chapter 7
The lab was silent now.
The only sounds left were the echoes of the dead, their mindless moans fading as they wandered outside the lab. The stench of blood and rot filled the air, clinging to the broken walls, the shattered glass, the lifeless bodies sprawled across the cold floor.
The Traveler stood in the center of it all, floating just above the blood-streaked tiles. Watching.
The last two humans lay motionless before him.
Elisa's lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling, her fingers still curled in one last, desperate reach. Lena was slumped beside her, a crimson mess of torn flesh and tattered clothes. Their struggle had been short, brutal—inevitable.
He had seen it before.
Different world, different endings.
He moved slowly through the room, stepping over broken tables and scattered documents. The cure lay on the counter, untouched, useless now. The papers beside it contained instructions, blueprints—hope.
Hope that would never be realized now.
For a moment, his gaze lingered on Elisa's outstretched hand. Just minutes ago, that same hand had been clenched into a fist, raised in defiance, reaching toward him.
I know you're there! Help us!
He had not answered.
She had begged, pleaded, screamed—fighting against the inevitable, grasping for salvation.
But there was no salvation.
The Traveler had remained where he was, unmoving. Watching. Always observing.
He turned away.
Through the shattered lab windows, he saw the ruins of Site-09 stretching into the fog. The dead wandered aimlessly.
It had always been like this.
From the moment the first infection took hold, this world had been doomed.
He had seen the signs. The slow collapse. The panic. The violence. The desperate attempts to rebuild, to resist. And in the end, the same inevitable conclusion. A quiet, crumbling death.
He had seen others try to fight against fate.
Like Elisa, like Lena. Like Marcus, Evelyn, Marry, and many more.
They had all believed they could be different. That they could change their fate.
But the Traveler had seen countless versions of their struggle. And the outcome had always been the same.
It didn't matter how strong they were.
It didn't matter how much they fought.
Their world had been dying long before they ever realized it.
And in the end, it had swallowed them whole.
He exhaled, though he had no need to breathe.
The wind carried the scent of rot and dust through the ruined halls as he stepped outside. The city beyond was nothing more than a graveyard of abandoned cars, crumbling buildings, and unburied dead.
How many times had he been to these situations?
How many endings had he watched unfold?
He had lost count long ago.
He didn't belong to any world. He never had.
He was a drifter, a spectator. A being without a home, without a past, without a future.
The memories of his earliest days were lost to him, buried beneath the weight of infinite worlds and infinite stories.
Had he been human once?
Had he lived in a world of his own before he became… this?
He didn't know.
All he knew was that he couldn't stop.
Even if he wanted to.
Then, he felt it before it appeared.
A shift in the air. A tremor in reality.
Behind him, space ripped apart. A swirling mass of light and shadow spiraled into existence—a gateway, waiting to pull him through.
It had come, as it always did.
Another world was calling him. Again.
The Traveler turned, glancing back at the ruins of Site-09 one last time.
The bodies of Elisa and Lena remained where they had fallen.
The cure sat untouched.
The world was silent.
There was nothing more for him here. And so, without hesitation, he stepped forward.
The portal swallowed him whole. And the dying world was left behind.
A New Beginning was calling him.
Twinkling lights were everywhere in the endless darkness.
Then— came the light.
The Traveler felt his feet touch solid ground once more. The air was different. New.
He inhaled, taking in the unfamiliar scent of this new world.
Another world came. Another story began. Again.