“…Hey, no. I’m done.” Eli planted his fists on his hips, eyebrow arched like a drawn bow, staring at the blank, blinding scene.

“Which lofty immortal barged into my dream this time? Huh? What kind of bad habit is this? Can’t you chat like normal people?”

“It’s always when I’m knocked out or in a wreck. Is picking a sane hour going to kill you? Shave years off your life or what?”

“Come on, then. Which almighty’s here to brainwash your old man this time?” Eli kept his hands on his waist, lip twitching, eyes sweeping the emptiness like a hawk over snowfields.

The place looked like every other mind-to-mind meeting he’d had.

Just chaos, no time, no space—like drifting inside a lightless ocean with no shore.

Eli folded his arms and waited for the bastard who dragged him here to show his face, patience thinning like frost in sunlight.

So far, the highest thing that had pulled this stunt was the Abyss; fine, let’s see if something even scarier lurks above that trench.

Otherwise, why would he sit still and listen to more sermon wind?

He was at rock bottom.

Life felt drained of color, like ash after rain; hope felt like a candle guttering in a storm. He’d planned to go home, rest a while.

Then he’d take his two daughters away from this wound of a place, find a way to send them back to their future.

After that, he’d pick a quiet corner of the world and grow old like a stone left by the road.

He went home, lay down, blinked—and landed here again. What the hell is this? A joke? Of course it is.

But in this blank sea, he waited a long time, and no one surfaced.

Slowly, his anger thinned and blew away like mist.

He stretched, joints popping like twigs, and took a good look around.

No sun, no moon, yet the world glowed—like pearl light seeping from under ice.

Gray gauze drifted through the air, a thin mist that seemed to be the source of the light.

You could see the mist beading on your skin, so it should’ve choked sight—but here everything remained crystal clear, like glass washed by rain.

No gravity, no air, none of the real world’s anchors—just a silent, weightless drift.

Any normal creature dumped here would die in an instant, like a fish thrown onto sand.

Eli sighed. Must be a dream.

He’d been pushed hard lately, like a cart on a broken road.

What you brood over by day returns by night; so be it.

Only, how did he get out?

He spread his hands and stroked the empty air; his body floated forward like a swimmer in a still lake.

Silver crystals hung everywhere like frozen stars; there was no landmark, no way to measure distance.

Maybe he hadn’t moved at all; maybe he was treading water.

He gave up the motions, crossed his legs, and hung there in that strange sky, feeling for the pulse of the place.

To his surprise, the energy here tasted like starlight—familiar as winter constellations—yet not the same, like salt in sweet tea.

A whim took him; he’d absorb it as he did the power of stars.

He opened his hands. The silver mist and its strange crystals whooshed toward him, howling like wind through pines.

Right before they merged with him, an unseen force stopped them cold, a wall of glass in a dark room.

Then a voice drifted down from above, genderless and distant: “If you do that, the next moment you’ll truly die.”

The voice held every emotion—anger, calm, regret, delight—like colors in oil, yet sounded mechanical as a clock.

It was a contradiction wrapped in iron, and it echoed like a thousand throats speaking the same sentence in a cavern.

Eli stilled, let the power fade, then tipped his chin up toward the sound. He smiled, sharp as a knife: “Finally. Who are you? Why can’t I feel any life at all?”

Anything real in front of you presses back; you feel it in your bones, the promise of collision. Even the Abyss and the Celestial Gods weren’t exceptions.

But whatever stood before him felt like shouting across an empty plain—no breath, no weight, no ripple.

“…That’s not important,” the voice said, slow as falling snow.

Crystals near him spun, and a shape took form—a second Eli, sculpted from light and frost, standing face to face.

“Eli” lifted its hands, checked its fingers, then spoke in Eli’s own voice, the tone flat as winter water: “Maybe this form will make you feel natural.”

Eli’s mouth twitched.

Same face, same voice, same scent of power; only the breath of life was missing, like a mirror with no warmth.

It was like speaking to himself in a still pool.

Eli frowned. “What do I call you?”

“Eli” paused, then said, “They once called me Zero. You can call me that.”

Eli’s eyes widened, shock snapping like flint: “Zero? The guy who taught me swordplay was called Zero too…”

“Many things are premature for you,” Zero said, face dead as stone. “Your future self will know. Your present self need not.”

“Then just say you won’t tell me.” Eli shrugged and rolled his eyes like a boy under a scolding.

“So, Zero, why bring me here?”

“I’m here to urge you to finish your mission,” Zero said, voice a cold stream. “Your history and your future have diverged. The future is no longer fixed. That’s why your two daughters can’t return.”

“So?”

“You still haven’t gone to seek the World Tree. That was…unexpected,” Zero said, slow and chill as frost forming.

“I’m busy as hell. Why would I go knock on the World Tree’s door? Am I insane?” Eli’s patience grated like sand on glass.

That glacial, dragging cadence made his ears itch.

“But you must go.”

“Why?”

“Because history must proceed according to the future. I am both controller and executor. The future cannot exceed my expectation,” Zero said, flat as slate.

“You—you’re saying you’re…?” Eli’s pupils blew wide. Great. Maybe he’d finally met something higher than the Abyss.

“I am Zero,” the mirror said. “Before any life or cosmos existed, I wrote the rules and order. I am the origin of all. The Abyss, the Netherworld, the Celestial Gods—because they hold parts of me, they reached the world’s edge. I am the only true Spirit.”

Zero raised his head and gave Eli a glacial look. “But your future self wants to cast me off. He wants to possess ‘himself.’ So he sent your daughters back to interfere. The past changed. Even if the future wavers, even if he dissolves into time, he doesn’t care. I’m here to stop you.”

Eli’s face cooled, steel under frost. He watched his own features speak back to him.

“Then tell me, honored Zero—how do you plan to stop me?” He smiled, all teeth.

“I wanted to erase all memories tied to the future,” Zero said, the words like falling pebbles. “But that would still break the timeline. So I summoned you here. I’ll tell you what must be done. You will correct history yourself.”

“Heh. And if I say no?” Eli’s smile stayed, knife-thin.

“Then I’ll erase everyone connected to you,” Zero said, voice a dead bell, “and send a puppet in your place to finish your mission.”

Eli’s pupils tightened like a snare—then he laughed. “So why not do it right now?”

“…”

Zero didn’t answer.

Yet from that blank presence, Eli caught a flicker—anger, hot as a coal under snow.

Eli smiled.

So it isn’t that simple.

Maybe this thing has a leash somewhere. Maybe it simply can’t.

And if his future self wants to change the past, there must be breadcrumbs; otherwise this version of him can’t do it alone.

If so… his two daughters are likely the key.

For now, he’d play along. Buy time. Gather strength like a storm behind mountains.

He was still too weak.

“Zero,” Eli said, voice steady as a drawn blade, “I’m willing to cooperate.”

Zero dipped his head; the heat of anger ebbed like tide. “Good. If you step out of line, I’ll act.”

Eli nodded, unfazed, then smiled. “So, Zero—what do I do now?”

“Find the World Tree,” Zero said, slow and sure. “There, you must grasp your path, and how to wield your power. After that, don’t worry—time will correct itself.”

Eli nodded with a half-smile.

So the turnaround lives in the journey to the World Tree.

If he finds it, everything snaps back onto the rails?

He fell silent and glanced inward, toward the life-seed branded on his soul, glowing like a green ember.

He and Edlyn had taken it together; he thought Birand’s possession and death had snuffed it out.

Yet it had already sunk into his soul like rain into soil.

Zero nodded. “You may return. Remember—bring everything back to the origin. Otherwise, I’ll personally intervene in the war of your kind.”

Snow hut.

Eli lay on the bed and opened his eyes, slow as ice cracking.

A splitting pain tore through his skull, like a blade of cold wind. Soul and body had been apart too long; damage lingers like bruises.

Anna blinked and smiled, bright as a lantern. “Dad, you’re awake?”

Eli smiled back, pinched the cheek that looked seven or eight parts like Edlyn’s. “How long… did I sleep?”

“Two days. Sis and I were worried sick. What happened?” Anna perched on his stomach and studied his face like a little owl.

He patted her, moved her aside, and rubbed his aching brow, lips curved. “Nothing. Just tired.”

No telling this girl about creator gods; no dragging them into that storm.

“Mm? Where’s your sister?”

“Her? She’s cooking for you.”

“Oh?”