Night. Silent.
The lab's ceiling panels flickered. Processors ground hard. Metallic heat mingled with chemical vapor, warning: no one should be here.
And yet—footsteps tapped across the steel floor.
Darius.
He slipped in carefully,his gaze sweeping the chamber. Data slates floated midair, hundreds of them stacked in shimmering rows. Not real objects—quantum-rendered streams of information, "dimensional infolinks," as the nerds called them.
At the center: the test bench. Unpatented components scattered across, holograms mapping endless three-dimensional graphs over a humming core processor.
Darius swallowed hard. Not from awe—he was used to sci-fi movie backdrops by now. From guilt. He knew exactly how black his name would burn into scientific history if he got caught.
Are you sure about this? A whisper in his head.
He smothered it with a vision of himself on a mountain of money.
Cables twisted across the room, feeding into the main system. Alpha Core's beating heart. And he was about to rip it out with his own hands—and crown himself the richest man alive.
A quick glance. Clear.
He pulled a device from his suit pocket—no bigger than a lighter—and pressed it against the hovering interface. A low hum answered.
Data streamed in reminiscent of lightning caged in glass. His face lit by cascading code, lips curling into his trademark smirk. Fingers danced across control keys, swiping away 'junk' lines, His touch was practiced, thieving without intent.
The progress bar shot up.
90%… 92%… 94%—
Footsteps behind him.
Close. Too close.
The smirk died instantly. His hand froze mid-air.
"You know that file isn't just ordinary data…"
The words came first. Then Claire stepped out of the shadows, calm but cutting.
He exhaled, feigning casualness. "Claire. Nothing. I was just…" His tone faltered, scrambling for an excuse with a conscience he didn't have.
"Enough." She walked forward. "Stop creating messes. Please." Her stare left absolutely no room to dodge.
He clenched his jaw. Muscles ticked. The lie chewed, bitter on his tongue. His hand hovered on the device—the sharpest weapon in digital theft.
Finally, he just arched his brow. No mask left. "Yeah. I'm stealing it. So what?" His voice is flat, shameless. "With this, both our lives change. Rich for generations."
A pause. Then a sly smile, salesman thin. "Hell, maybe it saves the world too. Win-win, right?"
"It's not ready. It's just a prototype. It's—"
I'm sick of being your shadow, he thought.
"Stop parroting Ethan!" he snapped—razor-sharp. "I know you're in love with that genius freak. It's impossible and you know it. And his fairytale? Free world-changing tech for everyone? Pathetic. The world doesn't spin on hope, Claire. It spins on money—and who's ruthless enough to take it."
Her body froze. The realization hit, cold as ice water flooded her veins.
This isn't my brother anymore. Or maybe… he never was.
"This is all of it, isn't it?" His breath dropped colder than frostbite.
She nodded slowly.
He sneered. "Please. I don't believe you." He grabbed her wrist, forceful, uncaring. "I need your DNA for authentication."
Her consent meant nothing.
But when he slammed the request, another code layer flared across the system—mocking him.
"Shit!" His fist slammed the console. "See? Even golden boy Ethan doesn't trust you either." His words pierced sharper than any blade.
He yanked the data-drain device free and pocketed it—a hard-won trophy, humming with stolen life.
"Whatever." His laugh was dry sandpaper. "This is enough for my own island. And a new yacht."
One last smirk. Then he turned and walked out without a backward glance.
Leaving Claire in the wreckage—silence shattered, trust now shards scattered across the floor of memory.
Elsewhere—A Few Days Earlier
Ding.
The soft chime floated from a foldable smartphone lying on the table—retro tech from another era. Outdated? Sure. Still working flawlessly? Absolutely.
Zoe snapped it open with practiced flair. The light lit her face, revealing a message that made zero sense.
Silvernight:"Find the man named Kieran. Protect him until he reaches Alpha Core."
Her brows furrowed into a cartoon eight. "Huh!? And then what? Take him out for a hotpot? Book us a couple's movie ticket while I'm at it?"
Her slender fingers flew across the keys, venting sass with every tap:
"What does he look like?""What timeline is he in?""What exactly is this mission?""Do I just escort him to this Alpha Core thing, or what?""Also—what IS Alpha Core? Super important artifact, or just the latest overpriced gym equipment?"
Silvernight:"When you see him, you'll know. He is the beginning of everything. Trust him."
"…That's it? Fr? I just rage-texted five questions for this lame reply?" Zoe rolled her eyes so hard they nearly escaped orbit.
"Newsflash: phones send pictures now." She snapped the case shut with a loud clack, reminiscent of someone losing an argument with a tech-hating god.
Moments later—
Ding!
A new alert. This time with an attachment.
Silvernight: "The bloodline to be inherited will awaken in a world overwritten once more."
"Oh, come on… another cryptic sentence?" Zoe flipped the phone open, grumbling under her breath—until the screen displayed a young man with unmistakable blue hair. Too familiar.
She blinked. Once. Twice. Then stared—long enough to make the photo squirm if it had feelings.
And then her lips curved into a grin, mischief sparking bright in her gaze.
"Say less. Running in with zero plan? That's literally my brand."
Her boots thudded against the wooden floor—thunk, thunk—as she marched past relics lining both walls. Time capsules from countless eras. She wondered if she was about to become one herself.
Ahead, the portal's glow shimmered brighter, swelling slow, then yawning wide—
Welcoming her into a new journey. One that might change everything.
The automatic doors slid open with a soft hiss.
Cold air slammed into Kieran's lungs as he stepped inside the place he called home—more lab than apartment. His 'bed' hadn't changed—just a desk with a new nickname.
Holograms swirled above it, diagnostics crawling through lines of the hack attempt. Piles of books by the bed towered high, one shove away from collapse.
Everything looked "normal." Except tonight—nothing came close to that word.
Gravity seemed heavier with every step. He dropped onto the sofa, weighed down—the world itself had decided his existence was optional.
He flicked his wristband. A comms hologram flared—a new message.
Pink hair. Familiar face.
Zoe:"You didn't forget our date, right? Your brain must be broken if you can't remember someone this gorgeous. It's me—Zoe:)"
Kieran squinted, muttering to himself, "Should I laugh… or schedule a psych eval?"
He scrolled through the message history. Empty. No records.
Her text had self-destructed on arrival.
Who the hell is she? How does she even have my number?
The questions swarmed. He shot up, grabbed his jacket, and stormed out. Staying put wouldn't make this madness less insane.
The Meeting Place
No name. No map. Just a set of coordinates.
Some called it The Temporal Glitch. Others? Just The Place.
Stone tiles carved from ruins paved the main street, split by pulsing LED veins. Victorian tear-drop lamps dangled above stalls selling second-hand robot limbs. Vendors wore vests with paisley prints and retro cybernetic arms from the AI Revolution War.
One stall peddled every Y2K phone model ever made, a handwritten sign bragging: "Rad Prices, Totally Legit." Next to it, a coal-fire siphon brewed old-school coffee while a drone overhead misted the scent to lure customers in.
The crowd was chaotic incarnate. A woman in a holographic kimono brushed past a man in a 1920s three-piece suit with a jetpack strapped on. Shouts over pearls from Neptune clashed with hawkers flogging pirated software. No one complained about the noise or privacy violations.
It was madness. Beautiful, nonsensical madness. A simulation test-bed of everything—except logic.
And yet it pulsed. Alive. Breathing. Even if you had to inhale fried-chicken grease with the oxygen.
Kieran stood in the middle of it, lips parting with no words, his gaze flicking everywhere a gamer stumbling onto a hidden level by accident.
Then—
Grab.
A small hand caught his arm from behind. His heart plummeted. He spun, ready to fight—
And froze.
Her.
Pink hair, purple jacket, eyes twinkling brighter than the strings of Christmas shimmer crisscrossing this impossible place.
"Heyyy. Kept you waiting?" Zoe's grin was a firework.
…Damn. Up close, she was kind of cute.
"Let go." He pulled back a step. "Who are you? What do you want?"
She loosened her grip—only to step closer again.
"Oh, relax. Yeah, your face passes—barely. But FYI? Totally not my type." She dragged her gaze up and down, shameless.
"Good," he shot back, squinting sharp. "The last thing I need is a stalker with questionable fashion sense."
"Aw, harsh," she laughed, then pointed at him—her shout echoing across the bazaar. "I called you here to talk about your power!"
Heads turned. His blood iced.
"Could you NOT shout that in public? People are gonna think we're nuts—"
Zoe spun on her heel, every bit the idol on stage, arms flared wide. "Trust me, no one cares. Look around. They can't even see us."
Kieran scanned the crowd. She was right. The vendors, the customers—none of them looked their way. Not once.
He sighed. Short. Bitter.
How the hell did I get dragged into this circus?
Zoe drew a deep breath. "You've got a special power… and I know exactly what it is."
"Power? You sound like a pyramid-scheme ad," Kieran muttered, one brow raised.
She didn't answer. Just picked up a rock, tossed it lazily in her hand—reminiscent of someone who'd swung bats under stadium lights long ago—
—and hurled it straight at him.
Kieran flinched, arms jerking up to block.
Then everything blurred.
A surge raced from fingertips to chest, as if his entire nervous system had been yanked out and slammed back in half a second later.
The rock vanished—then reappeared in Zoe's palm.
Kieran staggered a breath, staring at his own hands, half-convinced they weren't his anymore.
"That's your power. Undo." Zoe winked, thumbed herself proudly. "And me? I'm an expert in magical chaos—what you boring nerds call quantum physics."
He didn't reply. His frown knotted tighter.
Undo… Magic… Quantum… This is insane.
Zoe saw the look. Nodded once, then launched into a lecture whether he wanted it or not.
"Undo means you can reverse objects, actions—anything you're targeting. As long as you see it. As long as the timeline window's still open." She twirled her wrist midair, demo-style, science fair vibes. "But how long can you roll it back? No clue. That's on you. I'm not your user manual, okay?"
She leaned forward, finger stabbing the air. "One more thing—super important. You cannot Undo death. Period."
"Death!?" Kieran's voice cracked against his palm, thoughts colliding in his skull.
Zoe grinned, snapping back to idol mode. "Don't panic. Just… legal disclaimer, safety policy."
Then she leaned in close. Too close. A mix of puppy-sweet perfume and morning sunlight clung to her breath as it brushed his ear.
"…I'll protect you."
This was the moment she was sure would melt him.
Instead—
"…Huh?" Kieran choked like someone inhaling spicy hotpot. "Protect me? That's straight out of some AI-written friendship-power manga."
His face cracked into a grin he couldn't choke down. "Guess I really should be scared of everything now. First a pink-haired girl pops out of nowhere, then claims she's my bodyguard."
"Don't sleep on me, dude, mister!" Zoe snapped, hand on her hip, flipping her hair. "I'm god-tier. And for the record—I'm not a kid anymore!"
"Really…" His raised eyebrow practically begged to be slapped down. "Show me some proof, then. Otherwise, I'll keep assuming you're just a stalker who followed me from the café, making stuff up for attention."
Zoe rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't spin out of her head. She sighed loud enough to snuff three candles. "What proof do you want? 'Cause if it's me being all grown-up, yeah—definitely not showing you that."
She's joking, right!? …So why do I want to see it?
She stepped closer, chin tilted in challenge, palm opening to reveal the rock again. Her tone sharpened, cutting through the banter. "Or this. Proof enough?"
Then, quieter—serious in a way he hadn't heard before: "And if it's still not enough… then you'll help me find Alpha Core."
The name froze him.
"Alpha Core?" His brows knitted, tighter than ever.
A memory flared—the holographic text from this morning:
[System Rebooting… Alpha Core Activated.]
Not just words. A clue. A trigger.
"Yes." Zoe's grin was gone now, her voice steady. "It might be the key to your past… and the memories you've been searching for all along."
Kieran stood. Silent.
And for once, he didn't know if what rooted him there was curiosity, hope—
—or fear.
Twenty Years Ago
The black Cadillac thundered down the winding road, moonlight streaking across its hood. Inside, the driver fought to keep control.
Ethan's foot crushed the accelerator. The wheel jerked a raging stallion. Gravel spat from under the tires—every skid a new nail in his family's coffin.
In the mirror, headlights blazed. A second car stalked them, its exhaust spitting fire as if a demon breathing down their necks.
"They want this!" Ethan barked, one hand yanking a silver gun-shaped device from a case—loaded with a syringe, not bullets.
Beside him, Lillian's hands shook. Her gaze wavered in rhythm with the headlights closing in. She looked back—at their son.
Kieran. Nine years old. Too young to know he was already a pawn in a war between gods and men.
"But he's just a boy," Lillian spoke—broke clean in half. "It'll destroy him!"
Ethan caught his son's reflection in the mirror. His eyes carried a thousand regrets, all collapsing into a single heartbeat. "I'm sorry, Kieran."
He pulled the trigger.
The needle drove into the boy's arm. His scream tore through the car, a sound Ethan knew would haunt him forever—if he survived the night.
Behind them, the hunters roared closer. A window rolled down, a gun leveled.
"You can't outrun this, Ethan!"
Bang!
The Cadillac jolted. A tire exploded. Metal screamed.
Ethan gritted his teeth and floored it anyway. The car surged forward, wounded beast clawing for its last breath.
Then—the curve. Too sharp. Too late.
The world spun. Steel and glass spiraled midair. Lillian's gasp drowned under the shriek of the engine.
Ethan slammed the emergency switch.
The backseat ejected. Two small bodies launched into the night, hurled into darkness, tumbling across gravel until shadows swallowed them whole.
A second later—
Fire.
The Cadillac erupted into an inferno, painting the cliffside in orange hellfire.
At the ridge above, Darius and Claire watched. Flames flickered across their faces, masks of demons lit by a funeral pyre.
Claire's hands shook, voice breaking. "What did you do…?"
"It was an accident," Darius said flatly, never looking away from the blaze. But the secret flickering in his stare told another story—one he prayed the fire would swallow whole.
—
Two Years Later
The orphan boy was whisked away. Not to family. Not to friends. To someone else—faceless, nameless, powerful enough to erase his past and file him as classified government property.
By fifteen, he'd earned degrees other kids couldn't even spell. By eighteen, he was designing skyscrapers that kissed the stratosphere. Hired in whispers by the very same shadow who had plucked him from the wreckage.
And now?
Now he barely remembers his own name some days.
Kieran pieced at his past a jigsaw shattered on concrete. Every time he neared the picture, the edges dissolved. The closer he chased it, the further it slipped away.
Present
Funny. He'd never known where to begin. But he never thought he'd be starting with… pink-haired chaos incarnate.
"Well," Kieran exhaled, heavy. "Guess I'm insane enough to believe you."
Zoe didn't gloat. She just smiled, the kind that said she was the answer to questions he hadn't even dared to ask.
Damn kid knows more about me than I do.
"If you're lying," he leaned close, breath warm against her ear, "I can't promise you'll walk away from this."
"Oooh—dark hero mode." Zoe tilted in, smirking sweet enough to stock in a candy shop. "If that's the case… you can mess me up all you want."
She said it like she thought "mess me up" just meant "make things complicated."
Kieran froze, recoiling. God—does she even know what she just said?
Too close. Too reckless.
This girl wasn't an ally. Not a stalker. Not even human, maybe.
Standing this close to her wasn't meeting a partner—It was stepping barehanded into a nuclear reactor.