Alphen had died.
He knew that. He'd lived out a good, happy life.
But something even greater than Chronos wanted his friends and him, and for what, he didn't know.
"What happens now?"
Chronos took a step forward, the clock behind him spinning rapidly. The numbers etched upon each sphere glowing with a reality-bending light.
"Now…" Chronos raised a hand at them, a beam of light building within his palm, "…you start over."
Time-Travel Fix-It AU
AN: Lemme know any spelling or grammar mistakes and I'll get around to fixing them. Also, this has been cross=posted on AO3 under the same name.
Chronostasis – Chapter 5
"I'm an idiot, I'm an idiot, I'm an idiot…" Law repeated over and over in a whisper, almost like a mantra as he packed a bag with some supplies the Crimson Crows had stashed away in one of their currently out-of-use hideouts across Calaglia.
He really felt like one as well.
The moment he'd woken up in a large cavern he'd almost freaked.
The moment he saw his father Zephyr and his mother Terra sleeping together against a wall, a small tattered blanket covering the both of them, both who he was very sure were dead, he did freak out. The tumbling out of his rickety cot type of freak out and a small amount of hyperventilation in a mine filled with dust.
It took him a little bit longer to calm down and a bit more to realised he was freaking tiny! Like, he'd always been on the smaller-side compared to others but this was ridiculous!
It took him even longer to realise he wasn't tiny, he was just younger.
He honestly hadn't been sure if this was a nightmare, dream, or reality. Especially since when he got a good look at himself, he looked around eleven-years old which was absolutely wrong since his mom had died when he was ten.
This was reality.
He knew this because did the first thing that came to his mind.
You can't get hurt in a dream, after all. Everything in a dream fight or nightmare feels sluggish, if you try to punch something it's like punching with a ball of cotton around your hands. Same for getting hit.
The best way to tell if it was a dream or not was to feel pain.
So he grabbed his thumb and dislocated it.
He'd almost screamed at the time, only stopping himself since that would inevitably wake up his parents who were somehow alive!
"Ahh, son of a-!" he whisper-yelled in pain, hopping around like an idiot as he got a tight grip on his dislocated thumb and forced it back into place. His breath hitched at the second lance of pain but he years of discipline and fighting stopped him from yelling out.
Then reality decided to rear its ugly head, kicking him straight in the jaw as he realised this was real.
He scrambled to his feet, short stubby uncoordinated legs causing him grief but he did it. Once he was up he honestly wasn't sure on what to do. Half of him wanted to tackle hug his parents, but… another part of him didn't.
Not as he could see his mom's forehead bead with sweat, not from the heat of Calaglia but from a sickness no one knew how to cure. No one except his dad who'd been too late to give it, his mom dying, and him leaving for Cyslodia after burning her body.
He couldn't just run to them after all these years just… knowing…
"Damn it…." Law clutched his small chest with small hands, his young tiny body filled with too many emotions. Honestly, he was half-ready to bawl his eyes out.
A small part of him did as he bit back a choked sob, a sob of relief, grief, and hope as he stepped away from his parents and outside of the housing they were currently using for the Crimson Crows Resistance group. He didn't look back as he snuck away, almost afraid he wouldn't be able to leave, to find a cure.
He vaguely remembered the current hideout the Crimson Crows were using, it was one of their hideouts tucked away in a cliffside between Mosgul and Ulzebek. However, more importantly, he remembered when the crimson Crows had used this hideout before he left.
It was a month or two before the beginning of the new Crown Contest, just before Balseph arrived and began ruling Calaglia as the new Lord of Fire.
Seven or so months before his mom died.
In his head, he began to ignore nearly everything that didn't matter.
The how's, why's, and everything else that had to do with him being here, he ignored all of that. He wasn't even sure if he'd be able to think of Alphen, Shionne, Kisara, Dohalim, and Rinwe-
Rinwell!
If he was here, then maybe she was as well!
He recalled that it was just after the Crown Contest that Almeidrea attacked and slaughtered the hidden Dahnan mages. Maybe he'd be able to-
No.
Not the time.
Law shook his head, his young mind easily distracted by straying thoughts. Right now, he needed to find a cure.
The thing was he didn't know what the cure needed was for his mom's disease since Dad hadn't been able to tell him before he died, and he couldn't actually remember any doctors they'd come across being able to identify what disease she had.
Thankfully, he did know of something better than a cure, something which could heal literally anything. The 'literal' part being very, very true.
An elixir.
The only thing was, the closest one that he knew of was in the Riville Prison Tower in Cysloden. There was a single one stashed away in a hidden storage room which had been used by the previous Lord of Cyslodia for some rare treasures but eventually forgotten about, and when Ganabelt inherited the tower, he'd never known about the storage room either.
Honestly, no one knew about the storage room except for Alphen who could sniff out treasures and owls like a Zeugle.
Now, he knew his destination and purpose.
And fortunately for him, right now was the best possible time for him to go since for about a week, there would no Lords to command the Renans, making it the perfect moment to sneak into Cysloden's Riville Prison Tower and snag the Elixir.
Which brought him back to right now, Law calling himself an idiot as he ransacked the Zionne Mine Tunnels hideout for anything he could use for the trip to Cyslodia. His bag was filled with non-perishable foods, underwear, socks, a towel, and other smaller necessities that he'd be able to lug with him. In the corner of his eyes, he spotted a thick woolly sheep jacket that would reach to his calves and looked extremely hot to wear.
Or at least in Calaglia.
In Cyslodia though, it would be the perfect thing for him to wear. Alongside it was a hat made of similar materials but with a fur inside rather than wool, well-taken care of but it looked like it had never once been used which made sense with Calaglia's molten climate, and a thin scarf which due to his size, he'd be able to wrap it around his neck multiple times.
Once he was sure he had everything he could use, he began to make his way to the Gates of Flame, the very same one that Alphen had utterly destroyed with the Blazing Sword.
Or in the white-haired man's words; tear down the walls between us!
Actually, now that he though about it, a lot of places across Dahna were inherited by the Lords. The Gates of Flame, Reville Prison Tower, and even Del Fharis Castle.
(A part of Law had thought about going up Berg Volcano and seeing if Alphen was in the Falneitz, but with the way his body currently was, he wasn't sure he'd even survive the way up with how powerful the Zeugles in that area were.)
With his stubby legs, it took Law far longer than he'd expected to make it, needing to quietly pass through Ulzebek and take the elevator to the Trench of Flames and the gate that stopped anyone form moving between Calaglia and any other realm. Law had a long wait ahead of him he realised as he took the time to sit down, for the convoys that were sent between realms, the only time the Gate would open and permit anyone to pass and honestly, Law couldn't quite remember how often that was or when he'd originally done it.
The Gate of Flames opened.
Okay, apparently not long at all it seems.
Law scrambled to his feet, almost falling over from the mass of his provisions. He quickly chucked his bag into the very last cargo transport in the convoy line delivering ores to Cyslodia, and quick to jump in next to his bag and wriggling under the tarp that held the ores down to conceal himself as best he possible could.
"Rinwell is so right. I am an idiot."
Bregon had lived a long life.
He'd seen Lords come and leave.
Each Renan Lord was about as bad as the last, but most of them were too lazy to do away with the flood lights that took astral energy from each embedded.
He'd seen some Lords die at the hands of other Lords.
He'd seen some Lords simply leave behind ten years' worth of oppression as if it meant nothing to them.
He'd seen Renans jeer at Dahnans, threatening to send them to the flood lights, something he'd been threatened with and even been forced to do for ten years of his life when he was younger.
Now, as he watched from the safety of the abandoned highland cabin he'd holed himself up in for the time being, Bregon wasn't entirely sure his eyes were working as he watched a child carrying around a bag the size of Bregon's own torso punch a Zeugle in the jaw, shatter said body part and kill it with that same punch, before letting it's corpse dissolve back into Astral Energy.
It wasn't one Zeugle either, it was a whole pack of white-wolves, with an alpha white-wolf leading them.
Between a single child and four stray white-wolf Zeugles with teeth sharp enough to tear through Renan armour (he'd been fortunate once to see a stray pack tear into one of the Armoured Renan Soldiers that patrolled the outskirts of Messia 224), the child was winning. From the window he watched flabbergasted as the small child threw kicks and punches that broke bones and left bruises along the length of each Zeugle.
Three minutes was all it took for the little monster-child to defeat the five remaining white-wolf Zeugles and their Alpha, their corpses dissipating back into Astral Energy.
Bregon honestly didn't know whether to laugh or cry as the child clad in a coat large enough that it dragged behind him in the knee-high snow and a hat suited for the cold that covered his ears and almost his eyes opened the door to the cabin he was taking shelter in from the Cyslodia snowstorm and Armoured Renans patrolling outside Messia 224. The child trudged into the cabin slowly, small thumps against the old hardwood floor that creaked with every tiny step, closed the door behind them, and looked up.
Bregon's eyes met bright blue from beneath the ear-covering fur cap, the headwear sliding down from how large it was compared the child's head. "Oh… hey…" the child muttered lowly, the voice even with how low they spoke, still far too high for Bregon to tell if the child was a boy or a girl.
Without a care, the child continued to trudge into the darkened cabin, the fireplace left unlit since it would attract Renan patrols, slumping into furthermost corner from the door, already snoring away without bothering to clean their coat.
Bregon was left standing from his place by the window, unsure of what to do with the little monster-child situated but teen feet away from. Judging from their snores, they were passed out like a burnt-out candle wick.
He let out a sigh as he grabbed a large tarp-covering he'd found earlier, having already shaken off the dust outside, folded it up so it would have more layers, before draping it over the tiny form slumbering in the corner. The tarp covering would reflect body-heat and coupled with the coat, scarf, and fur cap the child was wearing, it'd help with staving off the frostbiting cold of Cyslodia.
Bregon may have been sceptical and wary, but he was still a Dahnan, and while not all Dahnans looked after each other he certainly did his best to do so. With his part done, he grabbed two thick blankets and covered himself, leaning against the adjacent wall so he wasn't directly beneath the windowsill, he quickly fell into a fitful slumber.
"So…" Bregon began as morning shone on Cyslodia.
Or at least as much of a morning you could have when all the light-element Astral Energy was being sucked up into a spirit vessel by the flood lights, robbing the realm of any form of a day-and-night cycle that left only an eternal night behind.
But that wasn't the issue at hand.
What was an issue was the way the child tore away at the unknown jerky they'd kept stashed away in their torso-sized bag.
It wasn't a small amount of jerky either. If Bregon had to guess, it was enough jerky to feed two-grown men comfortable for a meal. And the child was scarfing them down so fast Bregon was sure they were going to choke sooner or later.
"…what's your name?" he eventually settled on a nice and normal questioned to get the child to at least speak rather than wake up and begin eating loud enough to wake the dead.
Or at least wake Bregon from his spot in the opposite corner.
The child had been nice enough to share a third of the jerky they'd pulled out of their bag, the child's jerky mound being twice the size of Bregon's.
Did he mention that the child's jerky mound had been enough for two grown men? Bregon's was half of that, and now that he was slowly eating through it, he may have been wrong.
The jerky felt like it filled him up more than it should have, almost as if it expanded in his stomach. He'd eaten his way through around five sticks, and he felt fuller than he had in years.
The child was onto their seventeenth stick of jerky, taking a particularly sharp chomp on the dried meat in an effort to tear a piece off.
"Law."
That was the only word that left the child's mouth as he successfully tore off a strip of jerky, quickly swallowing it before continuing for another bite.
"Okay… 'Law'," Bregon stressed, still not completely sure if that was the child's name or a name he gave to strangers. It's what he would've done.
"Where's your family?"
"Calaglia."
What?
"T-The realm of fire?" Bregon double-checked unsure if he'd heard that right.
The child's fur cap bobbed up and down in a nod as they tore into their eighteenth strip of jerky, only pausing to give a belch that smelled strongly of the meat they'd been eating for the last ten minutes/
"I see…" Bregon mused, leaning his back lightly against the cabin wall. "Must've been a long time since you've last seen them…
"Uh…" the child peered up at him, bright teal blue eyes shining beneath the fur cap. It was difficult even then to tell the child's gender, their mouth covered by a scarf and their head and most of their face hidden by their fur cap with ear flaps.
"…I saw them a week ago?
"…Excuse me?" he couldn't help but give a confused look at the child.
Wasn't the path to Calaglia blocked off by the Gate of Flames?
"I saw them a week ago? Like five days ago really?"
Bregon was shocked. The child's parent shad managed to somehow smuggle their child past the Gates of Hell.
But why?
Cyslodia was in no better position than Calaglia, much less any other realm, all realms throughout Dahna being under Renan tyranny as it were.
"Your parents sent you here? Why would they do such a thing?" he asked, a small seed of worry and doubt in his chest as to whether the child's parents had actually expected them to survive.
But if that was the case, why go through the trouble of sneaking them past Renan guard if they wanted to be rid of their child?
The child's teal blue eyes creased as they looked up at Bregon, confusion filling their orbs.
"My parents didn't send me here?"
What?
"I stowed away in a Renan delivery transport!" the child's eyes creased as if they were giving Bregon a proud grin.
WHAT?
"Actually, I need to go. Gotta get that Elixir from the Prison Tower!"
WHAT?!
The chil- no… the menace said as they packed up their foodstuffs into their torso-sized bag.
"Wait, what?!" Bregon scrambled to his feet as the child began to make his way out of the cabin they'd stayed the night in. They hadn't even bothered to take the jerky they'd given Bregon, the strangely filling Jerky that would be enough to last him a half-a-week. "Why are you going to the Prison Tower?! It's dangerous for someone like you!"
The fur cap on their head tilted to the side.
"My mom's sick and there's a cure in the Tower. I gotta get it."
Bregon stopped.
Their words hid something, and it bothered him.
"Kid… Your parents even know you're here?" the older man asked tentatively. His worries were confirmed when Law shuffled from side-to-side, their fur cap showing the way they weren't looking at him even if it covered their eyes.
Bregon let out a sigh, the weight of all forty-eight years of his life dropping onto his shoulders as he looked at the talented menace before him that had stowed away to a different realm in the hopes of searching for a cure for their sick mother.
"I'm an idiot. By Dahna, I'm an idiot…" he murmured to himself, making sure to whisper it as quietly as possible so he wouldn't infect such a youth with curse words, as he decided on his course of action.
Wasn't like he had much going for him anyways. Sooner or later, he'd be caught by a Renan patrol and sent to work the floodlights for another ten-years. He may as well send the kid packing back to his family with whatever cure was in the Prison Tower before then.
The small part of him that suggested that bringing a literal child to a Lord's castle was the height of arrogance and stupidity was hushed by the larger art of him that mentioned the Lord of Cyslodia had left for Lenegis and if anything, now was the best time to get in and out of the Tower. The larger part didn't forget to mention that they'd seen this child take down white-wolf Zeugles that've shredded through Heavy Renan Armour.
"Hey, Law…" Bregon called out, "Why don't I come with you? Show you how to get to the tower?"
He felt like such an idiot.
Law gave him a long stare, teal eyes staring into Bregon's own.
Eventually he nodded.
The two made their way out of the highway cabin that stood a ways away from Messia 224.
It took all of four hours to get into the Reville Prison Tower in the middle of Cysloden, Law easily knocking out Renan guards no matter if they had swords, shields or guns, and find the cure for Law's mother.
Of course, it was never, ever as easy as it sounded. Bregon had initially thought Law was sending them on a merry chase as the child scurried across the marble floors of the Tower, going down into the basement, defeating the enormous two-headed Zeugle that could breathe fire and ice, before picking up a key among the human bones that had been left behind when the Zeugle dissipated back into astral energy.
He'd have loved to say he was useful, using a Renan rifle he snagged from a knocked-out guard to take pot-shots at whoever and whatever they came across, including the two-headed Zeugle.
But he'd be lying.
He was near useless, his pot-shots doing nothing but skidding off the monster's tough hide.
Law, on the other hand, was monstrous. For as small as they seemed, they were more than able to throw bare hands at the gargantuan Zeugle and win. It had taken well over twenty minutes within the closed cage to fell the beast, but Bregon was simply happy he wasn't a Zeugle meal compared to the evidently many people that had been digested by the beast.
With the beast defeated and key in hand, Law trudged their way back upstairs, almost as they knew where they were going rather than checking every nook and cranny. Bregon followed behind the child, his much taller stature making it far easier to shoot enemies down the hallway, bullets quite literally flying over Law's head.
Dear Dahna, what the fuck was he doing?! This was insane!
Bregon followed him to what he seemed like a room filled to the brim with relics, Dahnan some of them judging by their design. If he had to guess, it was almost like each Lord just grabbed whatever Dahnan object they could get their hands on and put it on display, because there was no way the Light Lord had collected all of this in ten years.
He almost tripped over Law, the child stopping in front of a display case.
Bregon looked up to see an ancient Dahnan armour, black and silver. In front of it was a black sword with a grey guard, etched into the blade in gold lettering was the word 'Sincleaver' in ancient Dahnan. "I don't think that'll fit you…" Bregon gave a small grin despite the seriousness of what they were currently doing.
"Nah…" Law looked up at him, eyes crinkling in a tell-tale smile even without him being able to see the child's mouth hidden away by their scarf. "Not for me… for a friend. He'll come back to get it some day though…"
Well, that was a mysterious if confusing statement.
Come back for it?
Before Bregon could even ask Law what he'd meant, the child continued forward through the collection room of the Tower into what he presumed to be the Lord's office judging by the layout and the large desk on the marble stage that overlooked the entrance.
To Bregon's surprise, rather than rifling through the room, Law immediately sought out the furthest bookcase directly behind the desk. The child pulled out the golden key they'd obtained from t e basement and jammed it into the bookshelf.
Bregon gaped as the key melted, merging with the shelf.
The room rumbled as the shelf Law had somehow melted a key into moved aside, split directly down the middle to reveal a second hidden room.
What the fuck.
Law ran in with little care.
Bregon scrambled after them. He screeched to a halt as the room revealed itself to be a second collection room, this one filled with all sorts of Dahnan weaponry, but Law ignored all of that in favour of two devices, one with what almost looked like blue eyes, the other with red eyes.
The blue one contained what looked like a green phial, glowing a dull green. The red one contained some sort of bangle. "This what you need for your mom, kid?" Bregon asked curiously, slinging the rifle over his shoulder as he approached the child.
"Yeah…"
Law murmured as they held up the green phial for a moment before regaining their senses and stowing it safely away in their padded woolen coat.
"Good," Bregon nodded, a sense of fulfillment in his chest as he looked down at the warmly rugged-up child. "Now, let's get out of here and back to Calaglia."
It was only as they exited the Reville Prison Tower and took up temporary residence in an abandoned building deep located in an alley just off Central Plaza Avenue that Law dropped their final surprise.
"What do you mean you can't get back to Calaglia?" Bregon near tore his hair our as he listened to Law.
The child just gave a shrug, a shrug!
"It's gonna be another month before the supply transport goes back to Calaglia. No other real way for me to get back but that," Law said as their little legs swung back and forth on the rickety stool they were sitting on.
"Right…" Bregon slumped in the only other chair in the abandoned house, an armchair that Law had refused in favour of being able to swing his legs on the stool.
It seemed he'd be looking after the menace for a little while longer then.
"What's your plan then?" he asked, not all too expecting of the child actually having a plan for the next month.
It seemed he was right as Law tilted their head up in thought, so far up in fact that the fur cap they'd taken to wearing fell off revealing short purple-hair.
Law either a boy or a very masculine girl.
Bregon had a hard time telling with kids. They all sort of look like potatoes when they're babies, the only way to tell their gender before they grew up and their voices deepened and certain body parts grew was usually their hair, and Law's while short also had some braids so it was a bit difficult to tell.
But if he had to guess, Law was a boy.
Law chose that very moment to smash his knuckles together, drawing Bregon's thoughts back into the present. "Wanna start a resistance group? My dad runs one back in Calaglia!"
What had he gotten himself into?
A/N: Law is here bitches! If you think I'm not going to have child Law or Rinwell kick absolute ass, you're deadass wrong.
I also believe that a child Law not being fuelled by hatred of his dad would be an absolute chaos gremlin.
Now, cause I know there's gonna be some will be asking why characters seem OOC compared to either Canon or what you'd expect from 60-year-olds (Shionne's Case) or 30-year-olds (Law's case) or for whoever else. My logic is that your body produces hormones that directly affect your emotional state which is why someone like Dohalim is relatively well-adjusted since while he died in his mid-30s, his physical body is 22 which produces less emotionally-affecting hormones compared to Children or Teenagers.
In Law's case he's in the body of a child, hence childlike emotions even if he has the mind of a thirty-year-old.
Shionne's an exception since while she has the physical body of a teenager in the middle of puberty, she's also had experience in handling her emotions at this age due to her thorns, the same experience her physical body already has.
Current Chapter - 7 years before start of Canon, 1 week before the start of the Crown Contest
Estimated Level. Age, and Clothing for Characters
Law –
Level: 25 (Experienced but his body is that of an eleven-year-old, so he's definitely anywhere near when he fought Chronos Post-Game) – Currently on par with Enraged Earth Lord Dohalim il Qaras
Age: 11 years old (Should be 9 but was aged up by two years because he didn't regress in age properly.)
Hair: Slicked Back Hair with an Ushanka fur hat
Body: Woolly Coat (Similar to what Nayth wears)
Attachments: None
Weapon: Law is out here throwing hands and only hands