~ Chapter 5: Stolen Minutes on a Timer ~

The industrial district was a graveyard of rusted machinery and hollowed-out warehouses. Here, the rain didn't just fall; it dissolved the very air into a gray, choking soup. Elias found Julian's building, a crumbling tenement that looked like it was held together by nothing but habit and grime. The elevator was dead, so he climbed the stairs, each step a protest of his aching muscles.

He reached the fourth floor and knocked on a door reinforced with heavy steel plates.

“Julian? It's Elias. I need your help.”

There was a long silence, followed by the sound of several heavy bolts being drawn back. The door opened a crack, and a pair of bloodshot eyes peered out from the darkness. Julian looked terrible. His hair was a wild nest of white, and his skin was the color of old parchment.

“Elias?” the old man whispered. 

“You shouldn't be here. You're already marked.”

“I know”, Elias said, pushing his way inside.

“I found a chip, Julian. A Chronos chip.”

Julian’s breath hitched. He slammed the door and locked it with frantic speed. The apartment was filled with stacks of old newspapers, physical clocks of all shapes and sizes, and a massive, humming server that took up most of the living room.

“You found it”, Julian muttered, pacing the small space.

The black box. I told them it would leak. I told them you can't contain a future that's already been observed.

“What do you mean?” Elias asked, sitting on a pile of books. 

“How can a chip record something that hasn't happened?”

Julian stopped pacing and looked at him with a mix of pity and terror. 

“Time isn't a line, Elias. It's a field of probability. Mem-Tech found a way to collapse that field. They use the Chronos chips to 'record' the most beneficial outcome for the corporation. Once it's recorded, the universe treats it as a historical fact, even if it hasn't happened yet. They call it 'Historical Correction.'”

“And my death?” Elias asked, his voice trembling. 

“Why is my death a historical fact?”

“Because you were the one who built the first prototype, Elias,” Julian said softly.

Elias froze. 

What? No, I'm just a cleaner. I've only been doing this for ten years.

“That's what you remember”, Julian said, gesturing to the humming server. 

“Vance didn't just want your skills; he wanted your loyalty. When the project was finished, he didn't kill you. He just... edited you. He took your memories of the project and replaced them with a mundane life. But the Chronos chip you found? It's a backup. A piece of your original mind trying to warn you.”

The realization hit Elias like a physical blow. His entire life was a fabrication, a curated story designed to keep him quiet and productive. The scar on his eyebrow in the memory-it wasn't a future wound. It was a past one that had been erased from his current body.

Suddenly, the red light on Julian's server began to blink rapidly.

“They're here” , Julian whispered.

A sharp, metallic crack echoed through the room. A sniper's round shattered the window, passing through Julian's chest before Elias could even react. The old man fell backward, his blood splattering across the face of a grandfather clock.

“Julian!”Elias screamed, lunging towards him.

“Run”, Julian gasped, his eyes glazing over. “The tower, the book, it’s the only way to reset.”

Elias heard the sound of grappling hooks hitting the roofs. He had seconds. He grabbed a small data-drive from Julian’s desk - the one linked to the server - and dove for the fire escape. As he swing himself onto the wet stairs, he looked back and saw a team of enforces in black tactical gear poring into the room.

He scrambled down the stairs, the sound of gunfire echoing in the narrow alley. He reached the ground and sprinted toward the shadows, his heart cold with a new kind of fury. He wasn't just fighting for his stolen past.