Prologue

A young man strolled along an abandoned street, the towering skyscrapers and luxurious cars surrounding him lay in ruins, covered in layers of decay and rust. Amidst this decaying landscape, the only untouched element was the young man himself. His expression mirrored the desolation around him, his steps aimless and heavy. Both he and the city were abandoned and bereft of hope.

The early dawn light, with its gentle brilliance, did little to dispel the somber atmosphere. One might expect a bustling weekday morning, yet the streets remained vacant, except for the solitary figure traversing them.

This young man possessed a striking handsomeness, his unblemished face adorned with sharp, angular features. His brows resembled sword blades, furrowed above his eyes which held a vacant, soulless blue gaze. Those eyes were akin to the cloudless sky on a scorching summer day—empty. A cascade of long white hair flowed from his head, a soft snow-white hue that seemed to echo the putrid winters he had lived through. This hair was the only indicator of his true age, the only visible remnant of a life that was left behind… a life that no one knew. There was no one here to recognize him. No one here or anywhere in fact. He made sure of that…

The young man turned a corner, facing the rising sun, and blinked as its rays washed over him.

Young Man - "It seems that I can't go on."

He stood as if the gears of a clockwork had halted, frozen like a clock without a winding mechanism, still and lifeless. His right hand slowly reached for his chest, a fleeting smile of release briefly gracing his lips. But then memories surged forth—countless faces, each one etched into his mind. Hers was the first, always, followed by those of his parents, and the comrades who had fought alongside him. They had given their lives to ensure he kept his.

The smile faded as quickly as it had come. His hand fell, he couldn't end his own life, not because he cherished it, but because he cherished them. Their lives were his burden to bear, their sacrifices etched into his very being.

Young Man - "It has been 127 years since the last human being died."

For many years, he hadn't considered himself human.

Young Man - "And over 30 years since life's end. No goals remain. Vengeance, the unforgivable objective, has been achieved. Nothing left, not even planets to harbor resentment—except this one."

Within this star system, emptiness reigned, a single planet orbiting a solitary star. Even the grandeur of the star couldn't match the desolation of the system. He had ensured that nothing remained beyond this planet's borders.If one were to look around the surrounding systems they would not even be able to find a planet for lightyears. He had made certain of it.

Alone.

Empty.

Broken.

This was the galaxy that encircled him.

Nothing.

He contemplated obliterating the stars alongside the planets, but the notion that a destroyed star might somehow impact the small planet he stood on deterred him. Otherwise, his hatred would never find respite. The hatred of a man with nothing left to lose is genuinely fearsome.

Young Man - "Every day since the end has felt like an unending prison sentence. Fifty years ago, I reached my peak. Hmph - a Time Lord, wielding a Cosmic Singularity Core. Yet the endless years of war persisted. In combat, time sped by so fast that reminiscing and regretting were impossible. Now, all I do is regret. I still hear that bastard Pluturix's voice in my head. The asshole said I would never find satisfaction. Sigh The fucker was right."

The galaxy teemed with numerous races. During the early days of the Intergalactic Era, towards the end of the 29th century, humans ranked third in power. Their potential and greed exceeded others'. Many races and creatures harnessed cosmic cores to augment themselves, resulting in a plethora of abilities and enhanced bodies. Although certain races inherently possessed greater strength than humans, they often had lower thresholds. This meant that given enough time, most humans could surpass most alien races in power.

Humans exploited this fact to fuel their insatiable greed. Countless alien planets transformed into mere factories for producing goods consumed by humans. These human overlords treated other races as slaves, deepening animosity.

This prolonged mistreatment bred resentment among both subjugated and powerful races.

As the 30th century began, a new virus emerged, decimating humanity's numbers and drastically reducing their fighting force. Other races united to launch a massive attack, almost eradicating humanity. Unfortunately, they fell short of completing the genocide.

Young Man - "That dam virus made those poor souls into mindless undead attacking and spreading the plague. Killing all those undead took such a long time."

In the year 2995, humanity's population hovered around a hundred trillion. While many lived away from Gaia, their home planet, the majority still resided there. When the virus struck, 7 out of 10 individuals turned into undead by inhaling contaminated air. Those strong before zombification retained much of their strength. An upside was that individuals with a cosmic core level of 5 or higher, or a Solar Ignition Core, were immune. Such individuals, however, were rare.

Young Man - "~Sigh, back then, during the virus outbreak, I was just a grunt fresh out of high school. Still a private. I wonder if the rumors are true—that one of us aided those bastards in unleashing the virus. Luckily, I was stationed at home, on guard. But then again, maybe if I hadn't been home, they might have survived. I was so weak."

His hand returned to his chest, heartbeats grounding him. He glanced at his clenched fist, awaiting action. The fist tightened progressively as he pondered. The very space around him seemed to sway with his turbulent emotions.

So Close. Just one push and it would all end. His torment would cease.

The tightened frown on his face eventually dissolved, his fist opening, falling to his side.

The scene surrounding him was once an empty, crumbling city—now it resembled ancient ruins.

Young Man - "I've accidentally accelerated time too far this time."

With the power to manipulate time, he could accelerate, decelerate, pause, and rewind, though not without consequences. Shattered emotionally, he propelled himself towards an end. He'd unknowingly propelled time forward by thousands of years. He couldn't destroy the planet, his duty to protect it restrained him.

Young Man - "Before becoming the Time Lord, I rewound time countless times to teach my body how to defeat an enemy. Now, I am my own adversary—how do I defeat myself?"

When confronted with an enemy on the precipice of death, the young man would rewind time to a point before the battle's commencement. Time and time again, he engaged the same adversary, grappling with them tens of thousands of times. This process honed his body and instincts, paving the way for triumph. His exceptional physiological makeup allowed him to endure shifts in time and adapt, although his mind struggled to synchronize with the rewinding process. Consequently, he leaned on his body's malleability and capacity to learn, favoring these traits over intricate strategies to secure victory.

This approach served a dual purpose, acting as training that pushed his body to the brink of exhaustion and imminent destruction before restoring it to optimal health. This procedure tapped into his body's latent potential. Each regression resulted in the loss of memories, yet every iteration enhanced his strength and instincts.

Gazing upwards, he noticed clouds coalescing. His thoughts mirrored the cloud's formation.

Young Man- "What if I go back?"

This notion had arisen countless times. Initially dismissed as infeasible due to his perceived weakness, returning to the past without retaining his memories wouldn't aid in saving his family. Unbeknownst to him, he had undertaken this journey repeatedly, witnessing their deaths over and over. His subconscious eventually intervened, compelling him to cease regressing and instead pursue strength.

Now he was at the peak. Now ending his own life might demand more energy than obliterating a star. It was only due to his powerful instinct to protect this world that he did not accidentally destroy it when he was upset earlier.

A glimmer of hope surfaced on his youthful countenance.

Young Man - "Let's go back."

He closed his eyes, delving into memories from when he began high school. He aimed to regress even further back than the initial starting of the virus.

This marked the furthest extent of his regressions. While most would opt for the onset of the virus, his instincts urged him to delve even deeper into the past.

Young Man - "I decree that I will save them all. Not a single soul will be lost this time. No one will die. No one!"

When his eyes reopened, they met the gaze of a young boy in the mirror. Though possessing the same features, this boy's hair was short and black—unlike the vacant and despair-laden white. His raven hair exuded a sense of tranquil, comfortable night.

Young Man - "Maybe I should let my hair grow out?"

Suddenly, a powerful female voice reverberated.

Female Voice - "Xavier Aeon, get out of the bathroom. You'll be late for the first day of school."

Xavier Aeon - "Okay, Mom. Lost track of time."

And so begins Xavier's 92nd regression, in search of peace.