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The Day that Darkened

🇺🇸Austin_Scanlon
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Synopsis
*Updates every Wednesday and Saturday* Reiss is a [Florist]. Or at least he was before he became a [Regressor]. His first skill, [Orgin Point], allowed him to travel back in time to his starting position.   In the world of Aurelia, the world of Classes, Levels, and Skills. The highest-leveled rule. The Emperor of Dreams keeps the world in check through prophetic visions. For decades the world has been safe from global war and disaster. No more. The Emperor has been having spine-chilling nightmares. Levels alone can't stop what is coming. He sees the shadows of innumerable invaders and the complete annihilation of Aurelia. A cataclysm that is impossible for a single world to birth.   Now.   Reiss expended all 364 uses of [Origin Point]. Again, he failed to save Aurelia. He returns for the final time, as his death lights up Aurelia, casting a shadow over his conquered world. *This is an original novel. Any relation to pre-existing characters, locations, or otherwise is purely coincidental.* (Cover Art is my own artwork.)
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Chapter 1 - Prologue - The Day that Darkened

It happened around the world of Aurelia. Slow at first. Then as sudden as extinction.

It was the same in every city. Every town. Every little village and hamlet.

A man stood in the middle of the street of Korel. He paid no mind to the passerby's of the thoroughfare, often knocking into him. He looked up into the cosmos, ignoring the beastkin who were put off by his scent. They were the first to notice something was wrong. They hurried their children away, fur standing on end.

A man stood in the plaza before the Palace of Dreams, ignoring the guards' furious shouts and soldiers around him. His lips curved upwards, basking in the pitter-patter of gentle rain.

A man stood on a dirt road, muddy from recent rainfall. He clenched his fists, his nails grinding into age-old grooves. He gazed to the heavens through his furrowed eyebrows, failing to control the shaking of his shoulders. The village of Oster was small, housing only a hundred individuals. Yet this is where things always went wrong. It took all his effort not to shout before the others.

A recluse tribe of Harpies flew around in a hurried fashion. They gathered outside the main temple of their mountain home, chattering worriedly as they watched a human appear in their court for the first time in centuries. Seated cross-legged on a soft mat, he gazed skyward like all the rest. This one afforded himself a soft inaudible sigh.

Reiss plopped down in the mud. His time was done. A new iteration will come to pass. He had failed once again. "How many times" he had been asked. He always responded the same way.

"Not enough."

His fire hadn't gone out. A roaring inferno blazed in his soul, scorching the edges of his vision. Reiss trembled uncontrollably.

The others spread across the land and sea spoke at last.

"Failure."

They echoed.

The noise was small enough to be lost to the wind. The ones who would have listened to his cry were all dead. Their bodies surrounded the real Reiss at this moment. Pieces strewed here or there. Krom was pinned to the earth by a ballista bolt. Vultures had already plucked Lizzy's eyes out. The rest lay dead at his feet on a battlefield drenched in crimson petals.

The roar of the downpour was white noise in Reiss' ears as he held the last remnant of this iteration in his arms.

"Nell..."

His voice cracked as he stroked her frigid skin. Reiss closed her eyes long ago but still imagined them fluttering open coyly, like always. The love of all his lives.

Reiss gave a final, shuddering sigh as he glanced at a watch attached to his wrist. An ordinary watch. It was a gift from his beloved—an inside joke from his 42nd iteration. Now, the frame was broken beyond recognition, and the tiny gears shouldn't be operable. Still, Reiss could hear the mocking tick-tock echo through the white noise.

His time was up.

Gently, lovingly, he laid the corpse on the wet earth.

Putting a hand to his knee to steady himself, he slipped in sloppy refuse and mangled debris. Thrice he tried righting himself. In the end, he was unable, falling on his back to leave his imprint on the malleable surface.

Breathing in and out, he decided this was how he would go—a final tick on his watch.

The harpies panicked, flying faster than bullets away from an all-consuming black light. Screeching and hollering.

The beastkin whimpered, covering their ears as an enormous gong originated from the man in the street.

The palace guards attacked as one only to be rebounded into the stonework.

The people of Oster looked out their windows at the beam of darklight that towered into the night, fuller than shadow but giving off a warm, brilliant glow.

Across the world, inky lights flew into the sky. Each originating from a single man. An identical man. Many tried analyzing his appearance. Non-humans just saw him as another human male. Fellow humans thought he looked like the average person they would pass in a crowd. On any other day, any other moment, they wouldn't pay this man a second glance.

Three Hundred and Sixty-Four pillars reached the heavens.

Each man spoke. Some calm. Some raging. Some belligerently.

Happily.

Hopeful.

Defeated.

Brightly.

Carefully.

Regretfully.

They all spoke slightly differently. Reiss himself, lying in his own guts, spoke through wheezing coughs.

"I have failed."

The words reached everyone's ears. The Emperor of Dreams. The beggars living on the street. The children hiding under their covers. The nobles in their courts. The travelers on the roads and the monsters frantically finding a place to flee to.

"Three Hundred and Sixty-Four times, I have failed."

"I have warred."

"I have loved."

"I have sued for peace."

"I have run away."

"I have fought to the bitter end."

"I have failed."

Each Reiss spoke. Of how they tried and failed. The seemingly endless iterations.

"This is my last."

The real Reiss spoke, his words echoing through his copies.

"My last chance."

Reiss closed his eyes. Rain turned to hail, pelting his flesh. He chuckled to himself.

He had been so excited in the beginning. So hopeful. So full of life and optimism. Now it was all cold pragmatism and burning emotions. It was a cruel dichotomy that somehow coexisted, transforming him into a broken remnant of who he used to be.

"This is the beginning of the end."

"Take note."

"My bones grow weary."

"From ash to dust."

"I return for the final time."

"For Krom!

"For Lizzie."

"For my Nell."

"For myself."

"For the fate of the worlds."

"I return."