The surveillance feeds painted Seoul in grid lines and data points, but Cypher saw something else in the patterns—a web being woven across his city. He leaned closer to the holographic display, his masked face reflecting in the blue-white glow of tactical overlays.
"Brimstone," he called, fingers dancing across haptic controls. "We have a problem."
The command center's ambient hum shifted as agents gathered around the central display. Red dots pulsed across Seoul's map like a heartbeat—seven locations, each one marking a dimensional signature that shouldn't exist.
"Talk to me," Brimstone's voice carried the weight of a man who'd seen too many problems become crises.
"Ω-Jett," Cypher said, highlighting movement patterns between the signatures. "She's not just scouting anymore. These are dimensional beacons—sophisticated ones. And look at the placement pattern."
Sage stepped closer, her orb casting soft light across the tactical display. "The civilian evacuation routes."
"Every major transit hub, emergency shelter, and escape corridor in the metropolitan area," Cypher confirmed. "She's not mapping our defenses. She's cataloging our civilians."
The implications struck with force. Minwoo felt his rift sense stir, responding to dimensional disturbances across the city. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Seoul stretched endlessly—millions of lives going about their morning routines, unaware that their emergency exits were being marked for elimination.
"How long until the network is complete?" Brimstone asked.
"She needs one more beacon." Cypher's fingers traced probability matrices. "Seoul Station. The city boasts the highest civilian density and serves as a central hub for transportation. If she activates the network from there..."
"Every escape route becomes a trap," Jett finished, her wind stirring restlessly around her shoulders. She was already moving toward the armory. "When?"
"Twenty-three minutes until optimal civilian concentration," Cypher calculated. "Rush hour."
Brimstone's jaw tightened. "Gear up. We prioritize non-lethal methods because there are too many civilians present to risk collateral damage. Jett and Phoenix, please take the lead. Minwoo is conducting dimensional tracking. Sage coordinates from here."
The armory's familiar ritual of preparation felt different under time pressure. Minwoo checked his gear with practiced efficiency—a utility vest loaded with rift anchors, a communications array, and a tactical knife. Beside him, Jett moved with flowing precision, her knives finding their sheaths like water seeking level.
"Hey," she said quietly, adjusting her tactical jacket. "We've got this."
Phoenix emerged from the weapons locker, flame-resistant gear gleaming. "Like the old days, yeah? Except with dimensional terrorists."
"This situation is not reminiscent of the old days," Minwoo replied, feeling dimensional disturbances pulse through his awareness like distant thunder. "She's moving faster now. More desperate."
Jett caught his arm as they headed for the transport bay. "That warning she gave you about Ω-Minwoo..."
"I know." The possibility sat heavy in his chest—that his mirror was dying, that convergence was as much mercy as conquest. "But we can't let that stop us."
The vehicle bay doors opened onto Seoul's morning light, the city sprawling beneath them in endless complexity. Through the transport's reinforced windows, Minwoo watched normal life unfold—street vendors preparing for the lunch rush, students heading to classes, and workers emerging from subway exits.
All of them were potential casualties if they failed.
"Cypher, status on our target?" Phoenix spoke into his headset, flames flickering unconsciously around his fingertips.
"She's in Myeongdong now," Cypher's voice crackled through the comm. "Moving toward the shopping district. Large civilian concentration."
The transport banked sharply, Seoul's skyline tilting outside the windows. Minwoo closed his eyes, extending his rift sense across the city. Seven beacons hummed with dimensional energy, their frequency building toward some catastrophic resonance. A moving disturbance sliced through the urban landscape like a blade through silk.
"I've got her," he said. "She's not hiding anymore."
The Myeongdong shopping district buzzed with late-morning energy—tourists photographing street food, couples sharing bubble tea, and families navigating crowds with strollers and shopping bags. Ω-Jett moved through the chaos like smoke, her wind powers subtle enough to seem like natural air currents.
She paused at the edge of Myeongdong Cathedral's plaza, hands steady as she assembled the eighth-dimensional beacon. The device was elegant in its simplicity—a crystalline radianite core wrapped in quantum resonance chambers, small enough to hide in a shopping bag but powerful enough to anchor reality.
The beacon hummed to life, its frequency joining the network's growing chorus. Seven notes were seeking their octave, while dimensional mathematics was approaching perfect harmony.
She thought she was almost done, but then she froze.
Alpha agents. Three thermal signatures were moving through the crowd with purpose, and their approach was too coordinated to be a coincidence. The threat to her infiltration was overwhelming.
Ω-Jett's mind raced through tactical options. Should we abort to maintain operational security, or proceed with the mission despite the risk of exposure? The beacon network needed Seoul Station to function—without it, months of preparation would crumble.
Around her, Alpha Seoul's civilians laughed and shopped, completely unaware of the dimensional war being fought for their future. Children played in the cathedral plaza while their parents browsed street vendors. The scene was so... peaceful. It was a stark contrast to the stark efficiency of Omega Earth.
Is this area really what we're trying to destroy?
The doubt lasted exactly three seconds. Then training reasserted itself, and she pocketed the beacon's activation remote. Seoul Station. She had twenty minutes to reach Seoul Station, plant the final beacon, and escape before Alpha agents could stop her.
She moved.
"There!" Jett pointed across the crowded plaza, her enhanced vision picking out movement patterns that didn't belong. "Cathedral side, heading north."
The crowds were thick—lunch-hour shoppers and tourists creating a maze of bodies and noise. The dense crowds provided ideal cover for an infiltrator and created challenging conditions for a pursuit.
"Civilians everywhere," Phoenix muttered, then spoke into his comm. "Cypher, can you clear some of these people out?"
"Working on it," came the reply. "Fire alarm in the department store, construction advisory is two blocks north. But it'll take time."
Minwoo's rift sense pulsed as Ω-Jett moved through the crowd. Her dimensional signature was like a discordant note in his awareness, growing stronger as she approached Seoul Station. "She's not running. She's completing the mission."
Jett's wind stirred, ready for combat. "Then we stop her."
The first engagement happened in the cathedral plaza. Ω-Jett had reached the northern edge when Jett dropped from an overpass, her Tailwind carrying her down in a controlled dive. Their collision sent both women rolling across the cobblestones, knives flashing in identical grips.
"Alpha scum," Ω-Jett hissed, coming up in a defensive crouch.
"Been called worse," Jett replied, wind whipping around her shoulders.
They clashed like mirrors shattering—identical techniques creating spectacular chaos contained within the plaza's boundaries. Jett's Updraft launched her skyward, but Ω-Jett matched it, their aerial duel sending tourists scrambling for cover.
Phoenix moved to flank, creating precise heat barriers that guided civilian evacuation without causing panic. His flames danced in controlled spirals, hot enough to discourage the approach but contained enough to avoid his London nightmares.
"Move, move!" he called to confused shoppers, his voice carrying authority without alarm. "Construction hazard, this way, please!"
Minwoo tracked the engagement while scanning for dimensional disturbances. The beacon network was still building—seven active sites creating harmonic resonance that made his teeth ache. Every second Ω-Jett remained free, the network grew stronger.
"She's using the crowd," he realized, watching Ω-Jett weave between fleeing civilians. "Forcing us to choose between pursuit and safety."
"It's not a choice," Jett grunted as she deflected the kunai from her mirror with her blade. "Phoenix, channel them toward the subway entrance. I'll keep her contained."
The battle transformed into a sprint through the heart of Seoul's commercial district. Ω-Jett leaped between rooftops with inhuman grace, her wind powers launching her across gaps that should have been impossible. Below, Alpha agents gave chase, their coordination precise despite the urban obstacle course.
Phoenix's creativity shone in the confined space. Instead of the destructive flames that had burned his past, he crafted surgical heat—warming car hoods to guide foot traffic, creating thermal updrafts that aided Jett's pursuit, and melting ice patches to slow Ω-Jett's escape routes.
"This is what control looks like," he muttered, remembering London's warehouse and Sage's patient training. Every flame had a purpose, and every heat signature was calculated.
Minwoo rift-walked between buildings, his enhanced dimensional awareness letting him predict Ω-Jett's movement patterns. But each micro-rift he opened left him slightly more drained, reality pushing back against his attempts to bend it.
"She's heading for Seoul Station," he reported, landing on a rooftop with wind-assisted grace. "The pattern's almost complete."
Seoul Station sprawled like a cathedral of transportation—glass and steel arches housing thousands of travelers in constant motion. The late-morning rush was building toward lunch-hour intensity, platforms packed with commuters and tourists navigating the maze of tunnels and escalators.
Ω-Jett paused on the station's observation level, studying the crowd below. The sheer number of civilians crammed into such a small area was staggering. The perfect target for dimensional collapse, but also...
She shook her head, dispelling unwanted thoughts. These weren't her people. Omega's suffering served as the foundation for Alpha Earth's comfort. The convergence would end that imbalance.
The final beacon assembled quickly—her hands steady despite the pursuit closing in. The device's radianite core pulsed with eager energy, ready to complete the network's symphony. One more anchor point, and reality would bend to Omega's will.
"Almost there," she whispered, then felt dimensional disturbances approaching like storm fronts.
Alpha agents. All three Alpha agents were converging on her position with tactical precision.
Ω-Jett smiled grimly. They wanted to play in a crowded space? Fine. Let them choose between stopping her and protecting their precious civilians.
She activated the beacon.
The dimensional pulse hit Minwoo like a physical blow, his rift sense screaming warnings as reality trembled around Seoul Station. There are now eight beacons, and their harmonic frequency is reaching critical resonance.
"The network's active," he gasped into his comm, struggling to maintain balance as dimensional waves washed over him. "She's done it."
Below, commuters continued their routines, unaware that the space around them had become fundamentally unstable. The station's radianite-powered systems amplified the beacon's signal, turning Seoul's transportation hub into a dimensional anchor point.
Jett hit the platform first, her Tailwind carrying her down from the upper levels in a controlled dive. Ω-Jett was waiting, the activated beacon floating beside her like a malevolent star.
"Too late," Ω-Jett called out, her voice carrying across the platform despite the crowd noise. "The network is complete. Convergence begins now."
"Not while we're breathing," Jett replied, knives already in motion.
They fought among the oblivious commuters—two identical warriors whose every move created lethal beauty. Jett's knives sang through the air while Ω-Jett's answered in perfect counterpoint. Their wind powers clashed in miniature storms that sent newspapers swirling and made people look up in confusion.
Phoenix arrived from the north entrance, his flames carefully controlled as he began herding civilians toward emergency exits. "Cypher, we need evacuation protocols now!"
"Fire suppression systems are activating," Cypher said, his voice tense. "But there are too many people. Thousands."
Minwoo dropped onto the platform from a rift-step, immediately assessing the tactical situation. The beacon's dimensional field was expanding, reality growing unstable in a widening radius. Soon it would reach critical mass, and the resulting collapse would trap everyone inside a dimensional maze.
But Ω-Jett had positioned herself perfectly—her back to the station's main structural supports, the beacon floating between her and the densest crowd concentrations. Any direct assault would force him to choose between stopping the beacon and protecting civilians.
"Clever," he admitted, wind swirling around his hands. "But not clever enough."
"You understand nothing," Ω-Jett snarled, deflecting Jett's latest attack. "Every reality needs anchors. Your world is collapsing—we're trying to save it."
"By killing innocent people?"
"By ending the cycle!" Her voice carried genuine anguish beneath the tactical fury. "Do you think we wanted this war? Do you think any of us chose to be mirrors of your perfect little lives?"
The words hit harder than any physical blow. Around them, the dimensional beacon pulsed with increasing intensity, its field reaching toward the crowded platforms. Civilians were starting to notice the disturbance—phones not working, compasses spinning wildly, and some people reporting strange dizzy spells.
Jett pressed her attack, but Ω-Jett's defense was flawless. There was no advantage to either side as they engaged in a battle of mirrors and techniques. The stalemate stretched seconds into eternity while the beacon's influence grew.
That's when Minwoo saw it—the dimensional feedback loop building between the beacon and the station's radianite power grid. The energy was cascading, amplifying beyond the beacon's designed parameters. In minutes, maybe less, the whole system would collapse into uncontrolled dimensional fragmentation.
"The power grid," he realized. "She's overloading it. The explosion will not only trigger the network, but it will also rupture reality itself.
The dimensional collapse would trap hundreds of civilians. They won't be killed but will be lost—scattered across probability space like leaves in a hurricane.
"Jett, fall back!" he called out. "I can contain it!"
"Like hell!" she shot back, still engaged with her mirror. "Not leaving you alone with this!"
But even as she spoke, Minwoo could see the tactical reality. The beacon's field was reaching critical resonance. Someone had to shield the civilians from the dimensional discharge, and someone had to stop the beacon. There were two tasks to complete, three agents available, and thousands of lives at stake.
The math was simple. The choice was impossible.
Jett observed the critical moment rapidly approaching. The beacon pulsed brighter, its field expanding toward platforms packed with commuters. Minwoo was moving to intercept the dimensional energy, his rift abilities the only thing that could contain the explosion. Phoenix was still evacuating civilians, his flames creating safe corridors through the chaos.
And Ω-Jett stood between the beacon and the crowd, her position perfect for maximum destruction.
Someone has to choose.
Jett's training said, Pursue the objective. Stop the beacon, prevent the network activation, and save the strategic situation. Let Minwoo handle civilian protection—he was stronger, faster, and better equipped for dimensional manipulation.
Her heart said something different.
The civilians were right there. Families with children, elderly couples who were holding hands, and students who had their whole lives ahead of them were all present. Dimensional energy was about to consume all of them, scattering their existence across infinite possibilities.
Minwoo could stop the beacon. But he couldn't shield hundreds of people and manipulate reality at the same time.
Wonder Twins, she thought, remembering their childhood promise. They could choose to be together or not at all.
Jett chose protection.
Her Updraft launched her skyward just as the beacon reached critical mass. Below, Ω-Jett triggered the dimensional discharge—a wave of pure probability that would have turned every person on the platform into quantum uncertainty.
Instead, it hit Jett.
The dimensional energy struck like lightning made of time and space, flooding through her body with alien fire. Her wind powers screamed in harmony with probability waves, reality fracturing around her as she absorbed forces meant to shatter hundreds of lives.
She held it. She possessed it all. Every cascade of dimensional energy meant for the crowd below pulled into itself like a lightning rod made of courage and determination.
The pain was indescribable. It wasn't just physical; it was a deeper, more fundamental pain. It felt like being torn apart at the level of existence itself, with her very being scattered across multiple dimensional states simultaneously.
But the civilians were safe.
"JETT!"
Minwoo's scream carried across the platform as his sister fell, her body flickering between dimensional states like a broken hologram. The beacon's discharge had found its target, but not the one Omega intended.
Rage flooded through him—not the controlled anger of tactical combat, but something primal and devastating. His rift sense exploded outward, reality bending in response to emotions too large for any one dimension to contain.
"What did you do?" he roared at Ω-Jett, wind howling around him like a hurricane given form.
For the first time since the battle began, Ω-Jett looked uncertain. "She... why did she—the civilians were expendable. Why would she sacrifice herself for—"
"Because she's a hero," Minwoo snarled, dimensional tears opening around his hands. "Something you'll never understand."
His new technique came instinctively—wind woven through dimensional space, creating binding chains that existed across multiple layers of reality. The "Dimensional Chains" wrapped around Ω-Jett before she could react, holding her in place with forces that transcended simple physics.
"Impossible," she gasped, struggling against bonds that tightened with every movement. "Your dimensional control shouldn't—"
"I'm full of surprises," Minwoo replied, the chains burning with wind-charged energy. Through their connection, he could feel echoes of her memories—Omega Earth's stark laboratories, the dying dimension's desperate experiments, the slow collapse that drove her people to war.
And something else. Fear. She felt fear, not for herself, but for someone else.
"Ω-Minwoo," he realized. "He's dying, isn't he? Every time he anchors reality for your convergence attempts, pieces of him disappear."
Ω-Jett's struggle intensified. "You don't understand. Without convergence, both our worlds collapse. The dimensional barriers are failing—"
"How many more times?" Minwoo pressed, the chains tightening. "How many more reality anchors before there's nothing left of him but wind?"
The answer came not in words but in shared sensation—memory fragments bleeding through dimensional contact. His mirror is growing weaker with each attempt to converge. Thoughts scatter like leaves, flesh turns translucent, and existence unravels one anchor point at a time.
"He's doing it voluntarily," Ω-Jett whispered. "For our people. He is doing it for our world. Just like your sister did for these strangers."
The comparison struck me with the force of a physical blow. Both worlds had their heroes. Both sides were fighting to save people they loved. The only difference was who they considered worth saving.
Around them, dimensional tears began opening—Omega's emergency extraction protocol activating. Ω-Jett's backup had arrived.
"This isn't over," she said as the chains began to dissolve, her form becoming translucent. "Every reality anchor brings us closer to convergence. How many more will you sacrifice to stop us?"
"As many as it takes," Minwoo replied, but doubt crept into his voice. How many people could he watch get hurt defending a world that might be doomed anyway?
Ω-Jett smiled sadly as she faded into dimensional space. "Then you understand our choice. When the time comes—when you have to decide between your world and his existence—remember that we're not so different."
She vanished, leaving only the activated beacon network and its growing dimensional instability.
The medical transport's sirens wailed through Seoul's afternoon traffic, but inside the vehicle, everything felt suspended in crystalline horror. Jett lay on the stretcher, her body phasing between dimensional states—solid one moment, translucent the next, sometimes disappearing entirely before snapping back to visibility.
"Her dimensional matrix is completely destabilized," Sage's voice was steady, but Minwoo could hear the underlying tension. "I've never seen anything like this. She exists in multiple states simultaneously."
Phoenix sat beside the stretcher, flames dancing anxiously around his fingertips. "Can you fix it?"
"I don't know." The admission came hard from someone used to certainty. "My healing works on one dimensional layer at a time. But she's scattered across several. It's like trying to treat a patient who's in five different rooms simultaneously."
Minwoo held Jett's hand—when it was solid enough to hold. Her fingers felt cold, sometimes passing through his grip like fog. Guilt burned in his chest, worse than any physical pain.
"I should have been faster," he whispered. "Should have stopped the beacon before—"
"You did your job," Jett's voice was weak but sharp. "Protected the mission. That's what matters."
"The mission?" Minwoo stared at her, wind stirring restlessly around the transport. "Jett, you're—"
"I'm what?" She managed a smile despite the pain. "Dimensional? Unstable? Still breathing?" Her hand squeezed his when it was solid enough. "Still your sister?"
The transport banked toward Protocol headquarters, Seoul's skyline sliding past the windows. Below them, news helicopters circled the station where emergency crews were still evacuating civilians. The day's events would be on every channel by evening—partial exposure of VALORANT's existence, questions about Radiant incidents, and theories about terrorist attacks.
"Cypher's working on the cover story," Phoenix said, following Minwoo's gaze. "The official line is a gas leak causing hallucinations. But some people got video..."
"Let them wonder," Jett said, her voice fading as she phased partially out of existence. "Maybe it's time people knew we exist. Knew someone's watching out for them."
Minwoo's rift sense pulsed in rhythm with her dimensional instability. Through their connection, he could feel her pain—not physical, but existential. He felt a sensation of being spread too thin across reality, which made existence feel uncertain.
"The beacons are still active," he realized. "Eight beacons are creating a network across Seoul." Even without the convergence, they're destabilizing local dimensional space."
"One problem at a time," Sage said, but worry creased her features. "Right now, the priority is stabilizing Jett's dimensional matrix before—"
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.
The transport touched down on the Protocol's medical bay landing pad, emergency teams already waiting. As they transferred Jett to the facility's advanced medical wing, Minwoo caught a glimpse of the news feeds playing on wall-mounted screens.
His face was on camera. He was neither masked nor hidden—during the chaos at Seoul Station, someone had captured clear footage of him using rift abilities in public. The image was grainy but unmistakable: Han Minwoo, the esports champion who'd disappeared from public life, manipulating reality with wind and dimensional energy.
"Shit," Phoenix muttered, following his gaze. "That's going to complicate things."
But Minwoo was thinking about something else. Somewhere in Seoul, Hanna was probably watching these same news feeds. Seeing his face, she put together pieces of a puzzle she'd never asked to solve.
The consequences of heroism were not insignificant. Another individual he held dear would bear the consequences of his decisions.
The medical bay's soft lighting cast everything in gentle blue-white, but the atmosphere was anything but peaceful. Jett lay in the dimensional stabilization chamber, her body flickering between states of existence while sophisticated machinery attempted to anchor her in a single reality.
Minwoo refused to leave her side, wind powers creating small disturbances throughout the facility as his emotional state destabilized. Sage worked tirelessly, her healing abilities pushed to their limits by injuries that existed across multiple dimensional layers.
"Talk to me," Jett said during one of her more solid phases. "What's the tactical situation?"
"There are eight beacons active across Seoul," Minwoo reported automatically. "Dimensional network approaches critical resonance. Omega can trigger convergence at any time now."
"Counter-strategies?"
"I... we..." He stopped, the weight of responsibility crushing down. "I don't know. If we try to shut down the beacons, the feedback could kill anyone in the network's range. But if we leave them active..."
"Convergence happens anyway," Jett finished. "Classic no-win scenario."
Through the chamber's reinforced glass, they could see activity throughout the medical bay. Brimstone coordinated with Seoul authorities, Cypher managed the information warfare around their public exposure, and Phoenix paced restlessly as he monitored news feeds.
"There's something else," Minwoo said quietly. "When I made contact with Ω-Jett through the dimensional chains... I felt his memories. Ω-Minwoo's memories."
Jett's eyes sharpened despite her instability. "And?"
"He's dying. Every convergence attempt costs him pieces of himself. Dimensional anchoring is literally dissolving his existence, but he's doing it anyway. He is doing this for his people. For his world."
The implications hung between them like shadows. Ω-Minwoo was sacrificing himself just as surely as Jett had done, but for different people.
"Makes you think, doesn't it?" Jett's voice was soft. "About who the real heroes are in this war."
Before Minwoo could respond, alarms began sounding throughout the facility. Emergency lighting bathed the medical bay in red as Cypher's voice echoed over the comm system.
"All agents go to stations. We detected a dimensional cascade. The activation of the beacon network is occurring ahead of time.
Minwoo felt it too—his rift sense screaming warnings as reality began to buckle around Seoul. The convergence wasn't coming tomorrow or next week.
It was starting now.
Jett tried to sit up in the stabilization chamber, her form flickering dangerously. "Go. Stop them."
"I'm not leaving you."
"That's not your choice to make," she said firmly. "You're the bridge between worlds, remember? Time to do some bridging."
"Jett—"
"Minwoo." Her voice carried all the authority of their shared childhood, all the weight of being Wonder Twins. "Protect our world. That's an order from your sister."
He wanted to argue, he wanted to stay, and he wanted to find some third option that didn't require choosing between duty and family. But outside the medical bay, Seoul was beginning to experience dimensional distortions that would only get worse.
Minwoo squeezed Jett's hand one more time—solid for the moment, warm with familiar life.
"Don't you dare fade away while I'm gone," he said"
Her smile was radiant despite the dimensional instability. "Wouldn't dream of it, Wonder Twin."
As he left the medical bay, running toward whatever new crisis awaited, Minwoo carried two burdens: the weight of a world that needed protecting and the terrible knowledge that sometimes protection required sacrifice.
The convergence was beginning. The real war was about to start.
And somewhere in Seoul, Hanna was probably watching news footage of her gaming partner's face, realizing that the quiet boy she'd been falling for was actually a bridge between realities—and that loving him might mean losing him to forces beyond any one person's control.
The frequency of eight-dimensional beacons rose toward harmony; reality was singing at frequencies that human ears couldn't hear but human hearts could feel.
Everyone was running out of time.