I once heard that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. At the time, it felt like a clever phrase—something to pull out during conversations to sound insightful.
Sometimes, I wondered if we were ever meant to understand the forces that governed us. Maybe we weren’t supposed to be here at all—tampering with powers far beyond our comprehension, bending the rules of nature until they snapped. Or perhaps we were the unintended consequence of someone else’s story—a mistake left to run its course.
These thoughts churned endlessly in my mind as I lay motionless in that hospital bed, staring at a ceiling I had seen far too many times. My body felt like a crumbling ruin, every joint stiff, every breath labored. Outside the window, the grasslands stretched into infinity, their vibrant greens almost painful in their contrast to the sterile whites and grays of the room. The beauty mocked me, a reminder of a world I once roamed freely, a world now reduced to glimpses through reinforced glass.
I knew my time there was almost up. I had maybe a day or two left, if that.
The clock was ticking.
But, the cruel joke was that once I closed my eyes, I would wake up in a world starting all over again.
My fingers, skeletal and trembling, inched toward the remote on the bedside table. It took more effort than it should have. I grabbed it, along with my old notebook—the same one I’ve carried since my young days. Its worn cover felt comforting, a connection to a simpler time.
A press of the remote button shifted the view outside the window, the rolling grasslands dissolve, replaced by a winter wonderland. Snowflakes drift lazily through the air, blanketing a quaint forest cabin surrounded by towering pines. At the same time, the hospital room melted away, its cold sterility giving way to dark wooden beams and the warm glow of a crackling fire. The hummings of machines faded, replaced by the soothing pops and hisses of burning logs.
This was better. Much better.
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I allowed myself a moment to savor the illusion before turning my attention to the notebook resting on my lap. Its leather cover was worn and frayed, its pages filled with years of careful notes and hastily scrawled warnings for the next cycle. It was my map, my compass, my lifeline—assuming, of course, that everything would continue as it had before, and I wasn’t just some old man spiraling into delusion. My hands shook as I opened it. The effort felt monumental, like lifting a weight I was no longer strong enough to bear. Each page was a recording of lives lived and lost, of failures and fleeting victories.
I traced the words with my fingers, committing them to memory one last time. I didn’t know why I bothered; the loop always took what it wanted, leaving only fragments behind. Still, the act felt important, like an anchor in a storm.
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This year, I was nearing one hundred and sixty years old in my second cycle. If I added the years of my first life, I was well past two hundred and eighty—an age so absurd it felt almost fictional, even to me.
As for the reason behind these cycles?
Despite countless attempts to untangle the mystery, I remained in the half-dark.
In the end, the answer I’d come up with was both strange and oddly comical: I was caught in a time loop.
The humor lay in the fact that, despite being trapped in this cycle, I felt certain that I wasn’t the cause of it, nor was the loop somehow centered around me. My meta nature had helped me understand at least that much. The only explanation that made sense was that I was like a small leaf of the right weight and size, unintentionally swept up in a storm, drifting along a sideline current, carried by forces far beyond my control or influence.
The existence of such a time anomaly wasn''t entirely far-fetched, not in a world where humans could bend reality itself to their will.
Strange as it was, it seemed almost mundane compared to some of the things I''d witnessed.
I read until the pages blurred before my weary eyes, until I could no longer tell whether I was memorizing the words or simply staring at them. Morning had melted into evening, and I knew with quiet certainty that when I closed my eyes this time, they wouldn''t open again.
There was no fear in that realization. No regret. Just a calm acceptance, like slipping into a familiar rhythm. Looking back, I felt a quiet pride in this second life. I had done what I’d set out to do. I’d fulfilled the regrets of my first existence, tasted wealth, lived comfortably, and accomplished my wildest dreams. I had even dedicated years to researching the loop itself, though the answers I found only deepened the mystery. But the thought of starting over again, of living a third life, filled me with a kind of dread that no amount of resolve could banish. It felt like torture—an endless cycle of beginnings and endings, of fleeting connections and inevitable losses.
At some point, the notebook slipped from my hand, its weightless fall unnoticed. My heartbeat slowed, its rhythm softening to match the quiet stillness of my thoughts.
For the last time, I watch the snow fall outside, its silent beauty a cruel reminder of everything I’ve lost. The world dimed, and a single thought lingered in my fading consciousness: What if this time, it’s different?
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"In the early days, many scientists attributed the sudden emergence of meta nature in people to evolution. However, this theory quickly lost traction when, after only three years, scientists proposed that prolonged exposure to a specific environmental anomaly—such as a previously undetected radiation band, a chemical reaction in the atmosphere, or a microscopic organism introduced by meteorites—triggered dormant genetic sequences in humans, leading to meta-nature abilities."
"Only after two more years, a radical group of researchers posited that these abilities were the result of covert experimentation by an unknown organization, possibly using gene-editing technology like CRISPR. This theory gained momentum when peculiar traces of engineered DNA were discovered in individuals with meta-nature, suggesting deliberate tampering. Another theory at the same time also gained quite the traction, some scientists suggested that the abilities emerged from a phenomenon called "quantum resonance," where fluctuations in the quantum fabric of reality began affecting human biology. This theory argued that these shifts altered how individuals interacted with space, time, and energy, unlocking latent potential in their physiology."
"Naturally, the general public also had its own set of theories, ranging from that aliens had seeded Earth with genetic material long ago, and that recent cosmic phenomena (e.g., a passing comet or solar flare) activated these latent genes, to work of divine forces such as "God," to secret government experiments."
"..."
Despite being the day''s first lecture, student enthusiasm wasn''t quite matching the professor''s expectations.
Thump!
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A sharp noise jolted me awake, the sound ricocheting through my skull like a gunshot. My eyes snapped open, and the first thing I saw was a sea of faces staring at me, their expressions a mixture of amusement and annoyance. My head throbbed, and my heart pounded in my chest as I struggled to make sense of my surroundings.
I wasn’t in the cabin. I wasn’t in the hospital.
I was in a classroom.
But, despite the curious stares fixed on me, my fist clenched tightly under the desk. My suspicions were confirmed— the wheel of time had turned backward, bringing me once again to this moment.
This was no hallucination, nor was I under the influence of someone''s meta abilities. I was certain of it.
“Do you think my lectures are so boring that they make you sleep, Mr. North?”
The voice cut through my haze like a knife. My head snapped toward its source—a tall, wiry man standing at the front of the room, his gray suit impeccable but wrinkled with the kind of fatigue only teachers carried. His dark eyes bore into me with a mixture of exasperation and anger, as though this moment had played out a hundred times before. But my memory was too unclear to recall the exact details. All I could do now was hope to sidestep the situation and avoid getting pulled into something worse.
Nevertheless, staying calm and diffusing the situation was the first priority, besides, just because I had fallen asleep didn’t mean the sky had fallen.
“Are you still daydreaming, or do you actually have something to back yourself up?” the professor pressed, his tone sharp, slicing through my spiral of thoughts. He was standing closer now, arms folded across his chest, his lips curled in a faint sneer of impatience.
“I’m sorry,” I met his gaze and could only mutter a single sentence, hoping my apology would be enough to satisfy him and allow him to move on.
More than anything, I wanted him to stop making me the focus of everyone’s attention. The professor’s gaze lingered, and for a moment, I thought he might press further. But then he straightened, his expression settling into reluctant acceptance. However, my trouble was far from over, the room felt tense as the professor strode back, his voice now laced with sarcasm. "If anyone here is so advanced that this class bores you to sleep, then by all means, especially Mr. North, you can meet with your program advisor and discuss your options earlier, lest it affect your future.”
Around me, the other students stifled quiet chuckles, clearly entertained by my trouble. However, I didn’t blame them; their laughter was the least of my problems, perhaps living for two lifetimes had made me withdrawn or perhaps it was due to the nature of my predicament. I supposed I didn’t really care about the school or even the people themselves.
“As I was saying,” the teacher drawled, turning back to the chalkboard, “A growing faction of metaphysicists claimed the abilities were evidence of humanity reaching a new spiritual threshold, unlocking hidden energies tied to the universe itself. This theory gained traction among mystics, especially when individuals with meta-nature reported heightened states of awareness or unexplained visions. However, none of this theories to this day could be proved right.”
The sound of chalk scraping against the board filled the air as he resumed his lecture. Around me, the other students began to shift in their seats, their focus drifting back to the professor’s words. A few exchanged quiet whispers and muffled chuckles, no doubt at my expense, but I barely noticed. My thoughts were elsewhere, racing at a million miles an hour.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
When the lecture finally ended two hours later, I slipped out of the classroom as quickly and quietly as I could. My legs carried me on autopilot, weaving through the crowded hallways, past clusters of laughing students and the occasional staff member. I kept my head down, avoiding eye contact, the pounding in my chest relentless. By the time I reached the end of the hallway, I was out of breath, my hands braced against my knees as I doubled over. My chest heaved, the sharp sting of exertion a stark contrast to the frailty I had felt in the hospital.
Still, it felt incredible to be young again—the warmth of blood rushing through my veins, the untamed surge of hormones, the feeling of boundless energy.
For the first time in what felt like lifetimes, I was alive. It was truly a novel experience, no wonder the rich paid so much for this.
I clicked my tongue in quiet wonder, brushing the dust from my clothes with idle hands. The motion felt instinctive, a small, habitual act that steadied the whirlwind of thoughts tumbling through my mind. My steps were unhurried as I moved forward, the buzz of the academy’s hallway a dull backdrop to my inner musings. Students milled about in small clusters, their voices blending into a low hum, but I barely noticed them. My mind was elsewhere.
The first question that surfaced was as natural as breathing: What now?
In the previous cycles, I had experienced life both as society’s underdog and in the lap of luxury. The only path left was one of glory, though I wasn’t particularly eager to chase it unless it became necessary. I also had a few ideas brewing—concepts I’d always wanted to explore. After all, even if this second chance had come by accident, I wasn’t about to waste the precious time it offered.
As I mindlessly trudged down the hallway, a faint tingling sensation brushed the edge of my consciousness. The air seemed to shift around me, the bustling hallway suddenly feeling sharper, more focused. Before I could fully process the sensation, a blur of movement caught my eye.
A hand shot out from my right, aiming straight for me.
But my body reacted faster than my mind, moving on pure instinct. I sidestepped smoothly, the motion fluid and unthinking. The man who had lunged at me stumbled forward, caught off guard by my unexpected reaction. He wobbled precariously, his arms pinwheeling for balance, before finally managing to steady himself.
“Dammit, I almost hit the floor!” he muttered, brushing himself off as he turned to face me.
"What’s going on with you today? You were absent-minded in the ‘Power Theory’ lecture too?" he asked, shaking his hands.
Believe me when I say, it took every ounce of mental effort to recall the man’s name.
He was Alex—one of the few friends I’d made during my time at the academy. But, we didn’t stay in contact for too long, both in the first and second cycle.
“Nothing,” I replied, shifting my stance slightly. “I’ve just had a lot going on my mind lately.”
To my discomfort, Alex slung his arm around my shoulder. "What’s got you so worried? Did you break up with your girlfriend or something?" he teased, pulling me along with him.
Now that he’d mentioned her, vague memories floated to the surface—hints of a figure I could barely recall and a lingering sense of sadness from some distant past.
We had broken up because I’d been accepted to the Beyonder’s Academy and had to relocate. With me moving out of state, we decided it was best to part ways—long-distance felt too challenging, and we were both too young to commit to paths that were still uncertain.
However, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t picture her face.
It left me concerned: was my memory really that poor, or was I even the same person I used to be?
I shook my head, willing the despondent thoughts away. This wasn’t the time to dwell on the past. Time moved forward, and so did people. Change was inevitable—physical, mental, even spiritual. As long as I understood who I was now, everything else could wait.
“See? You went quiet again,” Alex''s voice interrupted my thoughts. “You need to worry less about the past and focus more on what’s ahead. We’re at the Beyonder’s Academy now! Fame, fortune, girls—it’s only a matter of time before we have it all.”
I rolled my eyes, though silently. If only it were that simple. Still, it wasn’t my place to crush his optimism. Who knows? Maybe if he was lucky—or resilient enough—he’d manage to survive and even enjoy the riches he dreamed of. As for his future, I had no way of knowing, and I wasn’t eager to guess.
“Anyway, why are you looking for me?” I asked, mildly intrigued.
Alex grinned. “Nothing important—I just wanted to see if you’re going to the semester party.”
“Semester party?” I repeated.
“Yeah! It’s mainly to welcome the new batch of students, but I heard a lot of seniors also show up to scout for potential recruits. So, you can imagine what a good opportunity it’ll be not just to meet them but to get acquainted,” Alex said, his excitement evident.
I nodded. He was right; it was a valuable chance to observe others and learn about their abilities.
Last cycle, I’d kept my distance from my meta-nature, focusing solely on academics and researching the nature of time. But I’d already dedicated one life to that pursuit, so there was no point in repeating it. I didn’t know how long this time loop would continue or how many cycles I had left, so I needed to make the most of every second this time around.
“I forgot the date, when is the party?” I scratched my head in an act of trying to remember. Of course, I was truthful about forgetting the date.
“It’s on Friday, after three days.”
I nodded, imprinting the date in my memories. “Count me in.”
After our short conversation, Alex and I went our separate ways. I still had two more lectures left, but my body could hardly keep pace with my mind’s constant churning. Deciding to listen to my instincts, I opted to call it a day and head back early.
I lived with my aunt, and luckily, her place was close to the academy—only a twenty-minute train ride.
When I arrived, I fished the spare key out of my pocket and unlocked the door, glancing around as I stepped inside. The house was quiet—no sign of her. A small relief. No awkward exchanges or probing questions today. Not that I was worried she’d figure out something was wrong; she wasn’t the type to pry.
I made my way upstairs, the stairs creaking faintly under my weight. Once in my room, I dropped my backpack onto the chair and flopped onto the bed, staring at the beams of sunlight streaming through my fingers as I reached for them. I couldn’t catch the light, of course, but the thought lingered: maybe some people could. Maybe their numbers were not short.
When meta-nature first appeared in humans three centuries ago, people called it a miracle—superpowers born out of fiction. Those who wielded them were hailed as superheroes, beings of legend who could defy the laws of nature. Back then, meta-nature seemed simpler, almost whimsical: people who could fly, conjure flames, or lift cars with ease. It was as though humanity’s collective imagination had shaped these abilities into something wondrous.
But the world wasn’t ready for them. Early meta-humans lived under constant scrutiny, their lives overshadowed by fear and suspicion. Society viewed them as threats more than miracles. That changed during the Meta Freedom War—a cataclysm that reshaped the very fabric of humanity. Instead of dwindling, the population of meta-humans exploded, their numbers and powers eventually tipping the scales.
The world was forced to adapt, and with time, meta-humans didn''t just find their place in society—they reshaped it entirely, gradually displacing ordinary humans until they became the new standard of human evolution.
What was once extraordinary became commonplace.
Today, nearly everyone possessed some form of meta-nature. The word ‘Superhero,’ once synonymous with awe, was now reserved only for the elite of Ecleon—the very best of the best.
The rest of us? Just ordinary people in an extraordinary world. Or perhaps the world had also become ordinary.
Forming meta-nature had become surprisingly simple: a matter of desire, will, and sometimes sheer luck.
Yet simplicity didn’t guarantee usefulness.
For every person who could control fire or manipulate gravity, there were countless others with powers like changing the color of their hair or speeding up plant growth by a fraction.
Due to the influence of the unknown, the meta-nature had grown increasingly complex overtime. But this complexity didn''t always translate to usefulness—sometimes quite the opposite. It wasn''t uncommon to encounter individuals whose powers were as volatile as walking nuclear bombs, their very existence a potential catastrophe waiting to happen.
Of course, society had adapted to handle such threats.
The authorities had become extremely efficient at this; one whiff of unstable meta-nature, and a potential catastrophe would be quietly neutralized before most people even knew it existed.
I finally dragged myself off the bed, deciding it was time to eat something before attempting anything remotely productive. Heading downstairs, I opened the fridge, only to find it nearly barren—just a few bottles of beer rattling around on the shelves. Not exactly a feast. Thankfully, a quick rummage through the cupboards revealed a lonely packet of noodles. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do for now.
With just $17 to my name, I didn’t have the luxury of being picky. The money my parents had sent me barely covered my academic expenses, and I couldn’t justify spending a cent on anything unnecessary. In hindsight, this was probably why my performance had slipped during the first cycle. The stress of scraping by had a way of dulling focus.
I carried the steaming bowl of noodles back up to my room, taking care to lock the door behind me with a soft click. Setting the bowl aside on my desk, I opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a sleek chrome headband, its polished surface gleaming faintly in the light. It was heavier than it looked, and its minimalist design exuded a sense of precision.
Settling into my chair, I closed my eyes and slipped the cool metal band across my temples and eyes, its snug fit familiar from countless uses.
With a deep breath, I adjusted my posture and let my consciousness sink into the band.
The room around me dissolved into blackness.
Almost instantly, a glowing white logo materialized in the void, the words "Hyper Space: Designed and Powered by Mind Space" etched in clean, modern font.
A few seconds later, the logo faded, and I found myself standing in a boundless expanse of pristine white floor that stretched endlessly in all directions, devoid of shadows or imperfections.
Glancing down at myself, I noticed my features had softened and simplified, taking on a cartoonish quality. My limbs felt lighter, more fluid, as though the usual weight of reality had been stripped away. I flexed my fingers experimentally, watching them move with exaggerated smoothness.
The transition was seamless, and yet the strangeness of it all never quite faded.
All around me, hundreds of other users flickered in and out of existence, each with their own unique character designs—some realistic, others wildly fantastical. Some leapt effortlessly between invisible platforms, their movements fluid and playful, while others vanished entirely, leaving behind shimmering trails of light.
This was the internet made manifest: a physical, interactive space where data and imagination intertwined.
It translated the sprawling network of information into a tangible world, one you could navigate, build, and manipulate with ease. Meta-devices came in all shapes and forms—headbands, bracelets, rings, even decorative coins. Their function was the same, but the price tags varied wildly— limited only by how much money you could sink into them.
A quick glance around the bustling expanse of HyperSpace reminded me how alive it was
With a simple thought, I willed myself out of the chaos, reappearing in my personal lounge.
The room wasn’t much—just a modest, private workspace tailored to my preferences. A single desk, a chair, and clean, minimalist walls. It was functional, though hardly impressive. Upgrades would have to wait until I had more time—and, more importantly, more money.
I triggered a digital interface with a thought, and a translucent screen materialized before me. A detailed readout of my recent activities populated the display: time spent in Hyper Space, social interactions, contributions to community projects. None of it particularly noteworthy. I swiped past the logs and tapped on a widget labeled “Network Hub.”
It immediately expanded, displaying a variety of links and access points to other hyperspaces: games, chatrooms, community hubs, and specialized applications for every imaginable purpose.
The sheer breadth of possibilities was staggering, but my focus was singular right now.
I needed money, and this was the time to earn it.