In which Kael meets himself. And himself. And himself. And also… himself.
Fun fact: nothing prepares you for seeing yourself in a wedding dress wielding a flaming halberd.
Not combat training.
Not trauma.
Not even the Monastery's welcome seminar, "How to Survive Enlightenment Without Crying Blood."
Nope. The moment you lock eyes with an alternate timeline version of yourself who is 100% ready to wed a dragon and commit mass arson in your name — you learn what true horror tastes like.
(It tastes like glitter and unresolved issues.)
Let's rewind.
After the candle tried to psychoanalyze me into submission, I was escorted — or rather, spiritually yeeted — into a corridor known as The Hall of Broken Kaels.
Picture this: an endless spiral of stone, shifting and breathing like a living memory. Glitchlight oozed from the cracks between tiles, casting rippling reflections on the walls — and each reflection was me. But not me me.
Versions of Kael that could have been. Should have been. Might still be.
All frozen mid-motion, like echoes trapped in glass.
My footfalls echoed as I stepped forward.
Behind me, the Spoon floated like a smug shoulder demon. "Welcome to your greatest hits. Now with added regret."
"Is there an exit?"
"Nope. You walk until you break or understand yourself. Whichever comes first."
"Cool," I muttered. "I'll just start screaming now and save time."
The first Kael turned to face me.
He was perfect. Back straight, jaw tight, robes clean, boots polished. The kind of Kael who read leadership scrolls for fun and didn't flinch when nobility tried to insult his peasant blood — because in his timeline, he was nobility.
"You disappoint me," he said, voice cold as marble. "You're weak. Clownish. Unworthy of the Echo title."
I snorted. "Thanks. But I already have a mother for that."
He didn't laugh.
Of course he didn't.
This Kael was the Duke Kael — the version of me who'd said yes to ambition and no to humanity. A noble among nobles. And absolutely no fun at parties.
He stepped aside. Another reflection rippled to life.
Kael #2 was… different.
Bloodstained. Eyes haunted. A cracked mask hanging from one ear. He was crouched low like a feral thing, hands twitching, lips moving in silent prayer.
I didn't need to ask. I knew.
"War Kael," I whispered.
The one who'd never made friends. Never found comedy. Never laughed at the System. He'd chosen power to protect people — and lost himself in the process.
"Do you remember," he rasped, "what it felt like to burn the village down just to stop them screaming?"
My throat tightened. "I never—"
"No," he said. "You didn't. I did. So you wouldn't have to."
And then he was gone.
The next Kael stepped forward.
Kael #3 was in a wedding veil.
"Hiya!" he chirped, doing a twirl. "I'm Harem King Kael! Supreme overlord of tragic bisexual confusion and polyamorous regret!"
I stared. "Why are you wearing—"
"It was a masquerade gone right, darling. Five fiancées. Two dragons. One emotionally avoidant elf." He winked. "You could've had it all."
"I don't want a harem," I muttered.
He sashayed closer. "Then why do you keep accidentally seducing your enemies?"
"...I don't know!" I howled.
"You'll figure it out," he whispered, and blew me a kiss. "Or they'll do it for you."
The corridor narrowed. The air shimmered. The reflections grew… darker.
Kaels limped. Bled. Cried. Some wore chains. Some didn't wear faces at all.
"What's the point of this?" I snapped at the Spoon.
"You tell me. It's your self-esteem museum."
"Feels more like a haunted funhouse where the fun died screaming."
I stopped in front of the next mirror. The reflection was… ordinary.
Plain tunic. No magic aura. No sword. No titles.
Just Kael. A boy who never got reborn. Who never died. Who stayed in that tiny, miserable village. Who never left his mother's side. Who never became anything more than small.
He didn't look sad.
He looked free.
He looked kind.
"Do you regret becoming me?" I asked him.
He shrugged. "Do you?"
I kept walking.
One foot after the other. Past versions who had lived. Versions who had failed. Kaels who'd saved worlds and Kaels who hadn't.
There were…
Revenant Kael, skeletal and burning.
Scholar Kael, drowned in books and loneliness.
Corrupted Kael, eyes full of static and smile stitched to his face.
King Kael, seated on a throne made of broken prophecies.
Each one said the same thing in their own way:
"We are you. And you are us. Choose who you want to be."
At the end of the hall stood a mirror.
One mirror.
Plain. Full-length. No cracks. No distortion.
It showed me.
Exactly as I was. Baggy tunic. Glitchmarks around my collarbone. Fear in my eyes. Sarcasm simmering beneath the surface.
No grand title. No legendary future. Just… Kael.
I reached out. Touched the glass.
It rippled.
The reflection smirked.
"I'm not broken," I whispered. "I'm just still in progress."
The mirror shattered.
Light exploded. Time stuttered. The glitch in my chest pulsed so hard I thought I might unravel into data.
Then—
I was kneeling.
Back in the monastery.
Belladonna stood over me, arms crossed. "You screamed 'not the harem one' and tried to marry a wall."
I coughed. "Spiritual enlightenment is a scam."
"You reached the end, didn't you?"
I nodded.
"And did you find yourself?"
I smiled.
"No," I said. "But I found all of me."
System Notification:
[Congratulations! You have completed the Trial of Self in the Hall of Broken Kaels.]
[New Trait Acquired: Fragmented Identity – Embrace all your selves to survive the future.]
[New Title Unlocked: Echo of Many Faces.]
Next Time on "This Idiot Contains Multitudes":
Chapter 55 – "The Monks Have Questions, The Spoon Has Visions, and Kael Definitely Isn't Okay (Again)"
Spiritual aftermath, glitch repercussions, and a mysterious masked monk who knows too much about Kael's past. Also: spoon-based prophetic hallucinations and unauthorized cuddling.