Viajantes do Tempo Não Morrem no Esquecimento

“I died again.”

Mo Wen opened his eyes in a narrow, pure white space barely wide enough for a single person to lie down. Staring at the familiar ceiling, he tried to draw lessons from his most recent demise.

The moment he landed in the new world, he felt the ground shuddering violently. At the horizon, a brown mass surged upward.

Only when that color swallowed even the sky, casting everything around him into shadow, did he realize the true nature of the spectacle: an enormous being charging across the land.

Its body towered above the clouds, blocking out the sun. Its speed surpassed storms, tearing open the atmosphere. Even without attacking, its mere existence was a calamity, devastating the powerless.

A giant? A stone demon? Or perhaps the god of the local people?

Mo Wen couldn’t identify what it was, but he knew what killed him.

An overwhelming, unmatched mass—just its movement shook the mountains, split the earth beneath its feet, and changed the very map. Such a vast disparity in power was the most difficult challenge he had faced to date.

Before Mo Wen could find a way to survive or a weakness to exploit, the colossal being reached him. The aftershock it generated erased him instantly.

In a heartbeat, he was back at the “Respawn Point.”

“Once again, I learned nothing and gained nothing. Died for nothing.”

By now, Mo Wen had lost count of how many times he’d died since being trapped in this white space and forced to randomly traverse worlds—perhaps a hundred thousand times or more.

Compared to d