In the boundless multiverse, there exist infinite worlds, each with its own laws, inhabitants, and destinies.
Sometimes, due to chance or someone's malicious will, beings find themselves in a world alien to them.
"Transmigration" is a common phenomenon in the multiverse.
However, everything changes when a universe already has an alternative version of the transmigrant. Since two identical entities cannot exist in the same universe, a "fusion" occurs in such cases — a process in which the memories, powers, and experiences of the transmigrant are transferred to their double in the destination world.
On a rather steep slope, far from the enormous city visible on the horizon — the Capital — a young man sat. His snow-white hair, reminiscent of fresh snowflakes, was tousled by a playful wind.
A bright orange scarf danced in the air currents, mirroring the golden glow of his eyes. The young man's face, despite its modesty, bore refined beauty. His name was Regulus Corneas.
"Ah, if only I could mess with her right now," Regulus lazily thought, smirking. "The main thing is to come up with a plan."
However, his peaceful mood was interrupted by sudden pain. The young man's eyes widened, and he clutched his head as vivid and strange images flashed through his mind.
Before him flickered his own face, though it appeared different: a prim young man in a dazzling white coat styled after ancient Greek fashion. All the memories of his alternative version from another world flooded his mind.
This other Regulus was not just an ordinary youth. He was an Archbishop of the Witch's Cult, embodying "Greed," over a hundred years old, and wielded the "Authority of Greed" — a power that made him terrifyingly invincible.
Among the other archbishops who inherited the witches' powers and factors, he was the most dangerous, the most twisted manifestation of greed.
His primary ability was "Lion's Heart" — a gift that allowed him to stop time for his own body.
In this state, he existed not in the present but in the past, becoming an anomaly untouched by any law of physics, should he so desire.
The wind didn't stir his clothes, water didn't wet his skin, and blows capable of obliterating entire cities left not even a speck of dust on him.
All of this was because Regulus, in effect, existed in the past; therefore, the present couldn't affect him.
He didn't need air, food, water — nothing. Time held no power over him; he didn't age, suffer, or change.
But his invulnerability was imperfect: using Lion's Heart was accompanied by unbearable pain.
He could endure it for no more than five seconds. Yet even this he circumvented — his cruelty knew no bounds. Regulus created "pseudo-hearts" — tiny hearts placed in the bodies of other people, connected to his own.
The heartbeat of these "hosts" kept his Lion's Heart in a constantly active state, allowing Regulus to feel no pain. At the same time, the hosts also felt no pain, because these weren't their primary hearts, and they might not even have known they were connected to him.
These people became his wives — more than fifty unfortunate women. He broke their wills, killing their families, wiping their settlements off the map. Eventually, they agreed to marriage, where even showing emotions was forbidden.
As long as all his wives were alive, Regulus remained invulnerable.
But it wasn't just his defense that made him a monster. His attacks were equally merciless. Lion's Heart had a second phase — "Temporal Immobility of Objects."
Unlike the first phase, where time was stopped for his body, here he froze time for external objects and could use them, ignoring any barriers.
Sand, turned into a frozen whirlwind, pierced enemies, turning them into a bloody mist. Water, air, metal — everything became a deadly weapon in his hands.
This alternative Regulus was absurdly greedy. His avarice defied comprehension.
He wanted everything — and he got everything, stopping at nothing, not even the slaughter of thousands. "If he grew bored of something, he destroyed it."
Any triviality, even a misplaced glance or an untimely word, could be a reason for brutal punishment.
A "conversation" with him wasn't a dialogue. It was Regulus's monologue, where he answered his own questions and then killed his interlocutor for "violating his rights."
"Any attempt to contradict or interrupt his speech was perceived as an insult of the highest order."
He was a man who would kill anyone for a stolen crumb of bread and call it the ultimate crime.
To take anything from him was to violate his law, his order, his greed.
Regulus Corneas sat on the slope, trying to calm his wildly beating heart. His hands were still trembling, and a deafening silence filled his mind, as if the world itself awaited his next words or actions.
"What the hell was that?" he exhaled, his words almost breaking. "Is that me? Or… not me?"
He stared at his palms, as if trying to find an answer to a question that refused to fit into his consciousness. Once again, images of his other self flashed before his eyes — the white coat, the gaze full of cold greed, and the horrifying power that made an entire world tremble.
Twenty seconds passed before his breathing steadied. Calm returned, but concern still lingered in Regulus's eyes.
"Another world… an alternative me… and these powers…" he murmured, shaking his head. "I always thought it was fairy tales, but how can you not believe now? Damn witches, Archbishops, a flat world… What a circus."
He couldn't help but smirk, though his smile came out nervous.
"Somebody pinch me."
With these words, Regulus took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cool air. Thoughts buzzed in his head one after another, but one especially stuck in his mind.
"What if that power became mine?" he thought, gazing at the horizon, where the majestic Capital loomed in the distance. "I could become… no, I would be a god. No one would be able to stop me."
This realization sent a chill down his spine. Inside, a strange feeling grew — a mixture of fear and excitement. Suddenly, Regulus extended his hand forward, aiming at a lone tree at the foot of the slope.
"What if I inherited not just the memories but also the powers?" the thought flickered in his mind. "You'll never know if you don't try."
His fingers twitched. He bent his middle finger under his thumb, ready to snap. But at the last moment, doubt crept into his soul.
What if he turned into the same monster as that other Regulus? What if this power consumed him, turning him into a merciless beast?
"Will I be able to keep myself?" he asked himself. "Can I use this power not to destroy everything and everyone?"
Before his inner gaze, the image of "sister" surfaced again. Her smile, her voice, her troll-like nature.
"No… I won't harm her," he decided firmly. "I won't let this power control me."
With these thoughts, he resolutely snapped his fingers.
A sharp, high-pitched sound, like the ringing of metal, echoed through the air. In the same instant, the space directly in front of him froze, touched by the snap of his fingers. The air hung unnaturally, suspended outside the flow of time. Regulus barely had a moment to register what was happening before the frozen air suddenly surged forward — straight toward the tree.
What happened next was nothing short of astonishing. The air, severed from time, moved with a speed 1,700 times faster than sound. It was as though the very fabric of space had been torn apart by its strike.
In the blink of an eye, the enormous tree, which had loomed like an unyielding giant moments before, was cleaved in two. The cut was unnervingly precise — smooth and flawless, as though the tree had been sliced by a razor-sharp blade.
With a thunderous crash, half of the tree collapsed to the ground, sending up a cloud of dust and leaves that danced chaotically in the aftermath.
Regulus stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the aftermath of his snap. His eyes widened, the golden hue within them gleaming even more brightly as the reality of what he had done began to sink in.
"W-what…" he whispered, his voice trembling. His chest felt tight, his emotions a tumult of disbelief, fear, and something dangerously close to exhilaration.
Slowly, he lowered his hand, his fingers still tingling faintly from the act. His gaze fell back on the destruction he had wrought. A single, haunting thought surfaced in his mind.
"And now what?"
He stared at the split tree, his mind racing.
"I'm part of the revolutionary army, just like 'sister.' But if they find out about this power… they'll make me their main weapon. And after the revolution, when the Empire falls… I'll be a threat to them. Too dangerous. They'll eliminate me to protect their new world."
His fists clenched tightly, a faint tremor running through his fingers.
"I have to keep this a secret," he thought with grim resolve. "From the revolutionaries, from the Empire… even from 'sister.' At least for now. Maybe someday I'll explain it to her. But not yet."
A surge of memories hit him like a storm. The faces of his comrades from their group — Oarburgh — rose in his mind, vivid and piercing.
"If I'd had this power back then…" he murmured bitterly, his voice barely audible. "If this Authority had awakened earlier… none of them would have died."
The thought sent a shudder through him. Of all that once was, only he and 'sister' remained.
"…Just me and 'sister,'" Regulus whispered, lifting his gaze toward the horizon. In the distance, the faint outline of the Capital loomed, bathed in the fading light of the setting sun.
Long shadows stretched across the slope as the world around him began to darken. The wind tugged at his orange scarf, a quiet reminder that time marched on, indifferent to the chaos that had just unfolded.
The world didn't know what had just happened. The world didn't know about the new power that had awakened within it.
But Regulus did.
He knew one thing with absolute certainty: he was now the strongest being alive. Neither the Empire, nor the revolutionary army, nor anyone else would ever learn the truth of who he was. This power was his to bear — his burden and his weapon.
And only he would decide how to use it.