The soft echo of footsteps reverberated through the halls of a mansion. Once, this house had been home to the most brilliant mind the world had ever known.
Sebastian Nathaniel Montclair, innovator, visionary, a man who had reshaped the very foundation of human civilization, was gone. Medicine, mechanics, infrastructure, his intellect had touched every aspect of modern progress. And yet, despite his monumental achievements, he had succumbed to an affliction no science could cure.
Madness.
Once hailed as the architect of humanity's future, Sebastian had become a man lost in a labyrinth of his own mind, his genius unraveling into something incomprehensible. He had scrawled unintelligible equations on every surface, whispering to unseen forces as if deciphering a language beyond mortal comprehension. Physicians, neurologists, and even the greatest minds he had once called colleagues tried to diagnose him. Schizophrenia, dementia—an endless list of speculative disorders. None could explain the sudden and catastrophic collapse of the greatest intellect of the era.
Yet, if one were to believe his own words, the truth was far stranger.
"I saw everything. I saw it all. I am infinite. I am… we are? We are everything." He had once murmured to his son, his eyes unfocused, his hands shaking as he traced patterns into the air.
Alexander Sterling Montclair had never feared his father—not as a child, not even as he grew older and witnessed his slow descent into madness. But standing before the sealed door of his father's laboratory, a place once brimming with world-altering ideas, a chill crept up his spine.
Letting out a slow breath, he reached into his coat pocket, fishing out a ring of keys that jingled softly in the still air. A small biometric scanner flickered to life beside the reinforced door, casting a pale blue light against his face. Leaning in, he allowed the machine to scan his iris.
"Perhaps this was a sign." He muttered, his voice barely more than a breath.
Months before his father's mind had begun to fracture, he had undertaken one final project—an overhaul of the mansion's security systems. The locks on the house had always been impressive, but the lab… The lab had become an impenetrable vault to anyone who wasn't a "Montclair."
Even to him, his father had forbidden him from entering. For the months leading up to his father's internship in the mental hospital, the only one who entered the lab was his father.
With a series of metallic clicks, the mechanisms groaned in protest before finally conceding. The door swung open.
The sight that greeted Alexander was one of chaos.
The lab had been utterly destroyed. The sleek, meticulously maintained workspace of a world-renowned scientist was now a chamber of madness. Walls, floors, even the ceiling—every available surface was covered in equations, symbols, and intricate sketches that twisted and coiled in patterns too precise to be mere scribbles, yet too erratic to be logical.
He had tried before—hours spent staring at these markings, running them through algorithms, comparing them to known scientific principles. He was no Sebastian Montclair, but he was still his father's son. And yet… it was gibberish.
Something about it unsettled him.
His father had claimed to be working on a revolutionary form of transportation—one that would eliminate the barriers of distance, rendering borders obsolete. A method of travel that would allow humanity to cross entire continents in the blink of an eye.
Teleportation. But that project had never been completed, leaving only a massive chunk of metal behind as proof of it ever being a possibility.
The moment Alex flicked the switch, the dim emergency lights gave way to a cold, sterile white as the lab roared to life. Machines that had long been dormant shuddered back into operation, their internal mechanisms whirring back to life. The air filled with the subtle hum of electricity flowing through circuits.
Then, a familiar voice greeted him.
[Welcome, Alex.] A robotic chime echoed through the space, crisp yet artificial, lacking the warmth of human inflection.
"Aye, sorry for the delay." Alex muttered, his voice filled with exhaustion as he made his way to one of the desks. With a practiced hand, he swept aside the chaotic stacks of notes and blueprints, revealing a cluttered yet meticulously organized workstation. Rows of intricate tools lay where he had left them, untouched since the last time he had dared to enter this place.
Without hesitation, he picked up an omnitool and a micro-soldering pen, intent on losing himself in his work. Yet, the silence pressed in on him. Too thick. Too heavy.
His hands stilled. This lab felt lonelier than before.
Letting out a deep sigh, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting to the small, unobtrusive camera in the corner of the room.
"N.O.V.A…" He hesitated, calling out to the artificial intelligence he had built to impress his father, the Neural Operative Virtual Assistant. He inhaled slowly before forcing the words out. "Dad's dead."
For a moment, there was no response. Then, a mechanical hum.
[Acknowledged.]
Alex clenched his jaw. His throat felt dry, his mind sluggish, as though the very act of saying it aloud had made the reality settle deeper into his bones. He had told others before—the doctors, the legal teams, even the press—but telling NOVA felt different.
"He took his life a few months ago…" Alex continued, his voice quieter now. He let out a hollow chuckle. "The voices in his head told him to do it. That… that it was the only way…"
A pause.
[Death of Sebastian Nathaniel Montclair has been registered. Initiating confirmation process…]
A faint beep.
[Notice of death confirmed.]
[Project: PZ-MT activated.]
Before Alex could even process those words, one of the central monitors flickered to life. A series of codes ran across the screen, then—
His father's face appeared.
Not the broken man he had last seen, not the hollow-eyed scientist scribbling madness onto every surface, but him—Sebastian Nathaniel Montclair at his prime. Sharp-eyed, well-groomed, wearing one of his tailored suits with the easy confidence that had once inspired nations.
Alex's breath caught in his throat.
"Ah… is this thing working?"
The recorded version of his father fiddled with the camera, stepping back to adjust the angle before nodding in satisfaction.
"Well… here it goes. Son, I've done it!" His voice carried the same infectious excitement it always had when he was on the verge of a breakthrough. "You're not gonna believe it, but I have surpassed even my highest expectations. I was blind to the possibilities this world offered…"
Then, a grin—one that Alex hadn't seen in a long time.
"Or should I say, worlds?"
Alex stared, his mouth slightly open, but no words came.
Emotion swelled in his chest—grief, confusion, disbelief—but he didn't have the strength to process any of it. He was tired. Tired of mourning. Tired of feeling like his father had left behind nothing but fragments of an unfinished equation.
"Anyways." The recorded Sebastian continued. "I wanted to record this in case I got lost in one of those worlds. I'm still calibrating this thing, after all, hehe. Well, don't get angry at me for experimenting. Plus, I can't share this with the world yet—not before knowing exactly what it can do."
As he spoke, he moved toward a console, adjusting a set of dials and switches. Then, he reached for a small injector and, without hesitation, stabbed it into the side of his neck.
Alex flinched.
"Little nasty, but the neural implants have been working for a few years now." Sebastian rubbed the spot absentmindedly. "Honestly, I just don't like getting anything near my brain. Gotta keep the moneymaker safe, but, well, when going into places like this, it's probably for the best. I need to record everything and my mind can't keep up with the stuff on that side."
Then, as if sensing his own importance in this moment, he turned back to the camera, a twinkle of unfiltered excitement in his gaze.
The screen flickered, static crawling along its edges before stabilizing once more. When his father's image returned, the man who appeared was not the bright-eyed scientist from before. This Sebastian looked exhausted—hollowed out. Shadows clung to his face, his eyes sunken with the weight of something far beyond mere sleepless nights.
"Calibration was required. New safety procedures have been installed." He muttered, his voice lacking its former enthusiasm. Then, after a brief pause, he looked directly at the camera. His gaze was different now—haunted "I understand it now, son. I stared into the multiverse, and I felt it stare back at me. It's alive, Alex. And it wants me to understand it. I want…. myself to understand it? When I am in there, it's like I am every possible version of me, all at once. But… I am not?"
Alex swallowed, an uneasy chill creeping down his spine.
The screen flickered again.
The man who appeared next was nearly unrecognizable. His once carefully groomed appearance had deteriorated—his beard unkempt, his shirt wrinkled and stained. But it wasn't just his appearance that unsettled Alex. It was his expression. The frenzied, almost fearful glint in his father's eyes.
"Argo has been upgraded. It told me how. I told me how? I think it was me? Or is there something else in there?"
Sebastian grimaced, his hands pressing against his ears as though trying to block out something overwhelming. His breath hitched, his eyes unfocused before snapping back with a sudden, chilling clarity.
"Alex… I… I made a deal… But this is for you." His voice wavered..
"I hope you can forgive me. You were always the brightest one between us… What was it you called me? High Int, low Wis?" A hollow chuckle escaped his lips. "Maybe you were right. But you can't expect your father to find the multiverse and just… turn his back on it."
The screen flickered once more, and this time, Alex barely recognized the place his father stood in. The lab had been consumed by chaos. The once-pristine walls were covered in layers of scribbles, notes written with an increasingly frantic hand. Symbols that held no meaning to Alex, yet seemed deliberate. Methodical.
Sebastian sat in the center of the room, staring at the camera with a look that sent a shiver through Alex. He looked… at peace.
"I guess this is it… isn't it?"
His voice was softer now, almost tender.
"I used to say I would move the world for you. When your mother passed, I swore I would never let anything take you from me. Revolutionize medicine? Why should I care, if not to make sure you would never grow sick? Every breakthrough, every advancement… all of it, Alex, was for you."
His father stood, moving toward Argo before caressing it.
"I don't have the time I wish I had… and until I die, I cannot share this with you. I wish I could. If I do then… I will hurt you? Not me, but… me." His father sighed, his expression weary. "But I can offer you this—a chance to see beyond our world. To explore the infinite possibilities that exist beyond the veil. Or…" He hesitated, looking back at the machine. "The choice to stay here. To live in comfort, with the wealth I accumulated. Even after I'm gone, you will have more than enough to last a lifetime. Hell, even my great-grandchildren would never need to work a day in their lives. If you do this, then I won't… no, not me, but, well, anyways, I believe you would be safe."
A long silence followed. His father's grip tightened around the control panel.
"But… it's an empty life. You won't understand until you see it yourself."
Sebastian inhaled sharply, forcing a smile despite the exhaustion in his eyes.
"If you accept my last gift, then I will teach you how to operate the machine." He turned slightly before his eyes regained focus, slowly yet deliberately explaining each step of the activation sequence.
He exhaled, his expression growing somber.
"But… if you think I have lost my mind—if you believe that I have succumbed to madness—then enter the passcode into the terminal."
Sebastian met Alex's gaze one final time.
"It's your mother's name encrypted with a Caesar Cypher with a shift of 7."
His voice softened.
"If you choose that path, it will erase everything. No one else will ever be able to use it. The choice is yours, son."
The screen went black.
[Message Complete.]
"The hell?"
Alex muttered to himself, shaking his head. The entire thing was insane. His father—his brilliant, impossible, world-changing father—had spent his final days rambling about the multiverse like a man possessed. There was no rational explanation for it.
His fingers clenched into fists as he wrestled with the mess of emotions boiling beneath the surface. Anger, grief, confusion—what the hell was he even supposed to feel? His father had lost his mind, spiraling into delusions of grandeur and cryptic warnings, but through it all, he had still thought of him. Still left behind a choice.
And now, standing in the remnants of his father's obsession, that choice burned at the edges of his mind.
Alex approached the machine slowly, his heart thudding in his chest. He reached out, fingers brushing against coarse fabric. His breath trembled, hesitation stretching painfully. Then, with a sudden, decisive motion, he pulled the tarp away.
The sight that greeted him was just as it had been the last time he had dared to examine it—a massive gateway, a structure so alien in design that it barely resembled anything humanity had ever built. He had tried before. He had spent hours analyzing its components, attempting to decipher its purpose, but had never managed to bring it to life.
But now, he had instructions.
Exhaling through his nose, he moved to the control panel, his fingers quickly pressing the required buttons to begin the activation sequence.
The effect was immediate.
Lights flickered overhead as the machine rumbled, its dormant circuits surging with newfound energy. Sparks flared across its surface, metal groaning under the sudden strain. Then, without warning—
A pulse of light.
In the center of the gateway, a small orb materialized, shifting and twisting as if refusing to settle on any single form.
Alex's breath caught in his throat.
The shape continued to shift, flickering between impossible geometries, an ever-changing mass of angles and colors that defied comprehension. It was wrong, yet mesmerizing—like staring into a kaleidoscope that refused to obey the rules of reality.
It was exactly as he had seen in his father's video.
He took an unconscious step back.
This wasn't just a madman's delusion.
It was real.
But then, another realization struck him. His father had done this to himself.
Had he damaged his own mind trying to "upgrade" Argo? Had he willingly subjected himself to a process that left him scribbling on walls, muttering about voices and staring into the abyss?
And now—now—he expected Alex to do the same?
His hands trembled as he exhaled, his breath uneven.
It would be so simple.
He could just shut it all down.
Deactivate the machine. Enter the passcode. Destroy it all.
Live out the rest of his days in comfort, honoring his father's legacy while avoiding the madness that had consumed him.
That was the rational choice.
And yet.
"When has my father ever been wrong?"
Sebastian Montclair was a genius. A man whose brilliance had reshaped the world a dozen times over.
Could he have truly been wrong this time?
"Am I stupid?"
The thought rang hollow in his mind.
He already knew the answer.
Slowly, reluctantly, his gaze drifted back to the gateway—to the swirling, ever-shifting anomaly hovering within its frame.
He could feel it.
Something waiting.
Something watching.
Deep down, he could feel himself drawn to it.
"NOVA…" His voice was quiet now, but firm. "What do you think?"
There was a brief pause.
[Answer: According to my programming, I am not allowed to weigh in on this decision.]
A humorless chuckle escaped Alex's lips.
"Of course you can't…"
He stared at the machine—at the path his father had left for him.
And he made his choice.
Deep down, he wanted to think it over. To rationalize what the best step forward would be. But he knew that if he did that, he would simply destroy the machine. Every rational part of him told him that this was too dangerous. But deep inside, he couldn't help but want to trust his father.
"Dad, if this kills me…. Well, I bet mom is gonna be pissed off at you." Alex muttered to himself.
He stared at the floating orb for a few moments before reaching for the control panel and hovering his finger over the final activation. The moment his finger pressed down, he saw the machine in front of him explode. The small floating orb destabilized before growing large enough to engulf him.
Darkness.
No, not darkness. Something else.
Alex could still see—his eyes were open, and yet his mind refused to process the information it was receiving. Shapes blurred and twisted at the edges of his vision, shifting between the recognizable and the impossible. Light and shadow bled together in ways that defied logic, warping into geometric patterns that refused to stay still.
For a brief moment, he was convinced he was falling. But there was no floor, no sky, no sense of up or down. The world—or what remained of it—had shattered into fragments of color, spiraling around him in a vortex of incomprehensible depth.
A pressure built behind his eyes, something vast and unknowable pressing against his mind, demanding to be understood.
Then, like a floodgate breaking, his consciousness expanded.
He felt everything.
The weight of infinity pressed into him, an overwhelming cascade of knowledge, of existence, of things he had no words for. He could see beyond the lab, beyond the city, beyond even the planet. His perception stretched outward, touching countless other places, other realities, each one flickering in and out of focus like distant stars in an endless sea.
He saw all of existence all at once, and the only thing that kept him sane was the fact that his mind could not physically comprehend it. He saw everything, yet at the same time, he saw nothing.
This was what his father had meant.
This was what had driven him mad.
Alex gasped, or at least, he thought he did. His body—did he still have a body?—felt distant, weightless. He wasn't just seeing the multiverse; he was experiencing it.
Endless worlds. Endless selves.
A thousand versions of himself, a million, no, infinite? Each is standing at the precipice of a different choice, a different fate. Some had turned away from the machine, living ordinary lives, never knowing what lay beyond. Others had stepped forward, taken the leap as he had… but they had not returned. Their bodies consumed, perhaps shredded apart by forces beyond comprehension. Or maybe… maybe they were like him now.
Was this what death felt like?
Strangely, he saw himself in situations that should have been impossible. There were versions of him that never had a secret lab hidden in their home. Some who had never even been born into the Montclair family. Others who had taken entirely different paths, lives so foreign to his own, yet undeniably him.
He was all of them at once. He was every Alex Sterling Montclair, every possibility, every branch of existence collapsed into a singular awareness.
And deep down, he regretted it.
He wished he were just another version of himself—one who had never made this choice, one who had never inherited the burden of his father's genius, one who had never watched him fall into madness.
It would have been nice.
Ah… his thoughts were wandering now. His mind unraveling, slipping away into the vast ether of existence.
Perhaps… he didn't have much time left.
So much for living.
No.
Maybe this was simply the curse of his bloodline, of its insatiable curiosity.
But then—
A thought. A desperate, irrational thought.
'How nice would it be to hijack another version of myself?'
He was connected to them all.
'Could I?'
His existence was already dissolving into the void. His sense of self fracturing. What was one more impossibility?
'No, no, what am I thinking? That's ridiculous.'
Yet…
Despite it all, he felt calm.
Even as the last fragments of his consciousness slipped away—
And then—
Cold.
A chill rushed up his spine, sharp and biting, cutting through his clothes as though he had been plunged into ice water. Snow crunched beneath his feet, a stark contrast to the sterile lab floor he had been standing on just moments before. His breath came out in short, rapid bursts, visible in the freezing air.
'Where am I?'
Before he could even process the thought, smoke invaded his senses—thick, acrid, suffocating. He turned sharply, his gaze snapping toward the source. But he didn't even manage to see the source of the flames before he found himself crashing hard against hot concrete.
"Raugharah!"
The guttural, inhuman screech snapped him out of his daze. Instinct took over, and he scrambled backward just in time to see a rotting corpse lunging toward him, its decayed fingers reaching, its sunken eyes locked onto him with a hunger beyond comprehension.
'A zombie?'
His heart pounded—he braced himself—
And then, the world shifted.
Everything collapsed inward, folding around him, and in the next instant, he was somewhere else.
It was dark, the air was humid, and he could feel the cold, hard rocks underneath him. Was he in a cave?
His breathing hitched as he pushed himself upright, his surroundings momentarily obscured by shadows. Then, a glow—dim, golden light reflecting off massive, obsidian-black scales.
A dragon.
Its piercing eyes locked onto him, studying him with an unreadable expression. Was that… curiosity? He hoped it was curiosity and not hunger.
Alex took a slow, steady breath, his mind racing. He should have been terrified—was terrified—but what caught his attention wasn't the creature itself, but the shimmering construct encasing it.
A barrier.
The dragon was trapped.
Hard-light technology? No, it was too intricate, too precise—almost mystical in nature.
Before he could analyze it further, before he could even think to react—
Another shift.
The cave blinked out of existence, replaced by the sensation of weightlessness.
Water.
The icy grip of the ocean swallowed him whole, salt stinging his eyes as the pressure threatened to crush his lungs. He kicked, arms flailing as he tried to surface—
But before he could drown—
Another shift.
Scorching heat burned his skin.
A desert?
The sand beneath him was blistering hot, the air dry enough to crack his lips. He gasped, but the moment he did—
Shift.
He was in a classroom, rows of desks neatly aligned before a chalkboard. The hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, the sound so ordinary it sent a fresh wave of panic through him.
Another shift.
A castle, its towering spires clawing at a stormy sky.
Then a ship, its massive engines rumbling beneath his feet.
Space. Stars stretched endlessly around him, the infinite void swallowing him whole.
Each time he blinked, the world changed. Experiencing the life of another version of himself for only a moment.
No control. No stability. No way to stop it.
Then—
Then he was home.
His bedroom.
Familiar walls, a familiar ceiling. The soft hum of his room's central cooling system. His desk, cluttered with the same papers he had left there. His bed, sheets slightly wrinkled from where he had last sat.
For a moment, the sheer normalcy of it nearly broke him.
But something was wrong. Terribly, subtly wrong.
His eyes landed on his chair, the one he had used almost every day for the past few years. It was red. His chair was always—
Red?
No, no. It was black. His chair was definitely green.
Wait, no?
Then, there was the framed photograph on his desk. The one of him with his father after he had won a science competition.
No, no. It was from when he had built his first robot.
What was he thinking? He never had a photo. It had always been— a lamp?
As he tried to rationalize everything around him, he was assaulted by a massive wave of nausea.
It started as a dull pressure in his gut before twisting into something worse. A deep, rolling sickness that crawled up his throat. He barely had time to react before he doubled over, the contents of his stomach spilling onto the floor.
Not glamorous, but he had bigger concerns.
Because even as his body rebelled against him, his vision blurred, his muscles failed, and his mind, his mind, slipped further into exhaustion.
The last thing he saw before the world fell dark was his own bed, just out of reach.
Then—
Nothing.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Beta Reader: @Basilisk, @Kiyan
https://discord.gg/WTgN9J3YgK
A/N: Please Read the Notes in the Auxiliary Chapter. Only 100 words, and gives some general info on the story.
Also, drop some comments and theories! They motivate me to write.