Ethan Vaughn sat in the dimly lit expanse of his Neo Tokyo penthouse, staring at the horizon. The shimmering city lights below mirrored the brilliance of his achievements—achievements that had been snatched away by the very people he had trusted most.

Alex, Julia, Victor. Their names seared into his mind like a brand. Friends turned traitors. Forgiveness had been his philosophy, a principle he had clung to for decades. Now it felt like a chain that had bound him to his own downfall.

As he stared into his glass of whiskey, a voice broke through the oppressive silence.

"Still clinging to regret, I see."

Ethan shot up, his heart pounding. "Who's there?"

From the shadows emerged a figure that defied comprehension. It shimmered, its form constantly shifting between liquid and starlight. It seemed both human and otherworldly, as though the universe itself had decided to take shape.

"I am the Arbiter," it said, its voice echoing with a harmonious blend of tones, "guardian of this universe."

Ethan's lips tightened. "Guardian? Of what? Certainly not me."

The Arbiter's form shifted slightly, its presence filling the room. "You are correct—I do not guard individuals. I guard balance. And I am here to offer you a choice."

Ethan narrowed his eyes. "A choice? What choice?"

"To go back to the beginning," the Arbiter said simply. "To rewrite your story."

Ethan's laugh was hollow, edged with disbelief. "Go back? What, time travel? That's absurd. Time travel violates fundamental physical principles—entropy, causality, quantum coherence. It's impossible."

The Arbiter's glow intensified, as though amused. "Impossible for you, perhaps. But I am not bound by your understanding of physics. Time is a construct—linear to you, but fluid to me. I bend it as I see fit."

"That doesn't explain how you avoid causality violations or stabilize entropy in a reversed system," Ethan shot back. His mind raced, grasping at concepts he had spent a lifetime studying. "Even if you manipulate spacetime metrics, you'd need exotic matter, negative energy densities—"

The Arbiter raised a hand, silencing him with an authoritative gesture. "I am the stabilizing force. I exist outside of time, ensuring that paradoxes do not occur. Your laws of physics are tools I allow to function. Time travel works because I will it to work."

Ethan's skepticism wavered, though his mind still grasped for some semblance of reason. "If it's your domain, then why hasn't anyone figured this out? Why hasn't some brilliant physicist cracked the equations?"

The Arbiter's smirk deepened, a mix of amusement and pride. "Because I ensure they never do. Every genius obsessed with time travel, every physicist on the verge of a breakthrough—I subtly nudge their thoughts away from the truth. I have prevented their 'Eureka' moments time and again."

Ethan's breath hitched. The sheer scale of what the Arbiter claimed was staggering. He could argue further, but a gnawing realization crept in: if this being could control time, no argument of his would matter.

Ethan stared, his skepticism mingling with a growing sense of awe. He paused, his expression hardening. "Why me? Why not someone else? There are other geniuses out there—people far more brilliant than I could ever be."

The Arbiter's smirk deepened, a faint ripple in its shimmering form. "Perhaps I like you. Perhaps I see something in you that others do not. Or perhaps it doesn't matter."

Ethan frowned, the answer frustratingly vague. "That's not an answer."

"It doesn't need to be," the Arbiter replied, its voice calm.

Ethan clenched his fists, his mind a battlefield of doubt and anger. "What's the catch?" he asked, his voice sharp.

The Arbiter's smirk widened. "You will see."

Ethan's jaw tightened, but his resolve hardened. "Fine. If you're offering me this… opportunity, I'll take it. What do I need to do?"

Three glowing orbs appeared before him, each pulsating with a radiant energy that seemed to hum with the essence of life itself.

"You will have three wishes," the Arbiter said. "Choose wisely."

Ethan stared at the orbs, his mind racing. He closed his eyes, weighing every possibility, every advantage he could secure.

"First," he said finally, "I want hyperthymesia. Perfect memory. I want to remember every moment, every detail, for as long as I live."

The first orb dissolved into light, merging with him.

"Second," Ethan continued, his voice steady, "I want a body nearing the next stage of evolution—smarter, faster, stronger. But… I want it to evolve fully when I turn 18. I'll earn my foundation before unlocking my potential."

The second orb vanished, its light absorbed into his being.

When it came time for the third wish, Ethan hesitated. He stared at the final orb, his thoughts drifting to the idea of legacy. He thought of his lonely existence, his name tarnished by betrayal.

"They say blood is thicker than water," he thought. "Maybe this time, I'll have children. And maybe… just maybe… they'll carry my name further than I ever could."

He exhaled sharply. "For my third wish, I want to pass my gifts to my children. They will inherit my memory, my body, and my will."

The final orb dissolved, and the Arbiter nodded. "It is done."

A brilliant light consumed Ethan, pulling his soul through the fabric of time. Memories of the future collided with the promise of the past.

Ethan Vaughn opened his eyes to the sterile light of a hospital room. The muffled cries of a baby filled the air—his cries. He was cradled in the arms of a woman, her face familiar yet youthful: his mother.

His gaze flicked to a calendar on the wall. The year was unmistakable: March 15, 1986.

He had done it. He was reborn.

Though his body was that of an infant, his mind was sharp, brimming with knowledge from a future now rewritten. He could feel the weight of his memories, his regrets, his betrayals, and, most importantly, his resolve.

"This time," Ethan thought, his tiny lips curling into the faintest smirk, "there will be no mercy. No forgiveness. I will shape this world into my image, and nothing will stand in my way."

Far beyond the constraints of time and space, the Arbiter watched, its form shimmering like a living constellation. A soft, knowing smirk spread across its face as it turned away from the scene.

"There may be others more intelligent than you, Ethan Vaughn," the Arbiter mused to itself, "but you are the most flexible. And..."

Its voice trailed into an incomprehensible string of sounds, a language that defied human understanding. The words reverberated through dimensions, their meaning lost to all but the Arbiter itself.

The cosmic being's smirk deepened, and it vanished into the void, leaving Ethan to forge his new destiny.