I'm competing in the championship finals for the third consecutive time. Tens of thousands of fans chant my name like a war cry here in Paris. The expo center is buzzing with energy. It is strangely warm for February. You can hear the crowd calling me Asura. "Asura! Asura!" My real name is Alex Han, and I'm half-Korean and half-Algerian.
Born in Marseille, from this moment on, I stood out in the crowd. Marseille is both beautiful and dangerous. My parents' love story was unique. Dad was a Korean aerospace engineer, and Mom was a Franco-Algerian quantum physicist. They both worked at an energy research lab. They had a unique experience together.
When I was eight, a "research accident" claimed my parents' lives in Venice. I was raised by a working-class Algerian-French family in Marseille. Despite their love and care, I felt a sense of absence. I felt something was missing, as if I didn't belong. Dreams of imaginary cityscapes and voices didn't help. They haunted me. They whispered secrets I couldn't comprehend.
I found refuge in boxing and tactical shooters. Then, I discovered Valorant. I had lightning-fast reflexes and a rare spatial awareness from childhood. At 13, I topped EU leaderboards in both disciplines. I achieved these attributes in every tactical shooter. But Valorant resonated with me. It especially resonated with the character Jett. She seemed familiar, like a part of me I couldn't access.
My handle, AsuraDTR, carries significant meaning. Asura, a wrathful mythical deity, represents hidden power. DTR, meaning "determinant," represents that I can change outcomes. I was quiet, clinical, and surgical, like lightning before thunder. The community gave me several nicknames. They called me "The One-Frame King" for my lightning-fast reflexes. They also referred to me as "The Storm of Marseille," a moniker that accurately reflected my origins and play style. "The Determinant" because of my knack for influencing match outcomes.
By nineteen, I had become a two-time world champion in Valorant. A documentary was in the book, and sponsors were eager to get on board. Despite the praise, I felt empty. During matches, I could hear the wind whispering, as if the universe was talking to me. But behind the screen, none of that mattered. I was… better. People noticed my talent early on, and I wanted that recognition. I worked hard for 2.5 years on this goal. Control was my goal, while others chased crushes and college. I tried to organize the chaos and find purpose in life's worries.
---
But enough of that. The match was still in progress. I had to speak to my teammate. Listen, incredible half from everyone. Patrick, your mid-rounding and shots were truly outstanding. Kamil, a bit more of you, okay? If you want to speak, let's do so. You are a bit off. I didn't feel the energy you showed at the start of the game. Your performance in the practice room was impressive. Let's just bring it. Rio, please continue with what you're doing. You don't need to add anything else. Calls are excellent, and shooting is excellent. Eric, do your stuff. Honestly, I'm pleased with that. And as a team, boys, for this half, let's keep the same synergy as what we had in defense. What did we say? If they're right, let's fight right; if not, let's fight left. And let's fall back. If we have the opportunity, let's proceed to retake this. This half is needed if they don't allow us to plant the spike." Let's fight them together." What is most important for us in this half? What do we want to fight?
The match on Split concluded ten minutes ago, and I am still in disbelief that I executed that 1v5 clutch. Such victories, capable of ending careers or initiating new ones, create legends. The Paris expo center is on fire, with crowds chanting, 'Asura! Asura!' like war cries. Cameras flash, blinding lights disorient me. An interviewer shoves a microphone in my face to ask about my composure under pressure. My standard response, 'When you move faster than fear, fear can't catch you,' makes the crowd laugh, but I'm anything but calm inside. My heart races, and my ears ring with a sound not from the crowd. Something's off.
Something's... wrong.
That's when I hear it—a hum. The sound is low and deep, vibrating through my bones. Faces appear normal, but I notice the pitch change.
I glance upward. There's a green shimmer resembling heat waves, yet it feels chilly. The sound crackles like glass on the verge of shattering. Then the floor shakes. People scream. Lights explode. Something tears open above the stage. I see it: a sphere of light.
Security personnel shout instructions. People scatter. I don't. My eyes lock onto a boy in the front row who strangely resembles my 8-year-old self. He cries out for a mother who has already fled.
Without thinking, I leap. The ground vanishes beneath me. Just wind. Roaring wind. And light. I see a beautiful girl with silver hair, gray eyes, and graceful blades hovering by her side before the wind engulfs me. She defies gravity in midair. She looks straight at me and says...
"You took your time."
---
All is quiet. There is only the wind, free from any pain or fear. The first thing I noticed was the beeping. Steady. Rhythmic. The air pierced my nostrils, impeccably clean and sharp, stripped of all traces of life. Each breath came too easily, inflating a chest that didn't belong to me. I cracked my eyes open to a ceiling of flawless white tiles, glowing, with no imperfections to ground me. This place wasn't a hospital. It was an entirely different experience.
"Vitals are stabilizing," a woman's voice pierced through the haze, calm yet tinged with fatigue. "Brain activity is... unusual, but within range."
I attempted to speak, but my throat felt raw, as if I had swallowed gravel. The voice that emerged was unsettling—too high, too smooth, and laced with an accent I didn't recognize. An accent? I had never had one. Did I? My thoughts swirled, thick and slippery, like trying to grasp onto fragments of a half-remembered nightmare. "Where…"
"Don't push it," the doctor said, her face coming into focus. Her badge read "Dr. Kim," and her eyes held a softness tinged with shadows. "You've been unconscious for three days. Your body is still trying to catch up."
Three days. My last memory flickered: Paris, the tournament, a sphere of light tearing the world apart. I tried to jolt upright, but this body felt heavy and unfamiliar, like a puppet with half-cut strings. As my hands fumbled for balance, I caught sight of them. Wrong hands. The shape was similar, but the details were all wrong. There was no scar on the thumb from the childhood fall, nor any wear from years of training. These were someone else's hands, smooth and untested.
"Easy," Dr. Kim said, steadying me with a hand on my shoulder. "You've been through serious trauma. The healing
"What healing?" My voice cracked, sounding strange to my ears. "Where am I?" "What's—"
When the door opened, it clanged against the wall, jolting the machines. A blur of silver-white hair rushed in and hugged me so tightly I lost my breath. Her grip was fierce and desperate, trembling with unshed tears and unspoken fears.
"You're awake!" Her voice cracked against my shoulder, muffled by fabric and tears. "Oh god, I thought I'd lost you."
Instinctively, my arms lifted hesitantly to wrap around her, even as my mind spun in confusion. That voice, I knew it deep in my core. We had spent countless hours exchanging callouts, laughing, and engaging in playful trash talk over a headset. Jett. From Valorant. A video game character was clinging to me as if I were her lifeline. She pulled back, and I was finally able to see her completely. She was more than just a pixelated avatar. With distinct Korean features, blue-gray eyes swollen from tears, and a youthful appearance, she was a real person. She was likely no older than her early twenties. She felt real. Too real.
"Three days," she whispered, her hands gently cradling my face. Her fingers trembled as they brushed my cheeks, as if I might disappear at any moment. "Three days of uncertainty about whether you'd open your eyes." They told me Sage's healing was unpredictable. "I was terrified I'd never get you back, Minwoo."
Min-woo. The name struck me with force. She believed I was her brother. The claim couldn't be true; Jett, who was alive and breathing, regarded me as family.
---
"I..." My tongue stumbled. How could I explain to her that I was Alex Han, a person from a world where she existed solely in a game? Could it be that I had taken the place of her real brother?
"We anticipate memory gaps," Dr. Kim said, misunderstanding my silence. "The trauma and the healing process—it's normal to feel disoriented."
"What trauma?" I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
Jett's eyes widened, shimmering with unshed tears. "You don't remember? Icebox? The avalanche?" She grasped my face tightly, desperation in her grip. "You pushed me aside, rescuing me just in time." "The ice came down so fast...if you hadn't..."
"Jett." A new voice, warm and British, came from the doorway. "Let him breathe, alright?"
Phoenix leaned against the frame. Flames flickered along his fingertips, making him appear casual as if the situation were normal. The light danced across the sterile walls, causing my brain to short-circuit. We had another courageous figure present.
"I'm fine," Jett snapped, refusing to budge. "We're fine. He's awake, and that's what matters."
But I wasn't fine. I find myself imprisoned in a world I've only encountered on a screen, surrounded by individuals who shouldn't be there. The air pressed too lightly against my lungs, and the beeping of machines was unnervingly steady in my ears.
"What's my name?" I blurted out.
Jett froze. "What?"
"My name. Say it."
"Han Minwoo." She said it slowly, carefully, as if I might shatter. "You're Han Minwoo." "My twin. The idiot who's been saving my ass since we were kids, who got wind powers the same day I did, who almost died for me. Again."
The name Han Minwoo resonated within this body. Her hand responded softly, instinctively, curling between us.
"I need a mirror," I rasped. "Now."
Dr. Kim handed me one, and I stared into it. The face reflected back resembled mine, yet it was different, sharing the same jawline and eyes but appearing younger. It felt like a reincarnation of myself, untouched by the passage of time.
"Minwoo?" Jett's voice had shrunk, fragile and uncertain. "You're freaking me out."
I lowered the mirror, my hands trembling. Her expression was a vulnerable canvas, painted with strokes of hope and fear, laid bare for all to see. I couldn't shatter her. Not now. If I pretended, maybe I could unravel the illusion and find a way home. Or perhaps this was home now. The thought clawed at me, but I pushed it down. For her, I'd try.
"Sorry," I said, forcing the words out. "It's all... blurry. Like I'm stuck in a fog."
"That's normal," Phoenix replied, stepping closer. "Sage's healing process has disturbed your mental state." "You went through hell out there."
Sage. Another name from the game surfaced in my mind. How many more were really here? Was this the entire Valorant roster, now embodied in human form?
"You're awake," Jett said, her grip on me fierce. "That's sufficient for the moment, Minwoo. We can tackle the remaining memories and details as a team, Minwoo."
I nodded, faking a smile that didn't belong on this face. It was the final link holding my unraveling world together.
---
The silence in the medical bay had transformed, no longer a heavy weight pressing down, but a quiet hum, as if the room itself were holding its breath. The room awaited my next move. I'd been awake for an hour, my eyes tracing the sterile white ceiling, grappling with a truth that refused to settle. Each inhale felt foreign, each exhale a reminder that this body was not mine. The steady thump in my chest belonged to Han Minwoo, not Alex.
"Your neural activity is fascinating." A voice broke through in a soft, melodic tone that cut through my tangled thoughts. A woman stepped into view, her flowing robes swaying gently, her presence a soothing balm against the chaos in my head. Sage. She resembled a character from a game I had mastered, yet she seemed incredibly real.
She gracefully moved towards the monitors. Her fingers brushed over screens that glowed with data I couldn't decipher. Most patients adapt slowly after a major healing, she said, her tone measured. "You're… different." "Your patterns show two distinct neural signatures fighting to coexist."
My heart, Minwoo's heart, stumbled. Did she suspect the truth?
"Jett mentioned memory gaps," Sage continued, her dark eyes locking onto mine with piercing clarity. "But this is more than that. It's as if two lives are colliding inside you."
I steadied myself, drawing on the focus I'd honed in clutch moments behind a screen. "The trauma—"
"Perhaps," she interjected, resting a hand on my forehead. A warmth bloomed beneath her touch, sinking deep, beyond skin and bone. "Or perhaps something stranger. The universe has been unpredictable since First Light."
First Light. In the game, it was the event that rewrote reality. Radianite is surging across the globe, birthing Radiants like Jett... and me. It marked a pivotal moment in the world's history.
"Can you stand?" Sage stepped back, breaking the moment. "Brimstone wants a word."
The name sparked a thrill, familiar yet surreal. Brimstone was the seasoned tactician I had led in numerous battles. I swung my legs off the bed, surprised by how steady they felt. This body knew what to do, even if my mind was still catching up.
"One thing," Sage added as I rose. "Whatever you're wrestling with, whoever you're trying to become—the Protocol needs Han Minwoo, not a shadow of someone else."
Her words clung to me like a warning as I stepped into the hall.
The corridor stretched ahead, a fusion of sleek tech and subtle warmth. Sunlight poured through reinforced windows, painting the Seoul skyline in golden hues. It wasn't the cold, utilitarian base I'd pictured; it felt alive, almost inviting.
"Minwoo." The voice was rough, warm, and edged with a fatherly weight. Brimstone stood at the end of the hallway, exuding all the qualities of a leader. More gray streaked his beard than the game depicted, and the weight of hard choices etched his face.
"Sir," I said, then hesitated. Would Minwoo salute him like that?
He smiled, a flicker of relief in his eyes. "Good to see you upright, son. You had us worried." He waved me forward. "Walk with me. You need to see what we're up against."
The halls buzzed with purpose, agents moving briskly, some familiar, others strangers. I had memorized these layouts in-game, but reality expanded them: wider, deeper, alive with detail. Brimstone's stride was steady beside me.
"The VALORANT Protocol was born when First Light threw the world into chaos. Governments couldn't keep up. Powers emerged, Radianite spread, and everything shifted."
We stepped into a command center that dwarfed anything I had imagined. Holographic maps spun in the air, tracking Radianite spikes and rift anomalies across the globe. At the center stood a figure draped in screens and wires, unmistakable.
---
"Cypher," Brimstone called. "Our latest miracle."
The masked broker turned, his lenses glinting with reflected data. "Han Minwoo. Death's runaway." His voice held a lilt of amusement, undercut by a sharper note. "Your vitals tell quite a story."
"Cypher sees all," Brimstone said, his tone laced with caution. "Keeps us one step ahead."
"Not all," Cypher replied, tilting his head as he scrutinized me. "Some truths stay buried. Don't they, Minwoo?"
His gaze felt like a trap. Before I could respond, alarms shattered the tension. "Training alert," Brimstone announced, glancing at his watch. "Right on schedule. We have an ability test lined up for you."
The training arena expanded like a coliseum, with zones shifting between city streets, icy tundras, and sun-scorched dunes. In the center, two figures sparred with an effortless flair.
"About time!" Jett sprinted toward me, her earlier anxiety replaced by excitement. "Ready to shake off the dust?"
Phoenix sauntered over, flames flickering in his palms. "Chill, Jett. He just got off the med table."
"He's been unconscious for three days," she responded sharply. "He's rested enough."
Their banter was reminiscent of a game, yet it possessed a richer, more human quality. I couldn't help but relax a little.
"Let's keep it basic," Jett said, stepping back. "Wind walk, you remember?"
I didn't, not really. But as she dashed away, leaving faint echoes in her wake, something stirred within me. The air tugged at my senses, and I moved.
My first attempt slammed me into a wall.
Phoenix laughed. "Bruv's got the grace of a newborn foal!"
Jett pulled me up, unfazed. "You're thinking too hard. Avoid resisting the wind; embrace it. Flow with it."
In-game, it was a key press. Here, it was instinct, raw and untamed. My next attempt wobbled but held. By the tenth try, I matched her, our winds intertwining like a duet in the air.
"There's my brother," Jett said, her grin wide and unguarded.
The word still stung, but less so now.
"Step aside," Phoenix called, tossing a fireball my way. "Let's heat this up!"
What followed was chaos and rhythm. Phoenix's flames urge me to weave and dodge, and Jett's winds enhance every move. I found my rhythm, not Alex's precision or Minwoo's past, but a hybrid born in the moment.
"Impressive," Sage's voice echoed from above. "Your instincts are sharp for someone so 'foggy.'"
A fireball grazed my ear as I stumbled. "Muscle memory," I said quickly. "It's patchy."
"Hmm," she replied, skepticism lingering in her tone.
---
The briefing room exuded a serious atmosphere, dominated by a holographic table adorned with glowing threat maps. Agents filtered in some icons, some enigmas.
"Team," Brimstone began, "we've got trouble brewing." "But first," he nodded in my direction. "Minwoo's back in action, pending final checks."
A tall figure stepped forward, bow humming with technology, Sova. His blue eyes pierced me like a scope. "Welcome back, friend," he said, his voice low and steady. "Your sister's been quite a handful without you."
"Excuse you," Jett huffed, but her smirk revealed that she was not truly offended.
Brimstone activated a hologram. "Busan is lighting up with Radianite signals, echoes of Venice." He glanced at me. "From before. It could be a glitch or a rift. We need eyes on it."
Venice. The location where Alex lost his parents was Venice. It's possible that Minwoo also lost his parents there. The connection gnawed at me.
"Training run first," Brimstone said. "Minwoo, you're with Jett, Phoenix, and Sage. Radianite was present during the simulated operation. "You in?"
The old fire ignited within me. "Always."
The simulation chamber wasn't virtual; it was real, with walls reshaping into Haven's weathered streets, the air heavy with salt and brine. The Radianite tech was diligently working.
"Secure the cache," Brimstone's voice crackled through the comms. "Seventy percent resistance."
"Seventy?" Phoenix groaned. "Brim, we've got the Wonder Twins!"
Wonder Twins. A nickname with history I didn't share.
"Positions," Sage commanded, and we snapped into place.
It should've been overwhelming. Instead, it clicked—game sense merging with muscle memory. I recognized these lanes, these peaks.
"Two A long, one garage," I barked, instinct taking over.
Phoenix blinked. "How—"
"Move!" Jett was off, and I followed, our movements syncing despite my rust. Holographic foes fought back, unpredictable yet not unbeatable. Phoenix burned paths, Sage walled angles, and Jett and I moved as one, her knives slicing through the air, my winds steering us forward.
"Cache down," Sage reported. "Four minutes, thirty-seven."
"Not bad for a headcase," Phoenix teased.
Jett's gaze lingered. "You moved like… before. Like nothing's changed."
I shrugged. "Weird, right?"
---
Later, I stood on the observation deck, Seoul's lights sprawling below, fragile and beautiful. Normalcy felt distant, protected by people like us.
"Deep thoughts?" Sage appeared beside me, silent as a shadow.
"I am piecing it together," I replied. "Like a puzzle with mismatched parts."
"Fitting." She leaned against the glass. "Your healing was strange. Your body was fading, but your spirit… it fought like it knew how to endure."
I froze. "Sage—"
"I won't pry," she said softly. "But you're not alone here, whatever you're carrying."
She slipped away, leaving me to grapple with her words. A flicker caught my eye—a figure on a rooftop, dark and fleeting, disappearing into a twist of shadow. Omen? Something worse?
"Minwoo?" Jett's voice startled me. She'd crept up, wind-quiet. "You good?"
"Yeah. Just… thinking."
She nudged me, a sisterly jab. "I know it's a mess up there, but I'm glad you're back." It sucked without you."
Her candor was profound. Alex Han had to die for this so Minwoo could live, blending both identities.
"Thanks, Sunwoo," I said, the name settling comfortably. "For sticking by me."
"Always," she beamed. "Family doesn't quit."
Standing there, Seoul humming below, I felt a shift—not peace, but potential. I was here, real or not, with her. For now, that was enough.
Tomorrow promised more threats beyond holograms and shadows on rooftops. But tonight, I identified as Han Minwoo, a protocol agent and Jett's brother. Perhaps that was my destiny from the beginning.
---
The training chamber hummed with latent energy, perfectly recreating Ascent's floating platforms suspended over a shattered Venice. The air carried the tang of saltwater and Radianite static, a sensory detail so vivid it anchored me in this impossible world. I adjusted my stance, feeling the wind curl around me instinctively, a silent partner in the dance Jett and I had been perfecting.
"Focus, Minwoo!" Jett's voice cut through the simulated chaos as her Tailwind propelled her past a holographic enemy. Her silver hair trailed like a comet as she threw a kunai with deadly precision.
"Flank left now!"
I nodded, connecting with the innate rhythm my body recognized, even as my mind struggled to keep pace. The wind responded with a gust that surged, not quite matching Jett's dash, but sharper and more calculated, honed by thousands of hours of esports muscle memory from my time as Alex Han. I pushed left, deflecting a simulated bullet with a makeshift windshield of compressed air, a move even Jett hadn't anticipated.
"Show-off," she muttered, but her approving grin suggested that she was impressed as the last hologram dissolved. "Where'd you pull that from?"
"Game sense," I replied automatically, then winced. Wrong life. Wrong memories. But before I could take cover, the world began to tilt. It wasn't the simulation glitching; it was me. A sudden, searing pain lanced through my temples, and the Venetian skyline dissolved into something else: a sterile lab bathed in cold fluorescent light.
Two figures bent over a pulsating Radianite core, their faces achingly familiar yet not mine—Han Jisoo and Yasmine Belkacem, who were Minwoo's parents and now my parents as well. They spoke in urgent Korean and Arabic, words I shouldn't understand but did.
"Stabilize the dimensional frequency," Yasmine urged, her voice tight with urgency as she adjusted a device shimmering with otherworldly energy.
The vision shattered as quickly as it came, leaving me gasping on Ascent's simulated ground. Jett was at my side instantly, her hands gripping my shoulders. "Minwoo? What's wrong?" Her storm-blue eyes searched mine, worry etched into every line of her face. "I... saw something," I managed, the words heavy with a truth I couldn't fully grasp. "Our parents. A lab. Radiant. Venice." Her expression shifted first to recognition and then to pain. "Venice," she whispered. "The Incident." Where they... She couldn't finish, but she didn't need to. I knew. Both Alex and Minwoo had lost their parents there, in separate but eerily parallel tragedies tied to Radianite, as documented in the Valorant timeline of catastrophic events.
"I need answers," I said, standing despite the lingering ache in my skull. Sage's quarters were a sanctuary amid the Protocol's high-tech chaos, filled with calming incense and walls adorned with intricate Chinese calligraphy. She sat cross-legged on a woven mat, her presence as grounding as ever, even as I paced restlessly.
"You saw them," Sage repeated, her voice a soothing melody as she processed my halting recount of the vision. "Not a memory..."
"I need answers," I insisted, standing despite the lingering ache in my skull. "Now."
"You saw them," Sage reiterated, her voice a soothing melody as she processed my fragmented recounting of the vision. "Not a memory of Minwoo's, but something deeper. A connection beyond this life."
"I don't know what it means," I admitted, running a hand through hair that still felt foreign. "But it wasn't just a dream. It felt real. Like I was there."
Sage tilted her head, her eyes piercing. "Since First Light, the universe has been... unpredictable. Radianite tore open possibilities; some say it even reshapes destinies across dimensions." Her words echoed the lore I had once dismissed as mere game flavor, now terrifyingly relevant: First Light had caused a global blackout, birthing Radiants and altering reality itself.
---
"Your healing was unusual, Minwoo. Your spirit clung to this body with ferocity, as if driven by purpose. Perhaps their work on unfinished truths ties your reincarnation together."
"Purpose?" My laugh was bitter, tinged with Alex's cynicism. "I didn't ask for this." "Any of it."
"Yet here you are." Sage rose and placed a hand on my shoulder. Warmth pulsed through me not just physically, but spiritually, steadying the storm inside. Seek Cypher. "If anyone can uncover tangible evidence of your parents' work, it's him." But remember, truths like these carry weight. "They may demand more of you than you're ready to give."
Her warning lingered as I left, a reminder of the stakes in this world where every action rippled across Alpha and Omega Earths.
Cypher's domain was the opposite of Sage's: a dimly lit command hub buried deep within the Protocol's headquarters, surrounded by screens streaming data from across the globe. His masked face reflected the flickering feeds as he turned to me, already anticipating my arrival.
"Han Minwoo," he greeted, his Moroccan-accented voice laced with intrigue. "Or should I refer to you as a ghost wearing his skin?" "Your biometric scans still show anomalies."
I ignored the bait. Cypher noticed too many details that aligned with his responsibilities as the Protocol's intel specialist.
"I need information about my parents, Han Jisoo and Yasmine Belkacem. They worked on Radianite tech before the Venice Incident."
His fingers danced across a holographic keyboard, pulling up encrypted files faster than I could follow. The request was laden with risk. Kingdom Corporation buried most records after Venice had too many liabilities when Radianite tore the city apart and created Ascent. Cypher's tone shifted to one that was clinical. "But nothing stays hidden from me."
A grainy holo-image materialized, revealing my parents in lab coats, standing before a device that pulsed with the same energy I had seen in my vision. "Kingdom scientists," Cypher continued, "recruited for their expertise in aerospace and quantum physics. They were part of Project Rift, an early attempt to harness Radianite for dimensional travel. Their work predates the current Alpha-Omega Earth conflicts and established an unstable foundation. During testing in Venice, their final experiment destabilized, resulting in an explosion that reshaped the city and caused their deaths.
The Rise of Venice Incident, a catastrophic Radianite event that reshaped the world, was now confirmed as the site of my parents' deaths in both lives. The parallel chilled me.
"There's more," Cypher said, zooming in on a blueprint labeled 'Prototype: Rift Anchor.' They designed a device to stabilize dimensional bridges, potentially allowing controlled travel between Alpha and Omega Earth. They never completed it. Kingdom sealed the research after their deaths, but whispers persist of a prototype hidden somewhere in Seoul. If Omega Earth agents pursue this prototype, as recent intelligence indicates, it could significantly alter the course of this silent war. Omega Earth. Intrusions from the mirror dimension have plagued Alpha Earth. My parents' work could be a weapon or a key.
---
"Why show me this?" I asked, my voice tight.
Cypher's mask tilted, almost in amusement. "Because secrets are power, and you, Minwoo, are a secret unto yourself." I wonder, did your return serve a purpose? Or are you simply an anomaly in the dimensional weave?
His words echoed Sage's, cutting deeper. I left his hub with the blueprint's image etched in my mind, a new weight settling on shoulders that felt foreign.
Back on the observation deck, Seoul's sprawling lights offered no answers. Jett joined me briefly, sensing my mood but refraining from prying. "Whatever's eating at you," she said, nudging my shoulder, "we face it together." "Family, right?"
"Right," I replied, forcing a smile as she left for a briefing. The word "family" binds me to her and this life, even as Alex's memories struggle for control.
Now alone, I replayed the vision, Cypher's intel, and Sage's counsel. My parents and Minwoo's parents had been architects of the very rifts that defined this world's conflicts. Their prototype, the Rift Anchor, could be out there, a key to dimensions or a weapon for Omega Earth. Was my reincarnation random, or had some unseen force dragged Alex Han's soul into Han Minwoo's body to finish what they started?
I leaned against the glass; the city below felt like a fragile entity in need of protection. The VALORANT Protocol had welcomed and trained me, but could I trust my role here? Was I merely a pawn in a larger game, with my dual memories being either a glitch or a part of some grand design?
I was determined to locate that prototype before Omega Earth did. I sought not only the Protocol and Jett but also the answers I desperately needed. I had to understand my presence here, wearing the guise of a deceased boy and carrying the weight of his family's legacy.
As dawn's first light touched Seoul, I made a silent vow to uncover the truth of the Rift Anchor, even if it meant confronting the ghosts of two lives, Alex's and Minwoo's. The wind stirred around me, a restless ally whispering secrets I wasn't yet ready to hear.