Pain should mean something. It better lead somewhere - like passing out, or dying, maybe. Not just nothing.
Justin drifted inside it. Maybe dropped through instead. Tough to know - no top, no bottom, nothing earlier, nothing next. Only pain joined by a blackness acting like it saw everything.
I should be gone by now.
The idea arrived late. Broken up. His head felt off. No holding thoughts together, no -
[SEARCHING FOR COMPATIBLE VESSEL...]
The words didn't work like normal speech. Instead, ideas just scorched into what was left of his mind. Sharp. Unfeeling. Off - so twisted it made the Void Beasts feel ordinary.
What—
[SSS-RANK SYSTEM, CHRONO DOMINION, ACTIVATING...]
A bright flash filled his mind. Not like sunrise warmth or cozy firelight. Cold light. Harsh, like a doctor's lamp - showing every flaw, hiding no flaws.
[TIME ERROR FOUND... STARTING REBOOT SEQUENCE.]
No. Nope, I'm not into that -
[TEMPORAL RESET: -60 YEARS]
The universe lurched.
Justin - or whatever he was called now - sensed the world bending, squirming tight like a soaked rag twisted dry. Time didn't glide ahead - it hung thick, more like a cord; then some force jerked him rearward on it.
Sixty years.
Sixty years.
The realization struck worse than Dermot's lie. Backward he went, as if time reversed, his mind pulled heavy - like dragging stone - through years once gone.
Then impact.
---
Wind slammed into his lungs - way too tight. He gulped, coughed, then sucked air once more. Fire flared in his ribs. All of it just hurt.
Where—
He wanted to shift. But his frame just froze up. Hands came up way too brief. Feet felt like jelly. Could that tumble have wrecked something inside? Or was it worse -
He jerked awake. His gaze shot wide.
A ceiling. Rough rock. Cracked walls he'd patched up decades back - was it twenty years? Maybe thirty? Hard to tell. His mind mixed up the years, thoughts piling on top like old paper thrown in a bin.
This was Winterfell. He recognized those stones right away. Yet this chamber -
Tiny. Gritty underfoot. Could've been a maid's space - tight, forgotten. Or just an old cupboard turned bed nook for whoever they'd rather ignore.
Justin pushed himself upright. That small move felt harder than it oughta. His arms trembled. Since when was he this frail? The drop shouldn't've done that
He glanced at his palms.
Child's hands.
Tiny. No marks on them at all. The thick skin from two decades of wielding blades had disappeared. Now they were gentle hands, only used to holding something light - like a pen.
No.
Justin staggered up from bed. The ground felt like it was miles down. His legs shook under his weight. He moved unsteadily toward a dull mirror hanging on the wall - how long had it been there? - then just stood looking.
A kid turned around - ten-ish, or even less. His skin was light, pulled tight across bony cheeks. The eyes seemed oversized, almost too wide. Strands of uncut hair hung low, wild from no trim.
The face looked familiar. It reminded him of old pictures stored away by the family. Whispered talks came back - talks about "the cursed one," also called "the Duke's disgrace." Not loud, but full of weight
No," Justin said quietly. Not right - the tone felt off, kinda shrill, sorta thin… like a kid speaking. "Nah, this ain't -
[ASSIMILATION COMPLETE]
[WELCOME, ROBIN STARK]
The name punched him straight in the gut.
Robin Stark. Youngest prince from the duke's line. Never remembered by folks around. A kid gone at age twelve - some said it was a hidden sickness, though most figured it was just the Void taking what it saw as its own.
Justin suddenly recalled things - bits of moments that felt foreign yet real. Only it wasn't sickness that took Robin. It was being ignored. By staff who weakened his meds with water. By kin who saw him as a sore they just couldn't fix.
The door swung open - no warning at all.
A maid came in - older, sharp-eyed from years of staying quiet when it mattered. With her was a chipped bowl, filled with pale gruel that swayed as she walked.
Here's your food, little lord," she said, her voice full of scorn. The bowl landed hard on the shaky table - her eyes stayed away from his face. "Don't kick it today, yeah? Would mess up my schedule."
She walked out. Behind her, the door stayed slightly open.
Justin - or wait, that wasn't right - he was Robin these days - gazed down into the bowl. Sloppy gruel. Not even close to filling, much less feeding someone his size.
His legs buckled. Down he slipped along the wall - his kid frame just not strong enough to keep standing.
This here's true. It's really going down right now.
The setup - whatever you wanna call it - had tossed him six decades into the past. Not into his younger self. Into this sick kid inside a fortress that'd eventually turn on him.
The irony hit hard - like a knife, but invisible.
He worked for House Stark two decades. Gave them all he had - his talent, trust, time. Yet they repaid him with a knife in the dark.
Right then, he joined their group. Not strong at all - just the fragile sort. Shunned by everyone, like bad luck walking.
Robby began chuckling. It sounded off - shrill, almost shaky. A giggle that hovered near panic instead of joy.
Duke Aldric Stark.
The guy who grinned at him back in the win shelter. The one calling him "real blood of the clan" right while plotting to kill.
That guy was around here somewhere inside the castle at this very moment. Not old yet. At his best, most likely. Maybe busy with duke stuff - anything but giving death commands.
He didn't know the leader he'd end up killing decades later was right there - staying in his house, hidden as a lost boy.
Robin stopped laughing. But then - another feeling came. Quiet. Waiting.
The porridge stayed on the table, still full. Hunger twisted his gut, yet he made no move toward it. He shut his eyes instead, turning his attention inside, searching for that voice from the darkness.
A see-through blue panel popped up in front of his eyes. Words moved sideways on it - clean, sharp, no extra fluff
[NAME: ROBIN STARK]
[TITLE: NONE]
[LEVEL: 1]
[STATS: STR: 2, AGI: 3, END: 1, DEX: 4]
[SKILLS: [CHRONO DOMINION (SSS, LOCKED)], [WEAPON MASTERY (LOCKED)]]
Robin looked at the digits. One point in stamina - no wonder staying upright sucked energy fast. With this frame, every breath seemed like a struggle. Just existing took effort.
More text appeared:
[SSS-RANK SKILLS AVAILABLE UPON MEETING CONDITIONS:]
[TIME ECHO - LOCKED]
[VOID STEP - LOCKED]
[CHRONO OVERDRIVE - LOCKED]
[EXPERIENCE REQUIRED: GAIN THROUGH COMBAT, DEFEATING ENEMIES, ABSORBING LIFE FORCE]
Right then. To fix his shattered frame, he needed to battle - maybe even take a life.
Robin stared at his bony arms. Then heard how hard it was to breathe. Every muscle ached, like they had no strength left.
A regular kid might just give up. Instead, he'd lie down, hoping it ends - just like the first Robin did.
Still, Robin held Justin's thoughts inside him - two decades worth of battle smarts. Fights no one else would face for ages ahead. Winning wars? He got it. Killing beasts? Same deal. Even puny guys could take down giants when their brains worked right.
He also held what Justin didn't - insight into what's coming. Because he could tell who'd climb up, who'd crash down. Whether fights would end in victory or defeat. When and where the gaps from the Void might tear through.
More than anything, he understood precisely how Duke Aldric Stark's mind worked - how the man planned. Where he slipped up. What kept him awake at night.
The Duke ordered Justin to be killed - since he grew way too risky. His fame had spread far. What he meant to people? Impossible to replace.
Robin could turn into that once more - only now, he'd be right within the Duke's kin. Because slipping through trust? That cuts deeper.
Where getting even feels way better.
He grabbed the gruel at last. Then made himself eat it, even though it had no flavor. His body craved energy - never mind how weak it seemed.
While eating, he kept his eyes on the doorway - the servant hadn't closed it. Outside that frame, deep inside the huge fortress, Duke Aldric Stark moved through his routine.
Oblivious.
Robin grinned - odd somehow, seeing that on a kid's face.
You turned me into a tool back then, he figured. Now watch what changes if you try again.
The gruel bowl sat there - nothing left inside. Yet the hunger stayed, hanging on tight. Like it never leaves this frame, no matter what.
Yet hunger wasn't new. Since childhood, Justin had survived on scraps in Hartheim's backstreets - until the Starks took him in.
Maybe he'll give it another shot.
He could handle it more easily.