CHAPTER 257: CYCLE

It wasn’t surprising that the City Managers knew everything about Adyr’s past—where and when he’d been found, even the exact date he was adopted. For someone quickly rising to power, it made sense that they would dig into every available record.

What did surprise him, though, was how focused they were on one particular detail: the fact that the Mad Scientist had reappeared on the exact same day Adyr was discovered as a baby. They hadn’t just noted the coincidence—they had highlighted it.

"Do you have any idea what that might mean?" Adyr asked, his voice calm but pointed. "That he and I both appeared... on the same day?"

"We don’t," answered the City Manager of Shelter City 9, thoughtfully stroking his long white beard. "We’ve wondered about that ourselves. It feels too precise to be random—but we can’t say whether there’s an actual link or not."

He leaned forward slightly, his tone lowering.

"When the Mad Scientist first contacted us, he made three major claims. First, he told us another world—another dimension—existed and gave us prototype game helmets to reach it. Second, he said the world we are living in is caught in a repeating cycle. And third..." He hesitated for just a breath. "That someone would eventually rise and wage war against fate itself to break that cycle."

Adyr narrowed his eyes. "A cycle? What kind of cycle are we talking about?"

This time, another City Manager spoke up—his voice steady but heavier now, like someone pulling open a door that had stayed shut for too long.

"It’s a theory known only to a select few. It predates the nuclear war by decades, maybe more. It’s always been classified—hidden from the public. But governments, private organizations, and even fringe scientists have poured countless resources into chasing its validity. To this day, we still fund efforts to uncover the truth. Not because we’ve proven it... but because what little we’ve found refuses to be dismissed."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek device—something resembling a slim, old-world smartphone. After a few taps on the screen, a holographic projection floated into the air.

A model of Earth appeared.

But not the Earth anyone wanted to see.

It was a dead planet—its surface cracked, continents burned, atmosphere dim. Grey and barren, it looked lifeless. And familiar. It mirrored the post-nuclear wasteland they now called home.

"As far as our best estimates go," the man continued, "modern humans—Homo sapiens like us—have only existed for about three to four hundred thousand years. Before us were the Hominins. They left no written history, but archaeological evidence suggests they walked this planet for at least six to seven million years."

Adyr gave a small nod. That lined up with the data he remembered from his old world. But what came next didn’t.

"Compared to Earth’s estimated age—about 4.5 billion years—those numbers are nothing. A blink. And here’s where it gets strange."

The hologram changed.

The scorched planet vanished, replaced by a vision of Earth in another era, teeming with life. Vast oceans, lush green continents, cloud-covered skies. But most striking of all was its size.

This Earth was enormous. Not just larger, but colossal. 100, maybe 150 times bigger than the world they stood on now.

"This isn’t an exact model," the Manager said, "but it’s based on the most accurate simulations we’ve been able to produce. We believe this may be what Earth looked like... four billion years ago."

Adyr frowned. "Are you saying Earth was this big?"

The elder nodded slowly. "And more than that—we believe it was inhabited. Not by creatures like the Hominins. But by something else. Something older. Something that built civilizations."

The projection zoomed in, centering on a specific continent. Slowly, a city appeared—its structures built from data recovered through deep scans and theoretical reconstruction. The accuracy was limited—estimated at just five to ten percent—but it was enough to form a clear picture.

As the layout came into focus, Adyr froze.

Massive stepped pyramids rose in the center, their surfaces smoothed by time, each tier carved with markings too precise to be ornamental. Wide stone courtyards stretched between them, engraved with faint geometric patterns that mirrored the stars. Grand staircases climbed sharply to elevated platforms, their alignment flawless—each structure positioned with exact symmetry, as if mapped to celestial coordinates.

The temples at the top weren’t random constructions—they faced specific star paths, designed with purpose.

It wasn’t just ancient.

It was familiar.

I’ve seen this before, Adyr thought.

This... this is a Mayan temple.

Not something like it. The proportions, the layers, the ceremonial layout—it was exact.

Memories from his previous life surfaced—textbook diagrams, virtual reconstructions, archived documentaries. These structures belonged to his Earth, the one he had lived in before reincarnation. But in this world, the one he now inhabited, there was no trace of such history. No pyramids. No Mayans. No Atlantis. Not even forgotten myths. It was as if those civilizations had never existed at all.

That had always confirmed what he believed: this world wasn’t the same. It was parallel. Separate. A different version.

Until now.

Now he was staring at undeniable evidence—a structure from his world... rendered on this one.

Something was wrong. Deeply wrong.

His thoughts spiraled.

If these ruins exist here, just like on my Earth... then what is this place?

Is this really another world? Or is it the same world, just older—far older than anyone imagined?

What about the size? My Earth and the Earth I live in now are the same... but the one in the hologram...

Adyr swallowed the tension building in his chest. For the first time in a long while, he felt his composure slipping—as if a distant voice was whispering something he couldn’t understand, spinning in his ears and making his head reel.

"Do you have any other reconstructions? Any other finds?" he asked quietly, half-hoping to see something even more familiar. A Roman aqueduct. A Chinese palace. The Eiffel Tower.

But the City Managers shook their heads.

"Unfortunately, this is the only detailed structure we’ve been able to reconstruct," one replied. "It’s all we’ve managed, based on the data we have. Why?" His eyes narrowed slightly. "Does it mean something to you?"

Twelve pairs of eyes locked onto him, searching.

But Adyr didn’t answer.

Instead, he shifted his sitting position slightly, his gaze sharpening.

"Forget that. Explain what this actually means. If humanity really dates back that far—and Earth was once this massive—how do you explain the change? How did the planet shrink to its current size?"

Until he had answers, he wasn’t giving them anything.

"That’s part of the theory we mentioned earlier," said the elderly woman, her voice quiet but firm. "We believe there’s an unknown trigger—something that activates the cycle. And every time it’s triggered, a global catastrophe follows. Whether it’s a flood, an earthquake, a meteor strike... something plunges the world into chaos and resets everything. History, civilization, progress—whatever humanity has achieved by that point—it’s all wiped out in an instant."

She paused, eyes scanning Adyr’s expression, then continued in a grimmer tone.

"And whenever the cycle activates, it doesn’t just erase knowledge or culture. It steals something more—like an unknown force carving out a physical piece of the Earth and taking it for itself."