The Time Gambler's Curse

Chapter 13: The Trap is Set

The stillness in the alley didn't last long.

Damian stood frozen, breath shallow, his gaze locked on the shattered remains of the time device. The air around him seemed to hold its breath, a fragile moment of calm after the storm of his desperate gamble. The flickering had stopped, the ominous hum of the Eraser had faded, and his younger self was staring at him, wide-eyed, immobilized by disbelief.

It should have been over.

But Damian had lived through enough loops to know that time wasn't so easily mended. There was an unnatural heaviness lingering in the air, an oppressive weight pressing against his mind. A nagging unease clawed at him, tightening around his chest like a vice. He had stopped the jump, destroyed the time device that had set everything in motion, and yet... time itself felt wrong, as though reality still teetered on the brink.

"You did it, right?" His younger self's voice broke the silence, tinged with both fear and confusion. "You stopped the jump. That means everything's fixed now, right?"

Damian's eyes flicked to his younger self, who was looking for reassurance—for something that would make sense of the madness he'd just witnessed. But Damian had no answers. Not yet.

"I thought so," Damian muttered under his breath, more to himself than to the younger version of him. "But... something's still off."

The unease twisted tighter. His pulse quickened as his instincts screamed that something remained dangerously out of place. Slowly, Damian turned, scanning the alley and the streets beyond. The world outside seemed too quiet, too still. It was as if the city itself was holding its breath, waiting for a final snap of tension that hadn't yet come.

And then it did—the hum returned.

It started faint, like a whisper in the back of his skull. But Damian knew that sound too well. It was the sound of time rebelling, a vibration that clawed at reality. The sound crawled under his skin, setting every nerve on edge. The hum grew, its insistent presence weaving through the stillness of the alley, growing louder with each passing second.

"No." Damian's voice barely broke the thick air, a tremor of disbelief coloring the word. "No, this can't be happening."

His younger self stepped forward, face pale. "What's happening? What's that sound?"

Damian didn't answer—he didn't need to. The Eraser wasn't gone. The fracture hadn't been healed. Time had allowed him this fleeting moment of hope, but the reality of it was sinking in. The trap had been set long before he'd realized it, and now, the weight of his past was closing in like a noose.

He staggered back, panic tightening his chest. He had done everything right—hadn't he? He'd destroyed the time device, severed the fracture at its origin. What more could time possibly demand?

Then the truth hit him with the force of a sledgehammer: the trap was never about the jumps.

His breath caught in his throat as realization slammed into him. The fracture wasn't just caused by his reckless use of the time device. It was deeper than that—he was the fracture. Every jump he had made, every manipulation of the timeline had compounded into a paradox. Time wasn't broken by his actions alone; it was breaking because his very existence had become a distortion. He was the anomaly.

The trap had never been about stopping his younger self. It had always been about stopping him.

The hum grew louder, vibrating through the air, reverberating inside Damian's skull. The shadows at the edges of the alley began to shift, distorting and twisting as reality warped around him. The Eraser's presence drew closer, palpable, undeniable. Time itself was collapsing, and it was coming for him.

His younger self stumbled back, wide-eyed with panic. "What do we do? How do we stop it?"

Damian shook his head slowly, his voice hollow. "We can't." He exhaled, the weight of inevitability settling on his shoulders. "This was never about stopping you. It's me. I'm the one who broke time. The only way to fix the fracture is to erase me."

The younger Damian stared at him in stunned silence. "But... you're me. How—how can that be?"

"It's all a paradox," Damian whispered, his voice raw. "Every jump I made, every timeline I altered—it all led to this. I've been chasing the clock, trying to fix it, but I was the problem from the beginning. The only way to end this is for the Eraser to do what it came to do."

The shadows deepened as the Eraser's form took shape at the edges of the alley, flickering into existence. The temperature seemed to drop as it approached, its skeletal frame solidifying, its hollow eyes locking onto Damian with predatory focus. The hum, now a deafening roar, made the very air feel like it was tearing apart.

There was no escape this time.

Damian's mind raced, grasping for some solution, some last move to undo the trap. But every possibility led to the same inescapable conclusion. The Eraser wasn't here to erase a single moment or a decision—it was here to erase him. The man who had torn time apart, piece by piece.

Damian turned to his younger self, his eyes heavy with the knowledge of everything he had seen and done. His voice, when he spoke, was steady but laced with finality. "You need to go. Get out of here. Live your life. But don't follow the path I did."

The younger Damian's face twisted with fear and confusion. "But... what about you?"

Damian's chest tightened as the weight of his choices pressed down on him. "This is where it ends for me. The trap was set the moment I started jumping. I can't run from it anymore."

His younger self hesitated, torn between the man he was and the man he might become. His gaze darted between Damian and the approaching shadow, his expression filled with unspoken regret. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Damian managed a small, sad smile. "It's not your fault. Just remember what I said. You don't have to make the same mistakes."

With one last look, the younger Damian nodded and turned, sprinting out of the alley and disappearing into the flow of the city. Silence fell again, but it was the kind of silence that comes before the storm's final, devastating blow.

The Eraser stood at the end of the alley, its hollow gaze fixed on him. It had been patient, but now time was up. The world seemed to ripple and distort around it, shadows bending as if reality itself was being pulled apart.

Damian stood tall, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his final breaths. There was no fear left—only acceptance. The chase was over. The trap had sprung.

With a final exhale, Damian closed his eyes.

The Eraser moved forward.

The trap had been set.

And now, it was closing.