Elton and his production crew shifted their equipment toward Director Alfred's administrative wing. As they reached the central staircase, they crossed paths with Walt, who was adjusting his glasses as he descended from the third floor after finalizing his defensive runic framework.
"I didn't expect to run into you here as well, Walt," Elton noted, pausing on the landing.
"Let's not be overly dramatic," Walt replied smoothly, his boots clicking rhythmically against the stone steps. "Our operational paths have crossed entirely too many times recently."
Elton smiled, gesturing with his microphone. "Let me guess—you're out here harvesting live field data again?"
"Naturally. It's my primary directive," Walt stated without missing a beat. "And you should already be well aware that this falls directly under my purview as an active operative of the Iron Castle Media Division."
Elton's eyebrows shot up. "The Media Division? I was under the impression that Iron Castle only maintained an Information Division. I take it this is a newly established branch?"
"Technically, the Media Division functions as a specialized offshoot of our core intelligence infrastructure," Walt clarified, halting on the lower steps. "A high-tier defense organization must inevitably control its public information vectors. As media landscapes became increasingly volatile and complex, structural separation became necessary. But enough about internal logistics—you're here to interview Alfred, correct? You'd better pick up the pace. You have precisely fifteen minutes before the public exhibition window opens."
"Right. Thanks for the heads-up. Let's catch up properly after the dust settles," Elton nodded, signaling his crew.
Walt continued his descent toward the lower galleries, while Elton and his team moved up the stairwell to the director's suite. Reaching the heavy oak doors, Elton gave a firm, rhythmic knock.
Inside, Director Alfred shifted his gaze away from his terminal's encrypted data streams. "The timing is precise. Enter."
"Right on schedule, Director Alfred," Elton said, stepping into the room as the crew quickly positioned the primary lens. "It's time for our broadcast segment."
"Very well. Let us begin," Alfred replied, rising from his desk with absolute composure.
Outside the museum's grand facade, the queue was beginning to surge. Within the crowd, Zayn and Xavier were standing close together, their eyes locked on Kyle as a highly jarring realization finally clicked into place.
*Wait a minute,* Xavier thought, his mind racing. *If he genuinely originates from an entirely separate reality, then he isn't just an alternate version of Zayn. But if that's true, how is his clothing an exact asset duplicate? More importantly, how could he possibly be wearing the exact outfit Zayn wore before his recent wardrobe change? That defies standard probability. The ocular pigmentation, the hair vectors—everything matches flawlessly. Is he running a mimicry script?*
"Hey, Kyle," Xavier began aloud, his tone dropping into a serious register. "I know there's no statistical way you randomly share an exact physical profile with Zayn.
Diego explicitly told us you crossed over from a foreign reality, which means you shouldn't be an alternate-universe variant of him at all. What gives?"
Kyle offers a relaxed, unbothered smile. "Well, I suppose there's zero utility in maintaining a cover story at this point. Yeah, you caught me. I manually copied Zayn's physical appearance earlier."
Zayn folded his arms tightly across his chest, his eyes narrowing as he conducted a thorough visual sweep of Kyle's features.
"How exactly did you execute a perfect copy command on my profile? And why did your mimicry target the outdated outfit I discarded before we even met?"
"Honestly? I don't possess the technical specifics," Kyle replied, giving a slight shrug. "My matrix simply ran a standard replication sweep based on available data. Why it pulled that specific historical profile is beyond my understanding."
"How did you establish the initial handshake to copy him?" Xavier pressed. "Is it an innate psychic ability, or something else?"
"It's tied directly to my Path," Kyle explained.
He turned his right hand over, exposing his skin to reveal a glowing, intricate sigil shaped like the Mythical Pokémon Mew.
"What is that emblem?" Zayn asked, stepping closer.
"This is a Path Sigil," Kyle stated. "To put it simply, it's a specialized manifestation of power granted through a direct covenant with a Legendary or Mythical Pokémon."
"How did you acquire something like that? Our local databases have zero records of this mechanic," Zayn muttered, thoroughly perplexed.
Xavier immediately pulled out his Rotom Dex, his fingers flying across the interface as he initiated a deep web query to parse the term "Path" within the newly merged network.
"In short, a Path functions like a high-level operational contract with a Legendary entity," Nora interjected, her arms wrapped securely around her Bulbasaur as she kept watch. "In our home reality, access to these lineages is typically kept exclusive to elite sects."
"Sects?" Zayn blinked. "I thought traditional sects were strictly a cultivation world phenomenon."
A sharp chime echoed from Xavier's device as the search results finally populated. He pulled up a major global news feed, his jaw dropping as he read the headlines. "Good grief... according to the updated history files, the entire global cultivation network was completely converted into Path Users overnight."
Zayn and Rayne immediately leaned over Xavier's shoulder, their eyes scanning the rapidly updating text on the screen. "How is a systemic rewrite of this scale even possible?" Rayne asked, her voice tight with disbelief. "How did an entire global infrastructure transform into a completely different power system this fast?"
"The anomaly likely occurred because the integration parameters were inherently imperfect," Nora analyzed quietly.
"Imperfect? What's your thesis on that?" Rayne asked, looking back at her.
"Under a flawless reality integration, historical timelines undergo a complete, unified overwrite," Nora explained thoroughly. "The past, the documentation, the systemic laws, and the overarching causality are supposed to seamlessly fuse into a singular, cohesive narrative. If the process were perfect, none of this would feel anomalous to us; it would simply be our reality. But instead, the system is glitching because the time vectors were forced together at a singular, highly specific coordinate."
Kyle nodded in agreement, his expression turning analytical. "I'm certain a localized anchor was deployed to force this specific temporal point together. I just don't know what kind of engine could generate that much processing power."
"It matches the description of the Alcrypna device from the files we skimmed earlier," Zayn noted, his mind putting the pieces together. "But that leaves the core question: who initiated the execution command?"
"The unauthorized user listed in the investigation logs was named Roxanne," Rayne recalled.
"What's her psychological and physical profile?" Kyle asked.
"Long black hair, crimson irises, and an incredibly hyperactive, unpredictable behavioral pattern," Rayne recited from memory. "That was the baseline assessment."
Nora froze, her expression instantly blanking as a memory surfaced. "Wait a minute... does her profile include advanced psychic capabilities?"
"Affirmative. She's classified as a high-tier Esper," Rayne nodded.
Nora went completely silent for a moment before looking up at the group. "If that's the case... I'm highly certain I've already crossed paths with her."
Xavier's head snapped toward her. "Are you serious? Where was the contact point?"
"Right over there," Nora said, raising her hand to point directly toward the center of the plaza. "I ran into her right by the main fountain just before we regrouped."
Before anyone could formulate a response, the massive, resonant chime of the museum's main automated bell echoed across the courtyard, its deep tones cutting through the ambient noise of the crowd. The security parameters were shifting—the exhibition was officially open to the public.
"Alright, look—I don't care anymore," Zayn interrupted, letting out a sharp, exasperated breath as he rubbed his temples. "This entire narrative is getting way too long, overly convoluted, and completely bogged down in exposition. I am putting an end to this loop right now."
He struck a sharp pose, snapping his fingers in mid-air. Instantly, a sleek, glowing neon-blue interface materialized in the space right beside him, its holographic options pulsing quietly against the twilight backdrop:
```
> Pokédex
> DexNav
> Use The PC
> Pokémon
> Inventory
> Settings
> Save
> Exit
```
Without a moment's hesitation, Zayn swiped his hand through the air, selecting the **Save** protocol. The interface blinked rapidly as a system confirmation module overwritten the screen:
```
[ Player : Zayn ]
[ Badges : 0 ]
[ Pokémon: 2 ]
[ Time : 36:00:00 ]
[ Story : Ariestal City Exhibition ]
>> SAVING... DO NOT TURN OFF THE POWER.
>> PROGRESS HAS BEEN SUCCESSFULLY RECORDED.
```
The holographic windows dissolved into particles of light, returning the plaza to normal. Zayn pulled his jacket straight, a sharp, determined smirk returning to his face as he looked toward the entrance gates.
"Alright," Zayn said, his eyes locked on the opening doors. "Let's move out."