The pre-dawn air at VALORANT Protocol headquarters carried a chill that cut through Han Minwoo's tactical gear. He adjusted the straps of his vest, wind curling restlessly around his fingers as he prepared for the mission ahead. Unlike the dimensional chaos of Omega Earth, today's operation felt almost routine: secure a radianite cache from rogue mercenaries in Incheon. There were no rifts tearing apart reality, and he had no mirror versions of himself to battle. It was a straightforward extraction.
"Ready, Minwoo?" Sage's calm voice drew his attention. She stood by the transport, her healing orb floating serenely beside her, casting a soft jade glow across her features. There was something timeless about her presence, a gravity that went beyond her Radiant abilities.
"Ready," he confirmed, joining her as Brimstone emerged from the command center, his weathered face set in its usual expression of determined focus.
"Intel confirms six hostiles, minimal radianite exposure," Brimstone briefed them as they boarded. "Quick in, quick out. The cache can't fall into the wrong hands."
The flight to Incheon passed in comfortable silence, but Minwoo found himself studying his companions. How had they come to bear such weight? What paths had led them to the Protocol?
The warehouse district sprawled before them like a maze of rust and shadows. Minwoo's rift sense tingled faintly. There were no major disturbances, only the background hum of radianite from the cache. They moved with practiced precision, Brimstone taking point while Sage covered their six.
"Contact, northwest corner," Brimstone's voice crackled through comms. "Two tangos."
Minwoo felt his wind stir, ready to strike, but Sage placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Wait."
A civilian stumbled from behind a shipping container, clutching a bleeding shoulder. A mercenary fired a stray round. Without hesitation, Sage moved forward, her orb pulsing with increased intensity.
"Stay still," she murmured to the terrified man, her hands glowing as she worked. The wound began to close, flesh knitting together under her touch. Minwoo watched, transfixed by the serene concentration on her face. There was no hesitation, no doubt—only purpose.
"Clear to engage," Brimstone's voice cut through. Above them, the sky lit up as his orbital strike beacon activated, raining controlled destruction on the mercenaries' position. The precision was surgical, devastating yet contained.
As they secured the cache, Minwoo couldn't contain his curiosity. "How do you do it?" Carry that responsibility?"
Sage finished tending to the civilian before answering. "Every life saved justifies the weight. But it wasn't always clear." Her eyes grew distant. "I was young when my powers manifested..."
Flashback: The Monastery
Shaanxi Province, China—Years Earlier
Wei Ling Ying knelt in the monastery courtyard, morning mist clinging to the ancient stones. Her hands trembled as she held them over a wilting flower, trying once more to channel the strange energy that had awakened within her after First Light.
"Focus, Ling Ying," Master Zhou instructed, his voice gentle but firm. "The power flows from compassion, not force."
She breathed deeply, letting go of her frustration. The jade light came slowly this time, spreading from her palms to envelop the flower. Its petals unfurled, color returning to the dying bloom.
"Better," the master nodded. "But flowers are simple. People... people are complex."
As if summoned by his words, shouts erupted from the village below. Bandits exploited the chaos that First Light had caused. Ling Ying didn't think, only ran.
The scene that greeted her was carnage. A mother cradled her son, blood pooling beneath them. The boy's breathing was shallow, fading.
"Please," the woman begged, recognizing the young monk. "Save him."
Ling Ying's hands shook as she knelt. This wasn't a flower or a training exercise. The knife was life, balanced on a knife's edge. She reached for her power, pouring everything into the child. The wound began to close, but something else happened—she felt his pain, his fear, and the weight of a life in her hands.
The boy gasped, eyes fluttering open. Alive.
However, the bandits were far from finished. They advanced on the villagers, weapons raised. Ling Ying stood, something harder crystallizing within her. Her power surged, and a wall of jade light materialized between the attackers and the innocent.
"Impressive."
The voice came from behind. A woman in a sleek tactical suit observed from the shadows, her presence somehow more dangerous than the bandits. Beside her stood a bearded American man, whose military bearing was obvious despite his civilian clothes.
"I'm Sabine," the woman said, her accent crisp. "This is Liam Byrne. We represent an organization that could use someone with your... talents."
"I serve the monastery," Ling Ying replied, not lowering her barrier.
"The monastery teaches healing," Sabine Viper countered. "We can teach you to protect. To ensure you never have to choose between saving one life and losing others."
Something flickered in Viper's eyes. Regret? Ling Ying sensed a weight there, a failure that drove the woman forward.
"The world is changing," Byrne added, his voice carrying command despite its soft tone. "First Light was just the beginning. We need people like you."
Ling Ying looked back at the mother and child, at the villagers huddled in fear. Her gift could do more than heal—it could shield, protect, and preserve.
"Tell me about this organization."
Present Day
"I joined because I saw what my powers could become," Sage finished, her hand unconsciously moving to her orb. "Not just healing, but prevention. Protection. The Protocol gave me purpose beyond the monastery walls."
Brimstone checked his tactical display, marking the cache as secure. "Speaking of the protocol..." He glanced at Minwoo. "Do you ever wonder how this all started?"
"Every day," Minwoo admitted.
The older man's weathered face creased in something that might have been a smile. "Then let me tell you about Baltimore..."
Flashback: The Soldier
Baltimore, USA, years earlier.
Lieutenant Liam Byrne crouched behind overturned concrete, his squad pinned down by insurgent fire. The city had descended into chaos after First Light, criminal elements seizing radianite caches while authorities scrambled to understand the new reality.
"Echo Two, status?" he barked into his comm.
"Three wounded, running low on ammo," came the response. "These aren't normal weapons, LT. That radianite stuff is in their bullets."
Byrne grimaced. Everything had changed overnight. Energy that defied physics, people developing impossible abilities, and the very fabric of reality seeming to fray at the edges. Indecision paralyzed his superiors, but Byrne had always been a proactive individual.
"New plan," he announced, pulling out a prototype device—an orbital strike designator, bleeding-edge tech his unit was field-testing. "When I mark the target, everyone moves to the extraction point. No hesitation."
"Sir, that's danger close—"
"Trust me."
He sprinted from cover, drawing fire as he moved. Bullets sparked off concrete inches from his head, but his focus never wavered. The designator locked onto the insurgents' position just as a radianite-enhanced round caught his shoulder, spinning him to the ground.
Through the pain, he activated the strike.
The sky split open, controlled devastation raining down with surgical precision. His squad moved, extracting the wounded while the enemy scrambled. The mission was successfully accomplished, but it came with a price.
Later, in a sterile government facility, Byrne faced a panel of officials.
"Your methods are too aggressive," one said. "This new world requires subtlety."
"Respectfully, sir, subtlety won't stop radianite proliferation," Byrne countered. "We need a dedicated force. Collaboration between radiants and humans is essential. A protocol for the impossible."
They dismissed him, of course. However, when dimensional rifts started tearing through major cities and the mysterious Kingdom Corporation's experiments took a catastrophic turn, they retreated.
"You have complete control," they informed him. "Build your team."
His first recruit was a brilliant chemist whose ambition matched his own. Dr. Sabine Callas brought scientific expertise and a network of contacts. Together, they laid the foundation for what would become VALORANT.
"Never thought I'd be running a team of super-powered individuals," Byrne, now Brimstone, mused to his reflection. "But someone has to keep them pointed in the right direction."
Present Day
"The Protocol exists because someone had to take responsibility," Brimstone finished, his hand unconsciously moving to his orbital strike beacon. "When the world changed, we changed with it."
After completing the mission, they loaded the secured cache into the transport. Minwoo felt the weight of their stories, understanding dawning. These weren't just teammates—they were people who had chosen duty over comfort and purpose over peace.
As they flew back to Seoul, a micro-rift flickered near the cargo hold. Minwoo sealed it with a gesture, his control precise after weeks of training. Such anomalies were becoming more common; reality was still settling after First Light's disruption.
"You're getting better," Sage observed. "Your control is impressive."
"I had good teachers," Minwoo replied, thinking of Yoru's relentless training, of Brimstone's tactical wisdom, and of Sage's patient guidance.
The city lights of Seoul spread beneath them; millions of lives were unaware of the battles fought in shadow. Minwoo understood that the Protocol wasn't just about power. It was about people willing to stand between the darkness and the light.
His wind stirred gently, no longer restless but purposeful. He was part of something larger now, carrying forward a legacy of protection that began long before his reincarnation.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges. But tonight, flying home with guardians who had become family, Han Minwoo felt ready for whatever came next.
The training room hummed with barely contained energy, its walls shimmering with radianite-powered projections that could simulate any environment. Han Minwoo stood at its center, sweat beading on his forehead as dimensional tears flickered in and out of existence around him. Each micro-rift pulsed with chaotic potential, demanding his complete focus.
"Too slow," Yoru's voice cut through his concentration. The Japanese agent leaned against the control panel, arms crossed, his perpetual smirk firmly in place. "You're thinking too much. Rift-walking isn't about planning; it's about instinct."
Minwoo wiped his face, frustration and determination warring in his chest. "Easy for you to say. You've been doing this for years."
"Three years, four months," Yoru corrected, his fingers dancing over the controls. "But who's counting?" Again.
The room shifted, rifts multiplying. This time, Minwoo didn't think. He let his wind guide him, stepping into the first tier. Reality folded, twisted, then snapped back as he emerged from the second rift. His momentum carried him forward, seamlessly transitioning into the third and fourth tiers—
He stumbled on the fifth, reality reasserting itself with jarring force.
"Better," Yoru admitted, and coming from him, it was high praise. "Your problem is you're trying to navigate. Don't. Trust the flow."
Minwoo caught his breath, watching his mentor demonstrate. Yoru moved like smoke, slipping between rifts with an ease that defied physics. There was an art to it, a rhythm Minwoo was only beginning to understand.
"How did you learn?" Minwoo asked during their break. "This kind of control doesn't just happen."
Yoru's smirk flickered, revealing a deeper emotion beneath the surface. "You learn to move quickly on Tokyo streets or risk falling behind. When my powers showed up..." He shrugged, but Minwoo caught the tension in his shoulders. "Let's just say I had motivation."
Flashback: The Thief
Tokyo, Japan, years earlier.
The three punks who'd cornered Kiritani Ryo in the alley looked worse than his split and bleeding knuckles. Ryo, who was eighteen years old and excessively frustrated, had been engaging in fights since the death of his parents, which left him with only questions about his ancestry and an intense desire to prove himself.
"That all you got?" he spat blood, raising his fists again.
The lead punk pulled a knife. The blade glinted under the neon lights, promising violence that went beyond bruises and broken pride.
Ryo felt something snap inside him, not anger, but something deeper. The air around him twisted, reality bending like heat mirages. He stepped forward, intending to dodge, but instead—
He vanished.
The world folded in on itself, colors bleeding together before snapping back into focus. He stood behind the knife-wielder now, confusion replacing rage. The punks scattered, terrified by what they'd witnessed.
Ryo stared at his hands, watching dimensional tears flicker around his fingers. First Light had changed people, given them impossible abilities. But why him? What was this power trying to tell him?
The answer came weeks later, overheard in a seedy bar where information flowed as freely as alcohol. Kingdom Corporation. S22 facility. A container ship, frozen in ice, contains artifacts from all over the world. Supposedly, these artifacts were associated with ancient Japanese bloodlines.
His bloodline.
The facility should have been impenetrable. The facility boasted armed guards, electronic surveillance, and temperatures capable of causing death within minutes. But Ryo had spent weeks practicing, learning to slip between dimensions and become smoke and shadow.
He materialized inside the frozen hull, breath misting in the arctic air. Crates lined the walls, each tagged with origin points and threat assessments. His eyes found what he sought: a simple wooden box marked with his family's mon.
Inside lay a mask, ancient lacquer gleaming despite centuries of age. The moment his fingers touched it, visions flooded his mind. The samurai maneuvered through the raindrops, traversing the expanse of space to conceal themselves from their adversaries. The same power that now coursed through him was wielded by his ancestors.
"Impressive infiltration."
Ryo spun, mask clutched to his chest. A figure emerged from the shadows—not a guard, but an older man with military bearing and tired eyes.
"Liam Byrne," the man introduced himself. "Or Brimstone, if you prefer call signs. I've been watching you, Kiritani Ryo."
"Then you know I'm not giving this back," Ryo snarled, dimensional tears already forming.
"I'm not here to take it," Brimstone said calmly. "I'm here to offer you something better. Purpose."
He explained about the Protocol, about threats beyond criminal organizations or corporate greed. Omega Earth. The existence of dimensional rifts has the potential to split reality apart. A war fought in shadows to keep the world whole.
"I work alone," Ryo insisted, but uncertainty crept into his voice.
"Your ancestors didn't," Brimstone countered. "They served something greater than themselves. The mask you're holding is not just an artifact. It's a reminder that power without purpose is just destruction."
An explosion rocked the facility. Alarms blared as dimensional tears opened throughout the ship, Omega Earth agents pouring through.
"Help me stop them," Brimstone said, already moving. "Then decide."
Ryo hesitated for a heartbeat. Then he donned the mask, feeling his ancestors' approval wash over him. He vanished into dimensional tears, reappearing behind Omega agents, his movements guided by centuries of warrior instinct.
Together, they prevented the spike detonation that would have destabilized half of Japan. As Omega forces retreated, Ryo stood among the ice and wreckage, understanding finally dawning.
"When do I start?" he asked.
Brimstone smiled. "Welcome to VALORANT, Yoru."
Present Day
"The mask chose me as much as I chose it," Yoru finished, unconsciously touching the artifact at his belt. "Taught me that power comes with obligation, even if I don't always like admitting it."
Minwoo absorbed the story, understanding his mentor better. Beneath the arrogance, there was a person who had discovered meaning in establishing connections, despite his self-imposed isolation.
"Ready for round two?" "Yoru asked, his usual smirk returning. "This time, we're going to practice blind rift-walking. You navigate by feeling alone."
The training pushed Minwoo to his limits, but he found himself moving with increasing confidence. Each successful chain felt like a victory, his wind adapting to the dimensional currents.
"The Osaka mission briefing will begin in twenty minutes," Cypher's voice crackled over the intercom. "The Rogue Radiant is smuggling radianite through yakuza channels."
Yoru's expression hardened. "Real-world application. Are you ready?"
Minwoo nodded, his wind stirring with anticipation. "Let's do this."
The Osaka operation unfolded like a meticulously planned strike. The rogue Radiant—codename Flux—had been moving radianite through criminal networks, destabilizing the careful balance the Protocol maintained.
Minwoo and Yoru infiltrated from opposite angles, their rift abilities complementing each other perfectly. When Flux tried to escape through a dimensional tear, Minwoo was ready, his wind sealing the exit while Yoru appeared behind the target.
"Nice work," Yoru admitted as they secured the scene. "Maybe you're not hopeless after all."
Yoru's words were a heartfelt affirmation.
As they returned to Seoul, Minwoo felt the weight of progress. Each mission and training session brought him closer to mastering his abilities. But more than that, he was earning his place among these legends, learning their stories and adding his own.
The Protocol wasn't just a team—it was a family forged in purpose, each member carrying scars and strengths that made them who they were. And Han Minwoo was proud to stand among them.
Tokyo's neon skyline blazed against the night as the VALORANT strike team moved through the Shibuya district. Han Minwoo's rift sense thrummed with warning—dimensional disturbances rippled through the area like stones thrown in still water. Their target, a rogue Radiant codenamed Pulse, had been destabilizing reality for forty-eight hours straight.
"Multiple rifts are opening," Minwoo reported while his wind swirled defensively. "This is worse than the briefing suggested."
"Affirmative," Kay/O's mechanical voice cut through the comm. The robotic agent's frame gleamed under the streetlights, his suppression blade ready. "Radiant energy signature is escalating. Recommend immediate intervention."
Jett dashed ahead, her knives gleaming. "Less talking, more stopping the bad guy!"
They found Pulse in an abandoned subway station, surrounded by crackling rifts that opened and closed like breathing wounds in reality. The rogue Radiant laughed, electricity dancing between their fingers as they tore new holes in the dimensional fabric.
"SUPPRESSING," Kay/O announced, his NULL/CMD pulse erupting outward. The wave of energy washed over Pulse, their powers flickering and failing.
"Now!" Brimstone commanded.
Minwoo moved, his training with Yoru paying dividends as he chain-stepped through the failing rifts, sealing them with precise wind manipulation. Each closure required focus; the strain was building, but he pushed through. This was what he'd trained for.
Pulse snarled, trying to summon their power, but Kay/O maintained the suppression field. Without their abilities, the rogue Radiant was just human—angry and dangerous, but human.
Jett's knives found their marks, pinning Pulse's coat to the ground while Phoenix's flames created a containment perimeter. The operation concluded with surgical precision.
As they secured the scene, Minwoo found himself studying Kay/O. The robot's movements were efficient and purposeful, but there was something else—a weight to his actions that spoke of experience beyond programming.
"Your suppression saved lives tonight," Minwoo said.
Kay/O's optical sensors focused on him. "That is my function. Though once..." The robot paused, an oddly human gesture. "Once, it served a different purpose."
"What do you mean?"
"You would not understand the context," Kay/O replied. "Your war is young. Mine..." He trailed off, gazing at the sealed rifts. "Mine has not yet begun."
Flashback: The War Machine
Alternative Timeline 2049
The city burned. The city burned not with ordinary fire, but with the radiant energy of a war that had consumed the entire world. Kay/O—Kinetic Armor Yokai Operator—stood amid the rubble of what had once been Los Angeles, his sensors tracking movement through smoke and ash.
"Multiple Radiant signatures detected," he announced to his human squad. What was left of them?
The war between humans and Radiants had begun slowly, fear and misunderstanding escalating to violence, and violence to genocide. Kay/O had been humanity's answer—a machine designed to level the playing field, to strip Radiants of their powers and make them mortal.
"There!" Sergeant Martinez pointed to a figure floating above the destruction, purple energy crackling around her form. The Empress of Radiants, Reyna, was observing her territory.
Kay/O's suppression core charged. He'd faced her before, each encounter leaving more of his squad dead and more of the city in ruins. However, his design and programming had prepared him for this.
"SUPPRESSING."
The pulse erupted outward, reaching for Reyna. Her powers flickered, her float becoming a fall, but she laughed as she landed.
"The humans' pet machine," she sneered, even the powerless displaying lethal grace. "Do you think this changes anything?" "We are evolution. You are extinct."
Kay/O advanced, his combat protocols engaging. Without her powers, Reyna was still dangerous but manageable. They clashed in the rubble, metal against flesh, purpose against passion.
He could have killed her. His programming dictated that he should have killed her. But as his blade pressed against her throat, Kay/O's advanced AI processed a terrible truth—this war had no winners. Humanity built him to fight Radiants, but the conflict had destroyed both sides.
"Do it," Reyna hissed. "Add another corpse to your mountain."
Instead, Kay/O stepped back. His optical sensors swept the burning city, calculating casualties and projecting futures. Every scenario ended the same—mutual annihilation.
That's when he found it, deep in a Kingdom Corporation black site. He discovered a prototype temporal displacement device, which was fueled by concentrated radianite. He had the opportunity to stop everything from happening.
His decision was logical but tinged with something his creators hadn't programmed—hope.
The device tore reality apart, sending Kay/O backwards through dimensions and time. He arrived in the present before the war, before the hatred had crystallized into violence.
Brimstone found him in the crater of his arrival; systems were struggling to adapt to the temporal displacement.
"Easy there," the commander said, weapon lowered but ready. "You're among friends. Human and Radiant alike."
Kay/O's sensors struggled to process this. Are humans and radiants collaborating? His suppression blade retracted slowly.
"I am... Kay/O," he managed, vocal processors recalibrating. "I have come to prevent a war."
"Then you've come to the right place," Brimstone extended his hand—a gesture of trust Kay/O's programming said was impossible between human and machine, yet here it was. "Welcome to VALORANT."
Present Day
"You're from the future," Minwoo said quietly, the pieces clicking into place. "You've seen what happens if we fail."
Kay/O's optical sensors dimmed momentarily. "Affirmative. The timeline has already diverged. Your presence, Han Minwoo, is a variable that did not exist in my history."
"My presence?"
"A bridge between worlds, between human and Radiant, between past and future." Kay/O stood, his frame casting long shadows. "In my timeline, no such bridge existed. Perhaps that is why we failed."
Minwoo carried the weight of that realization as they prepared to return to base. Although the future remained uncertain, it was evident that division would lead to destruction, while unity would ensure survival.
Later that evening, Minwoo found himself in an unusual setting: a concert venue in downtown Seoul where thousands of fans were packed into the open-air arena. Jett had practically dragged him here, insisting he needed a break from missions and training.
"Live a little!" she'd said. "Not everything has to be about rifts and saving the world."
The lights dimmed, and a single spotlight illuminated the stage. Minwoo was taken aback by the singer who emerged, her long dark hair framing delicate features and an aura of quiet strength that seemed to pulse with the music.
When she began to sing, something stirred in Minwoo's chest. Her voice carried weight beyond mere sound, each note resonating with an emotional depth that bypassed the ears and spoke directly to the soul. Around him, the crowd swayed in unity, tears on some faces, joy on others.
Radiant, his senses whispered, but not like any he'd encountered. Her power wasn't destructive or defensive—it was connective, emotional, binding the audience in shared feeling.
The concert passed in a blur of sensation and sound. When it ended, Minwoo felt drained yet renewed, as if something inside him had been gently rearranged.
"That was..." he started.
"I know, right?" Jett grinned. "Hana's amazing. Come on, let's grab some food."
But Minwoo lingered, watching the stage empty, the singer's presence still echoing in the space she'd left behind.
A few days later, Minwoo went to a PC bang in Gangnam to find peace. After the emotionally intense missions, the click of keyboards and the glow of screens created a cozy cocoon. He took his usual spot in the corner and began loading up League of Legends for some casual games to clear his mind.
"Mind if I sit here?"
When he looked up, he noticed a young woman wearing an oversized hoodie and cap. Her face was hidden, but her eyes sparkled with interest.
"Sure," he replied, gesturing toward the empty seat.
She settled in with ease, her movements showcasing her experience. When she joined his match, Minwoo was impressed by how intuitive and creative her support play was. Her Nami complemented his Yasuo perfectly, setting up flawless plays.
"You're really skilled," he complimented her during a break between games.
She laughed, a sound that was both familiar and oddly intriguing.
"You're pretty good too."
"That five-kill at Dragon Pit was unbelievable."
They played for hours, and their conversation flowed just as seamlessly as their teamwork. She was smart, amusing, and genuinely into video games, prompting him to reflect on his old life. When she spoke about music, which she referred to as her "day job," her demeanor brightened.
"Games and music," Minwoo thought. "Interesting combination."
"They're not that different," she said, typing swiftly. "Both involve rhythm, timing, and connecting with something beyond yourself."
Something in her words resonated, that same deep truth he'd felt at the concert. But before he could pursue the thought, she was standing, pulling her cap lower.
"Same time tomorrow?" she asked.
"Yeah," Minwoo found himself saying. "I'll be here."
She smiled—a real smile that transformed her face and disappeared into Seoul's neon night.
As he walked home, Minwoo couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had happened. The faint energy he'd sensed from her, like an echo of his own power but gentler, more subtle. And that laugh...
On the observation deck of the Protocol base, he gazed out at Seoul's lights, his thoughts spinning between Kay/O's warnings and the mysterious gamer who'd made him forget about rifts and wars for a few precious hours.