(2 weeks prior)
The CEO sat alone in his office.
It was quiet. Too quiet, even for headquarters. Normally, the hum of distant generators or the steady shuffle of boots patrolling the lower halls was enough to fill the silence. But tonight, only the faint ticking of a clock above his head kept him company.
His hands rested neatly on the desk before him, though he wasn't working. Not on reports. Not on battle projections. Not even on the long list of repairs the KAC would need after the last skirmish.
Instead, his thoughts returned like they always did these days...
A single boy-
Asol Ansaldo.
He closed his eyes, recalling the first time he'd heard the boy's name.
The memory unfolded clearly:
The girls, stumbling into headquarters half out of breath, voices overlapping as they explained they'd found him. A stranger. A survivor.
At the time, the CEO had been skeptical. A boy from nowhere? From the Multi-Versal Gate? A scarred child of Dystopia? And yet, when Asol first stood in this very office, shoulders squared despite exhaustion, he'd felt something stir.
It was his eyes.
Not his strength, not his injuries, not even the scar that marked his face. It was the look he carried—sharp, pained, and unbearably familiar.
Kite.
The CEO shook his head, forcing the name away. Comparisons were dangerous. The dead deserved their rest. But still…
Even now, he couldn't deny how much the boy resembled Fujiwara's lost friend. Let alone the fact that Fujiwara also came from the world of Dystopia as well. Yet she arrived on Earth as a child. Asol had arrived on Earth with little to no change when he passed through the gate in Dystopia.
Ugh... What a mind fuck...
His mind drifted further. To their second meeting. To the conversation where he'd offered Asol employment in the KAC.
The boy had been hesitant. Reserved. He bore himself like a soldier but spoke like someone who wanted nothing to do with war. It was a contradiction the CEO had seen before—warriors who longed for peace yet were destined to fight.
When Asol accepted, the CEO felt something rare for him: relief.
A piece had moved into place on the board; one he had not anticipated but welcomed. He leaned back in his chair now, exhaling through his nose. The memories rolled on-
The fight with the Leader. The chaos. The boy's arm burning with the flare of Aura. The near-death gamble.
And finally—most shocking of all—Asol asking for the prosthetic arm.
The CEO chuckled softly to himself. Of all the outcomes he had anticipated that one had eluded him.
"He's finally chosen to walk forward... Perhaps not as a pawn… But as a warrior in his own right."
He rose from his chair. The office felt stifling, as if his thoughts pressed against the walls. He needed air.
The hallways of the headquarters stretched out, dimly lit by lanterns and the faint glow of energy conduits running along the ceiling. KAC members greeted him as he passed, but he paid them little mind. His steps were deliberate, echoing faintly against polished stone floors.
His thoughts shifted from the boy to the arm.
The prosthetic.
Adamantium.
Even the name carried weight.
It was not simply a metal. It was a legend. The most durable and enigmatic material known across worlds. Its ability to absorb and deflect Aura made it priceless. For centuries, entire civilizations across numerous realities had waged wars over fragments no larger than a coin.
And yet Earth possessed it. Not through conquest, but through alliance.
Aegis Prime.
That world… He could still recall his first visit. The air sharp with ozone, the skyline dominated by crystalline towers that hummed with energy. Aegis Prime was a "World of Heroes," unyielding in its pursuit of strength and glory. Its people were proud, unbending. To them, forging Adamantium was not science but ritual.
Earth's deal with Aegis Prime had been hard-won: goods for metal, cooperation for cooperation. It had secured humanity's survival more than once.
But now…
Now the shipments were dwindling.
Not late. Not damaged. Simply less. Each delivery lighter than the last, explanations vague, excuses plenty.
It did not add up.
The CEO's footsteps slowed as he passed a tall window. Outside, the city stretched below, bathed in silver moonlight. Peaceful. Unaware.
He clasped his hands behind his back.
"If the Saviours have touched Adamantium, then this is worse than I imagined."
He didn't speak the thought aloud often, but it gnawed at him. The Saviours were broken, scattered after their Leader's fall. And yet… they had a way of resurfacing. Stronger. Stranger. As if failure only sharpened their claws.
The CEO's gaze hardened.
Adamantium in their hands could mean only one thing: preparation.
For what, he did not know. But every instinct told him it was nothing Earth or any world was ready for.
He turned from the window and resumed walking, deeper into the quiet halls. His destination was not his office this time. His steps carried him to a quieter wing of headquarters, guarded less heavily.
He entered a small chamber. The air was cooler here, the lights dimmer. Machines hummed softly, monitoring the girl who lay motionless on the bed.
Fujiwara Kane.
Her chest rose and fell steadily, but her eyes remained closed. She had not stirred since the battle. The CEO approached slowly, pulling a chair beside her bed. He sat, folding his hands in his lap. For a long moment, he said nothing. The silence here felt different—heavy and sacred.
"You'd scold me if you could hear me, wouldn't you? For using him. For pushing him."
His voice was soft. Not the commanding tone he used with soldiers, nor the measured cadence he offered in council meetings. This was different. Private.
He let his gaze rest on her still face.
"I'm not sure if he's told you yet but he asked me for the prosthetic. It surprised me more than anything has in years. Maybe… maybe he's ready."
The words lingered. He exhaled slowly.
"But if my suspicions are correct… I'll be sending him to Aegis Prime. To chase shadows. To uncover truths even I don't fully understand. He deserves rest. Peace. Yet the world will not give him that."
He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. His voice dropped to a near whisper.
"Founder… is this what you intended? To bind these children to the weight of chains they never chose?"
His eyes closed. For the briefest moment, the mask of control slipped, and the weariness etched deep into his face showed.
"…Or are we simply dancing to your design, blind to the end?"
The machines beeped steadily in answer. Fujiwara remained silent, her dreams—if she had them—locked away.
The CEO sat with her for a while longer, letting the silence stretch.
Finally, he straightened, regaining his composure.
"Rest well, Fujiwara. The storm hasn't passed yet. And when it comes… I pray you'll wake in time to stand with him again."
He rose, leaving the chair behind. His footsteps faded into the hall, the chamber returning to its quiet vigil.
But the CEO's thoughts did not fade. They sharpened, heavy with unease.
The Saviours. Adamantium. Aegis Prime.
And Asol, unaware, walking toward a truth that might change everything.