The world returned in a flood of warm sunlight. Days had passed, George could feel it in the weak rhythm of a newborn body slowly adjusting to life again. He lay in a small crib beside a window.His mother hummed a soft tune while folding tiny clothes. For a moment, one small, fragile moment, George felt peace. Then the door creaked open. A nurse entered, wheeling a small table. “Feeding time.”George watched carefully. He needed to learn. Every second mattered. As the nurse lifted him, she whispered: “You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?”George stared up at her. She smiled… but her smile froze. Her hands trembled. Her eyes widened as if she had seen something impossible behind him. “No…”she whispered. “Not again…”The room temperature dropped instantly. George felt frost crawl over the edges of the crib. His mother looked up. “Is something wrong?”The nurse stepped back, shaking. “There’s… there’s someone else here.”His mother frowned. “Who?”But George already knew. A shadow formed be

Light swallowed George whole. For a moment, he felt weightless, like his body had been peeled away, leaving only raw awareness floating in an empty space. No sound. No breath. No heartbeat.Then the light cracked apart. George stumbled forward, catching himself on cold stone. He blinked. He was inside… a room. A square chamber with walls carved from smooth white marble, glowing faintly from within. No windows. No doors.Except the one he came through. The red door now stood behind him. But something was wrong. The handle was gone. The keyhole was gone. The door had become a solid slab, as if it had never been meant to open again.George cursed under his breath. “What the hell did you drag me into?”A voice answered: “Your seventh chance.”George turned sharply. Someone was standing in the center of the room. Not the boy. A man, tall, calm, wearing simple grey robes. Barefoot. Dark hair tied loosely behind him. Eyes a still, impossible silver.George’s spine locked. He knew that face.

The tower quaked as the Sovereign stepped fully into the chamber, each footfall shaking the stone like a heartbeat made of thunder. Golden fire poured slowly from the creature’s hands, dripping like molten sunlight and burning the floor where it touched.George’s pulse spiked.Rion grabbed his arm. “Up the stairs! NOW!”George didn’t argue, he sprinted. The spiraling staircase clung to the inner wall of the tower, steep and narrow. Blue lanterns flickered wildly as he ran upward two steps at a time.Behind him, the Sovereign’s voice thundered: “SEVENTH-SOUL. YOUR THREAD ENDS HERE.” George shouted down, breath ragged. “Rion! Why is that thing after me?!”Rion sprinted behind him, cloak snapping like torn wings. “Sovereigns hunt what threatens the balance! Your stolen fates, your extra lives, they see all of it as corruption!”“I didn’t ask for any of this!”“Intent does not matter to a Sovereign!”A beam of golden fire ripped past them, blasting through the staircase. Stone crumbled. G

George’s body plunged through the collapsing floor, swallowed by a blinding white abyss. No gravity.No sound. No air. Only endless brightness stretching in every direction.He twisted in free fall, arms flailing, but there was nothing to grab, nothing to slow him, nothing to define up or down. Just falling.Forever. “HELLO!”he shouted, but the sound scattered like dust in the void. His chest tightened. His breath vanished. His bones vibrated from the Sovereign’s touch that had seared into him like a brand. They built you to end everything.The words echoed again inside his skull. “No…”George gasped. “No, NO!”He tried to steady his mind, but fragments of visions slammed into him, destruction, flames, galaxies breaking apart, thousands of spirits bowing around a ritual circle.And at the center of the ritual, a child with his face. George clutched his head and screamed. “STOP! STOP SHOWING ME THIS!”The white void trembled. A ripple formed in the distance, spreading outward like a s

George hit the ground HARD.Air slammed out of his lungs, dust exploding upward as his body skidded across cracked pavement. The world around him spun, blinding light, blaring horns, shouting voices. He lay on his back, staring up at a gray morning sky. Rain clouds choked the horizon. Car tires screeched somewhere nearby.A woman shouted, “HEY! YOU ALMOST HIT HIM!”George groaned, pushing himself up. His bones felt… new. Softer. Younger. The familiar heaviness of a seasoned fighter was gone. His joints didn’t ache. His muscles were lean, not hardened by violence.He wasn’t broken. He wasn’t dying. He wasn’t bleeding. He was alive. And human again. A teenager, maybe seventeen. A crowd gathered around him.“Kid, you alright?”“Should we call someone?”“Is he hurt?”George blinked. Final life… this is my final life. The boy’s last warning echoed like thunder in his skull: “If Asher hesitates even once, RUN.”George staggered to his feet, ignoring the hands reaching to help him. He didn’