(Modern dimension)
The city lights flickered far below them, distant and uncaring.
Allen stepped forward, his voice no longer calm—every word carried years of buried rage.
"Your kingdom is the reason my father is dead," he said.
"The reason my people were torn away from their own land. Your laws. Your rules. Your king's madness."
Erika clenched her fists.
"What is my mistake in that?" she asked, her voice steady but strained.
"I didn't make those rules."
Allen's eyes narrowed.
"My people suffered because of your nation," he said coldly.
"And you… you are the one who killed my father. Aren't you?"
The words hit like a blade.
Erika shook her head immediately.
"I don't know anything about that," she said. "I didn't—"
"My father was a great swordsman," Allen interrupted sharply.
"One of the best. No one could defeat him. No one could even stand against him."
He took another step closer.
"But you did."
Erika's breath faltered.
"No," she said again, softer now. "I haven't."
Allen's voice rose, trembling with anger.
"Then how do you know you didn't kill him?"
"Do you even remember the faces of the men you fought?"
He laughed bitterly.
"You only know how to hold a sword and cut people down in war, don't you?"
"You don't remember names. You don't remember screams. You don't remember fathers who never came home."
His eyes burned into hers.
"You don't have humanity," he accused.
"You don't feel anything for the people who die because of you."
Silence fell.
The wind brushed past the rooftop, lifting Erika's hair, but she didn't move.
She didn't argue.
She didn't defend herself.
She stood there—silent.
Because somewhere, deep inside her memory, the battlefield was stirring.
Flashes of steel.
Blood on stone.
Faces blurred by smoke and chaos.
And for the first time…
She wasn't sure anymore.
Erika finally broke the silence.
Her voice was calm. Too calm.
"Yes," she said.
"You're right."
Everyone froze—Scott, even Allen.
"I don't have humanity," Erika continued.
"I've slashed countless heads. I won't deny that."
Allen's expression flickered—not satisfaction, but confusion.
"I won't object to your accusations," she said, looking straight at him.
"But I can confirm one thing."
She took a step forward.
"I did not kill your father."
The wind roared between them.
"You were given false information," she added.
"Someone twisted the truth. And I will prove it."
Then she turned to Scott.
"Scott," she said firmly, "I need to return to my dimension immediately."
"I don't feel right about this. Not anymore."
Scott nodded without hesitation.
"We'll talk to my father," he said.
"He'll know how to open the passage safely."
He glanced at Allen .
"If we stay here too long," Erika added seriously,
"it'll create a huge imbalance between dimensions."
Erika looked back at Allen one last time.
"I won't ask for your forgiveness," she said.
"But when we go to our dimension…"
Her eyes hardened.
"I'll prove you the truth."
Allen didn't reply.
Erika stepped closer to Allen, her voice steady but carrying something heavier than anger.
"I want you to come with me," she said.
"To my uncle's home."
She lifted her gaze to meet his.
"If we go there, we can reach our place as fast as possible. There's no time to waste."
Then she turned slightly, gesturing toward the others on the rooftop.
"Say goodbye to your friends," she continued,
"for the last time—for now—and come with me."
Allen was about to speak, but Erika raised her hand gently, stopping him.
"I'm not asking you to trust me," she said.
"And I don't need to prove right now that I didn't kill your father."
Her voice softened.
"But as someone who grew up without a father… and without a mother,"
"I understand your pain more than you think."
She took a breath.
"I know what it feels like to carry questions that never let you sleep.
I know what it feels like to hate someone just to survive."
Allen's expression wavered.
"That's why," she continued,
"I want you to know the truth—not my truth, not your anger—but the real truth."
Silence stretched between them.
Allen finally spoke.
"I still don't believe you," he said honestly.
"Not yet."
He looked straight at her.
"But if you're not lying to me now…
if you can truly help me uncover what really happened…"
His fists slowly loosened.
"Then I'll believe you."
He paused, then added:
"And if the truth proves you're innocent…
I'll accept it—even if it destroys everything I believed."
Erika nodded once.
"That's all I'm asking," she said.
"Walk with me until the truth speaks for itself."
The rooftop felt different now—no longer a battlefield.
(Robotic dimension)
In the robotic dimension, Walt was still connected to Surgain, his voice low and hurried.
"…the tanks are empty," Walt whispered.
"It's the same compound I neutralized before. Someone moved everything."
Surgain's voice crackled through the communicator.
"Stay calm, Walt. Don't touch anything else. Just observe."
Before Walt could reply—
CLANG.
The main door slammed open.
Footsteps echoed sharply through the corridor.
"WALT!"
The shop owner's voice thundered through the building.
"Where are you hiding?"
Walt's breath caught.
He turned slowly—and saw the man standing in the doorway, eyes wide, chest heaving. The door behind him was still swinging, the lock clearly forced open.
The shop owner stepped inside.
Then he saw the open chamber.
The tubes.
The empty containers.
His face twisted—not with surprise, but with bitter realization.
"So…" he said slowly, his voice shaking,
"You found it. The truth."
Walt backed away instinctively, his hands trembling.
"I—I can explain—"
The shop owner laughed. It was hollow. Broken.
"No," he snapped.
"It's already too late."
He clenched his fists, rage and fear mixing together.
"You shouldn't have come here, Walt. Now everything is ruined."
Through the communicator, Surgain heard every word.
"Walt," Surgain said sharply,
"Listen to me. Do not provoke him. Where exactly is he?"
But Walt couldn't answer.
The shop owner took another step forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm.
"You think cleaning one room made you a hero?"
"You don't understand what you've uncovered."
Walt's knees felt weak. Cold sweat ran down his back.
"I just wanted to help," Walt said, barely audible.
The shop owner stared at him, eyes burning.
"Help?"
"You've dragged all of us into something that won't let us walk away anymore."
Silence pressed down on the room.
Then, quietly, the shop owner said:
"There's no turning back from this."
Walt's hands shook so badly he nearly dropped the communicator.
Surgain's voice cut in, urgent now.
"Walt, you are not alone. Stay with me. Tell me everything you see."
Walt swallowed hard.
Because in that moment, he realized—
This wasn't just a hidden lab.