To Shoot Forman... With Our Own Weapon

"Like I said..." Hasan continued, without changing his tone."I'm nothing more than a simple man. Just... I happened to be in a position to experience certain things in the past."

"You keep beating around the bush, man..." Muzaffer complained in a hushed, frustrated voice.

"To get back to the point... that time power I mentioned earlier... if you could go anywhere in time, past or future—what then? You might think you'd be unstoppable, maybe even invincible. After all, you could go back and erase your enemies, fix your mistakes, place yourself in an untouchable position. You'd be able to leap through time while your opponents are bound to one singular timeline. You could mess with the settings of the film itself...But... that would only be a grandiose fantasy. Time isn't that simple. You can't just say, 'let me hop to timeline X and fix my error.' It's not that easy. Changing events could scramble the entire timeline."**

"So... changing events... you're saying it could alter the precursor and throw everything into a time paradox?" interjected Fuat, adjusting his glasses from just below eye level.

"Partially..." Hasan nodded. "But it's not guaranteed to happen every time. Still, the mere possibility of it is threat enough. Let me put it this way...There's an old tale about a weapon—one we don't even know the true form of—but it loosely aligns with the concept of 'Spring'.An incident near Palawan in 1902... ever heard of it? The Escanor Case..."

"The one they say vanished into thin air?" asked Fuat. "I thought it was just an urban legend..."

"If only it were..." Hasan replied, continuing. "But no—it's very real.Long story short: in 1902, a ship named Escanor departed from Mexico, carrying a team of East Asian archaeologists and anthropologists. They couldn't convince the academic institutions to support them, but somehow found private funding. No one had faith in the expedition. After all, what could possibly be found in the far-flung Philippines? No one trusted that group—hell, not even themselves. But through some clever trickery, they managed to set sail.After a grueling voyage, they reached Palawan. They found an inn in La Delta—or as it was known then, Puerto Priscisa. The details don't matter much here.During a dig at the outer edges of the island, they stumbled upon something by sheer luck. A notebook.It clearly didn't belong to the island. What was strange was that it wasn't even that ancient.At first, they thought it was written in Arabic because of the script. Then some theorized it might be records from Muslim traders—Malay or Indonesian—who had come to the island earlier. Not unreasonable, given the geography and proximity to mainland China. Perhaps it was left behind intentionally or by accident.So they decided to send the notebook to academic circles in British Malaya. They made copies, distributed them to local and British scholars for translation.But the twist?The text was in Turkish. Yes, Turkish. Perhaps simplified from the Ottoman dialect, but unmistakably our language. Based on the events described and verifying the author's existence through Ottoman records, it was dated to the late 18th century.The author? A certain Arif Efendi, a master watchmaker and a Parisian detective of that era."

"His diary—or whatever you'd call it—spoke of many things: his experiences, the state of Paris during the French Revolution, his espionage activities, even his mental state. But more intriguingly, it hinted—albeit vaguely—at a greater evil.He never described it directly, just that it was heretical, ruinous to the soul, and needed to be destroyed at all costs.He called it Sanatana Dharma.He warned at length about it.He said it allowed travel through time—forward and backward.He claimed he was fighting against this cursed path, and that he ultimately shattered the weapon into dozens of fragments.He recorded everything. Even where he hid them. Then he entrusted the diary to the son of an old friend and vanished.In the final pages, it was as if he knew the work wasn't over. But he stayed silent. That was his final warning."

"The Escanor Case gained massive attention at the time, naturally.Many theories emerged. Some said the researchers had fabricated the diary, that it was just a hoax.Others said it was allegorical or philosophical in nature.Some chose to believe Arif Efendi truly spoke of an ancient weapon.For about a year, it was hotly debated in the public eye.Then, like most things—it was left to be forgotten."

"But something far stranger happened.Every single researcher and translator involved in the project... died.All 40 scholars on the ship, plus the external researchers they contacted—every one of them died within two years.Arthur Bradley, the man who found the diary? Car crash.Sir Edward Smith, the first to translate the text? Overdosed on opium—claimed to be suicide.Phillip Francis Robinson, the ship's only botanist? Killed when a bookshelf collapsed on him, causing internal injuries.And so on.But few noticed. And those who did either didn't care—or stayed silent. Because there was something deeper under the surface."

"I mentioned earlier how they struggled to get funding for the research, right?Ask yourself—who would fund such a random, yet expansive expedition?Chekhov's gun... Forman.Somehow, he caught wind of the weapon. How exactly? Unknown.But he believed something was hidden in Palawan. That island was home to a strange colony of German individualist anarchists at the time, and some sources claimed ties to Kurl-related activities on the island.He sent the team there.Then he had them eliminated.Just like he did with Remzi...Just like they're trying to do with you.They couldn't wipe Remzi's mind completely—because he got partial access to Arif Efendi's notes.Somehow, he used his connections... even infiltrated Forman's own leaks."

"So that's the gist.Forman wants this power because he's deluded himself into thinking he can control time.But what he forgets is that Sanatana Dharma won't work.And even if it does, the damage it could do would be irreversible.I'm not even talking about paradoxes and broken timelines.Everything Arif Efendi feared is in those notes.A madman with a dark dream chasing a fantasy that should never exist."

"And when they realized people were onto them..."Hasan drew a line across his throat with his finger.

"Like I said, they'll come after you too—and they already have. They erased part of your memory. Some of it still remains. Which is why they'll keep coming. Until..."

"So we're deep in shit, huh..." said Muzaffer, bowing his head slightly.

"I wouldn't put it quite like that, but... yeah, something like that.And now that things have gotten serious... they might not stop at just erasing your memories."

"Might not?"

"They might come for everything.We're up against one of the biggest trusts in America," Hasan added grimly.

"So what the hell are we supposed to do?" Muzaffer asked, letting out a deep breath. He didn't look convinced, but he asked anyway. "You've told us all this crazy crap, and they've got endless resources. What are we, right now? How do we stand against them? You dragged us into this—what's your damn plan?"

"To shoot Forman... with our own weapon."