4. The Weight of Power

Chapter 4: The Weight of Power

Caelus woke to the familiar sensation of the earth beneath him, its steady pulse a constant reminder of the power that now flowed through him. For a moment, he lay still, letting the connection hum quietly in his mind. It was a strange feeling—comforting and alien at the same time, as though the earth had become an extension of his own body.

But even in the stillness, there was a heaviness that clung to him, a weight that went beyond physical exhaustion.

He slowly pushed himself to sit up, wincing as the aches from the battle flared up in his muscles. His mind, however, was somewhere else entirely, still turning over the events of the last fight. He had won, yes. He had gained control of the earth, but what had he lost in the process? What had he taken from the other Caelus who now lay motionless in the dust, his spirit and strength absorbed into the very ground Caelus now commanded?

The question gnawed at him.

With a groan, he leaned back against a jagged rock, staring up at the sky—or whatever it was that passed for a sky in this strange, impossible place. The Tesseract was unlike any reality he had ever known. There was no real sun, no moon, no stars—just an endless expanse of shifting light and energy that seemed to stretch on forever, both above and below him.

Caelus closed his eyes, his hand brushing against the cool surface of the earth. He could feel it more acutely now—its depth, its complexity. The power thrummed beneath his skin, alive and waiting for him to call upon it. But it wasn't just power. It was the anger, the bitterness, the desperation of the alternate self he had defeated. It all lingered in the corners of his mind, like a shadow that refused to leave.

Was this how it would be from now on? Would every victory weigh on him like this?

A soft sound broke the silence, and Caelus opened his eyes to find the Arbiter standing a few paces away, watching him with that same inscrutable gaze. His cloak fluttered in the wind, the edges of it dissolving into the mist that seemed to cling to the edges of the world.

"You're awake," the Arbiter said, his voice calm but with an edge of something else—perhaps curiosity.

Caelus gave a small nod, though his mind was still heavy with questions. "Barely."

The Arbiter stepped closer, his presence commanding but not overbearing. There was something about him—something that made Caelus feel as though the man could see straight into his thoughts, into his soul. "You've begun to understand, haven't you?" the Arbiter asked, his tone soft but firm. "The power you gain comes with a cost."

Caelus looked away, his jaw clenched. "I didn't expect it to feel like this," he muttered. "I thought… I don't know what I thought."

The Arbiter remained silent for a moment, his gaze steady. Then he said, "Power is never without consequence, Caelus. Every victory, every battle, leaves a mark. The strength you gain from your alternate selves carries the weight of their lives, their experiences. That is the burden of being a Convergence."

"A burden," Caelus repeated, the word heavy on his tongue. He ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts swirling. "It's not just power. It's them. Their pain. Their anger. It's all still there, inside me. I can feel it."

The Arbiter's expression didn't change, but his voice softened. "It will be like that with every version of yourself you defeat. Each one carries their own burdens, their own struggles. And as you ascend, you will inherit those burdens."

Caelus's chest tightened. "Then what's the point?" he asked, his voice rising with frustration. "What's the point of gaining power if it only drags me down? If I lose myself piece by piece with every step forward?"

The Arbiter regarded him quietly for a moment before speaking again. "The point is not to lose yourself, Caelus. The point is to find yourself. Each battle, each victory, is a test—not just of your strength, but of your resolve. You must decide what kind of person you will become. Will you let the power consume you, as some versions of yourself have? Or will you rise above it?"

Caelus frowned, the weight of the Arbiter's words pressing down on him. Rise above it? How was he supposed to do that when every step forward felt like sinking deeper into the abyss?

He stood abruptly, his hands clenched at his sides. "You make it sound so simple," he said, his voice tight. "But you're not the one who has to face these other versions of yourself, are you? You're not the one who has to take on their pain, their memories."

The Arbiter's gaze remained steady. "No, I am not," he agreed. "But that is why you were chosen, Caelus. You are a Convergence. You are the only one who can face these challenges and emerge on the other side."

Caelus let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Chosen," he muttered. "Right."

He turned away, his mind racing. Chosen. What a cruel twist of fate. To be chosen for this—to be forced into a path where every step forward came with a heavier price. He had thought that by ascending the Tesseract, he could escape the decay of his old world, find something better. But now, it felt like he was just exchanging one prison for another.

The weight of his own thoughts felt suffocating. He had barely begun, and already, the path ahead seemed impossible.

The Arbiter's voice broke through his thoughts. "Do you regret your choice?"

Caelus froze, the question hanging in the air between them. Did he regret it? He hadn't thought about it like that. But now, standing here in the aftermath of his first battle, the answer felt closer than ever.

"I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just… I don't know."

The Arbiter nodded, though whether it was in understanding or acknowledgment, Caelus couldn't tell. "Regret is a part of the journey," the Arbiter said. "But so is growth. You have faced your first test, and you have come out stronger for it. There will be more tests, more battles. But each one will bring you closer to the truth."

"The truth," Caelus repeated, his brow furrowing. "And what's the truth, exactly?"

The Arbiter's lips curved into a faint smile, though there was no amusement in his eyes. "That, Caelus, is for you to discover."

With that, the Arbiter turned and began walking away, his form once again dissolving into the shifting mist that surrounded them. Caelus watched him go, his mind still spinning with unanswered questions. The truth. His resolve. His identity.

The weight of everything pressed down on him like a boulder, and for a moment, he felt small—insignificant—compared to the vastness of the Tesseract and the journey that lay ahead.

But deep inside, beneath the fear, beneath the doubt, there was something else. A flicker of determination. A spark that refused to be extinguished, no matter how heavy the burden.

Caelus clenched his fists, his jaw set. He didn't know what the future held. He didn't know what kind of person he would become by the time he reached the top of the Tesseract.

But he knew one thing.

He wouldn't give up.

Not yet.