Jayden hovered above the tapestry of existence, a being both in and not from this world, suspended in a sky fractured by countless rewinds of reality. Below him, entire realms folded like shattered glass being carefully pulled back into place. Time screamed in agony as it bent, twisted, and was defiled beneath the weight of his power, obeying a force it had no power withstand.
Even now, he felt the chains, the invisible binds that restricted him. They were not physical; no, they were rules far older than him, ones he couldn't break, conditions imposed by the act of undoing what had been. He could watch. He could remember. He could not touch. He could not act fully as he wasn't as powerful as he once was.
His mind trembled with echoes of the battle he had lost, the one that had cost countless lives, a battle whose mistake had nearly erased existence itself. Even with all his preparations, he still failed, that was to how strong his foe was. Entire realms vanished in an instant, lives unmade, possibilities snuffed out. And it had been his fault. His hesitation and mindset had allowed the thread to unravel.
Never again. He would succeed, no matter the cost. After all, there wouldn't be a third chance.
The rewind slowed as one world stabilized beneath him, a single, fragile realm among nine stretching across the multiverse. Insignificant to most in terms of energy and use, but not to him, this was his birth place, after all.
The House of Reginald, ancient and lively, sat quietly beneath the waking sky. Within, a child was about to be born, a child whose fate would ripple across the multiverse in ways humanity could not yet comprehend, nor would they be ever be able to.
Jayden's gaze softened, but not for long. Regret lingered, coiling around him like smoke choking him, and with it came the knowledge that he would not interfere, not yet. The chains would not allow it. Not until the child had grown strong enough, not until the right moment.
He exhaled slowly. He had watched this moment countless times in the void of his own memory, conspiring and thinking about his best course of action, yet each observation carried the same weight. Every heartbeat, every first cry, every breath was a lesson he had learned the hard way. He could only hope this version of himself would do better. Not hope, he knew this version would do better, that's why he was here at the very least.
A pulse of resistance ran through him, a warning from the rules themselves. He was reaching the limits of his tethered existence, and yet he lingered, as if the universe would allow him to imprint a trace of guidance, a silent benediction, before he faded.
Below, in the House of Reginald, the first signs of the events that would unfold all the madness that would occur later began to show. The child's tiny legs kicked against his mother's womb. A cry, soft and fragile, pierced the stillness of the night. It was ordinary in every sense, yet extraordinary to the eyes of the one who watched above.
Jayden's eyes, a misty shade of golden, fully concentrated on the events unfolding traced every detail of the scene: the mother's trembling hands, the father's unaware smile, the subtle flicker of mana in the air. He could sense the potential, the raw energy waiting to bloom, and the dangers lurking in shadows that he could not yet change. He wasn't the only one watching, he could slightly feel it, but he didn't pay it any heed.
You will be stronger than I was. You will not make my mistakes, he thought.
The light around him shimmered, his phantom form fading and pulsing slightly, a reminder that he didn't have much time. Threads of his essence brushing the edges of the house. He looked up into the starry night sky and sighed in relief.
It's still active, barely though. Although there's nothing to worry about for the time being, he pondered.
Then, as swiftly as he had appeared, he withdrew, blending into a thin shimmer of electricity that scattered into the sky like sparks from a dying star.
The multiverse continued, oblivious to the watcher above.
This time, he would not fail.