The workshop was dead silent.
MOTHERLINE's shattered screen smoked faintly, flickering with broken symbols. Reo stood still, staring at it, while Yua paced like a caged predator. Doraemon's eyes darted between the two, systems in his body frantically recalibrating to handle the energy storm Yua still radiated.
"So?" Yua barked, fists clenched. "What now? You said we're prisoners of the timeline. What the hell does that mean?"
Reo turned his head slowly, the weight of centuries behind his stare.
"It means," he said quietly, "we were never supposed to win. Not in this life. Not in any."
He swept his hand through the air, and the room transformed.
Holographic panels floated upward from the ground, showing endless rows of worlds—different versions of Nobita, Yua, Doraemon, Suneo, Gian—some thriving, most broken.
Each panel blinked and flickered, like a dying heartbeat.
Reo stepped into the middle of the swirling storm of light and pointed at a panel showing a burnt, abandoned Tokyo.
"In one world," he said, "I tried to become a scientist early. Failed. The world collapsed into civil war."
He pointed to another, showing a world ruled by robotic overlords.
"In another, I tried to master Doraemon's gadgets to take over the tech industry. Caius found me first."
Another panel. Nobita—his face gaunt, crazed—was strapped to a machine.
"And in others... I simply went mad."
Reo lowered his hand.
"In every timeline," he said, "I died. Yua died. And Caius won."
The words hit like bullets.
Yua stumbled back, breathing hard. "Why show me this?"
Reo's voice was low, shaking slightly. "Because... somewhere out there, across all those failures, there's a weapon. Pieces of me—pieces of us—that survived just long enough to forge it."
He looked at her with burning eyes.
"The Broken Arsenal."
Yua frowned. "Arsenal?"
Doraemon's systems pinged an alert. His voice was grim.
"The Arsenal is a collection of forbidden technology and abilities—crafted from collapsed timelines. Each piece powerful enough to warp reality itself."
"But scattered," Reo said. "Each hidden inside the minds of our broken past selves."
He stared into the swirling void above.
"And if we don't gather them before Caius does—"
Yua finished for him. "—he'll rewrite existence."
Silence.
Pure, suffocating silence.
Then Doraemon cleared his throat—awkward, mechanical.
"Uh… Slight problem."
Reo and Yua turned.
Doraemon pulled up a scan showing a fractured mirror-image of Earth—a twisted, nightmare version of their world where the sky bled red.
"Each piece of the Arsenal is protected," Doraemon said. "Guarded by… ourselves. But not as we are now."
He swallowed.
"By what we became in those failed timelines."
Reo's jaw tightened. "Twisted versions of us."
Yua whispered, "Monsters."
---
Somewhere Else – The Twisted Forge
In a place outside normal space, a broken version of Reo—Warden Reo—pounded molten steel with a hammer made of collapsed memories.
His face was scarred beyond recognition. His eyes were hollow. His very soul bled out through the cracks in his skin.
Each strike of his hammer sent ripples through the void.
Forging weapons no living man could survive using.
Forging nightmares.
Waiting for the real Reo to come.
Waiting to kill him.
---
Back at the Workshop
Yua flexed her fingers. Sparks of unstable energy flickered between them.
"How do we even start finding these pieces?" she asked.
Reo's mouth twisted into a humorless smile.
"Easy," he said. "We follow the scars."
He tapped a glowing glyph into the air. A map unfolded—rivers of pain, regret, and broken fate leading to a place marked by a single sigil:
The First Scar.
Yua's heart stuttered when she saw it.
Because the first scar… was her old house.
The place where her dreams had first died.
Doraemon quickly packed up gadgets into his pouch—future tech, weapons, even backup systems. But Reo stopped him.
"No gadgets," he said.
Doraemon blinked. "What?"
Reo's voice was calm but absolute.
"If we rely on shortcuts now, we'll never survive the monsters waiting for us."
Yua stared at him, understanding something vital.
This wasn't about running anymore.
This was about fighting.
And winning.
For the first time in their cursed, repeated existence.
---
The Journey Begins
Night blanketed the city.
Reo, Yua, and Doraemon stood outside the ruined remains of Yua's old home. It looked abandoned, like it hadn't been touched in years—though Reo knew that time meant nothing here. The scars warped reality itself.
Yua's breath frosted in the unnaturally cold air.
A door creaked open.
Reo stepped forward, the ground beneath his feet whispering secrets from other lives.
"Stay sharp," he said quietly. "The first monster we face..."
He looked at Yua.
"...is you."
---