Chapter 49: 14th Concussion Style

The Gauntlet of Choice

Choose at least two:

Meet with the 3rd witch of fate

Ignite an eternal flame

Paradox exposure therapy

Create a unique chronomancy spell

Summon an Eldritch horror

Beat your future self in a duel

Make a deal with a devil

Find and loot the lost temple of Azechaleft

Become the next [Pharaoh] of Memphis

Steal a bound soul (greater bound soul or better) from the Dwellican vaults

I read the sheet of hole-punched laminated paper as Healing Cy speaks. His excitement is worn out and fraying, but still there, like an old beloved stuffed animal.

“So, the idea here is that attempting time travel will kill you as you are now. So, to prevent that, we power-level you like crazy while getting you a bunch of useful skills, artifacts, and equipment. For starters, each one of these will help train your [Paradox Resistance] at least a little, but otherwise offer something different, yet helpful.”

My eye lingers on ‘summon an Eldritch horror’ and ‘make a deal with a devil’ before my mouth can even respond.

“...Okay I'm beginning to see the thought process behind this. It’s a safe assumption that any of these would level me like crazy, just like cutting a mountain in two would level up a low level [Warrior].”

The back of my brain begins to itch with the potentiality and my chest hums with excitement at the thought of me being able to do any of these things.

…I don't think I wanna be a [Pharaoh] though.

“Why the choice though? Don't you guys already know which ones I choose, since they'd also be the ones you chose?” I ask.

Scab and Healing Cy share a look, silently agreeing that Scab Cy should speak next.

“You remember how I summoned alternate versions of myself while we escaped Ssesli?”

“If Ssesli is the slave city, then yeah.” I say, nodding.

I recall in vivid detail him invoking a skill called ‘[Alternative Self Help]’ and using it to summon a ‘Doomed’ Cy and a ‘Branched’ Cy.

“Well, since we can summon alternate versions of ourself, the Gauntlet of Choice—”

Scab Cy says ‘Gauntlet of Choice' ominously, as Healing Cy echos it in a whisper, they both twiddle their fingers spookily and I roll my eye with a chuckle.

“—is intended to, by choosing which trials you want to do, create alternate timelines where you chose the other options, and give us some badass allies with insane skills and classes.”

My imagination begins to whirr, and I feel that odd feeling deep in my being of the prerequisites being met and a skill activating. The [Hare-Brained Scheme] starts to make sense and I find myself grinning goofily, laughing incredulously as I clutch my hair.

“Wait, that's insane! You mean if you had put ‘slay a dragon' on this list we could then summon a [Time Traveling Dragonslayer]?!”

“Not quite.” Healing Cy shoots down.

“Firstly, some of these would lead us down a path so unique that the versions of us in those timelines may never even become time travelers. We call those branches ‘Outliers’—”

“Well, not exactly— but, go on.” Scab Cy interjects.

“Yeah, alright, Outliers aren't solely non-time travelers. Every branch of us that doesn't time travel is an Outlier but not every Outlier doesn't time travel. It's a squares and rectangles kind of situation. But regardless, silver lining; if you choose the wrong task and get branched, you'll still wind up being a badass that can get summoned to the primary timeline and fuck shit up.”

“Or be doomed to die.” Scab Cy clarifies.

“I was gonna skip that part.” Healing Cy says, with a slight glare.

Scab Cy shrugs as I just stare at them. The back and forth dialogue between my future selves is growing uncomfortably familiar. I really am insane, aren't I?

“And secondly,” Healing Cy continues, “I couldn't put ‘slay a dragon' on there cuz it's nearly impossible to even find one in the current era. Every task on there is supposedly possible even if time travel wasn't involved. If the only way for you to be able to time travel requires your future self to time travel, that's a Bootstrap Paradox, and you don't have the resistance for that right now. It's gotta be something you could do on your own, if virtually impossible, but we're using time travel to cheat and take some shortcuts. We only got away with the paradox where we met you in the tutorial because it was the tutorial, and it's a special case. This whole scenario is a minefield of paradoxes. The reason I have to give you this list now instead of it being in the binder is to avoid a Virgin Birth Paradox— you can read about that one. It's in the ‘paradoxes’ section of your journal— and also to maybe give us more branches where I picked different impossible feats to put on the list.”

My head hurts with that telltale pressure of my [Paradox Resistance] working against something, so it seems this is pushing it already. The headache only worsens with all the confusing information being fed into it as my [Hare-brained Scheme] skill desperately makes leaps to bridge some gaps and make this plan more feasible.

My brain snags on an incongruence, so I look back at the paper and ask;

“Does that make ‘beat your future self in a duel’ an exception?”

The two share a look again as we walk back through the little homely workshop into the larger sanctum.

Healing Cy stifles a painful smile beneath a bandage as he answers.

“Good eye. Yep, that one would develop your [Paradox Resistance], give ya some magical combat training and—”

Scab Cy chokes on a laugh.

“...force some growth. Plus, it's an impossible feat that's time travel related, so the Great Work is bound to reward it accordingly.”

I balk at their certainty in it being an ‘impossible feat.’ I'm a scrappy fighter, and I don't fight fair. I've always got a chance. Then again, I’d assume this is a magical duel, and I have no idea how I compare to these guys magic-wise. Probably not well.

But, like I said, I'm scrappy. I can figure something out.

Looking at the two of them, Healing Cy only has one and a half arms, and a big chunk of his face is still healing. Scab Cy is comparatively better, but still wounded.

The task wasn't very specific. If I got the drop on Healing Cy I could probably clock him upside the head with a 2’x4” and ‘beat’ him. But, he's me, if I did that, he'd remember it. Then again, I may have [Perfect Memory], but I still have to intentionally recall what I want to remember. He may not be thinking about it.

I begin to slowly pull my Pokin’ Stick, now a woody metal, from my fanny pack of holding as they speak.

“Ya still shouldn't be reading ahead, but the reference sections are fine. Just be mindful, like doing the one on, one off method that I recommended in the footnotes of the alchemy section. You'll build the reference sections back up just swapping notes with future selves.” Scab Cy says as I shift my walking to be on the right side behind Healing Cy.

I give an “uh-huh.”

“And, obviously, the journal doesn't have every detail on these trials. You'll have to do some legwork yourself.” Healing Cy says as I swing my metal stick full force, 14th concussion style, at the blind side of his head.

It cracks with a reverberating thwum against a purple shield of magic that appears in the blink of an eye. My arm shakes with the aftershocks from the hit, and I turn to back up and feel everything go slightly leaden. The tiles underneath me crack from the floor and lift, snapping shut around my ankles like a bear trap so quickly I barely even see it. I look up and back to my future selves to see them moving in a blur of speed, but— just shuffling and gesturing normally, but sped up.

My eye catches on some dust disturbed by the movement. The dust nearby moves normally, but just a foot or two beyond it dances and flits around frantically in the light. I'm in a localized [Slow] spell.

“I'm speeakiing sloowly sso youu understaand mee.” Healing Cy says, and his voice is odd and awkward, reaching my ears in a cluster as his body moves in fast forward, even his simple movements like shifting his weight from foot to foot are exaggerated by the speed.

Scab Cy saying something to Healing Cy while he slowly enunciates his next words sounds like chattering squirrels in comparison.

“Iiif ii droop the speelll will yoouu plaaay niice?”

I nod, sighing and putting away my Pokin’ Stick.

The [Slow] drops, and it's like a weight lifts from my chest.

Healing Cy gives me a pitying thumbs up.

“Good try though.”

“Yeah, great swing.” Scab Cy agrees.

“Cy! Are you rupturing the tiling?!”

“Oh shit. Fix it, fix it!” Healing Cy yells.

The tiles fall away from my ankles and my future selves desperately start casting some repair spells of some kind. I just step away and lament my failed ambush. I suppose that would have been too easy.

They finish casting the spell, and turn back to me, brushing themselves off. They share a look of barely hidden excitement, significance between their gazes.

“So, seems like you want to do the duel. Gotta say though, clubbing me upside the head wasn't what I had in mind.” Healing Cy says.

“If you'd succeeded, it would still have been an achievement, but not the same.” Scab Cy clarifies.

“The fight would've been too martially focused since you kinda suck at magic right now, and we want [Mage] experience. So, if this duel were to happen, it'd be after like a week of you studying up and learning some spells.” Healing Cy continues.

I can see his intentions, and can admit I don't know what the standards are for magical ability, but the insult to my magical acumen sits offended in my stomach.

“You idiots are giving me prep time?” I say, talking out of my ass.

“Trust me, you're gonna need it.” Scab Cy jokes.

“If you choose the duel.”

“Which, I gotta remind you, is considered an impossible task. And once you decide you're gonna do it, there's no going back. That'll be the timeline you pick. Is that your choice?” Healing Cy asks. They both stare at me intently.

I want to respond instinctually, the habitual fight-taker in the back of my head kicking at the controls, but my forbearance comes through. I ask follow up questions, and resist a hasty decision.

“How many tries do I get?”

“As many as it takes. This wouldn't be wrestling rules— hypothetically. You’re not gonna kill yourself out there.”

“What constitutes me ‘beating’ you?” I ask.

The two share a look, and Scab Cy snickers. The idea of me beating them being laughable rankles me.

“Standard [Mage] duel rules. Either getting your opponent to the point where they cannot continue— unconscious or completely subdued— or they forfeit. So, unlikely.”

“Ey give him credit, he could probably get a pity forfeit.” Healing Cy jokes.

“Yeah, but he's still gotta earn it. We don't want him getting grovelling skills.” Scab Cy replies, an electric excitement building between them as I can tell they're goading me.

“I'll do it.” I say.

They turn to me, that building energy feeling almost tangible.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Are you absolutely sure? Cuz you're gonna get your ass beat.”

“It's not like I haven't before. Yes god damnit.”

The air practically vibrates with a prickle.

“Last chance to back out. There's no take-backsies.” Healing Cy says with a wide grin.

I gesture aggressively, exasperated and provoked.

“Yes, you little shit! I can take you fuckers! I choose the duel!” I shout into the air.

The world around us snaps into place, and it feels like a nerve in my head tweaks, discomfortingly. My choice irreversibly setting us into a specific timeline.

Scab Cy starts uproariously laughing while healing Cy leans forward with a hand on his knee as he lets out a relieved breath.

“Oh thank the grandfathers, I was really worried we were in a branch for a second there!” He says to Scab Cy, who has to stammer out his next words between bouts of laughter.

“D— Do— do you remember— what happens next?” Scab Cy breathes.

Healing Cy’s eyes alight and they turn to me, expectantly.

I know a trap when I see one, but if I wanna know what the trap is, I gotta spring it.

“So… which of you am I fighting?” I ask.

They turn to each other, and fall apart into peals of laughter.

My stomach sinks, and I try to figure out what I missed. Maybe they're both going to fight me simultaneously? But the task said ‘future self' not ‘selves’.

“Ahahah-haa!” Healing Cy laughs.

“He thinks it's gonna be one of us!”

“Oh man, sometimes our past self being a moron is fuckin’ hilarious.

Scab Cy says, wiping a tear and walking up to me. He puts a hand on my shoulder that I want to slap away.

“Kid, that'd be too easy. Nah, you're fighting our future self.”

“I am so sorry, bud. This… is gonna suck.” Healing Cy says.

“How— how far in the future is he?” I ask, sudden dread filling me as I remember the tier 9 self that had a presence like his eyes were the event horizon to a singularity of endless years condensed into a single moment.

“Dude, I don't even know.” Healing Cy admits.

“But it's not my problem! I'm done!” He says with a relieved laugh, then massages a shoulder, his exhaustion catching up with him as he finally relaxes.

“Yeah man, ya did great.” Scab Cy says to Healing Cy.

“You don't gotta go back for this guy immediately. Take a week off, you earned it.”

Scab Cy gestures at me with his head as he takes out the leftover [Refreshing Treat] bundt cake and hands it off to Healing Cy.

“Ooo. Thanks. I'll relax for a bit, then.” He fills his mouth with bundt cake, and speaks around it.

“I’wll be bhack nwext wheek form de duel though.”

He swallows.

“What're you gonna do for the next week?” He asks Scab Cy.

“I’ve got some axe-errands to run. Spoilers.” He says with a wink.

“What about me?” I ask.

They turn to me.

“What about you?”

I look between them, confused.

“What should I be doing?”

“You've got a duel next week. Go study magic.”

I pause for a moment.

“You're not gonna… put me through some kinda training montage or anything?”

Healing Cy snorts.

“We already brought you to the greatest library in the world. What more do you want from us?”

“Remember when I said your future selves can't do everything for you, or you'd never level? The gauntlet is the epitome of that. You gotta be the one to do the impossible. Not us. Ya gotta earn it.” Scab Cy says, looking me in the eye with a severe look.

He backs up, and gives a small salute.

“Good luck, kid.”

He disappears.

I sputter and turn to Healing Cy, halfway through shoving a bundt cake down his throat.

“Don't look at me. I'm on vacation.” He says, and disappears too.

I find myself in an endless labyrinth of books and artifacts, suddenly alone and looking around for the next threat or for some future version of myself to pop out of the woodwork and yell something at me.

When that doesn't happen, I just stand stupidly, rubbing my hand against the side of my pants while looking around at the endless books and artistic tiles beneath me.

“...hey what the fuck?!” I yell, incredulous laughter bursting through my voice, that quickly turns hysterical at the absurdity of my situation, until the hand running through my hair grips tight as the laughter curdles into a growl of anger.

“What now?!” I shout to no one, half expecting an ancient immortal librarian to pop out and shush me.

Now, I guess I study. I still have that book of low tier spells that they gave me, only really learned [Frostbite] from that. I begin to pull it from my fanny pack of holding, until a flare of anger wells up and I have to throw the book to keep myself from trying to tear it.

I take a deep breath, and just slump down against a bookcase, the edges of the books poking into my back uncomfortably. I hit my head back against the wood, and twist my eye shut to just breathe for a second.

“...this is insane. I'm insane— I mean, shit, I knew that, but— God, I killed a guy today! And watched my future self just casually kill more! Is that— I should really not say this kinda stuff out loud…”

“To any hypothetical eavesdroppers; that was a metaphor! Not a confession!” I yell out to the library, almost hoping someone will come to shush me so I'm not just— alone.

I've been in survival-mode for the last— week, really, but the last day has been hellish. It's tough being Baby Hitler.

I wonder if those stars above me mean that it's night. I'm so tired. The constellations are all new. I wonder what their names are.

My head leans on my forearms between my knees as I sit. The only time I was able to let my guard down even a bit was with Demarcus and the gang.

The thought of them adds a knife to the knife block of my gut. I promised I'd go back once I can time travel. How long is that actually gonna be? And what level? I could read ahead and check the book but— God, I'm almost tempted to, but the worst part is, I understand the rules of this damned thing. If I read ahead, whatever I read is now set in stone. What if I don't like what I see?

Well, during the mentor meeting in the tutorial, ‘he’ said he had to grab his new book and immediately come back to me after reaching tier 4. Apparently reaching a new tier is a big deal, so it'd make sense if I learned to time travel at the same time I become tier 3.

I really want to level, then.

I miss them.

That's an odd thought that I don't dwell in, and instead focus on the fact that leveling only comes in sleep. I've definitely earned one with all this bullshit. I get to my feet with a grunt, and snatch the little spellbook off the floor.

I begin walking down the halls of bookcases, hoping to find that mansion I saw earlier, but I can't find any landmarks. I think I see the edge of one of the astrological telescopes far in the distance, so I start heading that way, eyeing the covers of books as I walk, thinking.

God what have I got myself into? I lift a book called Secrets of the Viridian and begin to leaf through it as I walk, simply because it had the word ‘secrets’ and this place is supposed to be a personal sanctum with all kinds of ancient and forbidden books in it.

Am I really this self-destructive? I mean, I know I am. I suppose I always have been. Can't have anyone else ruin your life if you leave it in ruins beforehand. But, God damn, what did that freaky paladin say?

Be kind, considerate, merciful. Think of those you leave behind and the consequences. Try to create more than you destroy.

I fuckin’ wish, dude.

I try to be, I really do, but every single time I do, someone takes advantage of that and it all goes to shit. Even in little ways, and it's the little ones that needle me the most. When’s the last time I was able to give a non-backhanded compliment without someone assuming I was up to something or mocking me for it? Probably with Demarcus. I hope future me is treating them well right now. I wonder what they're up to?

The book reads like a dry historical account. There's some scandal with their God and a lying [Archbishop], but I have no context for any of it. I set it down on a random shelf and remember that this is someone's library. I look back the way I came, but for the life of me can't see where I got it from. I wince and decide leaving it out somewhere will make it easier to find than just putting it on a random shelf. There's no tables around me, or surface, so I wind up uncertainly placing it on the floor, then fast-walking away, cringing in shame. Maybe Alex’s annoyance with me is warranted.

I can get pushed to it, the system can be broken and force me to do things to survive, I can be fooled or taken advantage of, but— even if the blame for my actions doesn't rest solely on my shoulders, the responsibility for them is mine alone.

Even things I haven't done yet? ‘Now that's a philosophical question for the ages’, I think, coming to a corner where the bookshelf ends and a tableau scene with some knights confronting a wizard in his study is on display. Real armor on wax figures, and the furniture is all real.

“Huh, the magic’s real too.” I say, tapping a finger against the orange flowing barrier spell between the wizardy dude and the knights.

No, not things I haven't done yet. They're not completely my responsibility. I think, poking the tip of one of the Knight's swords and pricking my finger. I suck on my bloody fingertip as I ruminate.

I can't take responsibility for things I haven't done yet; the killing, the chaos, the theft, all the insanity I've put myself through these last 24 hours— I haven't done anything to warrant all of this. But, I am the man that that man used to be. The foundations are all within me. I can take responsibility for those. But what can I even do about it?

Be kind, be considerate, be merciful.

Just do your best.

I sigh.

I defeatedly turn and jog back to where I set the book on the floor, and use my [Perfect Memory] to vividly picture the shelf I pulled it from, walking back and scanning the shelves until I find its original location, and huffily put it back. I return to the wizard display, talking to myself.

“Alright. Whatever the case, I'm in it now. I gotta just… do what I think is best. And right now, what I think is best is learning some sick-ass magic and not getting my shit pushed in by my future self. I can be as nice as I want when I'm too powerful for anybody to take advantage of.”

I slump down on a cushioned bench in the model study.

I pull out the spellbook, and begin flipping through it, excited and slightly overwhelmed by the options. I suppose I'll learn them all eventually, but will I be able to in the next week?

Ya know what? I think. This is why I've got a book about the future.

It ain't reading ahead cuz imma be reading about study-week.

I pull out my [Traveler's Journal], and the skill lets me flip directly to the relevant page.

Started with [Shield]. It's a little tricky but it is the most useful spell in that lil book. Then went for [Fog Cloud], a smoke screen is always useful. Suck in moisture, then flash heat it. Magically tint the liquid for more obscuring fog. Blue, or greenish-brown, if you wanna blend in with it.

Should ask Alex and the folks upstairs for help. You've got a full run of the library, which includes magic tutors. Ask ‘em about which spells are the most versatile, fundamental, or necessary. You won't be able to learn a spell to beat your future self on its own. You're gonna have to cheese it somehow. Alex is probably one of the most well-versed beings on magic in creation— if you can get her to tell you anything.

Ignore half of what they tell you, they'll give you so much grief on your technique and whatnot, but a lot of it's just snobbyness. It doesn't have to be perfect, it's just gotta work.1

1Regrets. — future Cy

“Ominous, but convenient.” I say, and a thought catches me and I flip to the ‘Paradoxes’ section instead of putting away the book.

I flop over, lying down on the bench as I begin to read.

The Virgin Birth Paradox

The virgin birth paradox refers to events, information, and matter that only exists because of, or within the constraints of, a time loop. It is a development of the bootstrap paradox, that sets up for further questions about the free will of individuals involved in time travel.

Example;

A version of yourself from the future appears before you, they carry a jar of pickles, and blueprints.

They quickly explain that in 20 years you will build a time machine using these blueprints, and must bring these pickles back with you. They then hand you the pickles and the blueprints. Before they leave, they reluctantly slap you in the face. When you ask why they did so, they explain that they were required to do that, as they remember it happening from your perspective, and the time loop must be preserved.

In 20 years you do exactly as they did, in the exact same way that they did.

In this example, the virgin birth paradox offers these 3 questions.

Where did the pickles come from?

How was the time machine invented?

Why did you slap yourself in the face?

***

As for 1. There are several things wrong with this:

The pickles exist only in the time loop, coming into existence (from your perspective) when you were given them, and then you give the exact same pickles to your pest self. They would have to have no origin or exit to the loop, making them simultaneously brand new and infinitely ancient.

The pickles would age and decay during the course of the time loop, and therefore cannot be given in exactly the same state the young self received them in.

If they only exist within the duration of the time loop, received in the past and given in the future, where did they come from, and where did they go? (Cotton eyed Joe)

Why are they involved at all?

There is one possible theory relating to this, but still not explaining why they exist at all. I am calling it

The time travel and conservation of mass interaction

Or

The pickle jar theory

This theory states that the law of conservation of mass holds true in the face of time travel, but interacts strangely.

Mostly stating that while matter cannot be created or destroyed, only changed, this applies to the whole of time.

Meaning that the universe, or the Great Work— something— will take measures to ensure the matter involved in time travel is merely temporarily displaced, with an origin.

In the above example, this would mean that during the 20 year period, you would be predestined to drop and shatter the pickle jar, preventing you from giving it to ‘past’ you. You would therefore have to go and buy a new jar of pickles, which would, in turn, be the same jar of pickles in a younger form.

This also implies that, while the amount of mass in the universe at one time may increase or decrease while matter is displaced by time travel, it still cannot be created or destroyed.

This theory falls apart a bit in the Wider World, where physics doesn't quite work the same and Magical Bullshittery permeates into the very foundations.

***

As for #2, “how was the time machine invented,” I cite ‘Magical Bullshittery,’ the existence of Gods, or the ‘time traveler's influence theory: arbiter solution’ written further below.

***

For #3, the sourceless predestined decision to slap younger self, and, subsequently, aspects of 1 and 2, I have a single diverging theory.

The time traveler's influence theory

This theory states that events in time are not determined chronologically, and that any events that are supposedly sourceless or purposeless exist because of the influence of something relevantly involved in the time travel that occurred.

If something involved in the time travel desires— or is predisposed to— certain things, those desired or predisposed things might relevantly occur in the act of time travel.

This is where the theory diverges, into two incredibly loose and philosophical “solutions”

The participant solution

&

The arbiter solution

***

The Participant Solution is where something that travels through time will, consciously or subconsciously, influence the events that will then transpire as a result of said time travel.

In the above example that means that the reason the pickles are involved at all, is possibly because the subject is fond of pickles.

Potentially, on the day the pickle jar broke and needed replacement, the subject felt like eating pickles. When the replacement (though the same) pickles were purchased, they ate one of the pickles.

This means that their want for pickles, though not happening during either event where time travel occurred, caused the pickles to be relevant, and exist relevant to the time loop.

It is possible this is because time travel causes the chronology of events to blur, and therefore “when” the events of the time travel were determined, all aspects of things involved during the time loop were taken into “consideration.”

I call this simultaneous causation; when time travel jumbles up chronology, so events in the future can cause events in the past, and then those past events will paradoxically cause the same future events.

Similarly, though more philosophical, the reason they time traveled at all, and a time machine was sourcelessly created, may be because of the subjects desire to time travel.

The slap potentially because, even though they were required to slap themselves to maintain the time loop, they perhaps wanted to do so in the moment they were predestined to. (A sentiment I can very much relate to. Who hasn't wanted to slap their past self in the face?) Therefore making it exist at all.

This is relevant to another theory, the effects of belief on predestination, further above.

***

The Arbiter Solution is where something not actively time traveling but causing the time travel, influences the events that take place.

For instance, similarly to above, various wants, desires, or predispositions of someone facilitating the time travel will Influence it.

Or, much larger and ineffable, the Great Work or various Gods influence the events. That when something as strange, significant, and loose as time travel occurs, the subconscious of the universe determines strange side effect events. The ascension of Gods apparently determines how reality works, and the Great Work is the machine that facilitates existence (at least in the Wider World), so there's gotta be some bias that'd predispose certain events to transpire.

This can be things like;

A sense of humor

Relevancy of rain due to time travel in a location where a lot of rain occurs

The existence of crabs

Getting my ass constantly handed to me on a silver platter, cuz apparently whether or not I've recently gotten my shit pushed in is a load-bearing pillar holding the universe up.1

A storytelling arc. I still don't quite understand this one perfectly, but this is something built into the Great Work itself. As is evidenced by the way branched timelines are trimmed, and the existence of “Outliers.”

1Note from day 677 Cy: Ignore this. I was a little pissy about getting my ass beat at the time2

2Note from day Tier 6 Cy: Actually, the original text might be onto something.

…

‘Crabs?’ I mouth the word silently to myself as I finish the section on this paradox. I yawn, growing introspective as I think about the odd scientific tone I apparently take on when I write this sort of stuff. I suppose I am self taught from random textbooks and encyclopedias from the public library. Had to pick it up from somewhere.

I put the binder away, back in my fanny pack of holding, and pull the wide and musty sheet of cloth I found in the display tighter over me as I blearily pull out my spellbook.

I begin flipping to the section on [Shield], laying on my side on the cushioned bench and reading the book from an odd angle. The Virgin Birth paradox explains why my original binder went into the lava, and why Healing Cy had to research and make the ‘Gauntlet of Choice’ (stupid name) instead of having it in the binder. Is that what happens when I run into a paradox I can't resist? The Great Work just reaches down with the hands of fate and shifts the events to make it so the paradox is impossible? Don't like that. Don't like the idea of Gods influencing the events of my time travel either.

…My?

I'm barely reading as I ruminate on the participant solution; All this chaos and murder, the pain, the self-flagellation, constantly having to deal with my literal self— is it all because that's just who I am?

I want to have control over my own fate, but will I ruin it once I do? I drift off to sleep with that old familiar refrain that's filled my slumbering thoughts on more nights than I can count;

‘I want to be better.’

***

Level-up! Tier 2 [Half-baked Time Traveler], level 1 — Tier 2 [Half-baked Time Traveler], level 3

Skill upgraded: [Lesser Paradox Resistance] — [Serviceable Paradox Resistance] (passive, upgradeable)

Skill earned: [Overlooked Incongruence] (passive)

Skill earned: [In English, Please] (active)