2. Fate of the Variants

Renslayer watched Daniel closely, her eyes narrowing as she observed the emotions playing on his face—fear, confusion, and even disbelief. She had seen this reaction countless times before. Humans often responded the same way when standing before the Time Variance Authority, facing charges for crimes they didn't fully understand. Most people crumbled under the weight of it all, realizing that their lives and choices had somehow disrupted the fragile balance of the "sacred timeline."

For Renslayer, this was just another routine case—another variant to process and prune. The file on Daniel Reed was simple: a man who had accidentally altered the timeline. She wasn't interested in the how or why of it, nor did she have patience for his confusion. All that mattered to her was maintaining the timeline.

She leaned forward slightly, her voice calm yet distant, the kind of detachment that came from years of performing the same grim task. "Mr. Reed," she began, "you are accused of violating the sacred timeline, an offense we cannot overlook."

Her tone was steady, almost mechanical, as she continued. "Your existence is an anomaly, a threat to the stability of the timeline. The only solution is to prune you from it." Her eyes flicked toward the guards, their batons humming softly with energy, ready to act on her command.

Daniel felt his stomach drop. Pruned from existence. The words echoed in his mind like a death sentence, and in many ways, they were.

But unlike earlier, Daniel didn't panic. He took a few deep breaths, calming himself. He knew one thing for sure—getting pruned was a better fate than losing his memories. Sure, there was a high chance of dying once he ended up in the Void, either at the hands of other variants or by Alioth, but there was also a tiny chance of survival—a slim one, but it was there.

'Does this guy have any special ability?' Daniel wondered about the man whose body he had taken over. That might improve his odds if he could tap into any abilities.

Renslayer studied him again, and for a brief moment, Daniel thought he saw a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. She had seen so many variants meet their end, yet something about him caught her attention—though not for long. Her expression hardened once more, reverting to the cold professionalism she was known for. To her, Daniel was just another number in the TVA's endless catalog.

She asked, almost mechanically now, "Do you plead guilty to your crimes against the timeline?"

The words hung in the air, and Daniel stared back at her, his mind racing. Did it even matter what he said? Guilty or innocent, the outcome was the same. He was going to be pruned. The TVA didn't care about justice or fairness—just about maintaining the timeline. His life, his choices, his very existence were just collateral damage in their grand mission.

He clenched his fists, feeling a disconnect between his mind and body. His hands didn't even feel like his own. Still, they weren't shaking in fear like before. Instead, anger began to bubble up inside him—anger at the TVA, at Renslayer, at this entire unfair situation.

"Does it even matter?" Daniel finally said, his voice rough and tired. "Guilty, innocent... you're going to prune me either way."

Renslayer raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth curling into the faintest smile—though there was no warmth in it. "It's not for you to decide," she said coolly. "The timeline must be preserved. Your feelings are irrelevant."

She signaled one of the guards with a simple gesture, and the guard moved toward Daniel, baton in hand. Daniel's pulse quickened.

His eyes darted to the approaching guard, and despite the calm front he had shown moments earlier, fear began to claw its way back into him. The Void—the unknown, the emptiness—loomed large in his mind. He had seen it before, a wasteland where discarded variants were left to fend for themselves, always under threat of being devoured by Alioth. Daniel wasn't a fighter, not someone who had trained for survival. He was just a regular guy, someone who had spent his life behind a desk, working a boring job, paycheck to paycheck. And now, he was being punished in the most terrifying way possible.

The guard kept coming, each step deliberate, as Daniel's panic mounted. He wanted to run, to fight, to do anything—but when he tried to move, he found he couldn't. It wasn't fear that froze him this time; it was something else. His eyes flicked to the collar around his neck, and realization hit him hard. The device had locked his body in place. No matter how much he struggled, he couldn't move a muscle.

He could still talk, though. His voice was all he had left, but even that felt pointless now. Pleading wouldn't change anything. The TVA didn't care. The punishment was set in stone.

The guard stood before him now, face expressionless, baton crackling with energy. Daniel's heart hammered in his chest, the sound of the baton buzzing louder and louder. His breath caught in his throat. This was it. The end. He wasn't ready. He hadn't had a chance to fight back. He hadn't even had a chance to live.

The guard raised the baton, the hum growing louder. Daniel's fear and anger collided into a single, burning emotion: rage. Rage at the TVA, at Renslayer, at the cruel injustice of it all. He had been caught up in something beyond his control, and now his existence was about to be erased, as if it never mattered.

"F*CK YOU!" Daniel spat, his final act of defiance.

The guard's expression didn't change as the baton touched Daniel's chest. The energy surged through him, and his body began to unravel. It felt like he was being torn apart at the seams. His vision blurred, the world fading around him.

And then, he was gone.

The collar hit the floor with a dull clank as the last traces of Daniel Reed disappeared from the room.

Daniel opened his eyes slowly, his vision a blur of muted colors and distorted shapes. For a moment, he felt weightless, as if suspended between realities, but soon the sensation faded. As his sight cleared, he found himself lying on a patch of grass. The grass was soft beneath him, but its dark green color seemed off, as though life here clung to a threadbare existence. He groaned and forced himself to sit up, his muscles aching from the strange energy that had unraveled him moments before.

He looked around at the desolate landscape stretching endlessly. The Void was unlike anything he'd imagined—a wasteland where time seemed to stand still. The sky was an eerie twilight, neither day nor night, with swirling clouds blotting it out. Jagged mountains rose in the distance, their peaks sharp and menacing. The ground, covered with thin patches of grass, quickly turned into rough, cracked earth, dotted with remnants of broken statues, shattered vehicles, and pieces of forgotten architecture.

Daniel stood up cautiously, his head still spinning. Despite the brutal process of being pruned, his body felt surprisingly intact. He brushed his hands over his arms, half-expecting something to be wrong, but everything seemed fine.

A cold breeze swept across the plains, sending a shiver through him. This place wasn't just cold in temperature—it was cold in spirit, devoid of warmth or life. It was a graveyard of forgotten timelines, all erased and left here to die in the shadow of the Void's most terrifying inhabitant.

Alioth.

The thought struck him hard, and he spun around quickly, eyes scanning the horizon. His pulse quickened as he looked for any sign of the monstrous being that devoured everything in its path. The creature—a massive, all-consuming storm—patrolled the Void, hunting those cast here.

But for now, there was nothing. No storm of destruction, no inescapable darkness creeping toward him. Only the empty, silent wasteland. He let out a shaky sigh of relief. At least he wasn't about to be consumed.

"Okay, okay," he whispered to himself, trying to calm his nerves. "One problem at a time."

He knew surviving the Void wouldn't be easy. This place was filled with other variants—some desperate, others dangerous. And Alioth would eventually come, drawn by the disturbance of new arrivals. He needed to find a way to stay alive, but where could he even start in this forsaken place?

As Daniel prepared to survey the area, a sudden, sharp pain shot through his head, striking him like a hammer. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground, gripping his skull as if it might crack open. The pain was overwhelming, a pressure building inside him, as if something was struggling to break free. He screamed, the sound echoing across the empty wasteland of the Void. Each breath felt stolen as the agony robbed him of air.

Amid the torment, something strange stirred within him. Suddenly, a purple lightning mark appeared on his forehead out of nowhere. He couldn't fully understand what was happening, nor could he see the strange mark appearing on his forehead, but the sensation of something strong awakening within him grew more intense with each passing second.

The purple lightning mark split apart, breaking into countless tiny fragments that spread across his body. The fragments then started entering Daniel's body at a great speed. His skin glowed red-hot, heat rolling off him in waves. Steam rose from his body, and the pain Daniel was going through intensified even more.

Daniel now looked exactly like Luffy from One Piece when he activated Gear Second.

Even with all this, the pain didn't let up. It pushed him to the edge, making him feel like he was going to black out. His vision blurred, and darkness started to creep in at the edges. But Daniel refused to let it take him. He bit down hard, forcing himself to stay conscious. Passing out here would mean death—he knew that much. "I have to stay awake," he muttered, voice shaking. Sweat poured down his face, and his hands dug into the cracked earth beneath him, desperate to hold onto reality. He felt his mind slipping, but he fought back, determined not to lose control.

Slowly—so painfully slowly—the pain began to fade. The pressure in his head lessened its grip. The red glow on his skin dimmed, and the strange energy vanished as quickly as it had appeared. His muscles relaxed, and the steam around him thinned into the air. His body, though trembling and drained, returned to its normal state.

Gasping for breath, Daniel lay on the ground, his chest heaving. His mouth was dry, and he struggled to gather enough strength to move. Every part of his body felt weak, but he managed to push himself up onto his knees. His muscles screamed in protest, but he forced them to obey. Just as he thought he was steadying himself, a flood of information crashed into his mind. It was overwhelming, like an unstoppable wave that hit him all at once, leaving him frozen, unable to think clearly.

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