Kai_8322

After a catastrophic event known as the Everworld Convergence, people across dimensions randomly swap places with their counterparts in parallel realities. Some find themselves in worlds of magic, others in dystopian futures or cyberpunk nightmares. Amidst the chaos, Orion Vale, a seemingly ordinary young man, realizes he's the only person who retains memories of all the worlds he's lived in.

As Orion jumps between realities, he discovers that he's not supposed to exist—he is an anomaly, a paradox created by a failed god’s attempt to rewrite fate. Hunted by cosmic enforcers known as the Eschaton Judges, Orion must uncover the truth behind the Convergence while mastering the unstable abilities that come with his fractured existence.

Everworld Paradox

The UnderNet's interface pulsed with fragmented data, scrolling too fast for any normal eye to process. But Orion was no ordinary user. His fingers danced across the console, decrypting hidden layers of information, peeling back the veil on secrets buried deep within the city's lost archives.

The files were ancient—pre-collapse data from an era most had forgotten. References to the Eschaton Judges were scarce, their existence scrubbed from official records. Yet, here they were, their names whispered like omens in corrupted lines of code.

PROJECT: ESCHATON

The data flickered, then reorganized. A timestamp appeared, but it made no sense. The year listed was beyond any known calendar—numbers stretching into infinity, as if written outside the confines of time itself.

A cold chill traced Orion's spine. What the hell were they?

A new notification flashed—an incoming transmission. Not from the UnderNet. Not from anything Orion recognized.

UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED

Orion's pulse spiked. He severed the connection instantly, his fingers flying across the keyboard to cover his tracks. But it was too late. Something had already found him. The server room lights flickered, and a low hum reverberated through the walls.

He grabbed his wrist-bound interface, forcing a system reboot. Static swallowed the screen, and for a fraction of a second, he saw something—

No, not a face. A void where one should be. A shifting mass of eyes and entropy. Watching. Calculating.

Then, the world snapped back into place.

Orion swore under his breath. He needed to move. Now.

He shoved the interface into his pocket and bolted from the server room, his boots pounding against metal grates as he weaved through the crumbling corridors of The Spire. Every shadow felt deeper, every noise sharper. He wasn't alone. Something was hunting him.

Reaching an emergency ladder, he scaled it in seconds, emerging onto a rooftop overlooking the city. Rain poured in thick sheets, turning the skyline into a blurred smear of neon and decay.

The figure from before—the Eschaton Judge—stood at the rooftop's edge. Silent. Watching. Its cloak billowed in an unseen wind, its many eyes locking onto him like celestial horrors trapped in human form.

"You are out of time," it intoned, voice devoid of emotion.

Orion's heart pounded. He had faced death before, but this—this was different. The weight of reality itself seemed to bend around the entity, as if it wasn't supposed to exist within this plane.

He took a step back, scanning for an escape route. None. The Judge raised a hand, the void around it distorting. Orion had seconds to react.

The Judge staggered. A perfect, smoking hole where its head should be.

Orion turned sharply, following the trajectory of the shot. A lone figure stood across the rooftop, rifle in hand, face obscured by a sleek, high-tech mask.

"Come with me if you want to live," the stranger said.

Orion exhaled sharply. He wasn't sure what was more terrifying—the Judges or the people who knew how to kill them.

Ghost Protocol