The wind was still.
The sky had dimmed to deep blue, pierced by early starlight. The sun had just vanished behind the distant hills of the fantasy realm, casting the world in soft twilight.
In a vast, silent clearing at the edge of the floating meadows, the Catalysts stood in a wide circle. The air around them shimmered faintly, laced with spatial anchoring threads set by Jahanox to keep the ritual safe.
At the very center of it all, Ai sat quietly on a stone platform, legs folded beneath her, hands resting on her thighs. Her gaze was steady, but the faintest tremble touched her fingers.
Just in front of her stood Zazm, silent and still.
Everyone was watching from a respectful distance—Miwa leaning slightly forward with concern, Minos folding his arms thoughtfully, Kiyomasa chewing his lip, and Jennie clasping her hands together in a silent wish for Ai's safety.
Jahanox said nothing, but his eyes were sharp—ready to intervene if anything went wrong.
Zazm looked down at Ai.
"Are you ready?"
She glanced up at him.
There was a faint quiver in her voice, but her answer came without hesitation.
"…Yes."
Zazm exhaled slowly, as though releasing a thousand years of tension in a single breath.
Then…
He lifted his hand to his face.
And activated the Nexus's Gaze.
The world shifted instantly.
His irises faded—no, they imploded. All color, all light, even the white of his eyes were swallowed into pitch black.
And from that darkness, stars were born.
Tiny pinpricks of glowing white light began to bloom within his eyes—no pupils, no iris, just two endless voids filled with constellations. The spiral arms of galaxies twisted slowly within them. Quasars blinked in the distance. His gaze now held time itself—not frozen, but flowing like a river across dimensions.
Everyone felt it.
Even from meters away, the Catalysts shivered.
The air grew heavier, the ground slightly unstable, as if the laws of reality were momentarily reconsidering their structure in the presence of that gaze.
Zazm stepped forward.
Each step rang like a soft echo in Ai's ears, though she could swear he wasn't walking on the ground anymore—but through it.
He stopped only centimeters away from her.
Then, slowly, he crouched down, his face drawing close until their foreheads were nearly touching.
His voice was a low whisper, deep enough to reach through space. "Look at me."
Ai hesitated—but lifted her eyes.
And she looked.
Into the Gaze.
Into the void.
Into the infinite.
For a second—nothing happened.
And then—
The world shattered.
---
The clearing disappeared.
The wind stopped.
Even her body ceased to exist.
There was only light.
But not ordinary light.
A roaring storm of threads—stretching endlessly across dimensions—spiraling across reality like golden rivers. Each one shimmered, alive with movement. Some threads pulsed gently, stable and calm. Others were frayed, twitching like nerves, barely holding their structure.
Then came the galaxies.
Tens of thousands.
Blooming all at once in front of her like flower petals opening into the dark.
Spiral arms rotating slowly in translucent overlays. Red dwarfs, supernovas, binary stars colliding. Black holes like the eye of some sleeping god stared back from beyond the veil of perception.
Planets, cracked and singing in frequencies she couldn't understand.
Gas giants with glowing rings.
Realms where time reversed and reset.
Cities hanging in orbit around divine cores.
Civilizations evolving and collapsing in mere seconds before being consumed by light.
Ai's breath caught in her throat.
Or would have—if she still had lungs.
Because in this place, she was thought only.
And everything was too much.
The vastness pressed into her from all sides. She stumbled backward—or thought she did—drifting through a kaleidoscope of infinite life. Fractal suns burst beside her. Multiversal winds screamed, silent yet soul-splitting.
"What is this—? Where am I?!"
She started to run.
Run away from the surge of knowledge she couldn't process.
Away from stars whispering truths.
Away from threads that sang in languages that made her heart ache.
Away from the unbearable, overwhelming majesty of the universe.
But then—
A hand caught her wrist.
She turned.
Zazm.
Floating. Calm. Solid.
His Nexus's Gaze still open—but gentler now.
"…Don't be afraid," he said.
His voice echoed like waves on a shoreline made of time.
"It looks chaotic," he whispered, "but take another look. Don't you think… it's beautiful?"
Ai froze.
Zazm lifted a hand—and with a subtle motion, stilled the chaos around her.
And slowly…
She looked again.
And this time, she saw it.
The overwhelming weight began to soften.
The threads no longer screamed—they sang.
The stars no longer blinded—they danced.
And the galaxies, so far and so ancient, pulsed like living brushstrokes on the canvas of existence.
Ai stood in place, unmoving, her eyes wide as her heart swelled with a sensation she couldn't name.
Then—
Tears began to fall.
Not from fear. Not from pain.
But from something else entirely.
"…It's so beautiful," she whispered.
Her voice trembled, not with weakness—but with wonder.
Her gaze swept across the infinite tapestry again, slowly, reverently—like someone walking through the ruins of a sacred temple built by forgotten gods.
"…You're lucky," she said, eyes still glistening with tears. "To see something this… precious. This beautiful. Every day."
Zazm didn't speak at first.
He watched her quietly.
And in the middle of an endless ocean of stars and threads and realities that could never be fully grasped by words—
Zazm smiled.
"…Yeah," he said softly. "I am."
They floated there.
No sound.
No wind.
Just the glimmering hum of reality's most intimate structure—flowing all around them like a sea of stardust woven into latticework.
Ai had been too overwhelmed to ask before, too struck by the sheer beauty. But now… the more she looked, the more she noticed the patterns.
None of this looked random.
Everything was moving, yes—but not without purpose.
The lines had directions.
The points had intersections.
Some glowed. Some flickered. Some were dim.
It felt too precise to be stars.
She turned to Zazm, her voice still slightly shaky. "Zazm… what is this place exactly?"
He didn't answer at first.
Instead, he stared outward, letting her soak it in.
Then he turned to her, that familiar half-smirk on his lips—the one he wore when he was about to say something that would rearrange how you saw the world.
"We're not standing in a field of stars," he said quietly. "This isn't outer space."
He raised a hand slowly, letting his fingers glide through one of the shimmering lines beside them.
"This… is the fabric of space and time itself."
Ai blinked. "Wait—what?"
Zazm nodded, and his tone became deeper, steadier. "You're not looking at galaxies, Ai. Or star systems. What you're seeing around us… are timelines."
Ai turned again, her eyes scanning the endless luminous lines—some curved, some braided, others spiraling or looping.
"Timelines?" she repeated, astonished.
Zazm walked—no, glided—a few steps forward, then pointed toward a massive arc of glowing gold light. It spiraled upward like a ribbon made of sunlight, branching and twining into luminous strands.
"That one," he said, "is a timeline from the future."
Ai's breath caught. "How far?"
Zazm leaned in close, his voice soft, almost reverent. "Roughly 200 years from now."
She turned fully to face the glowing line. It pulsed faintly, like a living thing. Though she couldn't understand what was inside, she somehow felt… the presence of events. Life. Consequences. Possibilities.
He then gestured downward, to a dimmer, calmer set of intertwining threads.
"And those below us…" he said, "are from the past. Centuries ago. Some hundreds, some thousands of years. Every second that's ever passed in this universe... it's all here."
Ai couldn't look away.
She whispered, "So… the past, present, and future… they all exist simultaneously?"
Zazm nodded. "Exactly. From the outside, time isn't linear. It's a structure. We're just used to walking through it in a straight line—because that's how our minds interpret it."
He waved his hand once more, and like waves shifting in response, hundreds of shimmering arcs curved slightly around them, showing clearer divisions.
"Each thread here is a full timeline," he explained. "A possible version of reality, flowing from origin to outcome. Some die early. Some are still forming. Some loop endlessly, some collapse in on themselves."
Ai's eyes were wide, her heart racing. "And each universe has its own… version of this?"
Zazm nodded again. "Yes. Every universe has its own timeline lattice, its own space-time fabric—built from countless timelines, forming the universe's identity. That's what I see when I use Nexus's Gaze. Not just time… but the condition of the timelines themselves. How stable they are. How close they are to collapse."
Ai slowly reached out, letting her fingers hover beside a nearby glowing thread.
She couldn't touch it—it passed through her like wind. But she felt something.
A weight.
A memory.
A choice waiting to happen.
"…It's like each one has a soul," she murmured.
Zazm looked at her, quietly impressed. "Exactly."
Ai turned to him, mind reeling but heart steady. "And you've walked this alone?"
He gave a soft laugh. "It's not easy trying to explain timelines to people who think I'm just a dramatic guy with pretty eyes."
Ai smiled faintly. "They're terrifying eyes."
"Thank you," Zazm replied, bowing slightly.
She looked around once more, eyes shining—not from tears now, but from awe. "It's not just beautiful. It's… sacred."
Zazm nodded. "You see now why I needed you. I can't sense the details in every thread. But you can. Your senses—your empathy, your clarity—it lets you feel the health of the timelines. Even the most subtle distortions."
Ai looked around, still stunned. "And if even one timeline cracks…"
"The entire universe weakens," Zazm finished.
And as they stood there, surrounded by the infinite threads of time, Ai realized—
This was more than just vision.
It was responsibility.
Ai stood in silence, her senses still tethered to the grand lattice of flowing light around her.
The threads glimmered softly in every direction—some flickering with life, others dull and barely moving. The past, the present, and the future were suspended all at once in this ethereal flow of time. It was breathtaking.
But her mind, sharp and quick as ever, was already working.
She turned toward Zazm, her brows furrowing just slightly.
"…But even if we look at all of this," she said slowly, "how do we know this universe is actually distorted?"
Zazm tilted his head, curious.
Ai gestured gently toward the glowing lines. "You said each one of these is a timeline. But… wouldn't a distortion only affect some of them? Like maybe just the future, or a few alternate branches? If that's the case, then the present—or even the main timeline—might look perfectly normal."
Zazm smiled faintly.
He nodded. "That's true."
Ai crossed her arms, thinking. "So then… what are we supposed to do? If this is just one part of the picture, how do we see the rest of it?"
Zazm's expression turned more serious.
He stepped closer to her, and with a single motion, the lights around them dimmed slightly shifting focus. The threads remained, but now there was something else: a faint outline in the far distance, a thin, glowing contour that curved in all directions like the edge of a globe.
"That," Zazm said, "is the universe's outer membrane. The skin that contains the entire structure."
Ai's eyes widened slightly.
Zazm raised a hand again and spoke, "Allow me to explain this a little more clearly."
He paused, as if organizing cosmic metaphors into simple words.
"Think of a single wire," he said slowly, "like one you'd see inside a device. Inside that main wire, there are countless tiny wires twisted together—copper strands, right?"
Ai nodded. "Yeah. I know the type."
"It's the same here," he continued. "Each timeline you're seeing… is one of those tiny wires. Individual threads of possibility. But the whole wire—the thick, insulated one—that's the universe itself."
He gestured outward, toward the distant, glowing outline surrounding the threads like a transparent shell.
"The timelines are bound together, all encased within that main structure—the universe's core boundaries."
Ai was quiet for a moment, absorbing the analogy.
Then her eyes slowly widened.
"And the void…" she murmured.
Zazm looked at her, waiting.
Ai continued, her voice stronger now. "The void is the space outside of that boundary. The place that exists beyond the universe's structure."
Zazm smiled and nodded. "Exactly."
He stepped beside her and pointed toward one section of the boundary—barely visible, but flickering strangely, like static on a screen.
"The damage might not appear in every timeline immediately. It might hide itself in a single moment, or wait in a future not yet lived. But the universe itself begins to weaken from the edges inward."
Ai stared at that flicker.
She could almost feel it now—like a tension. A pulse just a bit off beat from the rest of the cosmic rhythm.
"And that's what we're here to find," she said.
Zazm nodded. "Yes. Not just broken timelines. Not just a corrupted future. We're looking for signs that the very wiring of this universe is being eaten from the outside."
Ai looked back at him, the lines of glowing thread reflected in her eyes.
"And if it is?"
"Then we follow the damage," Zazm said, his voice calm but cold. "Trace the source. Cut it off before it spreads. If it's already infected another universe…" He paused, his Nexus's Gaze shimmering slightly.
"…Then we'll go there next."
Ai was quiet.
And for a moment, there was nothing but the soundless hum of all things eternal.
But in her heart, the fire had lit.
She wasn't just a passenger in Zazm's vision anymore.
She was part of the mission.
Ai didn't expect what happened next.
One second, she was standing beside Zazm amidst the flowing beauty of time and timelines still marveling at the lattice of light. The next…
Zazm stepped forward, and his eyes already filled with galaxies and darkness suddenly flared open.
An unimaginable wave of pressure hit the space around them like a tidal wave.
The stars vanished.
The threads disappeared.
Everything collapsed into pure, endless darkness.
Ai gasped and instinctively looked toward him. Her breath caught.
"Zazm...your eyes.....!"
From both of his pitch-black sockets, blood poured down in fine, crimson streams, sliding down his cheeks in sharp contrast against his pale skin. His face was expressionless almost eerily calm but the red lines painted across his face told another story.
Still, he didn't flinch.
"I'm fine," Zazm said quietly, without even blinking. "Don't worry."
His voice was so casual, so detached, it chilled her more than the blood did.
Then he raised his head slightly and shot his gaze open once more.
This time, something else appeared in the dark.
A single, enormous thread not shining, not flickering, but glowing with dense, heavy energy flowed through the void. It pulsed slowly, thick as a tree trunk, stretching infinitely across space, winding like the spine of a world-sized beast.
Ai stared, stepping slightly toward it in awe. "What… is that?"
Zazm didn't look at her—he just spoke into the void, his voice sharp, clear, and impossibly heavy.
"That," he said, "is the universe itself. The main thread. The core wiring. The boundary and the heart."
Ai instinctively took another step forward, but froze as Zazm's tone darkened.
"One wrong move near this thread," he said, "and we're not just endangering lives."
He tilted his head slightly, eyes glowing, blood still trickling down.
His voice dropped lower.
"We'd be mass murderers. No… not even that.
We'd be destroying an entire universe."
Ai turned toward him, her face pale, her body frozen.
But then—
Zazm suddenly burst out laughing.
He wiped a bit of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand and grinned. "You should've seen your face."
"…Seriously?" Ai muttered, eyes narrowing.
"What?" he said innocently. "It's not like you can actually damage it."
Ai crossed her arms, still glaring. "Then why the drama?"
Zazm's grin widened. "Because it's fun. But also… I'm not lying. The truth is, even I can't affect this thread. Not at my current level."
"…Then what can we do?"
Zazm shrugged and pointed toward the thread. "Observe it. Read it. Feel it. That's where you come in."
Ai tilted her head. "But how am I supposed to check it?"
Zazm smiled in that annoyingly calm, Zazm way.
He walked closer, hands behind his back, leaned in gently…
…then suddenly pushed her forward with a flick of his fingers.
"Wha—?!" she yelped as her body phased directly into the glowing thread.
Zazm waved cheerfully. "You'll figure it out."
"YOU ASSHO----"
---
Ai stumbled at first—but then stopped.
She didn't fall.
She didn't break.
She was simply… inside.
All the darkness was gone.
No more stars. No threads.
Just this single, glowing stream of light beneath her feet and around her—a flowing river of cosmic structure, humming silently in a tone that resonated with her very bones.
She blinked and looked down.
The thread pulsed faintly with every second.
It wasn't chaotic like before.
It felt… alive.
She raised her right hand.
And then stopped.
Her breath caught.
Part of her hand was no longer solid.
It had turned—translucent—its shape warping and curling like a flowing ribbon of thread, seamlessly merging into the massive universe-thread around her.
But she didn't panic.
Instead, Ai focused.
And slowly, quietly…
She began observing.
The rhythm.
The temperature.
The vibration.
The tiny shifts.
The way the thread moved… told a story.
And she listened.
---
Outside the flowing thread where Ai now drifted—half-merged with the fabric of a universe—Zazm stood alone.
Hands tucked in his pockets, posture relaxed, face unreadable as ever.
But his eyes…
They betrayed him.
He wasn't blinking much. Just watching. Staring. Thinking.
The glow of the thread illuminated his features faintly, its gentle pulse reflected in the inky depths of his Nexus's Gaze. Blood no longer streamed from his eyes, but faint red traces remained on his cheeks like war paint.
And though he stood calmly in the void, his gaze held a subtle tension.
Like he was waiting for something to go wrong.
Then—a flicker.
A soft disturbance in space, like the fabric of existence rippling inward.
And suddenly—
Zephyra floated down upside-down, her hair cascading toward the void like strands of silver-purple mist.
She hung just inches in front of Zazm's face, expression blank as usual, her fingers casually folded behind her back.
Her voice, always monotone but oddly melodic, rang in the emptiness.
"You trust your friends so much…"
"Then why do you look so unsure right now?"
Zazm blinked once.
He looked into her eyes, upside-down and faintly shimmering with that ever-present celestial detachment.
"I'm not unsure," he said quietly. "I'm just… worried."
Zephyra tilted her head ever so slightly in mid-air, her bangs shifting with her.
She raised one delicate hand and poked his forehead—right between the eyes.
"You say you're worried," she murmured, "but your eyes are that of doubt."
Zazm gave her an unimpressed side-glance and waved his hand at her face like she was an annoying floating mosquito.
"Okay, okay, fine," he muttered. "I'm a little doubtful. Maybe. I mean…"
He looked back toward the glowing thread where Ai floated within, eyes narrowed.
"She's never done this before. I've never let anyone do this before. So yeah—maybe I'm a little on edge."
Without another word, he reached out, grabbed Zephyra's skull gently like she was a stress toy, and twisted her upright with a slow, annoyed rotation.
He then casually slid her to float beside him, placing her like one would reposition a strange hovering pillow.
Zephyra remained expressionless, now upright and drifting next to him like an obedient balloon. Only her hair ruffled faintly with the invisible current.
"…Why did you do that?" she asked, head tilting slightly but there was hint of a small smile.
Zazm shrugged. "You were hanging like a bat. It hurts my head looking at you that way."
Zephyra blinked once with slight nod.
"...Noted."
Zazm exhaled and looked ahead again. "Where were you anyway? You vanished the moment I activated full Nexus."
Zephyra answered lazily, her voice soft and spaced out.
"You were using too much power," she said. "It made me sleepy. So I went deeper into your consciousness and rested."
Zazm blinked, slowly turning to her. "You—what?"
"I found a cozy corner. "
"…Zephyra."
She didn't even turn toward him.
Zazm sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Can you not use my consciousness as your private nap zone?"
No response.
"…Zephyra."
Still silence.
He glanced to the side and saw her still drifting, still blank-faced, but now with the tiniest—and he meant tiniest—curve at the corner of her mouth. A microscopic smile. Or perhaps she was trying her best not to smile.
"Did you just smile?" Zazm asked.
Zephyra blinked visibly trying to hide it. "No."
"You totally did."
"You're hallucinating. You used too much power." she said looking at the other direction.
Zazm narrowed his eyes at her. "…You're getting smug." a grin appeared on his face.
Zephyra didn't respond. But her head tilted again, slightly—like she was watching something curious through a glass tank.
Still with that bored, ethereal expression.
But her gaze kept flicking back and forth—from him, to the thread, to the place Ai had vanished inside.
"…She's adapting quickly," Zephyra finally said.
Zazm nodded. "Yeah. I'm… impressed."
Zephyra was silent again for a while.
"You've been acting kinda weird ever since this afternoon..."
Zephyra looked at him with curiousity, "What do you mean?"
Zazm smirked and shook his head, "Nah it's nothing, it's just I think you should smile more often, it looks good to see someone truly happy."
Zephyra looked at him with a slight flush on her face, "I guess I can try that...."
Zazm smiled and proceeded to look back at the thick threads Infront of him.
Zephyra silently side eyed him for a while before smiling a little and matching his gaze.
The glowing thread pulsed gently in the infinite void.
Then—like a ripple through water—Ai emerged.
She stepped out from the thick flow of time and reality, her form slowly phasing back into full coherence. Threads of light unraveled from her arms and body, dissolving behind her as she walked forward.
Her footsteps were soundless in the nothingness.
Zazm watched quietly as she approached, his arms folded, Zephyra floating beside him with her usual half-lidded eyes and resting expression.
Ai stopped just a few steps in front of Zazm.
She opened her eyes slowly.
They shimmered faintly like the afterglow of galaxies still flickering behind her pupils.
Zazm tilted his head. "So…"
His tone was light, almost playful. "What did you see?"
Ai looked at him calmly. Then she spoke, softly but clearly:
"This universe… it's stable."
Zazm raised an eyebrow. His lips curved ever so slightly.
That amused, almost foxlike smirk began to form.
"Oh?" he asked, voice carrying a quiet challenge. "And what makes you so sure?"
Ai met his gaze, unflinching.
Then she raised a finger to her own temple as if inviting him to think.
"Imagine this," she began, her voice composed. "If you had a stomach ache… you'd know something was wrong with your body, right?"
Zazm chuckled, nodding. "Of course. Pain is a signal. Can't exactly ignore it."
"But," Ai continued, "what if the pain is extremely minor? So tiny you wouldn't even feel it."
Zazm paused. "Then… I wouldn't know anything was wrong."
"Exactly," Ai replied.
She took a step forward, her tone gaining subtle gravity.
"That's where I come in. My heightened senses especially in a state like this they allow me to notice even the faintest imbalance. Not pain, but tension.
Not chaos, but imbalance. Even if the universe were suppressing it perfectly… I would have felt something."
Zazm's smirk faded into something more intrigued.
His brows lifted slightly. "Huh."
"But how does that translate to certainty?" he asked. "You didn't just say 'no noticeable damage' you said absolutely nothing is wrong."
Ai's eyes sparkled with clarity.
"Because," she said, smiling faintly, "once I was inside the thread… I converted part of myself. My senses, my consciousness… I turned it into something tiny."
She raised her hand, her fingers spreading slightly like a painter measuring perspective.
"Something so insignificant it might as well have been an atom. Just one meaningless speck inside this entire universe."
Zazm tilted his head. Zephyra turned ever so slightly toward Ai, curious.
"But even an atom," Ai continued, "is still a part of the body. Still connected to the whole. If something was wrong anywhere, I would've felt the pull. The tension. The misalignment."
She let her hand fall to her side, eyes calm.
"But I didn't feel anything."
"Nothing?" Zazm asked.
Ai nodded. "Not a flicker. Not a fracture. Not even a breath out of rhythm."
A long pause passed.
Zazm stared at her studying her like he was trying to read between the lines of her voice, her body, her energy.
And then.....
He grinned. A full, satisfied grin.
"…You're good," he said.
Ai smiled modestly. "I know."
From beside them, Zephyra blinked once. "So… this one's safe?"
"Yeah," Zazm said, still looking at Ai. "This universe is clean."
"Then… where do we go next?" Ai asked, arms folding behind her back.
Zazm turned to the side, his eyes narrowing as the threads around them slowly began to shift again.
"For now....we go back."
---
Inside the ritual chamber, the Catalysts stood in patient silence.
It was a wide, circular room made entirely of ethereal stone, glowing faintly with lines of pulsing silver. The air was still, but heavy, charged with the echo of space bending under unseen pressure. At the center of the room, Ai sat cross-legged, her eyes closed, while Zazm stood in front of her, unmoving.
Miwa fidgeted with the edge of her jacket. "They've been still for so long... do you think they're, like, asleep? Or frozen? Or maybe inside each other's minds? Wait, can that even happen?"
Kiyomasa folded his arms, his brows furrowed. "Zazm said not to interrupt. It's probably dangerous if we do anything."
"Still looks weird though," Miwa muttered, rocking on her heels.
Jahanox stood near the back wall, leaning against it with his arms crossed. His eyes were narrowed, always watching. "He's accessing the threads directly... if this goes wrong, we're going to see things shatter."
Jennie stood quietly beside Minos, her hands clasped in front of her. She was visibly nervous. "I hope Ai's okay... she looked so peaceful, but Zazm's powers always look so... intense."
Minos, arms loosely at his sides, was silent for a moment. Then said softly, "You can almost feel it in the air... like the world is holding its breath."
Suddenly, Zazm moved.
He stepped forward, his Nexus's Gaze already active.
The room dimmed.
Galaxies shimmered in his eyes. Time distorted faintly in the corners of the room. Everyone instinctively backed up a little, except Ai, who remained still.
Zazm's gaze flared brighter as he neared her.
Then, all at once, Ai collapsed forward, her body crumpling like a puppet with its strings cut.
"AI!" Jennie gasped, stepping forward.
But before anyone could move further, blood began dripping from Zazm's eyes again. It trailed down his cheeks, soaking into the collar of his shirt. His breath was steady, but his posture was faltering.
Kiyomasa immediately took a step forward. "Oi, Zazm! Are you—"
Zazm raised one hand, palm open.
Stop.
That single motion was enough. The room froze.
Miwa's foot hovered mid-step. She frowned but didn't disobey. "But she just collapsed..."
Zazm said nothing, still standing over Ai, holding space like a guardian between realms.
The silence returned.
Then—after a few seconds....
Ai stirred.
Her fingers twitched, her brows furrowed slightly. Then, slowly, her eyes fluttered open.
Everything came back into focus, light flooding her vision.
And the first thing she saw...
…was everyone's faces, leaning over her, smiling.
Jennie exhaled with relief, her eyes sparkling. "You're awake! Thank goodness..."
"You looked like a fallen robot," Miwa said, grinning. "Like bzzt system down."
"You scared the hell out of us," Kiyomasa added, though he said it more like a scolding older brother.
Jahanox gave a small nod from behind. "Glad you're still breathing."
Ai slowly sat up, blinking away the dizziness. Her voice was quiet. "I... I'm okay. Just tired. And maybe lightheaded..."
She paused.
Her gaze turned—
And she saw him.
Zazm, sitting against the far wall, one knee up, his head leaned back, eyes closed. His face was pale, and dry blood still streaked down from the corners of his eyes.
Ai pushed herself to her feet, wincing slightly as she walked over to him.
"You alright?" she asked softly.
Zazm didn't open his eyes. "More or less. Just need a minute. Or ten."
"You're bleeding again," she muttered.
"Yeah," he replied flatly, "comes with the package."
By now, the others had gathered around. Miwa crouched beside Zazm, poking his shoulder. "So? What's the report, Captain Timeface?"
Zazm opened one eye, faintly amused. "The universe... is fine."
Jennie brightened. "Really?"
"Completely stable," Ai confirmed. "I didn't sense a single fracture. No imbalance. Not even the tiniest thread out of place."
Minos crossed his arms thoughtfully. "So then... the distortion isn't here?"
Zazm nodded. "Exactly. This universe is untouched. Which means—"
He sat up a little straighter, wiping his face with his sleeve.
"—the multiversal distortion we've been tracking is isolated."
"Isolated?" Jahanox repeated. "To where?"
Zazm looked at him, then the rest of the group.
"It's isolated to the branches of our own universe or universes that's close to our own."
He let out a tired breath and continued, "In simple words it's universes that are close by to us and not the ones that are completely different like this one."
Jennie clutched her hands to her chest, visibly relieved. "So it hasn't spread everywhere..."
"Not yet," Zazm said. "But it could. If we're too late stopping it, the infection could leap from our origin point and begin contaminating nearby universes."
Miwa shivered. "Ugh... that sounds terrifying."
Minos frowned. "But that also means... we're racing against time. The longer we wait, the harder it'll be to contain it."
"Exactly," Zazm replied. "But this universe being clean buys us some time... and now we know where to go next."
"So where are we going next?" Jahanox asked resting his head on his hand.
Zazm smirked at his question.
"You'll see....for now."
Zazm stood quietly by the arched window, hands tucked into his coat pockets, his silver-blue hair catching the glow of the falling light. The view outside was something straight out of a fairytale.
People walked the cobbled streets below, many with brightly colored hair, radiant skin tones, and strange garments that shimmered when they moved. Among them were those with pointy ears—elves, as they were called in the fantasy books they'd read as kids. In this world, they were real. So was magic. And floating lanterns. And seven moons.
There were kings and queens who rode griffins to meetings, sword duels fought at dawn, and libraries made from living trees that whispered poems to anyone who listened.
Zazm exhaled.
His voice came out in a quiet, thoughtful murmur.
"...Farewell, fantasy world."
Kiyomasa, sitting on a table not far away, raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Zazm didn't turn. Instead, he took a deep breath, spread his arms a little, and suddenly shouted—
"FAREWELL, FANTASY WORLD!"
The entire room jumped.
Jennie nearly dropped her cup of tea.
Jahanox blinked slowly, unimpressed.
Minos just stared like he was witnessing a drama rehearsal gone rogue.
"Why are you like this..." Ai muttered under her breath.
But before anyone could comment further, Miwa popped up beside Zazm at the window, hands cupped around her mouth.
"FAREWELL, FANTASY WORLD!!!" she echoed with an overdramatic flourish, drawing out the vowels like she was in a stage play.
Zazm grinned and gave her a casual side-five.
The two of them stood proudly like they'd accomplished something deeply spiritual.
Jennie stifled a laugh behind her hand. "You two are ridiculous."
Minos raised a brow. "Is this... a new farewell ritual we're adopting?"
Kiyomasa leaned against the wall and sighed. "I swear, between his speeches and her chaos, we're going to be banned from a universe someday."
Zazm turned back around, eyes twinkling with that familiar, unbothered mischief.
"Come on," he said with a grin. "Doesn't hurt to enjoy stuff. This world was awesome. Floating markets, jellyfish trees, polite dragons. Way more fun than the last five."
Miwa nodded eagerly. "Ten outta ten. Would love to retire here."
Zazm gave one final look out the window.
His voice lowered, but there was a rare sincerity in it.
"Hope I get to come back here someday."
No one said anything for a moment.
Because they all felt it, too.
This universe, unlike so many others, had been peaceful. Beautiful. A breather in a war they hadn't even fully understood yet.
Jennie smiled gently. "We'll come back. Once we fix everything."
Zazm turned away from the window, nodding once.
"All right," he said. "Let's pack up. The real storm's waiting."
Everyone once again was excited but for some reason Zazm didn't looked happy in the slightest, it felt as if he was faking it all.
Zephyra noticed this small thing on his face, a wierd look in his eyes that felt as if he's getting ready for something.
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