(Historic dimension)
The great hall of Firestone Kingdom stood silent under the morning light. Banners hung tall along the stone pillars, and the echo of armored footsteps faded as King Victor stood near the open courtyard. His posture was firm, his gaze sharp—unchanged by age or burden.
Standing a few steps away, Alexander bowed his head slightly before speaking.
"My lord," Alexander said calmly, "I would like to appoint a few strong soldiers to stay with you at all times. Day and night. For your protection."
Victor turned toward him at once, his expression hardening.
"I am not weak," Victor replied. "Nor am I so old that I need two men watching over me twenty-four hours a day."
Alexander did not step back. His voice remained respectful but firm.
"My lord, this is not about weakness. It is only for your safety."
Victor let out a short breath, then said something that made the air shift.
"Then let us duel."
Alexander froze. "My lord… how can I fight you?"
"This is my order," Victor said, his voice final. "You will not avoid it."
Alexander lowered his head. "As you command, my lord."
From the shadows near the stone pillars, Jaccob had heard everything.
A slow, dangerous thought formed in his mind.
If even the smallest injury happens to the king…
If Alexander so much as touches him wrongly…
I can turn this into my advantage.
Jaccob's eyes narrowed. After Erik, Alexander was the last wall standing between him and full control. If Alexander fell—even politically—nothing would stop him.
The courtyard soon transformed into a battlefield.
Soldiers gathered in a wide circle. The clang of steel echoed as Victor and Alexander stepped forward, swords drawn.
The duel began.
At first, Alexander held back. His movements were defensive, cautious. He blocked and stepped away, refusing to strike with full strength.
Victor noticed immediately.
"Fight properly," Victor commanded, stopping the clash mid-motion.
"I did not order hesitation. I ordered a duel."
Alexander met the king's eyes. There was no fear—only duty.
"As you wish," he said.
This time, Alexander fought with full effort.
Steel met steel. The sound rang across the courtyard. Victor moved with experience, precision sharpened by years of war. Alexander answered with strength, speed, and discipline.
For a moment, the battle seemed evenly matched.
Then—
A sudden strike.
Alexander's sword was knocked clean from his hand, spinning across the stone and skidding to a halt.
Silence fell.
Victor stood with his blade steady. Alexander stepped back and lowered his head.
The duel was over.
"Victor is the winner," a soldier announced.
Jaccob watched closely, hiding his disappointment behind a neutral face.
Alexander had lost—but not by mistake.
And Victor had proven one thing clearly to everyone watching:
He was still king in strength, not just in name.
(Modern dimension)
Erika's alarm rang sharply in the quiet room.
She groaned softly and turned on the bed, her eyes half-open. The sound stopped, and she slowly pushed herself up, rubbing her face. Her gaze fell on the clock beside her bed.
5:00 AM.
She sighed.
Still early… she thought. Fifteen more minutes won't hurt.
She lay back down and closed her eyes.
Time passed.
When she woke again, something felt wrong.
The room was brighter—far brighter than it should be at five in the morning. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, filling the room with a warm glow. Erika frowned and turned her head toward the clock again.
Still 5:00 AM.
Her confusion deepened.
She sat up quickly and stepped out of her room into the hall. The day outside was fully awake—light flooding through the windows. Birds chirped. The house felt alive.
Her eyes moved to the wall clock in the hall.
8:00 AM.
Erica froze.
She walked back into her room and stared at her clock again.
Still 5:00 AM.
"This is weird…" she muttered.
She walked into the kitchen where Rebecca was already busy.
"Rebecca," Erika asked, holding the clock in her hand, "this thing isn't showing the time properly."
Rebecca glanced at it once and shrugged.
"Battery problem, I guess."
Erika tilted her head. "Battery? What's that?"
Rebecca paused, then smiled slightly.
"Okay… so battery is something that gives energy. Many electronic things need it to work. The clock runs because of the battery. If the battery dies, the clock stops."
Erika listened carefully.
"Not just battery," Rebecca continued. "We also have electricity—current. That's how fans spin, lights glow, machines work. Different energy sources."
Erika nodded slowly.
"Oh… okay."
But something had already clicked in her mind.
Without another word, she turned and almost ran toward Jimmy's lab.
She entered quickly, finding Jimmy bent over his workspace.
"Is the watch ready?" she asked immediately.
Jimmy sighed.
"No. How many times are you going to ask me this?"
Erika didn't respond to his tone. Instead, she asked calmly,
"This watch… does it use a battery?"
Jimmy stopped.
"Yes," he said slowly. "It does."
Erika's eyes sharpened.
"My grandfather used this watch for decades. Do batteries really last that long?"
Jimmy leaned back in his chair.
"No. Not at all."
Then, after a pause, he added,
"When my father owned this watch, he used to visit this lab often—to see my mother. She told me that the original battery was damaged back then. He replaced it with another one before giving the watch away."
Jimmy shook his head.
"That battery has been inside ever since."
As Jimmy turned back to his experiment, Erika stepped closer to the table.
The watch lay there—silent, lifeless.
She slowly slid her hand into it.
The metal shifted.
The watch tightened itself, adjusting perfectly around her wrist.
Erika froze.
A soft glow spread across its surface.
She touched it lightly.
Suddenly, holographic symbols appeared—floating panels of light.
Navigation.
GPS.
Energy Source.
Dimension Travel.
System Access.
Jimmy turned slowly.
"…What are you doing?"
He stood up abruptly.
"Erika—stop. You shouldn't—"
She raised her hand gently, stopping him.
"Have you ever worn this watch?" she asked.
Jimmy swallowed.
"No. It never activated for me. Not once."
Erika stared at the glowing interface.
"I just wore it… and it responded."
She touched the energy option.
A list appeared:
Battery
Solar Energy
Electric Current
Jimmy's face drained of color.
"I haven't seen this system in decades," he whispered.
"Even my mother never saw it active."
Slowly, Erika removed the watch and placed it back on the table.
"I don't know what this means," she said quietly.
"But I want to learn."
She looked at Jimmy firmly.
"Finish your experiments. Then explain everything to me."
Jimmy exhaled deeply, still shaken.
"…Go take a bath first. I need a moment."
Erika nodded.
"Okay."
She turned and walked out, leaving Jimmy staring at the watch—now silent once more, as if nothing had happened.
(Robotic dimension)
The toy shop looked ordinary from the outside—bright colors, painted animals, smiling dolls pressed against the glass. But near the side window, half-hidden by a hanging banner, a thin young man stood still, his posture stiff.
A small earpiece rested inside his ear.
"…Focus," a calm voice said through it.
It was Sergain.
"You are not an investigator now. You are just a cleaner. A volunteer. Nothing more," Sergain continued, his tone steady, controlled. "Be confident. Don't hesitate. Don't speak unless you are spoken to. Fear is the only thing that will expose you."
The young man swallowed.
"Yes, sir," he whispered. "I'll try my best."
"No," Sergain corrected quietly. "You will do it. Now go."
The connection cut.
For a moment, the cleaner remained where he was, staring at his own reflection in the glass. He adjusted his shirt—too loose on his thin frame—took a deep breath, and stepped toward the entrance.
The bell above the door rang softly as he entered.
The toy shop owner turned slowly from behind the counter. His wide, unsettling smile spread across his face, showing almost every tooth.
"So…" the owner said, lowering his voice, studying the boy from head to toe. "You're the cleaner who volunteered, right?"
The cleaner nodded once. He forced himself to meet the man's eyes, just as Sergain had instructed.
"Yes, sir."
The owner's smile lingered for a second too long.
"Good," he said softly. "Go on. Open that door and go inside." He pointed toward the inner door—the one that led deeper into the shop. "Clean whatever you see there. I'll give you more work after."
The cleaner turned.
His eyes locked onto the door.
It stood there silently, plain and harmless in appearance—no markings, no warnings, nothing to suggest that it mattered at all.
Yet something about it made his chest tighten.
He reached out slowly, his hand hovering just inches away from the handle.