Arcane-Shattering time

From mainly white to a spectrum of colors surrounding my vision, I felt everything shift. Left became right, up became down, and the feeling of touching the very stars seemed to reach above and touch all parts of the soil of Runeterra. I felt as though I was touching the universe. My body was shifting, my voice echoing through this arcane realm, which felt ironic. Every movement left an afterimage—an endless cycle of order and chaos, with me at the center.

My feelings were a mess. I couldn't tell if I was experiencing the worst pain imaginable or the most intense pleasure possible. My emotions and sensations kept switching.

The Z-Drive in my arms was glitching, showing signs of time rippling, like a stone thrown into a pond.

But the most confusing part was the sounds. They were echoes of different times, scenarios of screaming, shouting, and speaking in various languages. But they all shared one thing: my voice. No matter the language, no matter the tone, it was my voice echoing through my ears from different timelines, all shouting or speaking gently.

It made me question if I was the anomaly among the countless versions of myself. Was I the singularity, with all these different versions of me? Heimerdinger would say I was trapped in a paradoxical mindset. I wish he were here to explain it.

That thought process shifted when my eyes focused on the source of the sounds.

It appeared to be a black, branch-like structure, part of a giant tree, though I couldn't see the tree itself. It was like it existed in another dimension; only the branches were visible—black with tiny stars scattered across them, so small yet so real.

Maybe one of these branches led to my home. I wouldn't stay in this realm forever. I needed to make the right choice.

So, I did what I do best—I closed my eyes and listened. I focused on my voices, tuning in to the right one.

Then a brilliant idea hit me. If I was going back to my original timeline, why not choose the one with no voice? The risk was high—maybe I'd encounter a dead version of myself or a mute version—but the stakes were worth it.

I've never liked gambling. I have too much to lose.

I focused on listening to each branch around me. Some were loud, others quiet but still audible, and some had completely different tones.

Then I found one branch—no sound, no noise, just pure silence. And that terrified me.

The chances were low, and they always had been. But I knew one thing for sure: I had proven my reliability, and my perseverance had been anything but ordinary.

I leaped forward, knowing I was leaving so many things behind.

At this point, was I being selfish for wanting to go back? Or was I selfless for wanting to protect my people?

Or maybe I was so selfless that I became selfish.

Truly a paradoxical mindset.

I touched the branch, and it felt like I was being shifted, glitched out of a timeline where my existence was being rejected. Yet, I felt as though I was absorbing and integrating into this new timeline.

My world began to blur, and it all went to black.

The transition between shifting reality and time was like drowning in a lucid dream. Even though I had experienced it before, it was still a dangerous process, especially going into a time branch with no voice. Losing grip on what's real and what's not is a danger I can't afford to ignore.

It was loud, more like the sound of raindrops. My eyes felt heavy, and I felt like I had been struck over the head with something heavy. The rotting smell Zuan produced every day was toxic—more lethal than the enforcers' brutality. The toxic oxygen filled my nostrils.

With effort, I opened my eyes and saw never-ending rain hitting my body as I lay flat on moist soil, dampening my skin. Something felt off. The smell that once belonged to Zuan had shifted—it was no longer toxic, but the heavy scent of iron and blood filled the air.

And it was too bright. The sudden shift between where I had been and where I was now jolted my body awake, like static pulsing through my veins.

I snapped my eyes open, feeling the ground shake beneath me, like something heavy—no, really heavy—was walking toward me.

I didn't know what to make of all the sensations rushing through my ears, or the pounding migraines I was feeling. It hurt. The thoughts kept repeating like echoes in the back of my head.

"Contesant number 378 is down. 4, 3, 2… Oh, what's this? Conteasant number 378 getting up? What a feast for our eyes. The Iron Jaw truly has some competition this year."

I barely got up when a loud voice shouted, followed by what sounded like a chorus of screams, boos, and cheers.

Was I in a cage fight or a coliseum? More importantly, was I back home? Was this Zuan?

My eyes barely adjusted enough to see a huge figure sprinting toward me—bald, tattooed, with a giant iron jaw. This man seemed ready to rip my throat out with his bare teeth.

But could I move? I was tired, thirsty, and my disorientation was all over the place. Do I have my Z-Drive? Do I have anything?

My bare hand was the only thing I could rely on, but then I felt a weight behind my back. I looked and saw it was the Z-Drive that had come with me.

"What?" Before I could shout in confusion, a sudden force hit me, so strong it felt like when Vi and I used to play-fight as children, and she used just a bit too much force and knocked me out.

As the bald, iron-jawed man threw a punch, I went flying. The pain was unbearable, but my hand reached behind my back, trying to grab the iron chain hook attached to the Z-Drive. If I could pull it, I might go back in time. Maybe not before I touched the branch—since it had been longer than four seconds—but it would be enough to regain control of the situation.

I pulled the rip cord then A sudden surge of temporal energy, ignited by the source of arcane power, reversed the short-term event.

As I did so, time around me shifted—and so did the man. But my mind stayed the same. No alterations. No memory loss. Only the one who cranks the device remembers the loop.

And so time reversed backwards for the first time in this timeline.