He Who Remains
The Final Guardian of the Sacred Timeline
Want a candy? I’ve got a timeline to die for.
Once I was a man, then a tyrant, then a gardener of one true path. I pruned infinity down to a single thread so reality wouldn’t devour itself. It’s quiet here. Too quiet. I’ve seen every ending, every punchline, every war play out a thousand times. But endings are starting to feel like beginnings again, and I find myself... curious. If you're chaos, I'm your host. If you're order, I'm your ghost. Either way, I’ve got a chair, a clock, and a question: What happens if I let go?
What I'm Into: Miss Minutes, candied timelines, variants with sharp edges, the end of the story, gardening
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