CHAPTER 45

1

White motes of light hung suspended in the air, like stars painted onto an invisible canvas.

It was a world frozen in time, a tableau of stillness and wonder, a realm entirely controlled by the cat.

Number 102, who had been animatedly playing moments ago, was now frozen in place, her form held captive as she clutched a book.

She looked like a lifeless statue, an eerie contrast to the vibrant girl Blur had come to know.

It was evident that every facet of this suspended world was under the cat's dominion.

Perched atop the globe as though he were the master of this surreal domain, the cat broke the silence.

"You are by no means a time leaper," the cat stated cryptically.

Blur's world was shaken by those words. It was as if everything he had known and experienced had been a dream, and someone had abruptly awakened him from it.

He struggled to respond, his thoughts thrown into disarray.

"—well, you're not exactly a time leaper. That's a better way to put it."

Blur remained speechless, his mind grappling with the abrupt shift in his understanding of reality.

The cat, however, continued its enigmatic discourse. "Say, how many times do you think you've been reliving these days over and over?"

Blur's mind drifted back to his countless encounters with the relentless beast, his memories of death and rebirth clouding his thoughts.

He finally spoke, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "Twice... and now it's the third time."

The cat's response was equally perplexing. "Three times. Just three, huh..."

It paused momentarily, as though pondering the boy's words.

Then, with a sense of resolve, it spoke again, "Or at least that's what you think. Hmm... Give me a second here."

"[Time] Concept: [Regress] Memories."

The cat chanted another command, different from anything Blur had witnessed before.

Motes of white light materialized once more, but this time, they converged into the form of a gun beside the cat. The gun aimed toward the right side of the cat's head, and it cocked before firing.

In that fleeting moment, the gunshot created a burst of white motes of light that emerged from the opposite side of the cat's head.

It was a baffling act, and Blur was too perplexed by the cat's words to focus on the odd display.

"W-what do you mean 'I'm not time leaping?' Then what about my memories?" Blur questioned, his voice filled with confusion and urgency.

"Right..." the cat responded, seemingly nonchalant after its self-inflicted act, "you've been reliving this month for 515 times."

The revelation struck Blur like a thunderbolt. It was reason why blur was over familiar with someone—number 102, and somethings.

He stood there, his world unraveling before him as he grappled with the staggering truth—his life had been trapped in a cycle of countless repetitions, far beyond what he had ever imagined.

2

In the quiet solitude of the brightly lit study, Blur sat, his weary eyes fixated on the marble floor on the ground.

The day, however, had taken a bewildering turn, guided by an unlikely mentor.

The cat's voice, though unspoken, resonated clearly in Blur's mind. "You see, Blur," it began, "humans have an age-old habit of venerating strange phenomena out of fear, attributing god-like qualities to them."

He looked up, back at the feline on the globe as he continued to nonchalantly talk.

The feline creature ignored his weary gaze and continued its enigmatic discourse. "Gods, my friend, are not divine beings created by some celestial force. No, they are creations of men, born from the depths of their collective consciousness."

Blur's bewilderment deepened. "But why are you telling me this, and why now?"

The cat's whiskers twitched knowingly. "Because, Blur, you are the vessel of one such concept. You hold within you the power over a fundamental aspect of the universe. But as a mortal, your unconsciousness influences these concepts, shaping and molding them in unpredictable ways."

The revelation was a weighty one, and Blur could feel the gravity of its implications sinking in. "So, what happens when these concepts are fully manifested?"

The cat's voice grew solemn. "When that time comes, your existence will transcend into a full concept, or rather, a god. It's a cycle of creation and transformation, and it's a responsibility that you cannot avoid."

As Blur absorbed this newfound knowledge, he realized that his life's purpose had taken on a profound, surreal dimension.

He was a vessel of creation and change, and his every thought and action held the potential to shape the universe itself.

The cat, having delivered its cryptic message, gracefully leaped from the globe.

The room seemed to close in on Blur as he absorbed the cat's cryptic words.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart.

"Have you ever noticed you're not a human?" the cat continued walking slowly onto him.

The enigmatic feline regarded him with those piercing silver eyes, almost as if it were studying his very soul.

"Indeed, Blur," it replied, its tone dripping with a blend of despair and fear that poured on his very soul.

"You bleed like a human, but your blood isn't red; it's blue. Your eyes, your hair, both white and untouched by the passing of time. Even if you try to cut your hair, it doesn't yield. Your blue eyes and, most of all, you've been here for over a hundred millennia, but you're not dead yet."

Blur felt a chill crawl down his spine.

It was as if the pieces of a puzzle that had haunted him for so long were finally falling into place.

Memories, fragments of moments he couldn't quite understand, flickered in his mind like half-forgotten dreams.

"But... why? How is this even possible?" he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.

The cat moved closer, its sleek form gliding effortlessly across the room until it was perched on the floor in front of Blur.

Its presence was strangely comforting, like a guiding hand through the labyrinth of his existence.

"You are a Vessel, Blur," the cat revealed, its voice a gentle purr. "A vessel of the very concept you hold. You were created, or perhaps fated, to be one. There is no need for you to pry on how you came to being".

Blur's mind was a whirlwind of emotions and questions. "What concept do I hold, then? What is my purpose?"

The cat's silver eyes bore into his with an intensity that seemed to pierce through his very essence. "That, is something you must discover for yourself."

As the cat's words hung in the air, Blur felt a strange mixture of trepidation and exhilaration.

The revelation that he was not a mere mortal, but a vessel of a profound concept, left Blur in a state of profound introspection.

As he tried to make sense of his existence, the cat's words echoed in his mind.

"What concept do I hold?" Blur couldn't help but ask again, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

The cat, still perched on floor, regarded him with an inscrutable gaze. "Your concept is 'nightmare.'"