Here is the Lore rewriting in the style of a dark fantasy world with mystical warriors, followed by The legend of the guardians of the red wire there are eels, when the Shont system was still young and his blue-frozen sun burned as an open wound in the fabric of the cosmos, something awoke. Not a God, not a demon - but an older consciousness than both. They call you the wake, and your breath is the destination. The Hurry did not create life, but it has inflated in certain souls a spark of his power: mystical warriors capable of stretching, breaking or resuberating the wires of time and matter. These are the protectors and the condemners. The first swear to maintain the balance of the planet - a wandering world called CES, where rock melts under smooth gold skies and water is a myth. The seconds seek to undo the plot, as they believe that the storing is a jailer, and that true freedom is in the primordial chaos. In this world, power requires price. Each warrior has a spiritual root - an invisible tree within the soul, whose roots suck the essence of the universe. In cultivating it, the warrior advances from the kingdom: from the raw thread to the eternal node, passing through the loom of soul and empty breakup. Each breakthrough attracts celestial tribulation - a living energy storm that tests if the warrior deserves the next step. The planet CES, however, is not the only stage. In the habitable fringes of the system, survive the realm of Thed, a marsh of mangroves perpetually under rays, where creatures like the ears - pelican, moose and octopus in one being lurks between mist. There, the town of TonteLay stinks betrayal and copper coin, and laws are as puzzles as the roads. It is in this world that Blair Renfro awakens. --- đź“– Chapter 1: The advancement of the party party I the smell of sulfur and wet gunpowder invaded Blair's lungs before he even opened his eyes. The tribulation always began: an end-of-world stink, as if the air itself was rotting. - Returns, Blair! Someone shouted. The voice was yours. He opened his eyes and saw six of himself around. His duplicates, generated by the power of self-multiplication, formed a defensive circle around the original - himself, the seventh, kneeling on the hot stone. Everyone took a deep breath, the blue-green eyes shining with the same tiredness. Above, the sky of Ces ripped. It was not a normal sky - on this infernal planet, until the firmament looked melted metal, a golden and smooth dome that reflected the glow of the blue sun. Now, however, a black scar opened in that perfection. From the slit purple light, and from her light-checking lightning were lightning: they were judgment threads, the tentacles of heavenly tribulation. Blair felt his spiritual root tremble. He was on the threshold of the kingdom of the soul loom - the third step between nine. If you surpass the tribulation, your control over insects and learning would explode on a continental scale. If you failed ... Well, failed mystical warriors did not turn legends. They turned ashes. - Concentrates, "murmured the duplicate to his left. "I almost died once today. I do not want to repeat. Blair laughed with bitterness. Duplicates shared their memories; Everyone knew he had escaped tontray with a hidden treasure in his pocket - a fragment of the storing eye, a gem capable of reversing small fractions of time. He had had three fingers (which he had regenerated with effort) and the life of two of his clones. "The tribulation does not forgive robberies," said the original duplicate, getting up. "But I will not die here. Not today. The first lightning fell. II The trial wire hit the center of the circle, and Blair did not deviate. He opened his arms and learned. This was his third gift, perhaps the most terrible: super-learning. In contact with any flow of energy, his mind decoded patterns, absorbed logics, transforming suffering into knowledge. The ray did not burn his flesh - he channeled the chain for his spiritual root, forcing the invisible tree to grow five years in five seconds. The clones shouted. They felt the same pain, the same violent expansion of consciousness. - Advance! Blair roared, and the world trembled. His spiritual root flourished. Energy branches sprouted from his shoulders, invisible to the naked, but yelling real eye to any being sensitive to the stream of the storing. He felt the insects - all the small arthropods hidden in the cleft of CES, from the mites of sulfur to the beetles of glass armor - and they felt it back. A million tiny minds curved to his will. The kingdom of the loom of soul was his. The tribulation, however, is not over. The scar in the sky expanded. Dali emerged not a ray, but one hand - a hand made of solid purple, with too long fingers and joints that moved at impossible angles. The hand of the harest. Or at least your shadow. "You stole a fragment of my eye." The voice did not come from heaven, but from inside Blair's head. Return, and I let him live as a mediocre warrior. Refuse, and I have the wire strand. Blair spat on the floor. Saliva evaporated before touching the rock. "I will not give you anything," he said, pulling from the inner pocket of his hidden treasure leather coat: a small black yolk that pulsed like a heart. "Do you know how long I took you to find this shit?" Five years. Five years fleeing from wores, from mercenaries, from other warriors who wanted to kill me for her. Now she's mine. And you're going to have to kill me to get back. The purple hand closed his fist. - How to desire. III what followed was a death choreography that lasted less than a minute, but that Blair would revive a thousand times - literally. The grist's hand opened, and from each tip of the fingers spouted ruptures: energy ropes that nullified any mystical power to touch. Blair ordered his clones to attack in waves, but the rupture wires dissipated them like smoke. Duplicate bodies exploded in light dust to the smallest contact. Insects! Blair shouted, and the swarm came. From each crevice, from each thermal cave, from each pile of volcanic ash, CES arthropods emerged. They were horrible - hooves that shone like rusty metal, jaws capable of grinding pumice stone, glands that exuded weak acid. A river of chitin and many eyes clashed against the purple hand. The rupture wires cut them off like hot blades in butter. But Blair did not need to live. I needed only seconds. He ran. With the power of soul loom, its speed has tripled. He turned away from two wires, rolled under a third, and jumped toward the slit in the sky. The hand tried to grab it, but Blair invoked his last two clones - not to fight, but to serve as a shield. They threw themselves against the purple fingers, exploding in contact, but gaining long enough for the original to reach the edge of the scar. "If you want your eye so much," Blair said, raising the black yolk. "Then take!" He hurled her into the slit. The hand hesitated. For a moment, it seemed confused. The fragment of the storing eye disappeared in the darkness ... and then the slit began to close. The hand retreated, the rupture wires fell, and the golden sky of CES returned to his usual sickly glow. Blair fell to his knees, panting. He had not returned the treasure. Of course not. The yelling yolk was a falsification - a modified beetle, covered with bright resin and programmed to imitate the energy pulse of the true fragment. The real eye was still in his pocket, warming up his thigh. He smiled exhausted. "You're not so smart, you fucking old man." IV and that's when time came back. No warning. No sound. No brilliance. A second, Blair was kneeling on the hot rock, the taste of iron in the mouth, the false fragment already inside the crack. In the next second, he was standing, the true yolk still in his pocket, and his purple hand still in the sky, about to attack. - What ...? He murmured. The clones around seemed as confused as he. They also remembered. They all remembered the last five minutes - from the flight, the throw, of the victory. And now they were back at the beginning of the fight. The tender hand hesitated. Even the shadow of a god seemed surprised. "That ... it's not possible," Cosmic voice sounded less threatening and more ... curious. "You have no power to reverse the time. No one in his kingdom has. Blair looked at his pocket where the gem pulsed. Had the eye ... Did he activate something unintentionally? Or was it something else? Something older? Something that slept inside your own spiritual root? He did not know. But he knew one thing: now he had a second chance. And anti-heroes do not waste second chances. "Okay, your cosmic thumb," Blair got up, again calling his clones, but with a different strategy in mind. - Let's try again. But this time, I'll win without losing my little bugs. The five minutes started. And Blair Renfro smiled. --- đź”® End hook The time has returned 5 minutes unexpectedly. The steamer does not know how. The other mystical warriors will feel the ripple. And in TonteLay, someone just noted that the true fragment never left Blair's pocket. Hunting resumes. --- If you want, I can continue to continue chapter 2 or detail the mechanics of the realms, the history of the storing, or the geopolitics of THED and CES.