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Web of Chaos - Chapter 19: Rewinding Time
🕑 Added 2025-03-29 18:59:26 +0000 UTCAn enemy Missile tore through the forest with a whistling shriek. It came as a faint pinprick of light on the horizon, but Akari couldn’t dodge or block it in time. One second, it was there beyond the trees. An instant later, the sharpened mana struck her hard in the stomach.
Talek. Why was it always the stomach? If not for healing mana, her abs would look like a street map of Koreldon City.
Pain spread through her body like liquid blades. The impact sent her staggering back through the undergrowth, and her legs buckled beneath her. Blood flowed from the open wound, and the metallic scent filled her nostrils as darkness closed in.
“Focus,” her mother said from a few paces away. “You can do this.”
Right. Akari cycled mana into the antique bronze watch on her wrist. The watch channeled her mana upward, and she felt the surrounding time bubble in her mental senses—her mother’s time bubble.
Akari had learned a lot these past few weeks, but her own Constructs were barely a few feet wide, not to mention fragile. She wouldn’t make something like this until she reached the Master realm.
Time was a physical thing inside this Construct, and Akari saw its path like a flowing river in her mind’s eye. The river didn’t flow inside the usual three dimensions. It flowed through them, as if each moment in time were a thin screen. And when Akari stretched out with her senses, she felt thousands of these moments, each one as real as the present, stacked like pages in an endless book.
“Don’t overthink it,” Emeri had told her during an earlier lesson. “And definitely don’t fight it.”
That was probably good advice, since time mana was trippy as hell. It always felt like someone had yanked her brain from her skull and stretched it beyond the bounds of physical space. The first few times that happened, she’d had woken from the dream in a cold sweat, too freaked out to sleep another minute.
“Your aspect knows what to do,” her mother continued. “Follow the flow and let it guide you.”
Akari cycled her mana backward through time, and the world followed her command. Her breath flowed back through her nostrils, with each exhale feeling more like an inhale, and vice versa. Her head fell like shifting rubble, staring down at the wound in her stomach. Crimson droplets defied gravity, and the spot faded from her T-shirt as the blood flowed back into her veins.
The blue Missile pulled itself free with a sound like cracking ice. Her legs straightened, and her body uncurled itself from its wounded posture.
Finally, the Missile flew toward the distant horizon, like a movie played in reverse.
Akari dropped the technique, and time flowed forward again with a sudden jolt. The pain in her stomach had faded without so much as a phantom ache. Even life mana wasn’t that good.
Of course, Akari still kept some memories of the event, courtesy of her mother’s watch. Not only could this device help her channel mana into the time Constructs, but it also had knowledge and dream functions.
The knowledge mana stored her memories, even as they faded from her brain. And the dream mana was equally important; this let her see and hear the world as time rewound itself. Without that function, the light photons would move away from her retinas, leaving her blind in a reversed reality. Not to mention the reverse sound waves, perpetual dizziness, and a dozen other problems.
At least, that’s what her mother said. Akari had never tried disabling the dream mana functions, and she didn’t plan to. Time mana was trippy enough without screwing up her senses on top of it.
She glanced up as an enemy Missile tore through the forest—the exact same Missile as before, soaring toward her like a pinprick of distant blue light. Akari was ready for it this time, and she leapt to the side just before it pierced her stomach.
“Good,” her mother said from a few paces to her right. “First try!” She also wore an identical copy of Akari’s watch, letting her see the entire process.
Akari grinned back and wiped some sweat from her brow. Well, she wiped some imaginary sweat. The actual sweat had faded just like everything else.
Three weeks had passed since they’d copied the dream tablets, and she spent most nights up in the Solidor’s safe house. Regular college student by day; hacking physics with her ghost mom by night.
All jokes aside, dream tablets were amazing things. Words could describe techniques in detail, and videos could show you the moves on a screen, but technique manuals took things a step further. They flooded your mind with dream mana, and this mana let you feel the flow of power through your channels.
It felt sort of like her computer experiments, but those were just the blueprints for hypothetical techniques. These techniques were living memories, and they came fully formed in her body and mind. If the computer simulation was a recipe, then this was a complete work of art, filled with a Master’s emotion and hard-won insights.
Of course, that didn’t mean it was easy. The path seemed clear while she cycled from the tablet, then the sensations faded as she pulled away. It was like executing a perfect technique, and then forgetting how you did it.
In some ways, that felt even worse than total failure. It was like being a Bronze back on Arkala, stripped of her true power. She could see glimpses of her potential, but she couldn’t find the path to reach it. Just the universe dangling more carrots in front of her face.
What’s more, not every technique worked the same way for every person. Mana signatures were as unique as fingerprints, and Akari’s spacetime aspect didn’t always play nice with regular time mana. She’d already learned that lesson with her mother’s techniques; forcing spacetime mana into the wrong shape felt like pushing a puzzle piece into the wrong spot. But it was even worse than puzzle pieces, because Akari had no way to spot the source of the problem. Was it really a conflict of aspects? Or just a lack of skill on her part?
Fortunately, she’d copied five tablets from the restricted section, and she jumped between them when things got tough. Vanich and Fellner both treated their Constructs like intricate braids, with all sorts of detailed mana weaving along the way.
Akari had no patience for that sort of mana arts, and her aspect seemed to agree. She had too much of her father in her, and Mazren preferred to find simple solutions to complex problems. The lazy genius approach, as he called it.
Evermere and Tymbrial had simpler techniques, but that simplicity came with a slow, monotonous setup. Akari didn’t mind that part, but her mother warned her about that style of technique, and how it rarely scaled into the Mystic realm.
Her father seemed to agree; simplicity was good, but only when it could endure. It was the difference between a wooden wheel and a rubber tire. The wooden wheel might be simpler, but it also cracked under strain.
Daelin Zeller’s techniques were the best fit by far. His construction felt like her mother’s, but with more emphasis on speed and power. This was no surprise, considering Daelin was Emeri’s cousin. They’d started with the same root aspect, but they’d adapted the techniques to fit their own personalities.
And so Akari did the same, taking Daelin’s time bubble and adjusting it for spacetime mana.
Birds scattered on her left as another Missile approached. This one flew lower than the first, cutting through the undergrowth like a charging predator. Akari could have dodged, but that wasn’t the point of this exercise. Instead, she cycled mana through her watch and felt the time bubble around her.
The Missile struck her ankle with bone-breaking force, but Akari didn’t cry out or lose her balance. Time flowed backward like a river changing course, and the pain faded as quick as it came.
“You’re doing great,” her mother said. “Ready to pick up the pace?”
Akari nodded, and more Missiles followed. Her arm, her thigh, her chest, and her throat. They came from every direction, always too fast to see or dodge. Her mother didn’t even shoot these techniques herself. She just manipulated the Ethereal, creating imaginary opponents in the distance.
How many times had she they this now? Fifty? A hundred?
Akari kept her memories from each technique, but not her usual sense of time. That was the strange thing about time mana; you reversed your brain as well as your body. Exhaustion still threatened to overwhelm her, but it wasn’t the usual fatigue that came with long training sessions. It was more like a strange itch she couldn’t scratch. Some part of her knew she’d done too much, even if the evidence said otherwise.
“I think I get it,” Akari told her mother in a breathless tone. She’d fallen unconscious several times during her previous sessions, but she hadn’t made a single mistake tonight.
“I wish it were that easy,” Emeri said. “But we’re still doing basic wounds right now.”
“Those were basic?” For Talek’s sake, one of those Missiles had struck her brain stem. She barely had a few seconds to react, and only because she was an Artisan. A Novice or Apprentice would already be dead.
Well, dead by Ethereal standards. In Akari’s case, she would just wake up in her bed.
Her mother adjusted her glasses and flashed her an apologetic smile. “A real Master-level technique could vaporize you in a few milliseconds. Plenty of time artists have died within their own Constructs, even against opponents their own rank.”
She gestured down at the artifact on Akari’s wrist. “You’ll also need to practice without that. Otherwise, a skilled opponent will go straight for your hand.”
Akari’s fingers brushed against the device. “So this needs to be totally instinctual?”
“That’s an understatement,” she said. “You should be able to rewind time in your sleep. Not just when you’re injured—before your opponent’s mana ever reaches you. But don’t worry—your Cloak techniques will help with that part.”
Hell yes. Akari couldn’t wait for those.
Her mother’s time Cloak let her see several seconds into the future, reacting to her opponent’s moves before they happened. This made her impossible to hit unless you took her by surprise, or overwhelmed her with enough power.
Meanwhile, her father’s Cloak warped space around his body, letting him dodge techniques that should have been impossible to dodge. She’d once tried shooting a Missile at his stomach from three inches away. He hadn’t moved a muscle, and she’d still missed.
Cloaks were harder to copy than Constructs, but Akari planned to recreate both techniques with her new quantum computer. Then she planned to combine them into a single spacetime Cloak—the most overpowered Cloak technique this world had ever seen.
“A part of me hoped I’d never have to teach you this.” Emeri’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and her face took on a sad smile. “But I think we both know you’ll need this someday.”
“Sorry,” Akari said. Her mother had always acted so innocent and carefree, and Akari’s younger self had mistaken that for weakness. Now she knew better, of course. Both her parents were probably as ruthless as Akari when they had to be. They’d just done their best to make her feel safe.
“No need to apologize.” Emeri gave a light shrug. “You were born to be a fighter—I think always knew that. You climbed out of your crib before you could even walk, and I’m pretty sure you did it just to spite me.”
Akari grinned at the story. “Never liked being caged.”
“Trust me, I know. You’d stage little revolutions by ripping off your diapers and throwing them across the room like grenades. It bordered on biological warfare.”
Never liked clothes much either. But Akari kept that last joke to herself. “You’re saying I was a bad kid?”
“Oh, you definitely were.” Her mother’s eyes crinkled at the edges. “But so are most future Mystics.”
“Just most?”
“I was a delightful child.” Emeri batted her eyelashes, and her voice dripped with mock innocence. “My own parents might disagree, but they were merciless tyrants. Especially when it came to training.”
“Are they still alive?” Akari asked. She’d been curious about her extended family ever since she found that dream tablet from Daelin Zeller. How many other relatives did she have out there in the world? Her mother had mentioned a few of them, but the nations of North Shoken were notoriously private compared to Espiria. No televised matches or online databases to browse through.
“Your grandmother is still alive,” she replied. “We didn’t exactly part on good terms, but who knows—maybe she can pick up your training when I’m gone.”
Akari winced at that. “How much longer do you have?”
Her mother’s expression took a more serious turn. “Just a few more weeks after tonight. I’m sorry.”
Talek. That was all? They’d begun the summer with several months ahead of them, but now things were going too fast. Akari felt a knot forming in her stomach, and it had nothing to do with Missiles.
“Can’t I just . . . put you in cold storage or something?” The question sounded stupid when she asked it aloud, but her parents’ soul fragments had been sealed away for several years before this. What if she could seal them again?
Akari had lost her mother once, but she still couldn’t imagine life without her.
Emeri shook her head. “That worked at my full strength, but time erodes all Constructs, and this is no exception. I’d rather say goodbye to you before I reach my limit—while I still feel like myself.”
“Yeah.” Akari slumped her shoulders. “Guess I would, too.”
