The Paradox Effect

The neon lights of New Tokyo, 2147, flickered against the darkened skyline, illuminating the endless sprawl of metal towers and sky bridges. Above, autonomous drones zipped through the congested airways, scanning the city for signs of unrest.

Deep within Sector 9, where the city’s abandoned districts lay untouched by the law, a man was running. His name was Dr. Elias Voss, a physicist and former researcher at the Quantum Singularity Project. He wasn’t running from the law, nor from the underground cyber-gangs that roamed the outskirts. No—he was running from something far worse.

The Paradox.

For years, the government had been experimenting with time manipulation, attempting to fold space-time in on itself to create controlled paradoxes—windows into alternate realities. But Elias had seen the flaw in their design. The paradox wasn’t stable. It was growing.

And now, it was hunting him.

He clutched the small Chrono-Key in his trembling hands. It was the only thing preventing him from being consumed by the anomaly. Around him, the city shimmered, distorting like a fractured mirror. Buildings shifted between states of construction and decay, entire streets flickering between past and future. He saw his own shadow stretch unnaturally, elongating into something… inhuman.

He needed to reach the Oblivion Core before it was too late.

The Oblivion Core was buried deep beneath the old city—a failsafe mechanism, a final resort built by the project’s original founders in case the paradox ever spiraled out of control. According to the research he had stolen, activating the core would collapse the unstable rift and restore time to its natural state. But there was a catch.

Someone had to enter the core to trigger it.

And Elias was the only one left who knew how.

As he sprinted through the deserted alleyways, time fractured around him again. He felt a shift—his own memories distorting. For a moment, he saw himself as a child, playing in the meadows outside his childhood home. Then, just as quickly, he saw himself dead, lying in a rain-soaked alley, his body frozen in an unnatural pose. Echoes of possible futures and forgotten pasts.

He gritted his teeth. "Not yet."

Reaching the old subway entrance, he descended into the darkness, his footsteps echoing. The tunnels beneath New Tokyo were ancient, remnants of a past civilization buried under the endless expansion of progress. The deeper he went, the more reality warped around him. Figures flickered in and out of existence—distorted silhouettes of people who had once walked these tunnels, now trapped between timelines.

A voice called out.

"Dr. Voss… You cannot stop what has already begun."

He turned sharply. The figure was barely human—its body shifting between different versions of itself, as if it was being rewritten by time itself. It was an Echo, a remnant of someone consumed by the paradox.

"I can stop it," Elias said, gripping the Chrono-Key tightly. "I have to."

The Echo tilted its head, its expression unreadable. "You are already part of the loop. You always have been."

Elias didn’t wait to hear more. He bolted toward the core chamber, his breath ragged. As he reached the final security door, he activated the Chrono-Key. The heavy metal door groaned, opening to reveal a massive machine pulsing with energy.

The Oblivion Core.

He hesitated. If he stepped inside, there would be no coming back. He would become part of the paradox, erased from time itself. But if he didn’t, the anomaly would expand, consuming the entire city… and eventually, the world.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward.

The machine roared to life, pulling him in. Time fractured completely, and he felt himself unravel—his past, present, and future colliding in an instant. He saw every possible version of himself: the scientist, the fugitive, the hero, the villain. All were him. All were real.

And then—

Silence.

The city was still. The air was clear. The distortion was gone.

But Dr. Elias Voss no longer existed.

Or did he?

Somewhere in the depths of reality, in the fragmented echoes of time, his voice whispered through the void.

And far above New Tokyo, in a hidden government lab, a scientist monitoring the quantum stabilizers saw a strange reading on her screen.

A name.

Elias Voss.

The paradox was never truly gone. It had just begun again.