Temporal Shadows: The Birth of Archaion X: The Chronicles of a Time Traveling Serial Killer, #1

By LewdFashion

Human or time-traveler, the rules of existence are unyielding: never interfere, never reveal, and always—always—question your reality.

 

Archaion X, a citizen of the year 4444, navigates a world that appears utopian, governed by advanced AI and a facade of social harmony. Yet beneath this veneer lies a realm grappling with ethical complexities and existential voids. His only path to understanding this duality is through time travel, enabled by an ancient wormhole. To unravel the enigmas of human nature, Archaion embarks on a perilous journey across time under the guidance of the elusive Mr. Serial Killer. He confronts the darkest acts of humanity, personified by infamous serial killers like Bundy, Gacy, and Dahmer. Faced with an ethical dilemma—should he alter history or remain an observer?—his choices send ripples through time, altering the future in unimaginable ways.

 

The plot takes an unexpected turn when Archaion encounters Charles Maher, a modern-day TikTok serial killer. This enigmatic figure forces Archaion to confront his own latent darkness and the moral ramifications of his time-traveling abilities. Maher serves as both a mirror and a catalyst, compelling Archaion to question not just his actions but the very framework of reality. "Temporal Shadows" is a mind-bending thriller that intricately melds philosophy, speculative fiction, and the unsettling truths of true crime. Will Archaion X become the harbinger of chaos he's destined to be, or will he find a path to redemption? As the future shifts unpredictably, are you ready to step into the shadows?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mr. Serial Killer
• Release date: Nov 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223723332

Book preview

cover-image, Temporal Shadows/ The Birth of Archaion X

Table of Contents

Chapter 1. In the Garden of Eternal Harmony: A Heaven Built on Forgotten Shadows

Chapter 2. Archaion X’s Pilgrimage to the Equator: The Forbidden Archive

Chapter 3. Shadows of the Past: Unveiling the Darkness in 1974

Chapter 4. Questions in the Dark: The Masked Invitation

Chapter 5. Behind the Painted Smile: A Portrait of Evil

Chapter 6. Orphaned Nightmares: The Twisted Tale of Albert Fish

Chapter 7. Unveiling Paradise: Archaion X's Crisis of Utopian Faith

Chapter 8. The Way of Shadows: A Dark Covenant Between Time and Eternity

Chapter 9. Echoes in the Flux: The Enigma of Aileen Wuornos

Chapter 10. Temporal Mastery: The Transcendent Pilgrimage

Chapter 11. The Ghost of Green River: In the Shadows with Gary Ridgway

Chapter 12. The Man Who Loved Death: Conversing with Jeffrey Dahmer

Chapter 13. Temporal Dissonance: The Charles Maher's Trial

Chapter 14. Echoes of 2006: A Future Reckoning with the Past

Chapter 15. A Tapestry Unraveled: The Reckoning of Henry Ford Kissinger

Chapter 16. The Symphony of Unthinkable Schemes

Chapter 17. The Theatre of the Damned: The Dark Masterpiece Ascends

Chapter 18: The Zugzwang Protocol

Chapter 19. Opening Moves

Chapter 20. Control the Center

Chapter 21. Develop the Pieces

Chapter 22. The Pin

Chapter 23. Double Attack

Chapter 24. Initiate Zugzwang

Chapter 25. Endgame

Chapter 26. Checkmate

Chapter 27. The Eternal Zugzwang: A Game of Cosmic Chess

Chapter 1. In the Garden of Eternal Harmony: A Heaven Built on Forgotten Shadows

The year 4444 was a heaven without shadows, a radiant vision of splendor and perfection. Gleaming cities reached for the heavens, their spires stretching towards the sky like a Hallelujah chorus in stone and glass. Crystal clear rivers flowed within these citadels of light, reflecting the pure essence of life, a mirror of humanity's triumph.

Emerald gardens unfurled beneath them, bearing fruit and flowers in abundance. They were a testament to a world where nature and technology sang in harmony, each leaf a symbol of endless growth and renewal.

People walked the streets with smiles, devoid of pain or conflict. Garbed in robes of joy and contentment, they moved as one from every culture and creed, unified in purpose and spirit. There were no wars, no crimes, no hunger. Every individual contributed to a symphony of collective joy, linked by an interconnected web of understanding.

History’s sea of violence had passed away, replaced by tranquil lakes and verdant meadows. Violence had become a forgotten word, lost to history.

Communities thrived, nourished by the springs of living water that flowed from human kindness. Suffering was a distant memory, and the shadow of death had been banished. Children learned of anger only through stories, as abstract as the farthest stars.

Music filled the air, a ceaseless melody of hope and love, a hymn that resonated with the soul of the planet. Night was no more, as understanding illuminated every corner, every heart. People reigned in wisdom, compassion, and creativity, forever and ever. This was a world in gratitude, a choir of humanity singing praises for a life unsullied by chaos and ruin. It was a living dream, an eternal spring.

The year 4444 was more than a time; it was a place where humanity had found its true home, reflecting the deepest aspirations of the human spirit.

Human language had ceased to exist, replaced by a melody of sounds expressing wonder, joy, or gratitude. Complex communication was carried out telepathically, an intimate exchange of emotions and insights, unencumbered by spoken language.

People's mouths no longer served to articulate words but became instruments of harmonious expression, celebrating life's beauty in musical notes. They had found a common tongue in the language of the soul, a universal symphony resonating with humanity.

In the streets and homes, people communicated in ethereal tones, their voices blending with nature and technology to create a living tapestry of sound. It was a world where silence was never empty but filled with unspoken words of love.

The transition from spoken language was not merely technological but spiritual, reflecting the purity of life in the year 4444. In abandoning the spoken word, humanity embraced a higher form of expression that touched the divine.

Yet, in this paradise, something was amiss.

A man of erudite grace, Archaion X stood apart from his contemporaries. His eyes, deep and discerning, held a gaze that betrayed something unknown to this age. In a world where everyone bore the last name X, a symbol of unity and collective identity, Archaion's existence was a divergence from the norm.

The philosophy of nominative determinism had reached its zenith in the world of 4444. The letter X, once a symbol of mystery and the unknown, had been transformed into a mark of oneness, a name shared by all, signifying their singular existence, devoid of divisions and individuality.

The name Archaion itself was an anomaly in this era, a divergence from the common nomenclature that echoed the conformity of the time. It was a name imbued with history and resonance, a connection to something ancient and profound. In a world where names were symbolic reflections of unity, Archaion's name was a riddle, a question mark that begged exploration. Was it mere coincidence, or was there an underlying purpose, a destiny entwined with this uncommon appellation? Like all anomalies in this seemingly perfect world, the answer lay hidden, waiting to be unearthed, a secret that held the key to understanding the enigma that was Archaion X. His very name was a challenge to him, a call to look beyond the surface, to delve into the mysteries that lay at the heart of his existence.

Archaion's childhood, like every person in his time, was spent encased in a pod. This cocoon was not merely a place of nourishment but a crucible of creation, a matrix that shaped, molded, and prepared the human being for the utopia that awaited them. From birth to the age of 24, the pod acted as a parent, caregiver, teacher, friend, lover and guide.

The framework of this utopia was indoctrinated into the very fabric of their being. Every word, every thought, every dream was shaped and guided by the principles of harmony, gratitude, and submission. Concepts like ambition, ego, and love were systematically destroyed, replaced by a calling that sought only the good of the collective.

Children, born and bred within the pod, were unknown to their biological parents. Family, once the cornerstone of human society, was now an abstract concept, irrelevant in the grand design of a unified world. Offspring were raised by the collective consciousness, fed on ideals, and prepared to join the ranks of the enlightened.

Upon reaching the age of 24, a new life awaited the individual. A life of worship, gratitude, and eternal happiness. Memories of the childhood within the pod were erased, replaced by a history that was carefully crafted to fit the utopian narrative. Every person emerged as a perfect citizen, a being of light and love, ready to embrace their role in paradise.

But Archaion was different. At 50, he looked no older than 30, a testament to the extended lifespan of the humans in this era, where aging was but a gentle process that only began to show after 90. His form, svelte and refined, hid a restless mind, one that questioned, probed, and sought answers beyond the veneer of perfection that surrounded him.

He was a child of the future, raised in a world without pain or suffering. Yet, within him, a fire burned, a desire to understand the shadows that lurked behind the brilliance of utopia.

He was a fallen angel in a heaven too perfect, too serene. A disruptor, whose very existence challenged this world. He knew that harmony was born of chaos and order, and that a world too orderly was numbed by the ceaseless hum of happiness. It was a silence that screamed in his ears, an emptiness that gnawed at him.

In this world of contentment, his soul felt restless. The longing for something more profound settled within him like a persistent echo. This disquiet found expression in the sanctuary of sleep.

Archaion's dreams were haunted by images of a hidden place near the equator, an enigmatic location that beckoned him from centuries past. Night after night, the dream returned, until it became a hidden memory calling him forth.

The dream grew more insistent, more urgent, filling his waking hours with a sense of destiny that he could no longer ignore. It was no longer a mere figment of his imagination, but a calling, a summons from a time and place beyond his understanding. The images, the sensations, all pointed to something real, something waiting for him. A mystery that only he could unravel, a path that only he could walk. The pull was inescapable, the need to explore this hidden realm a craving that gnawed at his very soul. The time had come to heed the call, to embark on the adventure that had been laid before him, to discover what lay hidden at the equator's embrace.

Chapter 2. Archaion X’s Pilgrimage to the Equator: The Forbidden Archive

Upon arriving at the ordained coordinates, Archaion X found himself before an enigmatic edifice, a gothic cathedral of time itself, a monument echoing with the whispers of lost civilizations. The structure's arches and corridors were sanctuaries of obscurity, crammed with arcane totems and inexplicable artifacts, as though the very walls conspired to hoard the universe's forgotten lore. In this sanctuary of the unknown, alien relics taunted him with their inscrutability, each object an unanswered riddle devoid of context in the sanitized lexicon of his existence.

As he ventured deeper into this temple of the esoteric, his eyes fell upon glyphs and ideograms engraved with painstaking care into the corroded metal and fossilized stone. Each symbol was a key, an astral sigil which, when mentally invoked, allowed for a transmutation of his neural structure.

In an instant, his consciousness was engulfed by an overwhelming torrent of linguistic alchemy; every human dialect, every whispered secret of syntax and symbol, cascaded into the depths of his psyche. It was as if the Tower of Babel had been reconstructed within the synapses of his brain, yet without the confusion. Instead of discord, it yielded a sublime clarity. Suddenly, he knew exactly where he stood—in a sanctum saturated with the echoes of humanity's every utterance, a shrine of untold wisdom.

With quivering anticipation, Archaion X interfaced with the enigmatic digital archive, each data stream a serpentine tendril in the vast neural network of human consciousness. As he submerged himself further into this cerebral ocean, complex algorithms unfurled like the helix of ancient DNA, divulging revelations so otherworldly they defied articulation. Each byte of information wove itself into the intricate tapestry of his neural pathways. The labyrinthine complexity of humanity's deepest secrets, agonies, and ecstasies materialized in his mind's eye like cryptograms of existence. Unspoken wisdom, akin to the inaudible symphonies of quantum strings, resonated within him. Ciphers of hidden truths, locked away like cosmic enigmas, suddenly shattered their shackles. It was an alchemical transmutation of his neurological landscape, an ethereal download so revelatory it singed the very fabric of his understanding. His neurons danced in a frenzied ballet of newfound awareness, each synaptic gap bridged by the storied history and incandescent wisdom of an entire species.

In those shadowed corridors of ancient knowledge, he stumbled upon something extraordinary: the location of a wormhole, a cosmic anomaly connecting space-time, maintained by gravitational forces and exotic matter.

Through this gateway, he could travel to any point in history, an observer traversing the timeline.

He realized that this was not merely a scientific curiosity but a calling to explore