Chương 280: The Lone Looper

The Grand Pavilion of the Blue Sun Academy gleamed under the soft luminescence of hundreds of floating light motes, each one a perfect sphere of cerulean radiance suspended near the vaulted ceiling. Kal stood at the edge of the raised dais, deliberately positioning himself apart from the other elders. He preferred it this way; close enough to observe without becoming entangled in their political maneuverings. After thousands of loops, he'd learned that distance was sometimes the most valuable perspective.

His eyes swept across the gathering. Nearly five hundred people filled the space, from wide-eyed acolytes experiencing their first formal ceremony to ancient elders who had witnessed countless such events. Kal adjusted the sleeves of his ceremonial robes: midnight blue with silver embroidery tracing constellations across the fabric. He rarely bothered with formal attire, finding it restrictive and unnecessarily ostentatious, but today's ceremony demanded adherence to tradition.

Besides, appearing as expected helped deflect unwanted attention. Elder Sorrin was speaking with a group of senior disciples, his hands moving in emphatic gestures as he explained something of apparent importance. The old man was nothing if not theatrical, especially during ceremonial occasions. The Headmaster's absence was conspicuous. Several elders had glanced toward the empty seat at the high table, their expressions carefully neutral, but Kal could read the tension in their postures. Good. Let them wonder.

Containing Monroe had been necessary, difficult, but necessary. Killing a Rank 8 was nearly impossible, even for someone like himself. Had it been easy, Headmaster Hiron would have been dead dozens of loops ago. But trapping them? That required only the right preparation, the perfect location, and impeccable timing. For the remaining five weeks of this loop, no one would find the old man. Kal's lips thinned as he thought about Monroe.

For someone supposedly leading the Order of the First Light, the Headmaster seemed oddly resistant to confronting the Red Sun's corruption. Even when the Saint relayed the Blue Sun's directives in previous loops, Monroe had counseled restraint, diplomacy, further study.

"The Red Sun is not our enemy," Monroe had insisted in a council meeting ten loops ago.

"It is as much a part of our world as the Blue. We must seek balance, not dominance." Such misguided thinking was dangerous. The entity beyond their world was using the Red Sun as its conduit, its gateway. The corruption was spreading, the barriers weakening with each passing day. There wasn't time for balance or restraint. There was only the necessity of action. Kal's gaze shifted to Elder Neria, who stood with several other senior Lightweavers near the refreshment tables.

Silver-haired and keen-eyed, she had that particular tilt to her head that meant she was observing him while pretending not to. A subtle smile touched his lips. By week's end, she'll be on her way to the Northern Reaches, far from his affairs. He had already set the groundwork, mentioning to Elder Sorrin how the ancient formations in the northern mountains had shown unusual activity.

"Someone of Neria's expertise should investigate," he had suggested casually.

"Her knowledge of historical energy patterns is unparalleled." It was true enough, Neria was indeed skilled in that area. What he hadn't mentioned was how, in three previous loops, she had uncovered his research into the Sky Fragment and raised questions that turned the council against him.

"Elder Kal." The soft voice broke through his thoughts. He turned to find Novice Kon standing a respectful distance away, head bowed slightly.

"The Saint will be arriving shortly," Kon informed him.

"Elder Sorrin suggested you might wish to take your position with the other elders before the ceremony commences." Kal nodded, dismissing the novice with a gesture. He made no move to join the other elders, however. Let Sorrin fret about protocol. Kal would position himself when and where he deemed necessary. His thoughts returned to the coming weeks, mentally reviewing the adjustments required for his plans. Preparations required to infiltrate the Red Sun Academy will need to be completed.

The Skybound that had taken House Dawn would need to be eliminated. The Stone Haven monks would require access to certain restricted scrolls to secure their support. And then there was Tomas. The village boy turned Saint. The anomaly. Since becoming aware of the time loop, Kal had experienced many variations in events, countless small deviations that rippled outward to create new patterns in each iteration.

But in all those thousands of loops, the Selection had always concluded with either Laelyn Vareyn or Aric Leminov ascending to Sainthood. Never had a commoner, and certainly not an untrained village boy with no apparent cultivation background, been chosen. Tomas's emergence was not merely unexpected; it was unprecedented. In the four days since the Selection, Kal had been carefully evaluating his new apprentice. The boy was talented, certainly.

His grasp of even complex energy patterns was instinctive, requiring minimal explanation. He absorbed techniques like a sponge, reproducing them with a precision that most disciples would require months to achieve. Yet despite this obvious aptitude, something about Tomas remained... off. Not wrong, precisely, but incongruent with what Kal's experience told him to expect from an untrained villager. For one thing, his composure was remarkable.

Most new arrivals to the Academy spent their first weeks in a state of perpetual amazement, overwhelmed by the grandeur and power surrounding them. Tomas exhibited appropriate awe, but it never seemed to destabilize him. He adapted with suspicious ease, as if accustomed to navigating unfamiliar environments. For another, his questions revealed a depth of thought unusual for someone of his background.

During their lessons, Tomas would occasionally probe at the underlying principles of Lightweaving in ways that suggested a far more sophisticated understanding than his circumstances should allow, though this could be explained by his exceptionally strong resonance. But there was something in his eyes sometimes, a watchfulness, a calculation, that reminded Kal uncomfortably of… himself. Still, Kal had found himself genuinely enjoying their training sessions.

There was something refreshing about teaching a mind unsullied by aristocratic pretension or factional bias. Tomas approached Lightweaving with pure curiosity, unburdened by the weight of familial expectation that so often stifled noble disciples. For brief moments during those lessons, Kal could almost forget the crushing responsibility he carried. Teaching Tomas allowed him to remember what it felt like to simply appreciate the art of Lightweaving for its own sake, rather than as a weapon in his endless struggle.

It was... pleasant. Dangerously so.

"You seem deep in thought, Elder Kal." Elder Thorn had approached silently, his skeletal frame barely disturbing the air around him.

"Ceremonial occasions tend to inspire reflection," Kal replied noncommittally. Thorn's mouth curved in what might have been intended as a smile.

"Indeed. Particularly when they involve such... unexpected developments."

"The Blue Sun's wisdom often surprises us," Kal said, the pious platitude rolling easily from his lips after countless iterations of similar conversations.

"Hmm." Thorn's gaze remained fixed on Kal.

"Your sudden interest in mentorship is perhaps equally surprising. You've declined all previous opportunities to take disciples, despite numerous requests. Yet here you are, not having only volunteered but fought to guide a complete novice."

"The Saint is hardly a typical disciple," Kal pointed out.

"And his resonance with the Blue Sun suggests extraordinary potential."

"Yes, his resonance." Thorn's voice dropped lower.

"Most unusual. Elder Neria has been researching historical records trying to find comparable precedents. She's found none." Kal kept his expression neutral.

"Perhaps that indicates just how significant this Selection might be. Unprecedented times often call for unprecedented vessels." The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Perhaps," Thorn conceded.

"Though one wonders what makes these times so unprecedented. The eternal struggle between the two suns has continued for millennia. What is different now?" The question was too pointed to be casual curiosity. Thorn was fishing, probing for information. In previous loops, the gaunt elder had rarely shown interest in Kal's activities, preferring to remain a silent observer in most affairs. This direct approach suggested that something had changed in the current iteration.

"The patterns of raids have intensified," Kal replied carefully.

"The frequency of sun-touched transformations has increased. And now, a Saint with unusual resonance emerges. I leave it to wiser minds than mine to interpret these signs, Elder Thorn." Thorn studied him for a long moment, then inclined his head slightly.

"Wisdom indeed, to know the limits of one's understanding. I look forward to observing how the new Saint develops under your guidance, Elder Kal." With that, he drifted away, moving through the crowd like a shadow. Kal watched him go, filing away the interaction for later analysis. Thorn's interest was unexpected, another variable to account for. If he was working with Neria...

"Your apprentice will soon arrive," Elder Sorrin said, suddenly appearing at Kal's side.

"It's nearly time to begin the ceremony. You should join us on the dais." Kal nodded.

"Of course, Elder Sorrin." As they walked toward the raised platform, Sorrin leaned closer.

"The other elders are concerned about Headmaster Monroe's continued absence," he said quietly.

"The search parties have found no trace of him."

"The Headmaster often pursued his own agenda," Kal replied.

"I'm sure he has his reasons."

"Yes, but to miss the presentation of a new Saint..." Sorrin trailed off, his concern evident.

"It's unprecedented."

"Many things about this Selection have been unprecedented," Kal pointed out.

"Perhaps they are all connected in ways we don't yet understand." Sorrin nodded slowly.

"Perhaps. Still, the Council is considering organizing a more extensive search. Elder Neria has suggested forming a connection circle to attempt to locate his spiritual signature." That was concerning. A connection circle of high-ranking Lightweavers might actually succeed in detecting Monroe's presence in the pocket dimension. The containment wasn't designed to withstand concentrated probing from multiple Rank 7 practitioners. And usually, the elders don't jump to such measures so soon.

"A waste of resources," Kal said dismissively.

"The Headmaster is more than capable of protecting himself. If he doesn't wish to be found, no circle will locate him. We should focus on preparing the new Saint for his duties instead."

"You may be right," Sorrin conceded.

"But Neria is quite insistent. She seems... suspicious of the timing." Kal kept his expression neutral, though internally he cursed the woman's perceptiveness. This was why she needed to be removed from the Academy as soon as possible. She had an unfortunate habit of asking the right questions at exactly the wrong time.

"Suspicion without evidence is merely imagination," Kal said quietly.

"Remind her of that." They reached the dais, where the other elders had already assembled. Kal took his position, deliberately standing slightly apart from the main group. Unlike Monroe, Sorrin was a true believer, unwavering in his devotion to the Blue Sun and its mission of protection and guidance. In every loop, Sorrin had supported the Saint's vision without question, marshaling the Academy's forces against the Red Sun practitioners with righteous fervor. It made him predictable. Useful.

Elders Neria and Thorn were speaking in hushed tones at the far end of the dais, occasionally glancing in Kal's direction. Their alliance was unfortunate but not unexpected. They had worked together in previous loops as well, though usually later in the cycle. A commotion near the entrance caught his attention. Tomas had arrived, resplendent in ceremonial blue robes that transformed the simple village boy into something approaching royalty. The transformation was remarkable, not just in appearance but in bearing.

Despite his common origins, Tomas moved with a quiet confidence that commanded respect. Kal watched as the new Saint navigated the crowd, pausing to speak with Aric Leminov, then enduring a confrontation with the insufferable Dorian Velaris. Interesting. The politics of the candidates remained consistent, even with Tomas's unexpected appearance. Aric was gracious in defeat, Dorian bitter and entitled. Some patterns, it seemed, were universal constants across all iterations. Movement at the entrance caught his eye.

Professor Thara had arrived, clutching a stack of papers to her chest, her eyes darting around the chamber until they found him. She looked away quickly, but not before he glimpsed the mixture of fear and fascination in her gaze. Their meeting yesterday had gone exactly as planned. He had approached her in her laboratory, catching her among her forbidden experiments, those curious plant hybrids that reminded him so much of the specimen Elder Molric had created in the Red Sun Academy.

"Impressive work," he had murmured, watching her face pale.

"You've achieved what many considered impossible, a stable fusion of both solar energies." Her stammered denials had been amusing.

"They're just... just theoretical models, Elder Kal. Not actual..."

"Come now, Professor," he'd interrupted, gently lifting one of the small vine-like creatures from its containment sphere.

"We both know what these are. The question is not what you're doing, but why." He had seen the calculation in her eyes, the rapid assessment of her options. Then, with surprising forthrightness: "He could have killed me, but he didn't. He taught me instead. I want to prove his theories were correct."

"Elder Molric," Kal had nodded.

"The Red Sun Academy's... eccentric botanist." The shock on her face had been priceless.

"How did you..."

"I know many things, Professor Thara. More than you might imagine." He had set the small creature back in its sphere, watching it curl and unfurl its tendrils.

"I also know your work could be valuable to me. This research into dual-energy integration... I have use for it." Fear and hope had warred in her expression.

"You won't report me to the council?"

"On the contrary," he had smiled.

"I'll protect you. Provide you with resources. All I ask is your discretion and assistance when the time comes." A simple enough arrangement. Her work might prove useful after the final confrontation with Hiron. He suppressed a flicker of guilt. Manipulating someone's genuine feelings, however misplaced those feelings might be, was never pleasant. But necessity often demanded unpleasant actions. As Kal watched the interaction between Thara and Tomas, he began making plans for the next cycle.

The cycle would be dedicated to verifying Tomas's story personally, observing the raid on Porvale, watching to see if events unfolded as described. If they did, Tomas might prove a valuable ally in the cycles to come. If not... If he serves the entity beyond the breach, then he'll be added to the list of those who need to be eliminated at the beginning of each loop. Unfortunately, there was no such thing as permanent elimination. Kal had learned this through bitter experience.

A dozen cycles ago when he reached Rank 8 for the first time, he had destroyed Lord Kaeven completely, obliterating not just his body but his soul as well. Yet when the loop reset, Kaeven returned, unmarked by the encounter, with no memory of his demise. The rules that governed the time loop remained frustratingly opaque, even after so many iterations.

Soul magic affected loopers differently than it affected everyone else, that much Kal had confirmed when his own soul was damaged by a rival Lightweaver's attack in an early cycle. The injury had persisted across the loop reset, and became a reminder that some consequences transcended the cycle of time. But it seemed this was a weakness that only loopers had, or more accurately, being the sole looper, this was his only weakness.

Sometimes, Kal wished for another; someone who would remember, who could share the burden of knowledge that spanned a thousand lifetimes. Someone with whom he could speak openly, without the carefully constructed lies he maintained for everyone else. At times, the weight of his solitary burden became almost unbearable. To live the same period over and over, to watch the same tragedies unfold, to carry memories that no one else shared... it was a special kind of isolation. No, he shook his head.

He was better off alone. Such wishes were dangerous. Trust was a luxury he could ill afford, particularly if he encountered another looper. Would they be ally or enemy? Working toward the same goal or pursuing their own agenda? The uncertainty made such a meeting as much threat as opportunity. A bitter smile touched Kal's lips as he thought of his Cerulean Vein—the Mandelbrot Recursion pattern that had replaced his original design the day the loops began.

He had lied to Tomas about creating it himself, a small deception among many. Before the loops, Kal had possessed a different Cerulean Vein entirely, a traditional Cascade Lattice design passed down through generations of Lightweavers. Then, as a Rank 3 practitioner, he had awakened one morning to find the pattern completely transformed, replaced by the infinitely recursive fractal that now defined his identity as a looper. Shortly after, he had experienced his first death. The most traumatic of all his endings.

The memory remained vivid even after countless loops: training in the eastern courtyard on a perfectly ordinary day, preparing for advancement trials. Then, without warning, the sky had torn open. A massive hand, larger than mountains, wreathed in energies that defied description, had reached through the breach, bringing destruction in its wake. Kal had never seen the entity itself.

In those few loops where he survived long enough to witness the breach, that colossal hand was all that emerged before the world ended in chaos and pain. Its power had been absolute, annihilating most of the world's inhabitants in moments. It was then that he had acknowledged that he could not fight such a being alone. No single person could. So, driven by desperation, he had approached Elder Sorrin with the truth. Still only Rank 3 himself, Kal had believed the elder's power and wisdom might change their fate.

The attempt had failed catastrophically, Sorrin had believed Kal insane, his mind corrupted by some unknown influence. It had taken dozen more loops to develop a strategy that convinced Sorrin of the truth. With meticulous planning, Kal had gathered evidence, presented prophecies that came true with perfect accuracy, demonstrated knowledge he couldn't possibly possess through normal means. Finally, Sorrin had believed.

The elder had attempted to change his own Cerulean Vein to match Kal's Mandelbrot Recursion, a dangerous procedure under the best circumstances. The results had been catastrophic. Rather than joining Kal as a fellow looper, Sorrin had lost his sanity entirely, his mind fractured by the attempt to comprehend the recursive pattern. His death had been both painful and pointless. It was then that Kal had accepted that he was alone in this mission. Only he could save the world. Yet lately, something felt different.

Not the events themselves, variation was normal across loops, small changes cascading into larger divergences. The butterfly effect was a constant companion in Kal's existence. No, this was something more fundamental, a feeling, an intuition born from thousands of cycles of experience. In all previous loops, time had seemed infinite, an endless resource to be used in pursuit of the perfect solution. Now, inexplicably, Kal felt a new urgency, as if the loops themselves might be finite after all.

Time was running out, he didn't know how or why, but he could feel it. Sometimes, in his darkest moments, Kal wondered if he was trapped in a kind of purgatory. Perhaps the entity had already won in some distant past, and this endless cycle was merely its way of toying with the remnants of a conquered world. Or perhaps the loop itself was a defense mechanism, the world's last desperate attempt to find a solution by giving one individual infinite chances to solve an impossible problem.

These thoughts led nowhere useful. Kal pushed them aside, focusing instead on the immediate situation. The ceremony was about to begin.