The sun bled into the horizon, staining the sky with deep oranges and fading crimson. A man sat on the porch of a lonely wooden cabin, his fingers tracing the grooves carved into the old railing. Behind him, the forest stretched endlessly ancient trees swaying as if breathing in a rhythm older than the world itself.
Only the distant murmur of the river broke the silence, winding through the wilderness like a silver serpent.
At the edge of the trees stood Ahensa.
Her thin frame was wrapped in a pale shawl that fluttered softly in the breeze. She stared into the forest with distant eyes, as if listening to secrets carried by the wind.
"The trees," she whispered, tilting her head. "They're whispering again."
The man sighed. She had always spoken about the forest as though it were alive—friends only she could hear. But lately, something had changed. Her wonder had turned into something hollow… fragile.
"It's getting dark, Ahensa," he called gently. "Come inside."
She turned slowly, uncertainty flickering across her face. For a moment, she seemed to forget why she was standing there. Then she nodded and shuffled toward the cabin.
He waited for her to step in before closing the door.
The fire crackled softly inside, casting warm shadows across the wooden walls. He watched her from his chair—watched the woman he loved slipping away piece by piece. She looked smaller now… delicate, like a single breath could carry her into nothingness.
When he reached for her hand, she hesitated. Only for a moment.
But he felt it.
She doesn't remember me. Not always.
The thought stabbed through him, but he pushed it down. Some days she smiled, remembered old stories, laughed at old jokes. Other days… she looked at him like he was a stranger.
That night, before sleep claimed her, she whispered his name softly.
He held onto that sound like it was the last ember of a dying fire.
---
The Empty Bed
Morning sunlight slipped through the cracks in the shutters. The man stirred, reaching for her warmth instinctively.
But the bed beside him was cold.
And empty.
"Ahensa?" he called. No answer.
His chest tightened. He stood, feet hitting the cold floor as he scanned the cabin.
No Ahensa.
The door was open.
A chill crawled up his spine as he rushed outside. The wind rustled through the trees, whispering like restless spirits. The river's voice sounded louder, urgent.
He called her name again and again.
"AHENSA!"
Only the forest answered.
He pushed deeper, stumbling through roots and shadows until he reached the riverside. And there caught on the rocks lay her pale shawl.
And beneath it… her hand.
Still.
Cold.
His legs gave out as he fell beside her. He pulled her close, tears choking his voice.
"No… no, please… Ahensa…"
But she didn't move.
The river sang on, cruel and indifferent, as if repeating her name.
She was gone.
---
The Curse of Time
He buried her beneath the old oak tree she loved, where she used to hum forgotten melodies. Days passed, but he never left her grave. He whispered to the earth, hoping she would whisper back.
But the only answer was silence.
One night, broken and hollow, he wandered.
Through the forest.
Past the river.
Deeper than he had ever gone.
Until he reached a clearing where the air felt heavy alive with something unseen.
A figure stood there.
Tall. Ancient. Wrapped in shimmering robes that shifted like sand. Its face was hidden in shadow, but its presence chilled him to the bone.
"You have disturbed the balance," it said. Its voice echoed everywhere and nowhere. "Now Time itself will punish you."
"I have lost everything," the man whispered. "What more can be taken from me?"
The figure tilted its head.
"You will see."
And the world shattered.
The Loop Begins
Darkness swallowed him whole endless, crushing, eternal. His existence unraveled, thread by thread.
Then suddenly
Light.
He gasped, lungs filling with air. His body felt lighter, smaller. The weight of age… gone.
He opened his eyes.
He was sitting at a wooden desk. Surrounded by schoolchildren. A classroom.
His hands small, young trembled.
The date on the chalkboard was written clearly.
Decades before he ever met Ahensa.
He was a boy again.
The shock hit him like lightning. Memories flooded back her smile, her voice, her death. His breath broke.
He couldn't live through losing her again.
Desperate, broken, he ran. Up the academy stairs. To the rooftop.
And he jumped.
But before he hit the ground, before he could escape the pain
A voice echoed:
"Divine Punishment."
He blinked
And found himself back in his classroom seat.
Again.
He tried again.
And again.
The 2nd loop.
The 4th.
The 10th.
The 100th.
By the 143,000th loop, his memories were fading Ahensa's face slipping further away each time. Only fragments remained, like scattered pieces of a dream.
But somehow… he stayed sane.
He forced himself to continue life again one more time. Maybe his last chance.
Afraid he would forget everything, he searched his phone for clues notes he had written to himself in earlier loops. Slowly, painfully, he pieced the truth together.
This world was powered by Jirja the force of life itself.
When a person lived, Jirja flowed.
When a person died, it twisted into Mirja, a darker energy.
No one knew if that was the only way Mirja was born.
People who mastered their Jirja could strengthen their bodies, awaken unique abilities, and eventually manifest Buds seeds of power created when one's life energy reached a certain threshold.
The way to master Jirja differed from person to person.
Some broke through their first barrier the Physical Limit at a young age, their bodies awakening to the flow of life energy with natural ease. Others lived their entire lives without ever touching that power, remaining ordinary until the day they died.
He didn't know which kind of life he had lived in the previous loops.
Maybe he had awakened early.
Maybe he had stayed normal.
Maybe he had even reached heights he could no longer remember.
But none of that mattered anymore.
The loops had erased almost everything.
All he had left was:
a fragile understanding of this world's rules
and the fading memory of Ahensa
Even her name was slipping away.
He remembered the first letter… and then the next tall, slender, familiar yet impossible to recall clearly. It was like grasping smoke with trembling fingers.
He let it go before the pain swallowed him again.
What was his current strength in this life?
What was his threshold… his level?
He needed to know.
So he sat down, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes. He steadied his breath, sinking his awareness inward, searching for the warm glow of Jirja the life energy every person had from birth.
He reached deeper.
Focused harder.
But there was nothing.
No spark.
No warmth.
No whisper of life energy moving through him.
Only emptiness.
His eyes slowly opened.
He thought to himself that with this empty energy.
He was cursed to repeat time itself.
Again.
And again.
And again.