Chapter 13: Tales of Two Arths

The lights flickered on with a faint hum, revealing a cluttered chamber tucked somewhere between dimensions. Dust-specked paperwork blanketed a metal desk, and red threads connected a chaotic tapestry of maps and scribbled notes on the far wall.

 A few lava lamps pulsed lazily in the corners, casting a surreal hue on the room’s restless energy.

Beyond the reinforced window, the stars danced—not gently, but violently. Galaxies were being born and devoured in real time. Outside was the vastness of the multiverse. Inside, something stirred.

"I've been gone a while now, haven't I?" said a voice—smooth, familiar, laced with something dangerous. 

A robotic chime responded. "Unidentified Variable Detected."

Without warning, something lunged.
From the shadows emerged a figure of coiled grace. Its body was serpentine—white and blue, polished like flowing metal. The upper half was humanoid, its smooth face masked beneath a visor with glowing eyes, antennae twitching like a feline’s ears.

“I am K-42,” it announced, voice calm and elegant. “Guardian of this base.”

“You think I didn’t know that?” the man replied with a smirk—and vanished.

K-42 turned rapidly, sensors flaring, trying to locate him. But its movements stopped short. The last thing it registered was a hand on the side of its head—and then, a sharp twist.

Snap!

“Nothing personal, my dear friend,” the voice whispered as the robot collapsed.

The man stepped into the light. He wore a long coat that flickered with shifting patterns, like stars caught in its fabric. His name was Ouroboros—a traveler of timelines, a manipulator of fate. And like Arth, the Space-Time Voyager, he sought the seven Time Cogs scattered across the multiverse.

From his coat, he retrieved two of them—jagged gears glowing faintly with temporal energy. He approached the console in the center of the room and started typing.

“Time to delete some data.”



Arth woke with a start, drenched in sweat. His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum.

“Another one of those weird dreams,” he muttered, pushing away the tangled sheets. “Barely escaped that dragon last time. And let’s not forget the witch who summoned me.”

He stretched, ran a hand through his hair, and reached for his white shirt and trench coat. As he dressed, he spoke—to no one in particular.

“My name’s Arth. And for those of you just tuning in—don’t worry. You’re not the only one playing catch-up.” His voice turned grim.

“I was a cop. Normal enough, right? Until I saw my own dead body. That was the first crack. Since then, I’ve been pulled into a multiversal crisis—bouncing through dimensions, searching for answers, meeting other versions of myself. Most of them are dead now.”
He looked at his reflection in the mirror. A man hardened by loss, sharpened by the truth.

“I’ve recovered two Time Cogs so far. Five to go. And then there’s him—Ouroboros. Same mission. Different agenda. And he’s not just a problem. He’s the problem.”


Far away, in a dying world swallowed by flame, a woman ran through collapsing streets.

“You can’t outrun me, Altair!” shouted a voice behind her. “Your allies are already dead!”

“I’ve got one jump left,” she muttered, skidding to a halt. Her hand flared with energy as she summoned a portal.

“You know I can still trace you, right?”
She turned back, defiant. “I still have hope, Ouroboros.”

Then she dove through the rift.
Ouroboros lunged after her, but the portal snapped shut too fast. He stood in silence, scanning the residual energy trails.

“Impossible,” he muttered. “She went to that universe?”


Suspended in the in-between realm known as Midgards, Altair floated in a corridor of light and silence. She whispered into the void.

“To all surviving versions of Arth… I am Altair. One of you. My allies were ambushed. Killed. But one of us—our mentor, ‘Other Arth’—found a version of you untouched by this crisis. There is still hope.”

Then her consciousness faded, and her body fell—crashing through dimensions until it landed, unconscious, in a quiet park under a star-filled sky.


Arth’s communicator buzzed.
“There’s an unconscious woman at the park,” said the voice of his police chief.

 “The one you always visit.”

“I’ll check it out,” Arth replied, pulling on his coat.

“We’re all glad you’re back,” the chief said.

“Maybe I just needed a vacation,” Arth said dryly.

“And maybe next time, let us know when you’re taking a vacation.” Arth managed a small smile.

When he arrived, he found Gabby already there, staring at the woman.
“Gabby? What are you doing here?”
“She… is she okay?” Gabby asked, her voice trembling.

He knelt and checked the woman’s pulse. Relief passed over his face.
“She’s alive. Go home, alright? I’ll handle this.”

Gabby nodded. “Okay. And… tell Nanny I want extra chili fries.”

“You got it.”

As she ran off, he turned back to the woman. “Nothing ever stays normal, does it?”

She stirred, blinking up at him. “Hey. You’re awake.”

“It’s you…” she whispered.
“Of course it’s me,” he replied.
“Arth… the Space-Time Voyager.”

His eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”

With effort, she sat up. He offered a hand, which she accepted.

“I’m Altair,” she said. “A version of you. From another universe.”

Later, they sat in silence. She on the seesaw, him leaning nearby. “I thought all my other versions were dead,” he said quietly.

“The ones embedded in the Cosmic Hexahedron, yes. But I escaped.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To warn you. About Ouroboros.” He straightened, interest piqued.

“I’ve met him,” he said. “He’s after the Cogs.”

From his coat, he revealed two of them.
Altair’s eyes widened. “You’ve already gathered two? Most of us couldn’t even get one.”

“Maybe I’m just lucky.”

“Indeed you are,” came a voice from the air.

A portal tore open, spilling magenta light. Ouroboros stepped out—this time flanked by armored soldiers.

“I didn’t expect you to come here, Altair,” he said, smiling thinly.

She backed away. “He found me.”
“Don’t worry,” Arth said, summoning a magenta colored blade of light. “I’ve got this.”

“Attack!” Ouroboros shouted.

The minions rushed forward, but Arth moved like a storm—clean, swift, decisive. One by one, the soldiers fell and vanished into thin air.

“You’re in my universe now,” Arth said coldly. “Why?”

“To take your Cogs, of course. But first—her.”

Ouroboros summoned his own light-blade—magenta and humming with raw energy. The clash was immediate.
Their blades sparked through the park, each strike met with a counter, each movement a memory of a hundred fights in a thousand timelines.

“You’ve improved,” Ouroboros said. “Sera must have reached you.”Then a faint ticking sound echoed from Ouroboros’ armor.

He smirked. “We’ll continue this another time.”

A portal flared behind him.

“Wait—” Arth tried to freeze time, but Ouroboros simply waved it off and disappeared.

Silence returned.

Altair stepped forward. “You beat him.”
“No,” Arth said, staring into the rift. “I survived.”

He turned to the bodies still lying frozen in time. Curious, he knelt and removed a helmet—only to find his own face staring back.

“What the hell…?”

Altair gasped. “They’re you. Us.  All of them. Ouroboros didn’t kill every Arth he encountered… he subjugated them.”

Arth looked around at the silent soldiers, the twisted timeline, the stars spinning above.

“What is happening?” he whispered under his breath.

Chapter 13: Tales of Two Arths End