After Zayn, Xavier, and Walt arrived at Professor Miranda's laboratory, everyone immediately gathered around the data Miranda had provided.
Walt plugged the flash drive into the computer. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he rapidly skimmed through the files. His expression shifted slightly as he processed the information.
"Team Epitaph," he announced, leaning back. "It seems they're not planning to take the Nexus Sapphire."
Zayn, Xavier, and Raizer exchanged confused glances.
Zayn's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean, not the Sapphire? Is there something else there worth stealing?"
"According to the data I just read," Walt explained, pulling up an image on the screen, "they're actually after a painting."
The group leaned in to look at the monitor. The painting depicted a lone figure walking down a rugged, stone-paved path at night. A Murkrow perched on the figure's shoulder. The style was heavily abstract—twisted shapes, distorted proportions. The background was pure chaos: a writhing mass of dark, shadowy forms chasing after the central figure. Yet, despite the pursuit, the person kept walking forward, calm and indifferent, never looking back.
"What kind of painting is this?" Zayn asked, utterly baffled.
Rayne squinted at the image. Something about it tugged at her memory. She studied it for a long moment, then her eyes lit up with recognition.
"That painting… isn't that 'Good Luck' by Alerion?"
Walt nodded. "That's correct. And that's their target."
Xavier crossed his arms, frowning. "Why would a criminal organization want a painting like that? It doesn't look particularly valuable."
Miranda stepped forward, her expression serious. "You might not know this, but we Espers can interact with symbols. And that painting—'Good Luck'—functions as a luck symbol."
Xavier pointed at the chaotic background, his skepticism obvious. "What do you mean 'luck'? That background looks more like bad luck to me. It's a complete mess."
Diego spoke up, his tone measured. "That's exactly what they're after. I already explained this to Rayne and Raizer earlier, but I suppose I'll have to repeat myself." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "In short, certain things have limitless potential. They can become many things depending on interpretation. That painting exists in a state where it could be interpreted as good luck… or bad luck… or even a symbol of indifference, or perseverance, or countless other concepts. You can derive many aspects from it."
Raizer raised an eyebrow. "So what's their actual goal in stealing it?"
Miranda answered without hesitation. "They want to obtain the painting's aspect."
Raizer looked skeptical. "Extract an aspect? Is that even possible?"
Miranda tilted her head thoughtfully. "Not literally, no. But we know it's possible to study an aspect and integrate part of it into oneself. Aspects can develop without limits—they're not finite resources."
Zayn rubbed his chin. "So just by looking at it, you can learn its aspect?"
"You could say that," Miranda replied.
Zayn pressed further. "Then… why go through all the trouble of stealing the original? Why not just study a replica or a photograph?"
Rayne answered this time. "Because the original has already accumulated layers of interpretation over time. It has become a true symbol. That's the supernatural element—the original carries weight that copies don't."
Walt continued scrolling through the data, silently cross-referencing files. Meanwhile, a thought struck Zayn.
"Oh, I just realized something," Zayn said, turning to Diego. "Professor Diego, you can see the future, the past, and even alternate possibilities, right?"
Diego's face remained flat and unreadable. "Let me guess. You're going to ask why I don't just change the future or the past, or directly predict both teams' moves. Or maybe you want me to rewrite history itself?"
Zayn chuckled, rubbing his chin. "Well, since you already know what I'm thinking… why *don't* you know what they're planning?"
Diego let out a long, weary sigh. "Haah…" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you think I'm omniscient? For your information, if I could do that, my research would have been finished ages ago. I wouldn't need to solve mysteries—I'd just need to read the timeline."
Zayn shrugged. "If only you could just tell us what happens next. That would make things so much easier."
Diego reached into his coat pocket and pulled out two small, glowing crystals: the Alterite and the Cronorite. He held them up between his fingers.
"For your information," Diego said, "there are simply too many possibilities. They have no limits. These are proof of that."
Zayn's brow furrowed deeply. "Wait a second. Where did you get those?"
"From the rewritten version of Chapter 1," Diego replied casually. "Originally, I was only supposed to give you a Pokémon in the town square."
Zayn's jaw dropped. His face went pale with shock. "Seriously?! That can happen?! How is that even possible? And how did you—"
Diego cut him off. "Long story short, I used my ability to rewrite the events of Chapter 1. As a result, I ended up with these two stones."
Zayn stared at him, still processing. "Is it really that easy to rewrite events?"
Diego gave a single, curt nod. "Yes."
Nearby, Xavier had been quietly observing Walt. He finally spoke up. "You said Team Epitaph's success rate was 10%. When was that calculated?"
Walt didn't look up from the screen. His voice was calm, almost detached. "The Alcrypna Incident."
The room fell silent. Xavier, Raizer, Rayne, and Zayn all exchanged glances, the weight of that name settling over them like a cold shadow. They realized immediately that Epitaph was no ordinary team.
Rayne tried to sound optimistic. "A 10% chance, huh? That's low. We probably don't need to worry too much, right? Only 10%."
Zayn shook his head, his expression grim. "I'm not so sure. In my experience with games, when something has a binary outcome—success or failure—I always treat it as 50/50. Even if the accuracy says 90%."
Raizer added his own perspective. "To be honest, you might not realize this, but a 10% success rate is actually pretty significant. Their track record shows they've only attempted ten missions. But the one that succeeded? They acquired a Relic."
Xavier's eyes narrowed. "What was the name of the Relic?"
Walt finally looked up, his gaze distant. "Alcrypna."
---
The scene shifted. Reality warped and twisted, dissolving into a different world—a crystalline realm where everything shimmered with vibrant, rainbow-like light. The trees, the ground, even the flowing water sparkled as if carved from living gemstones.
At the center of this dazzling landscape stood a large crystal table. Seated around it were the members of Team Epitaph, deep in discussion.
An elderly man sat at the head of the table, his posture straight and commanding despite his age. He wore a flowing crimson robe. His hair was pure white, and his long beard cascaded down his chest. Hanging from a silver chain around his neck was a blue crystal pendant, surrounded by abstract engravings that seemed to shift when viewed from different angles.
"Does anyone have a proposal for retrieving the painting?" the old man asked, his voice calm but firm.
One of the members raised a hand. "We'll take the painting through Alcrypna."
Another member immediately objected. "Wait. I'm not confident about that. The warp energy conditions there are extremely unstable. Using Alcrypna directly is impossible—especially when going against another Relic."
The old man nodded slowly, stroking his beard. "That's a reasonable concern. Any other ideas?"
A young woman raised her hand. She had long, flowing blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She wore what looked like a white academic uniform—a red academic coat over a crisp white blouse, paired with a short gray skirt and black pantyhose.
"I think the most reasonable approaches are either infiltration or a frontal assault," she said. "But I'm certain we'd lose in a direct fight."
The other members considered her suggestion. One of them nodded in agreement. "That's actually a solid idea. There's no way we'd win against the agents or the police in a straight battle—they have too many resources."
The elderly man stroked his beard thoughtfully. "If that's the best course of action, then so be it. We'll need to split into two groups: an infiltration team and an observation team." He turned his gaze toward the blonde-haired girl. "It seems you and your comrades are well-suited for the infiltration role."
The girl smiled confidently. "Not a problem. I have plenty of ways to get it done."
The old man's expression grew serious. "Now that the mission assignments are settled, it's time to discuss the worst-case scenarios."
All the members straightened up, their playful attitudes vanishing instantly. The atmosphere in the crystalline chamber grew tense.
"We must prepare for the possibility that the agents capture them," the old man continued. "Any suggestions?"
One member spoke up. "What if we transport them directly to the Shadow Realm, like we did back in Viora City?"
Another member immediately raised a counterpoint. "That's a decent idea, but the problem is that we can't control our emergence time from the Shadow Realm. Time isn't relevant there—it doesn't care when we enter or exit. We could end up in a completely different time period."
"But in the Borg mission," the first member argued, "the agents used the Shadow Realm and arrived in Ariestal City smoothly. The time difference wasn't significant."
The second member shook their head. "If you'd bothered to calculate it properly, you'd know that on the train, somehow, they spent over an hour in there. And yet they still arrived exactly on time in Ariestal City. That proves the Shadow Realm doesn't care about time—only destination matters. In this mission, timing is critical. Their defenses will be extensive, especially with a Gym Leader involved."
Another member interjected with a question. "About that train incident… how did you calculate the time?"
The second member smirked. "I used my ability to perceive their subjective experience. On average, they felt like they spent over an hour."
The blonde girl's eyes widened slightly. "Wait a minute. If that's the case, there must be other factors at play. Something happened on that train that we don't know about. Subjective time can't just appear out of nowhere—they must have experienced something."
The older man's brow furrowed in thought. "You have a point. Subjective time doesn't exist without experience. And using the Shadow Realm alone wouldn't create subjective time. Something definitely happened on that train. But what?"
A calm, measured voice spoke from the shadows. "It seems we won't know what happened on that train. But I do know that Borg has been captured. And he failed to eliminate our targets."
Another member scoffed. "I told him he should have used the Alcrypna Line. But no, he had to use the Shadow Realm."
A different member offered a counter-argument. "Maybe he wasn't wrong. The Alcrypna Line is more stable, but if he'd used it, he couldn't have done what he did in the Shadow Realm. For example, his attacks wouldn't have always hit. Besides, the Alcrypna Line is disconnected from the real world—he could only use it for transport, not to affect the physical plane. And since he needed to plant Astral Dynamite, the Shadow Realm was probably the best choice."
The elderly man raised a hand, silencing the debate. His voice was firm, resolute.
"Whatever happens," he said, his gaze dropping to the blue crystal pendant around his neck, "I hope that this time… we succeed in obtaining the painting."
The crystal gleamed faintly under the strange, multicolored light of the realm, as if acknowledging his wish.