(Modern dimension)
In the modern dimension, the evening air felt restless as Erika and Scott walked side by side along the dimly lit road. The city moved around them as usual—cars passing, people talking—but Scott felt that familiar uneasiness crawling up his spine. Every time he stepped outside with Erika, normal life seemed to disappear.
Scott broke the silence with a half-nervous laugh.
"So… where are we going now?" he asked, glancing at her. "Every single time I come out with you, my life turns into an adventure movie. So tell me—what kind of trouble are we walking into today?"
Erika didn't answer immediately. She kept walking, her expression calm but focused, as if she had already decided something long ago. After a moment, she spoke clearly.
"We're going to meet the Skull Striker."
Scott stopped walking.
"What?" He stared at her like she had just announced the end of the world. "No. No, no, no. Absolutely not." He raised his hands in surrender. "I'm done. I'm going back to my room, locking the door, putting on music, and sleeping like a normal human being."
Erika turned slowly and looked straight at him. Her stare was sharp—silent, but powerful.
Scott sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair.
"…Okay. Okay, this is the last warning," he said dramatically. "If anything happens, I'm blaming you for the rest of my life."
Then, reluctantly, he nodded. "I'll come with you."
They continued walking until they reached a small, old house tucked away between narrow streets. The place didn't look special, but something about it felt guarded—like it held secrets behind its quiet walls.
Erika stepped forward and knocked on the door.
After a few seconds, the door creaked open. A man stood there, watching them carefully.
"Who are you?" he asked. "What do you need?"
"I'm here to meet Skull Striker," Erika said firmly.
The man's eyes widened in surprise. For a brief moment, he said nothing. Then he stepped aside.
"…Please, come in."
As they entered, another man appeared from inside the house. He looked Erika up and down with curiosity.
"Oh," he said slowly, almost amused. "So this is the girl he talked about?"
Scott stiffened.
"She doesn't look that strong," the man added casually.
Another voice joined in.
"Don't fool yourself," someone said with a grin. "He spoke a lot about you. You're Erika, right?"
Erika didn't react to the comments. Her voice stayed steady.
"I came here to meet him. Why can't I meet him?"
Scott immediately started signaling with his eyes—please stop, don't say anything else. But they ignored him completely.
One of them smiled knowingly.
"He said you would come looking for him someday. He even asked us to be there when you arrived."
He gestured toward the door. "Come with us."
Scott swallowed hard.
(Robotic dimension)
Meanwhile, in the robotic dimension, a cold, metallic room hummed with quiet energy. Screens flickered. Machines breathed softly. Standing at the center was the Surgeon, his voice calm but commanding.
"This is Phase Three," he said.
He turned toward Walt.
"You'll enter the shop again. You said there were several rooms inside, correct?"
Walt nodded slowly.
"You will check every single room," the Surgeon continued. "Don't worry about the cameras. The system will hack them before they even notice."
Walt clenched his fists.
"This… this might fail," he said quietly. "I don't think I'll survive this."
The Surgeon stepped closer.
"Survival isn't guaranteed," he said bluntly. "But think about this."
He activated a screen showing a live news broadcast.
'Breaking News: Walt, the man involved in a massive investigation, outsmarted dangerous criminals and uncovered critical evidence…'
"Imagine hearing that," the Surgeon said. "Imagine the world knowing what you did."
Walt took a deep breath.
The Surgeon then turned to Birkel.
"Is everything ready?"
Birkel nodded confidently.
"The cameras will be hacked. It'll be over before anyone notices."
Walt stood before the door, heart pounding, hand hovering over the handle.
And then—
he pushed it open and stepped inside.
(Historic dimension)
The banners of the kingdom fluttered under a restless sky as Victor rode toward Hale Nation. His armor caught the dull light of the morning, but his face showed no pride—only weight. Every step closer to Hale Nation felt heavier than the last, because this was not a journey of victory. It was a journey of consequence.
Ahead lay the land where William had already arrived.
Victor's mind replayed the message he had sent earlier—the one Alexander had sent from the city walls.
Victor is coming to Hale Nation to speak about the execution.
That single sentence carried more danger than a thousand swords.
Victor knew exactly what he was walking into. Hale Nation was not just a place—it was a spark. And William was the kind of man who knew how to turn sparks into infernos.
Back in the kingdom, Jaccob stood alone in a quiet corridor, his hands clasped behind his back. Unlike Victor, his face carried something close to relief—almost happiness—but it was the kind that came from dark certainty, not hope.
"So… he's going," Jaccob murmured to himself.
In his mind, the pieces aligned too perfectly.
Victor would go to Hale Nation to speak against the execution, to plead for the lives of the five prisoners. His words would be calm, lawful, and sincere. But William—William would see opportunity.
Jaccob's lips curled slightly as the thought settled in.
William will never let this pass, he thought. He'll twist this moment. He'll turn mercy into weakness… and weakness into war.
Jaccob walked slowly, his footsteps echoing as his thoughts grew heavier.
"If Victor speaks for them," he whispered, "William will speak for blood."
And then it would begin—again.
A war justified by honor.
A war fueled by fear.
A war that would swallow soldiers who had already given everything.
Jaccob's expression darkened.
"Eighty-seven lives in one year," he said quietly, remembering the reports, the names, the faces that never returned. "And now history is preparing to repeat itself."
He clenched his fist.
This is exactly what I expected, he thought. A single decision, made with good intentions… leading to another disaster.
From the walls of the kingdom, the bells rang faintly—routine, meaningless to most. But to Jaccob, they sounded like a warning.
Victor was riding toward diplomacy.
William was waiting for war.
And somewhere between those two men, the fate of nations was quietly being rewritten.