Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women

He gasped, though there was no air to breathe, his vision blurring as the battle raged on. He could feel himself slipping, could feel the edges of his existence fraying. The knowledge, the power, the memories, they were too much. This was not his war. This was not his time. He did not belong here.

The world around him shattered again.

And suddenly, he was back.

The monolith stood before him once more, the city unchanged, the robed figure watching in silence. The weight of the memories still pressed against him, lingering like the echo of a forgotten dream. He staggered, his mind spinning, his body aching with a fatigue that was not physical.

The figure spoke.

"You have seen."

Jude swallowed, steadying himself. "What… what was that?"

"A fragment of the past," the figure said. "A war that shaped the world you now walk."

Jude exhaled slowly, his thoughts racing. "What does it have to do with me?"

The figure was silent for a long moment. Then, it raised a hand.

"Look."

Jude followed its gesture, turning his gaze to the city around him. And for the first time, he saw what he had missed before.

The buildings, the streets, the towers, they were not merely structures. They were remains.

This was the battlefield.

The crystal spires were the ruins of what once stood tall. The silent streets were the echoes of those who had fought here. The city was not just ancient. It was a graveyard.

Jude felt his breath catch. "This… this is where it happened?"

The figure nodded. "It is where it ended."

A chill ran through him.

"And where does it begin again?"

The figure did not answer. Instead, it extended its hand once more.

Jude hesitated.

He had come seeking answers. He had walked through shadows, faced trials, given up parts of himself. And yet, the more he uncovered, the more he realized he did not know.

But there was no turning back.

He reached forward, grasping the figure's hand.

And the world shifted once more.

Jude barely had time to register the sensation before everything changed. The moment his fingers touched the robed figure's hand, a force unlike anything he had ever known pulled him forward. It was not a physical force, not a push or a pull, but something deeper, something that reached into the very core of his being and yanked him from one reality into another. The world blurred, colors and shapes twisting, folding into themselves, unraveling and reforming in an instant. His mind reeled, struggling to comprehend what was happening, but before he could even process the transition, it was over.

He stood in a vast expanse, a place that felt both impossibly large and suffocatingly small. The ground beneath him was not solid, not earth or stone or metal, but something shifting, something alive. It pulsed faintly, as if breathing, a slow and steady rhythm that echoed through his bones. Above him, the sky was a swirling mass of energy, colors that had no names dancing and colliding, casting shadows that moved with minds of their own.

Jude turned, trying to make sense of where he was. The robed figure was gone, as was the city, the monolith, everything he had known up to this point. He was alone.

No. Not alone.

A presence stirred in the air, unseen but undeniable. It was vast, stretching beyond the limits of his perception, filling the space around him with a weight that pressed against his thoughts. It was not hostile, not immediately, but neither was it welcoming. It was simply there, ancient and watching.

Then, a voice.

Not spoken, not heard, but felt.

"You have come."

The words resonated through him, sending ripples through the strange ground beneath his feet. He swallowed, steadying himself. "Where am I?"

"You stand at the boundary."

Jude frowned. "The boundary of what?"

"Of knowledge. Of existence. Of truth."

He exhaled slowly. "I don't understand."

"You will."

The space around him shuddered, and suddenly, he was no longer standing. He was moving, though he had not taken a step. The world stretched, folding in ways that defied logic, and then, without warning, it collapsed inward.

Jude was elsewhere.

A city, but not the one he had left. This one was alive, vibrant, filled with people who moved with purpose. They wore robes of shimmering fabric, their skin marked with glowing sigils that pulsed in time with some unseen force. The buildings around them towered impossibly high, structures of glass and light that seemed to hum with energy.

Jude turned, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. It was familiar, in a way. He had seen glimpses of it in the memories before, in the visions that had flooded his mind. This was the past. The time before the war.

The people did not see him. They moved around him as if he were a ghost, their expressions focused, determined. There was no fear in them, no hesitation. They walked with the confidence of those who believed their world was unshakable.

Jude felt a pang of something deep in his chest. They didn't know.

The war was coming. The destruction. The end.

And then, another shift.

He was elsewhere again, but this time, the city was different. The light was fading, the buildings cracked and broken. The people who had once walked with certainty now ran, their faces twisted in fear. The sky, once brilliant, was now dark, filled with shapes that writhed and pulsed.

The enemy had arrived.

Jude felt himself pulled forward, drawn toward the center of the city. There, in a massive open plaza, a group of figures stood in formation. The same ones he had seen in the vision before. The warriors, the protectors.

And among them, a figure that made his breath catch.

It was him.

Or rather, the one whose memories he carried.

The man stood tall, his robe billowing in the wind, his hands glowing with power. He was giving orders, his voice steady, his eyes locked on the approaching darkness.