(Robotic dimension)
The robotic dimension was unusually quiet.
Inside the scientist's lab, the air felt heavier than usual, as if the walls themselves were listening. Soft blue lights pulsed along the metallic panels, reflecting off glass chambers and dormant machines. Sergain stood near the central table, his hands resting flat on its surface, eyes sharp and unwavering.
Bergail broke the silence first.
"Everything is stable now," he said calmly. "No disturbances. No signal leaks. We can proceed with the second move."
Sergain slowly nodded.
"Yes. The first phase went exactly as expected. No suspicion. No direct trail leading to us."
Hidden several kilometers away, inside the toy shop, Walt stood near the storage section, pretending to clean the floor. A small earpiece was fitted tightly into his ear. Every word spoken in the lab reached him clearly, transmitted through an encrypted channel.
He paused his movement slightly.
"Second move?" Walt whispered. "What's the plan?"
Sergain's voice came through, low and precise.
"Now we provoke."
In the Call
Walt straightened himself and walked toward the counter. He activated the public line and contacted the shop owner directly.
Moments later, the owner answered, his voice cautious.
"Yes?"
Walt lowered his tone, making it sound hesitant—almost nervous.
"Sir… I didn't want to alarm you, but I think I saw something strange inside the shop."
There was a pause.
"What kind of strange?" the owner asked.
Walt hesitated on purpose.
"I think… it might be a creature. Maybe a rat."
The response was instant.
"A rat?" the owner scoffed. "That's impossible. This is a toy shop. Why would a rat even come here?"
Walt inhaled quietly, then replied carefully, as if recalling an old memory.
"Sir… I used to have toys at home. Once, I saw rats pulling out the cotton and sponge material from inside them. They used it to build nests. After that day, I stopped keeping toys at home."
The owner went silent for a moment.
Still unconvinced, he muttered,
"It's too rare… We've never had rats here."
Walt pressed gently.
"Our ancestors tried killing them in many ways," he said. "But rats evolve fast, sir. They survive almost everything."
That sentence changed something.
The owner exhaled slowly.
"…Alright. I'll come and check."
The call ended.
Preparation in the Lab
Back in the lab, Bergail turned toward Sergain.
"He's coming," Bergail confirmed.
Sergain reached for a folded, shimmering fabric placed on the table. It didn't look solid—almost like liquid light frozen into cloth.
"What exactly is this?" Sergain asked.
Bergail replied calmly,
"Adaptive invisibility fabric. It doesn't just bend light—it neutralizes body temperature. Thermal sensors won't detect you. Cold or heat, it doesn't matter."
"So we become… neutral," Sergain said.
"Exactly."
They both wrapped the fabric around themselves. The moment it settled, their outlines blurred—and then vanished entirely.
The Entry
The shop owner had locked his house before leaving, activating all standard security measures. He boarded a small personal flying vehicle and headed toward the shop.
That was their window.
Sergain and Bergail approached the house silently. The main door was sealed.
"No need," Bergail whispered.
They moved toward a side window. With a subtle motion, the glass slid open without a sound. One by one, they entered the house, invisible, untouchable, unnoticed.
(Historic dimension)
The kingdom had not yet heard the sound of the decree, but its shadow had already begun to spread.
King William's decision was absolute.
The five men who had gone in search of the great general were to be captured, bound, and publicly hanged—not quietly, not in secrecy, but before the eyes of every citizen in the nation. The execution was to take place within a single week, leaving no space for negotiation, no time for intervention.
William wanted the people to witness the cost of disobedience.
He wanted obedience to be carved into memory.
The Spy's Fearful Message
As the court remained in a state of uneasy calm, a lone spy slipped past the outer guards and entered the inner chambers. His clothes were dusty from travel, his posture stiff with anxiety. The guards pushed him forward, and he immediately fell to his knees before Victor.
His voice trembled as he spoke.
"My lord… King William has issued a final order. The five men will be executed within a week. The hanging will be public—before the entire nation."
The words echoed in the chamber.
Victor's fingers tightened slowly at his side.
He had expected William to act—but not with such speed, and not with such cruelty. Victor had believed there would be hesitation, fear of backlash, or at least a delay. Instead, William had struck first.
And he had struck hard.
Victor turned away from the spy and walked toward the tall windows overlooking the city.
For a brief moment, he said nothing.
We needed time, he thought. Time to intervene. Time to redirect the people's loyalty.
But William had understood the same truth Victor did—
whoever moved first would control the narrative.
Victor inhaled slowly, then turned back.
"This leaves us no choice," he said, his voice steady but heavy.
Then came the order that sealed the future.
"Prepare our troops. Ready every division. We will soon face war."
The room stiffened.
This was no longer a political conflict.
This was preparation for bloodshed.
Jaccob's Inner Victory
Standing among the advisors, Jaccob listened carefully.
Outwardly, he appeared calm—concerned, even loyal.
But inside, satisfaction surged.
Perfect, he thought.
William has taken the bait completely.
This was exactly what Jaccob had wanted: a public execution, a forced reaction, a fracture that could no longer be repaired.
Once fear rules the people, he reasoned, the throne becomes unstable.
Jaccob lowered his gaze, hiding the quiet triumph in his eyes.
Victor turned sharply toward Alexander.
"Alexander," he said, "train the soldiers immediately. No delays. I want them ready faster than protocol allows."
Alexander placed his fist against his chest.
"Yes, my lord."
Victor continued, his tone sharpening.
"And inform Sebastian. Tell him that William believes he controls the board—but we will tear apart every plan he thinks is complete."
Alexander nodded once more, understanding the gravity of the message.
"At once," he replied.
Without another word, he turned and left the chamber, already issuing commands to the guards waiting outside.
As the doors closed behind Alexander, silence returned to the court—but it was no longer calm.
The air felt heavy.
Five lives were now symbols.
An execution had become a declaration.
And war was no longer a possibility—it was a direction.
Victor stared at the kingdom map laid across the table.
Somewhere beyond its borders, William believed he had secured power.
Victor knew better.
"This week," he murmured to himself, "will decide everything."