The silence was the first sign something was wrong.
Zhang Wei had walked for hours beyond the Forest of Emberthorns, following the ancient stone path that wound like a scar through the trees. The atmosphere had shifted. The once oppressive mist had cleared, but the stillness it left behind was worse. There were no rustling branches, no distant howls. Not even the hum of insects.
It was like the world was holding its breath.
His instincts, sharpened by two lifetimes and the strange combat clarity that had blossomed in this world, screamed at him to stop. Turn around. Something was coming.
But the path ahead had changed too. Where it had once been stone, cracked and overgrown, it was now pristine obsidian. Perfect, polished, like glass. It reflected the swirling sky above, mirroring crimson clouds and violet lightning.
"This feels wrong," Zhang Wei muttered.
He was about to step off the path and into the treeline when the world shifted.
There was no sound, no warning. One moment he was alone; the next, he wasn't.
A figure stood at the center of the path, exactly ten meters ahead.
It was him.
No, not exactly. The man had the same build, the same sharp jawline, the same black hair and golden eyes. But where Zhang Wei wore worn traveler's robes, the doppelganger wore sleek armor that pulsed with dark energy. And his eyes—those weren't Zhang Wei's eyes.
They were empty.
Void of soul.
The copy spoke, voice like a blade dragged across stone. "Zhang Wei."
Zhang took a cautious step back. "Okay. Either this is some weird illusion, or I'm being haunted by fashion-forward ghosts."
The doppelganger tilted his head. "I am you. Or rather, who you will become."
Zhang gripped his staff. "Great. Time travel. Because this world wasn't already complicated enough."
The other him began to walk forward. "You think reincarnation is a gift. But every cycle twists you. Changes you. Fragments you. Until only the power remains, and the soul is lost."
Zhang's grip tightened. "What are you saying?"
"You will lose yourself. Again and again. You will chase power until there's nothing left of who you were. No memories. No mercy. Just a hollow god with an infinite past and no future."
Zhang swung his staff. "I'll take my chances."
The figure caught the staff mid-swing.
His strength was impossible. With a flick of his wrist, he threw Zhang back like a ragdoll. He slammed into the obsidian path, skidding across its glassy surface.
Pain erupted across his back. The air left his lungs.
He rolled, barely dodging the crushing stomp that cracked the stone beside his head.
"You cannot stop this," the copy said, advancing. "I am your end. Your beginning."
Zhang spat blood. "You talk too much."
He channeled everything he had into a Surge Strike. The staff pulsed, brighter than ever before, and slammed into the copy's side.
This time, the blow landed.
The doppelganger was thrown back, crashing into a tree that exploded into splinters. Zhang didn't wait. He charged, following up with a flurry of strikes, staff spinning like a blur of wood and fury.
Each hit was answered. Parried. Matched.
He was fighting an enemy who knew every move he would make. Every habit. Every mistake.
Because he was him.
The battle raged across the clearing, obsidian cracking, trees shattering, energy flaring. Glyphs sparked in the air with every clash.
Zhang began to falter.
His vision blurred. His body screamed. The doppelganger hadn't even slowed down.
Then came the moment.
He dodged too slow. Moved too late.
A blade of dark energy pierced his chest.
Zhang gasped.
He fell to his knees, staring at the weapon impaling him. The pain was blinding. The staff dropped from his hands.
The copy knelt beside him, whispering, "This is the first death that counts. The first that matters."
And then everything went dark.
He expected a void.
Instead, he awoke in fire.
Not literal flames, but a sea of memories burning around him. He saw faces—his parents, old friends, people he didn't recognize. Snippets of past lives. Pain. Joy. Regret. Glory.
Voices echoed.
"He died again."
"This time, the essence fractured."
"Will he come back whole? Or will another piece be lost?"
"We cannot stop it. The Spiral moves."
He felt himself being pulled. Rewoven. Reformed. But something was different this time.
There was resistance.
His soul was fighting.
Then—
A gasp.
Zhang Wei opened his eyes.
He lay on a stone altar in a dark room lit by flickering torches. Symbols surrounded him, etched into the floor in glowing ink.
A figure loomed over him.
It wasn't the Guardian.
It was a girl. Young, maybe sixteen. White hair, silver eyes. Her hands were glowing.
She staggered back as he sat up, her face pale with shock.
"You were dead," she whispered. "You were completely dead. Not just wounded. Soul gone. I watched it. I only revived your body out of curiosity. But... your soul came back."
Zhang rubbed his chest. The wound was gone. "Yeah. That's kind of my thing."
The girl shook her head. "No. You don't understand. That's not supposed to be possible. Once the soul leaves the cycle, it dissolves. Becomes part of the Weave. You should be... scattered."
He looked at his hands. They trembled.
Not from weakness. From power.
Something had changed.
He could feel the reincarnation process now. Like an extra sense. He could feel echoes of his past selves. Fragments.
He stood. "Who are you?"
"Kaelin," she said. "A Weavekeeper. I tend to broken souls."
"Guess I qualify."
Kaelin bit her lip. "Not exactly. You're not broken. You're... rebinding."
"Meaning?"
"You're fusing with your other selves. You're becoming all of them. At once."
Zhang blinked. "Is that bad?"
She hesitated. "It depends. On your mind. And your choices."
He took a deep breath. "Can I control it?"
"Maybe. But there's a risk. If you die again, the fusion might complete before you're ready. That could destroy your personality."
Zhang smirked. "Good thing I don't plan to die again."
But inside, he wasn't sure.
Because as he stood there, memories not his own flooded in. Battlefields he had never seen. Spells he had never learned. Emotions he had never felt.
A part of him liked it.
A part of him wanted more.
Kaelin stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm. "You need to leave. The one who killed you—he was no illusion. He is real. A future version of you, born from a corrupted cycle. He wants to overwrite you. Become the only Zhang Wei."
"Then I'll stop him."
"You can't. Not yet. You need to grow stronger. And you need allies. The Spiral doesn't just give power. It tests your soul."
Zhang looked at her. "Will you help me?"
She nodded. "As much as I can. But be warned: reincarnation is no longer your gift. It's your weapon. And your curse."
He picked up the staff that had reappeared beside the altar.
It wasn't wood anymore.
It was crystal. Glowing with blue fire.
Zhang Wei smiled. "Then let's start fighting like a cursed man."
And from the shadows, something old and vast stirred.
Because the Spiral had changed.
And so had he.