Ark 2 chapter 9 the loop and fated memorial
Retro tried to regain his bearings, his vision swirling, his breath coming in sharp gasps.
The world around him felt distorted, as if it was bending beneath Phantom's mere presence.
But he forced himself forward.
One step. Then another.
Then-
He broke into a sprint, charging Phantom head-on, fists crackling with energy, his instincts screaming for him to strike first.
But before he could even blink-
A sharp, sickening pain erupted in his chest.
His body jerked forward violently, his momentum shattered as something cold and unrelenting tore through him.
He looked down.
A black blade had impaled him-straight through his chest.
Phantom had already won.
Retro's hands trembled, his fingers instinctively reaching for the blade, gripping it despite the sheer agony radiating from the wound.
His vision blurred, but through the pain, he saw Phantom's hollow white eyes staring down at him-calm, almost indifferent.
Then-
The blade ignited.
Black flames surged to life, racing up the weapon, consuming his body in an unbearable heat that felt like it was searing into his very soul.
Retro gritted his teeth, a pained snarl escaping his lips as the flames devoured him from the inside out.
His knees buckled, his grip on the sword weakening, the fire eating away at his strength, his sanity, his very existence.
Before he could even attempt to break free-
Phantom's foot slammed down onto his chest.
The force was overwhelming, crushing him against the cold, unforgiving ground.
A crack of lightning split the sky above, illuminating Phantom's face for the briefest moment.
There was no malice in his expression.
Just a cold, absolute certainty.
Retro couldn't even scream.
Then-
Everything went dark.
A void consumed him, pulling him into an endless abyss of silence.
It felt like he was falling.
Like he was dying.
Then-
He woke up.
Retro shot upright, gasping for air,
His hands clutched his chest instinctively, expecting to feel the blade still lodged in him, the fire still burning his flesh-
But there was nothing.
No wound.
No blood.
No pain.
Just the cold, damp air of the boat's lower hall.
His breathing was ragged, his pulse pounding in his ears as he stared at his own hands, trembling.
What... was that?
A nightmare?
No
It was too real to be fake.
He could still feel the ghost of the pain, the fire, the weight of Phantom's foot crushing him.
His mind raced, trying to piece together what just happened.
A dream? An illusion? A warning?
Or had Phantom truly killed him in that moment-forcing him to relive the experience over and over again?
As Retro sat there, struggling to make sense of it, a faint voice echoed in his mind.
A whisper.
One that wasn't his own.
"..Not yet."
The words were barely audible, but they carried a weight beyond comprehension.
Retro's eyes widened, his breath catching.
Who-?
Before he could process it further, the boat lurched violently, sending a shudder through the hull.
Something was wrong.
And whatever was happening-
Retro knew Phantom wasn't done with him yet.
The ship groaned under the force of the storm, the violent winds tearing at the sails, the wooden hull splitting apart like it had reached its breaking point a thousand times before.
Retro barely had a moment to react—
Before the entire world turned sideways.
A deafening crack split the air as the ship's hull broke clean in half, sending him plummeting into the freezing abyss below.
The cold hit like a hammer, knocking the breath from his lungs as he sank into the depths.
He tried to swim upward, the surface so close—yet impossibly far.
The storm churned above, waves colliding violently, making escape nearly impossible.
A familiar pressure wrapped around him, pulling him deeper, deeper...
Like the ocean itself refused to let go.
Retro clenched his teeth, his lungs burning, his body fighting for air—
But something inside him whispered.
This has happened before.
And that was the moment it clicked.
A chilling realization crept into his mind.
This wasn't just a shipwreck.
This wasn't just a storm.
This had all happened before.
Like an unending cycle, an inescapable fate.
Retro's vision darkened, his strength fading as the sea dragged him into unconsciousness.
A sudden gust of wind. The crash of waves.
Retro's body lay motionless on the wet sand, the tide lapping at his boots.
His eyes flickered open, the gray sky above blurring into focus.
Pain shot through his body, but he forced himself to sit up, his hands digging into the damp earth.
Then, it hit him.
A suffocating weight in his chest.
A realization so heavy, so cruel, it made his blood run cold.
He was stuck in the loop too.
He slammed his fist into the sand, his voice raw with frustration.
"Fuck!"
The word echoed into the empty horizon, swallowed by the endless sea.
His body gave out, exhaustion overtaking him once more—
And the world went dark.
Retro wakes up to Cleo taking care of him like before. He plays dumb and does the same routine before. After getting up and then walking over to the small hut over by the village, retro sits down and takes a bite out of the food Cleo made.
Retro sat in stunned silence, his hands clenched into fists on the wooden table.
The food on his plate tasted the same.
Cleo's concerned eyes felt the same.
The air in the room carried the same stillness.
It was all the same.
Just like before.
Just like the last eight times.
Lex stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his golden eyes analyzing Retro carefully.
"So you're the troublemaker."
Retro didn't reply.
Instead, he stood up, his movements deliberate, precise—unnervingly controlled.
He walked toward Lex, not breaking eye contact, his expression unreadable.
Then, when he was only a foot away, he finally spoke.
"Why didn't you stop me?"
Lex's smirk faltered slightly.
A flash of realization flickered in his gaze.
Then—
His eyes widened.
"So you remember this time."
Retro's jaw tightened, his next words filled with frustration, exhaustion, and something deeper.
"All eight times, you fool."
The room fell into silence.
Lex exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well... that complicates things."
Cleo, who had been watching in quiet confusion, suddenly tensed.
"Wait—what do you mean eight times?"
Lex sighed, shaking his head. "Looks like we've got a lot to talk about."
Retro crossed his arms, his patience wearing thin. "Then start talking."
Lex's expression darkened, his usual cocky demeanor shifting into something far more serious.
"Fine." He leaned against the doorway. "But just know, Retro... if you've made it to eight loops, then you're already in deeper than you realize."
The air inside the hut felt heavier, the weight of Retro's words settling over the room like a dense fog.
Lex, his usual smirk gone, exhaled and finally spoke.
"Alright, listen up."
He stepped forward, pulling up a chair and sitting down with a relaxed posture, but his eyes—those sharp, golden eyes—were serious.
"You think this loop is just affecting you? It's not."
Retro narrowed his gaze, his arms still crossed. "Then what's really happening?"
Lex leaned forward slightly, intertwining his fingers.
"Time on this island isn't flowing naturally. It's not just looping—it's being forced to reset."
Cleo's expression darkened. "Forced? By who?"
Lex's lips curled into something between amusement and frustration. "Take a guess."
Retro's eyes flickered, his thoughts immediately shifting to the one person who had the power to manipulate time itself.
"Phantom."
Lex nodded. "Bingo."
Lex tapped his fingers against the wooden table.
"Every time the loop resets, the island itself rewinds—but only to a certain extent."
He gestured toward Cleo. "She never remembers. The villagers never remember. Only you do. You're the anomaly in this mess."
Retro's jaw tightened, his mind racing.
"And you?" he asked, his voice measured.
Lex smirked slightly. "I'm not supposed to be here, remember? I come from the future. Whatever Phantom's doing, it doesn't affect me the same way it does everyone else."
Retro exhaled sharply, his fingers twitching.
"So what's the point of this? Why would Phantom trap me here?"
Lex's expression turned unreadable.
"To wear you down."
Retro stiffened.
Lex continued, his tone low, careful.
"He's not trying to stop you outright, Retro. He's trying to break you. To exhaust you. To make you desperate."
Cleo's breath hitched, realization setting in.
"And when you're desperate, you'll make a mistake."
Lex nodded. "Exactly."
Retro ran a hand through his hair, frustration boiling beneath his skin.
"So you're telling me Phantom's just toying with me?"
Lex chuckled dryly. "More like conditioning you. He wants you to reach a point where you willingly step into whatever trap he's laid out."
Retro's fist clenched.
Cleo shook her head. "But if Phantom wants to break Retro, why not just keep resetting the loop indefinitely?"
Lex's golden eyes glinted.
"Because even Phantom has limits."
Retro frowned. "Meaning?"
Lex smirked. "Meaning this loop isn't perfect. There are cracks in it."
Retro stared at him, his mind sharpening. "Cracks?"
Lex nodded. "Yeah. And if we can find them... we might be able to break this cycle once and for all."
Retro's aura pulsed faintly, his exhaustion melting into cold determination.
"Then let's find those cracks."
Lex grinned. "Now you're speaking my language."
Retro leaned forward, eyes sharp. "Alright, Lex. If there are cracks in this loop, how do we find them?"
Lex stretched his arms, a lazy grin forming, but his golden eyes remained sharp.
"Simple. We break the pattern."
Cleo furrowed her brows. "The pattern?"
Lex nodded. "Everything in this loop is repeating, right? Same conversations. Same events. Same choices. That means if we do something completely unpredictable, we might force the loop to react differently."
Retro tilted his head, considering this. "You're saying we need to force a reaction?"
Lex pointed at him. "Exactly."
Cleo crossed her arms, her mind working through the idea. "Alright, then what are the fixed points in this loop? The things that always happen, no matter what?"
Lex held up his fingers, counting off.
Retro always wakes up in Cleo's hut.
The ship always sinks in the storm.
Retro always washes up on the beach.
Phantom's presence is always felt, but never directly confronted.
Lex smirked. "So if we break one of those, we cause an irregularity."
Retro crossed his arms, his mind sharpening with possibilities. "And the biggest event out of all of those?"
Lex grinned. "The shipwreck."
Cleo gasped slightly, her expression serious. "You're saying we stop the ship from sinking?"
Lex shrugged. "If we can prevent it—or at least change how it happens—then the loop has to adjust."
Retro's fingers tapped against the table, his instincts kicking in. "Alright. Let's test it."
Lex leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "Before we make a move, we need to make sure you can even carry your memories into the next loop. Eight resets, and you've remembered everything—that means you are the anomaly, Retro. You have control in this."
Cleo nodded. "Which means if we find a way to anchor you before the reset, you might be able to carry more control into the next loop."
Retro smirked slightly. "And how do you suggest we do that?"
Lex's grin widened. "By making you experience something so significant that it overrides the reset."
Retro frowned. "You're being vague."
Lex snapped his fingers, pointing at Retro. "Pain. Intense pain. Something that physically shocks you right before the loop resets."
Cleo paled. "Wait, you're saying—"
Lex cut her off. "I'm saying Retro needs to die right before the loop resets."
The room fell silent.
Retro sighed. "You're suggesting I kill myself to remember more next time?"
Lex shrugged. "It's a theory."
Cleo, clearly disturbed, shook her head. "That's insane. What if it doesn't work? What if he just dies?"
Lex waved a hand. "He won't. The loop will reset before he fully dies."
Retro exhaled, rubbing his temples. "I hate that this makes sense."
Lex smirked. "I knew you'd say that."
Cleo groaned. "You two are impossible."
Retro, now fully committed, grinned. "Then let's break this damn loop."
The air in the hut felt suffocating, the weight of their decision hanging over them like an unspoken challenge.
Retro leaned back in his chair, exhaling sharply. "Alright. If we're going to force the loop to break, we need to do it right."
Lex nodded, arms crossed. "Then let's talk execution. You need to experience something extreme—something so jarring that your mind carries it into the next loop."
Cleo's jaw tightened. "I still don't like this."
Lex shot her a glance. "Yeah, well, we don't have a lot of options."
Retro smirked slightly. "Relax. If I don't come back, you have my permission to punch Lex."
Cleo sighed, rubbing her temples. "That's not the reassurance you think it is."
Lex chuckled. "I mean, I'd deserve it, but still."
Retro tapped his fingers against the table. "If this loop is consistent, then we need to time my 'death' at the exact moment before the reset."
Lex nodded, his expression focused. "Which means right before the shipwreck."
Cleo's brows furrowed. "Wait—are you suggesting he drowns?"
Retro exhaled. "If drowning in that storm has always been part of the loop, then maybe I can change how I die."
Lex snapped his fingers. "Bingo. If you choose your own death instead of letting the loop dictate it, we might trigger something different."
Retro glanced toward the small dagger on his belt. "Quick and painful, right?"
Cleo winced, crossing her arms. "I hate that we're talking about this so casually."
Lex grinned. "You get used to it."
Retro smirked. "I really don't want to know why you're so comfortable with this."
Lex shrugged. "Future's messy."
Cleo shot him a glare. "That's not an answer."
Lex grinned. "Sure, it is."
Retro rolled his shoulders. "Alright. Drowning is too slow. Stabbing myself is too controlled. But what about letting the shipwreck kill me instantly?"
Cleo's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
Retro leaned forward. "I don't fight the storm. I let the ship crush me. If I time it right, my last conscious thought should carry over to the next loop."
Lex grinned, impressed. "Now that's a plan."
Cleo sighed, massaging her temples. "I swear, I'm traveling with lunatics."
The air in the hut felt suffocating, the weight of their decision hanging over them like an unspoken challenge.
Retro leaned back in his chair, exhaling sharply. "Alright. If we're going to force the loop to break, we need to do it right."
Lex nodded, arms crossed. "Then let's talk execution. You need to experience something extreme—something so jarring that your mind carries it into the next loop."
Cleo's jaw tightened. "I still don't like this."
Lex shot her a glance. "Yeah, well, we don't have a lot of options."
Retro smirked slightly. "Relax. If I don't come back, you have my permission to punch Lex."
Cleo sighed, rubbing her temples. "That's not the reassurance you think it is."
Lex chuckled. "I mean, I'd deserve it, but still."
Retro tapped his fingers against the table. "If this loop is consistent, then we need to time my 'death' at the exact moment before the reset."
Lex nodded, his expression focused. "Which means right before the shipwreck."
Cleo's brows furrowed. "Wait—are you suggesting he drowns?"
Retro exhaled. "If drowning in that storm has always been part of the loop, then maybe I can change how I die."
Lex snapped his fingers. "Bingo. If you choose your own death instead of letting the loop dictate it, we might trigger something different."
Retro glanced toward the small dagger on his belt. "Quick and painful, right?"
Cleo winced, crossing her arms. "I hate that we're talking about this so casually."
Lex grinned. "You get used to it."
Retro smirked. "I really don't want to know why you're so comfortable with this."
Lex shrugged. "Future's messy."
Cleo shot him a glare. "That's not an answer."
Lex grinned. "Sure, it is."
Retro rolled his shoulders. "Alright. Drowning is too slow. Stabbing myself is too controlled. But what about letting the shipwreck kill me instantly?"
Cleo's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
Retro leaned forward. "I don't fight the storm. I let the ship crush me. If I time it right, my last conscious thought should carry over to the next loop."
Lex grinned, impressed. "Now that's a plan."
Cleo sighed, massaging her temples. "I swear, I'm traveling with lunatics."
The storm raged around him, the ship tilting violently as Retro stood at the bow, staring into the chaos.
The moment was exactly as he remembered—the waves rising, the mast cracking, the wind howling like a beast.
But this time—
He wasn't trying to survive.
He let the winds take him, his body weightless as the ship snapped in half beneath him.
Then—
A crushing impact.
A blinding flash of pain.
And finally—
Darkness.
Retro gasped, bolting upright in the hut once again.
Cleo turned, startled. "You're awake!"
Retro ignored her.
Instead, he looked toward the doorway—
And right on cue, Lex stepped in.
The moment their eyes met, Retro grinned.
"Nine times now, you fool."
Lex froze, then let out a low whistle.
"Well, shit. Looks like it worked."
Retro stood up, his movements sharp, his mind piecing together a pattern he had failed to see before.
Lex watched him closely, arms crossed. "Alright, Retro. What's the problem this time?"
Retro exhaled, stretching his shoulders before locking eyes with Lex. "The problem? The loop's still intact. Nothing's actually changed."
Cleo, who had been listening carefully, frowned. "But you just broke through, didn't you? You carried your memories across the reset."
Retro shook his head. "That's not enough. We're still stuck. And now I know why."
Lex narrowed his eyes. "Go on."
Retro clenched his fists, his mind racing back through every loop he could recall.
"In the seventh loop, I was killed by Phantom. In the eighth, the shipwreck. But neither of those changed anything."**
Lex nodded slowly. "Right... and?"
Retro's gaze darkened. "In the sixth loop, I was killed by the Ice Dragon on the mountain."
Cleo stiffened, realization dawning in her expression. "Wait... you're saying—"
Retro nodded. "Everything is connected to that mountain. The relic at the peak—it has to be the key."
Lex grinned, rubbing his chin. "Now that's interesting."
Retro smirked slightly, his eyes burning with determination.
"Then it's time we climbed that damn mountain and broke this loop for good.
The air outside the hut was colder than before, as if the island itself sensed what was coming.
Retro, Lex, and Cleo moved quickly, knowing that every second counted.
No more waiting.
No more testing theories.
It was time to act.
The path toward the mountain loomed in the distance, an ominous silhouette beneath the broken sky.
The storm above it churned unnaturally, as if the mountain itself was resisting their approach.
But Retro wasn't hesitating this time.
The first stretch of the journey took them through the dense forests surrounding the village.
✔ The trees were eerily silent, the usual sounds of wildlife completely absent.
✔ The ground felt... wrong. As if time itself was unstable, small patches of land flickering between present and past versions of themselves.
✔ A faint pulse could be felt beneath the earth, like a heartbeat beneath the island's surface.
Lex's sharp eyes scanned the surroundings."Feels different this time, huh?"
Cleo, walking carefully beside Retro, nodded. "It's like the loop knows we're trying to break it."
Retro exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. "Then let's hit it harder."
The deeper they traveled, the more distorted reality became.
The sky flickered, showing glimpses of previous loops—fractured moments of Retro's past deaths appearing for brief seconds before vanishing.
His own corpse flickered in and out of existence along the trail—his body crushed, burned, frozen.
But he kept walking.
Lex glanced at him. "You're not even reacting to seeing yourself die anymore."
Retro smirked slightly. "Takes a lot more than that to shake me."
Lex chuckled. "That's what I like about you."
By the time they reached the base of the mountain, the storm had intensified.
The wind howled, carrying whispers that weren't natural.
Retro could hear his own voice in the wind—whispers from previous loops playing back to him in broken fragments.
"You can't stop this."
"It's already set in motion."
"You were never meant to win."
Cleo shivered, gripping her cloak tighter. "It's like the mountain is alive."
Lex cracked his knuckles. "Then let's show it what we're made of."
Retro stepped forward, his aura pulsing, his fists clenched.
"Let's break this loop."
With that—
They began the climb.
The storm raged harder as they climbed higher, the howling winds screaming around them, cutting through their clothes like icy blades.
Every step was a battle against the mountain itself.
Then—
The air shifted.
Retro stopped mid-step, his instincts flaring as a deep, rumbling growl vibrated through the very stone beneath their feet.
Lex's golden eyes flashed, his ears twitching slightly. "That sound..."
Cleo gritted her teeth, gripping the hilt of her blade. "It's back."
Retro's gaze snapped ahead, and through the blizzard, a massive shadow took form.
The Ice Dragon.
The guardian of the mountain.
The beast that had killed him in the sixth loop.
But this time—
It was waiting for him.
The dragon let out a deafening roar, its frost-covered wings spreading wide, sending a powerful gust of freezing air down the mountainside.
Retro exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the cold air.
"I've been waiting for this."
No hesitation.
Retro launched forward, his fist crackling with power, already moving before the dragon could strike.
Last time?
He had been caught off guard.
This time?
He was ready.
The dragon's massive claw came down, aiming to crush him instantly—
But Retro sidestepped, his reflexes sharper, his movements precise.
With a burst of speed, he leapt onto the dragon's forearm, using its own attack to propel himself toward its neck.
Lex moved swiftly, vanishing into the storm, using the terrain to his advantage.
"Cleo, cover me!" he called.
Cleo gritted her teeth, pulling out a scroll of fire magic, channeling a spell designed to weaken the dragon's frost armor.
With a quick incantation, she unleashed a blazing wave, the fire cutting through the storm, striking the dragon's underbelly.
The beast roared in pain, its ice-covered scales beginning to crack.
Lex used the opening, slashing at the joints of its wings, aiming to ground the creature before it could take flight.
The dragon howled, whipping its tail violently, nearly sending them flying off the mountain.
But Retro was already moving for the kill.
The dragon reared its head back, inhaling sharply—
It was preparing another devastating ice blast.
But Retro was faster.
He thrust his hand forward, summoning the power he had stolen from the last battle.
The energy of the Ice Dragon's heart still burned within him—
And now?
He unleashed it.
With a powerful punch, he struck the dragon's core, sending a shockwave of ice magic through its body.
The beast froze mid-attack, its own energy turning against it, its massive form locking in place like a statue.
Then—
With a final shattering sound, the dragon crumbled into mist, fading into the storm.
Gone.
Defeated.
For good.
As the last fragments of the Ice Dragon vanished, the storm began to calm.
Lex let out a slow exhale, rolling his shoulders. "Well, that was satisfying."
Cleo sighed, rubbing her arms. "I can't believe that thing is finally gone."
Retro stared at the empty space where the dragon once stood, his chest rising and falling steadily.
Then, with a smirk—
"One less obstacle. Let's get to that relic."
Without another word, they pressed on, the peak looming just ahead.
As Retro, Lex, and Cleo walked closer to the peak, the air became heavier—thick with something unnatural.
The wind had stopped. The cold had dulled.
Everything felt too still.
Then, it hit him.
A sudden, crushing wave of familiarity.
His steps slowed, his breath hitched, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
This place—
This exact spot—
He had been here before.
His mind raced, flashes of a memory he hadn't recalled before slamming into him all at once.
This is where I died to Phantom.
Retro stiffened, his entire body locking up.
Lex and Cleo noticed immediately, stopping just ahead of him.
"Retro?" Cleo asked, concern in her voice.
Lex, watching him carefully, frowned. "You remember something else, don't you?"
Retro slowly lifted his gaze toward the peak ahead.
A dark presence lingered there, waiting.
He could feel it.
Waiting for him.
Just like before.
The memory rushed through his mind like a raging storm.
The battle.
The sword through his chest.
The black flames consuming him.
Phantom's cold, indifferent gaze.
It wasn't a nightmare.
It wasn't just an illusion.
It had happened.
He had died here.
Retro gritted his teeth, his fists clenching at his sides.
"Not this time."
Lex raised an eyebrow. "You sure? If this is where you lost last time, you might be walking right into—"
Retro exhaled slowly, cutting him off. "That's exactly why I need to go forward."
Cleo, still uneasy, nodded. "Then let's make sure this time ends differently."
Retro took a step forward.
This time—
He wasn't going to die.
He was going to win.
And he was going to end this loop once and for all.
As Retro, Lex, and Cleo stepped onto the peak, they expected Phantom.
They expected the weight of his presence, the twisting of reality, the inevitable clash that had been waiting for them this entire time.
But instead—
The air was still.
The storm had vanished.
And at the very center of the peak—
Gaia stood waiting.
Her emerald eyes locked onto Retro, her expression unreadable.
The moment felt frozen in time, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Lex and Cleo stopped beside Retro, their stances tense, ready for a fight—but Gaia did not attack.
Instead—
She spoke, her voice carrying an undeniable command of authority.
"I have put a stop to him for now."
Her words echoed across the mountaintop, settling over them like an unshakable truth.
Retro's fists remained clenched, his heartbeat still hammering from the tension.
Lex, ever the skeptic, narrowed his eyes. "Stopped him?"
Gaia nodded. "Phantom cannot manifest here at this moment. But that will not last."
She then turned her full attention back to Retro, her gaze heavy with expectation.
"Get that relic."
Retro felt his chest tighten, something about her voice sending a pulse of urgency through him.
Gaia's next words came firm and absolute.
"And make sure it never returns here again."
Retro exhaled, his mind racing.
Something about this felt... final.
The relic was here.
Phantom had been stopped, but not defeated.
And now—
It was time to decide what came next.
Retro stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Gaia's as he spoke.
"What exactly am I taking? And why does Phantom want it?"
Gaia didn't hesitate.
"Because it is a piece of something far worse."
Gaia's words echoed in Retro's mind, but he didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, seizing the relic without a second thought. The moment his fingers wrapped around it, the sky fractured into darkness. A blinding white light exploded outward, consuming everything.
Then—silence.
As the light faded, Retro found himself standing exactly where he had been before—the same rocky shore, the same salty breeze, the same moonlit horizon. It was the night before their departure to Rockbound Island. The rhythmic crashing of waves filled the air, unbothered by the impossible shift in time.
He glanced down. The relic was still in his grasp.
Footsteps crunched on the gravel behind him. The old sailor approached, his voice carrying the same words as before, as if nothing had changed. But Retro knew better. He had lived this moment already.
The conversation played out as it had before, but this time, Retro barely listened. His mind was elsewhere, caught between the weight of the relic and the gnawing suspicion that the loop had shifted once again.
As the old sailor walked away, Retro exhaled sharply, glancing at his palm.
A note.
It hadn't been there before.
Unfolding it with steady fingers, his eyes traced the words scrawled across the page.
It was addressed to Lea.
Retro stared at the note for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Whatever was written inside, he wasn't ready to open it—not yet. With a quiet sigh, he folded it carefully and slipped it into his coat.
The waves continued their endless dance against the shore as he turned away, making his way back to the inn. The walk felt strange—too familiar, yet unnervingly different. He had done this before, but this time, he carried a relic that shouldn't exist in this moment.
As he stepped through the inn's doors, the warm glow of lanterns flickered across the wooden walls. Despite the late hour, the place was alive with noise—laughter, drunken chatter, and the occasional clatter of mugs slamming onto tables. The scent of ale and roasted meat lingered in the air, thick and comforting.
Retro barely paid the rowdy crowd any mind. He gave a brief nod to the innkeeper, who offered a familiar grunt in return, then made his way toward the stairs.
Each step creaked beneath his weight, a reminder of how real this all was. But was it truly real? Or was he still trapped in the loop, watching history repeat itself?
Reaching the top of the stairs, he exhaled, pressing a hand against the relic in his pocket.
Whatever was happening... he needed to figure it out.
And fast.
Retro reached his room, gripping the handle for a moment before pushing the door open. The dim glow of moonlight seeped through the small window, casting long shadows across the wooden floor.
Before stepping inside, he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder.
Nothing.
Just the empty hallway, silent except for the distant hum of conversation from below. Shaking his head, he exhaled and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.
He sat on the edge of the bed, the old frame creaking under his weight. The relic was still in his grasp, but his focus shifted to the note. As he unfolded it, a second slip of paper fell out.
Two letters.
His brow furrowed as he picked up the first one, smoothing out the parchment. The handwriting was familiar, precise yet hurried, as if written in a moment of desperation.
**"To our dearest daughter, Lea Rex Partheral,
If you are reading this letter, it means we didn't make it. The island is either fixed... or destroyed.
We are sorry for not being there. Stay with retro and lilly, I know it may be confusing but know that they are your uncle and aunt.
With all our love,
Cleo and Lex."**
Retro's grip on the letter tightened. The air in the room suddenly felt heavier.
He had been expecting something—but not this.
His gaze flickered to the second letter. If the first was meant for Lea, then what did the second one say? And more importantly...
Why was it here, in his hands?
Slowly, he unfolded the next letter.
Retro unfolded the second letter with trembling fingers. The moment his eyes scanned the first few words, his breath hitched.
This one was for him.
His vision blurred as he read, the words sinking into his heart like a blade.
---
**"Retro, if you're reading this, please take care of my daughter.
The island is disappearing, and we don't have much time left to explain. We gave up the last of our power to fix all of this.
I just hope my daughter is safe—with you and Lilly.
Stay safe and strong, brother.
—Lex Leon Partheral."**
---
Blood smeared across part of the letter, the dried stains a grim reminder of the price they had paid.
Then, the memories came crashing down.
All the loops. All the suffering. The deaths, the resets, the helplessness—Lex and Cleo had known the cost. And yet, they had sacrificed everything to break the cycle.
For Lea.
For Lilly.
For him.
A choked breath escaped his lips as he gripped the paper tightly, his shoulders shaking. For the first time in a long while, Retro cried.
Tears fell silently, dripping onto the worn parchment, mixing with the dried blood. He clenched his fists, his body trembling, but he didn't wipe them away.
He just sat there, letting the weight of it all sink in.
Because for once, he had no words. Only grief.
Only regret.
And a promise he could never break.
Retro didn't sleep.
He had spent the night staring at the letters, the words burned into his mind, the weight of them pressing down on his chest like an iron chain. Even when the lanterns in the inn dimmed and the rowdy voices faded into silence, he remained still, trapped in the storm of his own thoughts.
By the time the first rays of sunlight stretched across the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, he finally moved.
Quietly, he made his way downstairs, passing the slumbering patrons and the half-cleaned tables from last night's revelry. The innkeeper barely acknowledged him, busy setting up for the morning crowd. Retro didn't stop, didn't even look around—just kept walking, his steps heavy, his mind numb.
He stepped out the back door into the crisp morning air, heading straight for the well. The old stone structure stood in the clearing, its surface worn smooth by years of use. He gripped the rope and pulled up a bucket of water, the cool liquid sloshing inside.
Leaning over, he splashed his face, hoping the cold would snap him out of it. It didn't. The exhaustion clung to him, not just in his body but in his soul.
As he let the water drip from his chin, he heard light footsteps behind him.
"Boo!"
Lilly's voice was playful as she tried to sneak up on him, intending to tease him like she always did. But the moment she caught sight of his face, the words died in her throat.
She froze.
Retro didn't react to her presence. He just stood there, gripping the edge of the well, his knuckles white. His normally sharp, determined eyes were hollow—empty in a way that sent a chill down her spine.
"Retro...?" Her voice softened, the teasing gone.
He didn't answer.
For the first time, Lilly wasn't looking at the stubborn, reckless fighter she knew—she was looking at someone who had lost something irreplaceable. Someone who had broken but hadn't shattered just yet.
And that scared her more than anything.
Retro turned his head slightly, his gaze meeting Lilly's. Her hands were warm as she cupped his face gently, her thumbs brushing against his tired skin.
"What happened last night?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. There was no teasing now, no lightheartedness—only quiet concern.
For a moment, he didn't answer. He just looked at her, searching for something, though he wasn't sure what. Reassurance? Understanding? A reason to keep moving forward?
Then, with a slow breath, he spoke.
His voice was steady, but empty, like a man recounting a nightmare that refused to end. He told her everything.
The time loops. The deaths. The choices that led to each reset, the ones he had no control over. The relic that had forced him back to this moment. And finally... the letters.
He told her about Cleo and Lex's sacrifice. How they had given up everything to ensure their daughter's safety. How their last words had been entrusted to him. How their blood still stained the paper in his pocket.
As he spoke, he watched Lilly's expression shift—concern turning to shock, then grief, then something else. Something heavier.
When he finished, silence stretched between them.
The weight of his words hung in the air, unshakable. The morning light seemed too bright for the pain he had just unraveled, too indifferent to the torment that had unfolded beneath it.
Lilly didn't say anything at first. She just stared at him, her fingers tightening against his skin as if grounding him—reminding him that he was still here, still real.
Finally, she exhaled, her voice steady but laced with something raw.
"...You've been carrying all of this alone?"
Retro didn't answer. He didn't have to.
Because for the first time, someone else knew.
And maybe—just maybe—that was enough to keep him from falling apart.
Retro didn't answer.
He didn't need to. The silence between them said enough.
Lilly studied him for a moment longer, her golden eyes searching his hollow ones, as if trying to find the piece of him that was still holding on. Then, without another word, she gently pulled him forward, resting his head against her chest as she wrapped her arms around him.
Retro stiffened at first, instinctively used to keeping his distance—to carrying his burdens alone. But exhaustion weighed too heavily on him now, pressing down like an unseen force. He had no fight left in him.
So, for the first time in a long while, he didn't resist.
His arms moved slowly, hesitantly at first, but then he let himself lean into the embrace, resting against her warmth.
Lilly held him tighter, her grip firm but careful, as if afraid that if she let go, he might break apart completely. She didn't say anything—no reassurances, no empty words. Just quiet understanding.
And for Retro, that was enough.
Just this once, he allowed himself to be held.
Just this once, he allowed himself to breathe.
They lingered in each other's embrace for a few minutes longer, the warmth between them a quiet refuge from the weight of everything that had transpired.
Then, without warning, Lilly tilted her head down and pressed a soft kiss against Retro's lips.
He hesitated for only a moment before responding, his movements slow, almost uncertain—but he didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned into it, finding a fleeting moment of peace in the connection they shared.
There was no urgency, no desperation—just understanding. Just them.
When they finally parted, neither spoke about it. They didn't need to. The bond between them had long since been solidified, even before this moment.
Lilly gave him a small nod before they both turned to the well, splashing cold water onto their faces, washing away the exhaustion and remnants of the night before. The water did little to ease the burden weighing on Retro's shoulders, but at least it helped him feel somewhat present again.
As they stepped back inside the inn, Retro reached into his coat, retrieving the folded letter, and placed it in Lilly's hands.
"Take this and give it to Lea, please," he said quietly. His voice was steady, but there was something fragile beneath it. "I'll get dressed and meet you by the boat."
Lilly didn't hesitate. She held the letter close, her golden-dragon eyes locking onto his for a brief moment before she nodded.
"I will."
Without another word, she turned and headed out, her steps purposeful. Retro watched her go for a moment before exhaling, rubbing the back of his neck as he made his way upstairs.
There was still so much left to do. But for now, this was the first step forward.
Retro moved upstairs with slow, measured steps, his mind still weighed down by the events of the past night. He entered his room, closing the door behind him, and began gathering his things. His hands moved mechanically—grabbing his coat, fastening his gear, securing the relic—but his thoughts remained distant.
Then, a sudden noise shattered the morning quiet.
A loud, heart-wrenching cry echoed from below.
Retro froze, his grip tightening on the strap of his bag. For a moment, he considered ignoring it, pushing forward as if it wasn't his concern.
But something about the rawness of the sound—the sheer grief in it—made him pause.
With a heavy sigh, he slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way downstairs.
As he reached the bottom step, he saw the innkeeper standing behind the counter, his usual gruff demeanor absent. Instead, his eyes were heavy with sorrow as he looked at Retro, his lips pressed into a thin, somber line.
The noise hadn't stopped. Somewhere in the inn, someone was still crying.
Retro didn't ask. He just stood there, waiting.
Because deep down, he already knew what this was about.
And he wasn't sure he was ready to face it.
Retro already knew what the innkeeper was going to ask. He could see it in the man's weary eyes, in the way his fingers tightened against the counter as if bracing for an answer he wasn't ready to hear.
But before the innkeeper could speak, Retro interjected.
Without a word, he reached into his coat and pulled out the letter—the one addressed to him alone. He placed it in the innkeeper's rough hands, watching as the man unfolded the parchment under the soft glow of the morning light streaming through the windows.
Silence stretched between them as the innkeeper read. His expression shifted subtly—grief, understanding, something unspoken passing behind his tired eyes. When he finally looked up, his voice was quiet.
"Where do you plan on going?"
Retro didn't hesitate.
"I'm—no, we are going back home."
His voice carried a quiet resolve, firm yet tinged with exhaustion. He wasn't just speaking for himself—this was for all of them. For Lilly, for Lea, for the ones who had given up everything to break the cycle.
The innkeeper held his gaze for a long moment, then gave a slow nod, folding the letter carefully before setting it on the counter. Morning light flickered across the worn wood, casting long shadows across the quiet room.
There were no more words to exchange. Everything that needed to be said had already been written.
Retro adjusted his coat, his fingers brushing against the relic hidden in his pocket, and exhaled. Outside, the day was beginning—normal, indifferent to the weight of the past.
But for him, this was the first step toward something new.
Without another glance, he turned and walked toward the door.
It was time to go home.
Retro picked up the letter, folding it carefully before slipping it into his coat. Without another word, he turned and walked toward the docks, his boots crunching against the dirt path as he made his way to the old sailor by the boat. The early morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of salt and damp wood.
As Retro approached, the old sailor stood waiting, watching the gentle waves lap against the hull. He had the look of a man who had seen too much, who understood more than he let on.
Meanwhile, inside the inn, Lilly made her way upstairs. Her steps were lighter than usual, careful, knowing what was about to happen.
She reached the door and pushed it open gently.
Inside, Lea was standing near the bed, fastening the last buckle of her boots. She turned at the sound of the door, her sharp eyes meeting Lilly's.
Lilly didn't speak. She simply held out the note.
Lea hesitated, then reached out and took it, her fingers trembling slightly as she unfolded the parchment. Her eyes scanned the words—and then, the room filled with the sound of her choked sob.
Tears spilled down her cheeks as she clutched the letter, her body shaking as she cried openly. The weight of her parents' final words crashing down all at once.
Lilly stepped forward, hesitating for only a moment before pulling Lea into a hug.
Lea didn't resist. She gripped onto Lilly, burying her face in her shoulder as sobs wracked through her small frame.
Lilly didn't say anything. There were no words that could take away this pain. So she simply held her, rubbing small circles on her back, staying by her side as the girl mourned.
Because that was all she could do.
After what felt like an eternity, Lea's sobs finally softened into quiet sniffles. Her grip on the letter loosened, but the weight of it still lingered in her trembling hands.
Lilly gave her a moment before gently pulling away, keeping a steady hand on her shoulder. "Come on," she said softly. "We need to get going."
Lea wiped her face with the sleeve of her coat, nodding weakly. She didn't say anything, but the pain in her eyes spoke volumes.
Lilly helped gather the rest of their belongings and guided Lea to her feet. She kept close as they descended the stairs, moving at a careful pace.
As they reached the bottom, the innkeeper was already waiting. His arms were crossed, his expression solemn.
"I already know," he said, his voice quieter than usual. "Retro told me."
He turned, grabbing a wrapped bundle of warm food from the counter. With a sigh, he handed it to Lilly.
"Here. It's not much, but you'll need it. Stay safe out there, alright?"
Lilly took the bundle, nodding. "Thank you."
The innkeeper gave a small, tired nod before stepping back, letting them go.
Without another word, Lilly led Lea outside, the morning air cool against their skin.
The walk to the docks was quiet, the sound of distant waves filling the silence between them. As they approached, Retro and the old sailor came into view, standing near the boat, waiting.
Lilly exhaled, adjusting the food in her hands.
It was time to go.
Retro and the old sailor stood by the boat, their quiet conversation barely audible over the lapping waves. The morning sun had risen higher, casting long shadows across the worn dock.
As Lilly and Lea approached, Retro turned, his gaze immediately falling on Lea. Even after all she had been through, she still looked so small—shoulders trembling, eyes red from crying.
Without hesitation, he stepped forward and placed a firm but gentle hand on her head.
"It's alright, Lea," he said, his voice steady despite the weight in his chest. "It's alright."
She didn't answer, only letting out another shaky breath as more silent tears fell.
The old sailor watched the exchange, his sharp eyes softening as he pieced together what had happened. He had seen his fair share of grief before, but something about this moment made him pause.
He exhaled and adjusted his coat. "So then," he muttered, crossing his arms. "Where to?"
Retro pulled Lea into a hug, holding her close as he finally spoke the words.
"Laywing Island."
The old sailor's entire posture stiffened. His eyes widened as if Retro had just lost his mind.
"Are you mad, kid?" he barked, taking a step forward. "That place is cursed! No one in their right mind sails there—hell, half the damn maps don't even list it anymore!"
Lilly glanced at Retro, concern flickering in her expression, but he didn't waver.
He met the sailor's gaze, his arms still wrapped protectively around Lea.
"I know," Retro said simply. "But we're going anyway."
The old sailor let out a slow breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Damn fool..." he muttered. But there was something in his eyes—not just frustration, but understanding.
He glanced at the group, then at the boat, then back at Retro.
After a long pause, he exhaled sharply. "Fine. But if we all die, it's on your head."
Retro smirked faintly, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Wouldn't be the first time."
The old sailor just shook his head and started preparing the boat.
Lilly stepped beside Retro, looking at him with quiet curiosity. "Laywing Island?" she asked.
Retro's grip on Lea tightened slightly. "Yeah." He exhaled, eyes darkening. "There's something there we need to find."
Lilly didn't question it further. She simply nodded. "Then let's go."
And with that, their journey to Laywing Island began.