of herself, yet something about her felt completely wrong.
There was a dark presence that clung to her like an aura, and it wasn't just from the passage of time. It was as if something else was controlling her.
Drek stepped forward, his voice a low hiss, barely audible. "She's not herself. She's being controlled by the Chrono Tyrant."
Sylah's eyes darted to him, and she tightened her grip on her sword. "What do you mean?"
"He's manipulating her," Drek said quickly, "This version of you? She's just a puppet. The Tyrant has taken control of her mind, and now he's using her to stop you. You have to fight her, but together, we need to break his hold over her."
Before they know, the other Sylah lunged again, faster this time, her blade aimed directly for Sylah's chest. Sylah barely had time to dodge, the blade cutting through the air just inches from her skin. She rolled to the side, pushing herself up quickly.
"You've already failed," the other Sylah spat, her voice twisted, as if the Tyrant's influence had warped her every word. "You think you can save anyone? You think you can fix this?" She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "You're nothing. Just a broken version of what should've been."
Sylah's breath came in ragged bursts as she stood tall, her stance firm. "No. I'm not giving up. I'm not like you."
The other Sylah's lips curled into a sinister smile. "Well, let's see."
Sylah looked at Drek, then back at her corrupted self. The two of them locked in an eternal dance, each strike, each counter, each failed attempt pulling them deeper into the web the Chrono Tyrant had woven. She couldn't afford to hold back anymore.
"Alright," Sylah whispered to herself, steeling herself for what was to come. "Let's end this."
She rushed forward again, her blade a streak of light as she met the other version of herself head-on. The two swords collided with a deafening clang, and for a brief moment, everything around them seemed to fade. It was just them, trapped in a war between past and present.
The woman's eyes flashed, and the Tyrant's influence pulsed through her. She twisted Sylah's sword with inhuman strength, knocking it from her hand. For a moment, Sylah was left defenseless, but before the blade could strike her down, a shadow moved.
Drek. He was there, his own sword cutting through the air, driving back the corrupted Sylah with a swift, calculated strike. The other Sylah recoiled, but the Tyrant's influence only seemed to grow stronger.
"She's too powerful," Sylah gritted out, scrambling to her feet.
Drek didn't pause. He was already moving, faster than she could follow. "She's a reflection of what you could have become. A shattered version of yourself. We have to sever the connection between her and the Tyrant." He said louder.
Sylah's eyes sharpened, and she reached down deep within herself, calling upon the strength of every failure, every loss, every version of herself that had ever tried and failed. She would not be a broken reflection. She would be the one who succeeded.
With a roar, she grabbed her sword from the ground, the blade burning with the energy of her determination. She rushed forward, her speed and precision now sharper than ever. The battle was no longer just about surviving, it was about overcoming the Tyrant's grip on her mind, and taking back control.
The other Sylah's eyes widened in shock as the first blow connected, this time, Sylah was ready. The corrupted version of herself staggered back, her eyes flickering with hesitation, as though the Tyrant's influence was beginning to waver.
Drek took advantage of the opening, his own strike forcing the other Sylah further back. "Now, Sylah! Now!"
With every ounce of power in her body, Sylah lunged, driving her sword through the corrupted version of herself, shattering the illusion of control that had been placed upon her. A scream of fury and despair echoed through the streets, the force of it making the very air vibrate.
For a moment, everything went still. The corrupted Sylah crumpled to the ground, her body lifeless, but her eyes were different now. There was no longer the gleam of the Tyrant's control in them, only the look of someone who had once been a version of herself, lost and broken.
Then a golden smoke, swirling with fractured memories and energy, poured from her body, consuming Sylah. Sylah's breath hitched as the energy spiraled around her, but before she could react, it surged toward her, entering her body, a rush of power and overwhelming sensation.
It was like absorbing a part of herself, a part of her that had been broken, lost in time. She felt the memories, the experiences of that version of herself, rush through her mind.
Sylah gasped, her hand pressed to her chest as the smoke fused into her, disappearing completely. She felt a jolt of power, but also a strange emptiness, as though a piece of her soul had been torn out and remade into something stronger.
The world around her seemed to shift, the figure in the sky went back Inside as though time had rewound. The marketplace, the laughter, the bustle of life, it all came flooding back into place. The people, who had been frozen in an endless loop, were once again living their lives. Laughing, talking, moving through the streets as if nothing had happened.
It was like nothing had changed.
Sylah turned to Drek, her voice low and uncertain. "Are we done? Did I fix it?"
Drek paused, then shook his head slowly. "This was just the beginning."
Sylah felt the weight of his words settle over her, a chill creeping up her spine. She had won the fight, but there was something in the way Drek looked at her, something that told her that the real battle was still ahead.
As Sylah and Drek turned to leave, the city around them remained oblivious to everything that had just transpired. People walked through the streets, laughing, haggling, living their lives, completely unaware of the chaos and the fight.
But then, a cold chill ran down Sylah's spine. The sudden sensation was sharp, like a warning, a whisper in the air.
Before she could react, a searing pain shot through her skull. It was more intense than before, but this time it felt different. This time, it wasn't just pain, it was revealing something.
Sylah staggered, clutching her head as her vision blurred, and then she saw it.
A small building. The walls were simple, unadorned, and inside she saw her another version of herself. She was standing in a modest room, nurturing three children, their faces innocent and trusting as they leaned against her. Sylah's heart pounded in her chest.
"I... don't having children," she whispered to herself, disoriented.
Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the image shattered. The house, the children, the version of herself, they all vanished, swallowed by the darkness of the vision.
Drek caught her just as she stumbled, her legs giving way beneath her.
"Sylah?" His voice was sharp with concern. "Are you okay?"
She shook her head, still reeling from the vision. "I saw... my other self. She was in a small building, taking care of three kids. But I don't have kids." Her voice trailed off, confusion and fear lacing her words.
Drek's expression hardened. "That's not you. That's the Chrono Tyrant's doing. He offers false lives, fake realities to manipulate those who've failed. He's twisting her, making her believe she's living a peaceful, normal life. But it's all a lie. We need to get there. Now."
The urgency in his voice snapped Sylah out of her daze. She stood up straighter, her mind clearing as the weight of the situation settled over her.