Hi guys, I was listening to Why We Fight by EGO ft. Qing Madi while writing this chapter.
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The medical bay's lights cast ghostly shadows across Jett's pale face. Minwoo hadn't moved from her bedside in twelve hours, his hand gripping hers as if the physical connection might tether her to this world. The radianite-powered equipment surrounding her bed hummed and beeped in a dissonant symphony, each sound a reminder that his sister was slipping away.
My fault. My fault. My fault.
The words echoed in his mind, a relentless drumbeat of guilt. Had he acted more swiftly during the Omega Earth assault? Had he been more prepared for the dimensional trap? When Jett activated the beacon, he could have kept her behind him.
Minwoo's wind stirred unconsciously around him, a physical manifestation of his turmoil. Medical charts fluttered against the wall. The blinds rattled softly. A cup of cold coffee trembled at the edge of the bedside table.
Jett's face remained unnaturally still. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, but there was something wrong about the movement—as if parts of her were breathing at different times, out of sync with herself.
"No change?" Sage's voice came from the doorway, her usual calm tinged with exhaustion.
Minwoo shook his head without looking up. "She stirred once, around dawn. Mumbled something about the wind breaking." His voice was raw from disuse and suppressed emotion.
Sage crossed to the opposite side of the bed, her healing orb hovering at her shoulder, casting jade light across Jett's features. "The dimensional phasing is still progressing. She exists in multiple states simultaneously." Her fingers traced the air above Jett's chest, following patterns only she could see. "What I can heal in this reality unravels in another."
The frustration in her voice was unlike her. Sage was the Protocol's foundation—steady, unwavering, certain. The sight of that crack in certainty chilled Minwoo's veins.
"There has to be something," he said, hating the desperation in his voice.
"I'm working on it." Sage's eyes met his. "I won't give up on her, Minwoo."
The unspoken hung between them.
"I'll be in the lab," she continued. "We captured fragments from the beacon. If I can understand the energy signature that caused this, perhaps I can reverse it."
As she turned to leave, her composed façade slipped just enough for Minwoo to see the fear beneath. Sage, who had healed countless wounds, who had brought agents back from the brink of death, was facing something beyond her considerable power.
Left alone, Minwoo replayed the mission in his mind for the hundredth time. The mission involved the infiltration of Omega Earth's industrial sector. He discovered the convergence beacons. Jett and Minwoo led the ambush. He remembered the moment everything went wrong—Jett stepping between him and the activated beacon, taking the full brunt of the dimensional energy that had been meant for him.
Her scream still echoed in his nightmares.
"You look like shit, mate."
Phoenix stood in the doorway, two steaming coffees in hand. The duelist's usual cocky grin was subdued but present—a deliberate normalcy that Minwoo found oddly comforting.
"Look who's talking," Minwoo replied, accepting the coffee with a nod of thanks.
Phoenix settled into the chair on the opposite side of Jett's bed, his gaze lingering on her still form. "Our girl's tough. Been telling everyone she'll be up and calling us all idiots by dinner."
Minwoo's throat tightened. "And if she's not?"
Phoenix met his eyes. "Then we keep fighting anyway. Because that's what she'd kick our asses for not doing."
The directness was unexpected. The majority of the team had been cautious around him, providing hollow platitudes and reassurances. Phoenix's bluntness felt like the first honest moment in hours.
"I keep thinking if I'd just—"
"Don't." Phoenix cut him off, his voice sharper than Minwoo had ever heard it. "That guilt you're feeling? That spiral of, 'If only I'd done this or that differently'? It's just fear dressed up as responsibility." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Won't help her. The mission will not be aided. Trust me, I know."
Minwoo studied him. "London?"
A shadow crossed Phoenix's face. "Yeah. After the warehouse fire, I spent months tearing myself apart over every choice I made that night. What if I'd controlled my powers sooner? What if I'd never gone to the party? What if I'd just—" He stopped, shaking his head. "It nearly destroyed me. Made me useless to everyone, including myself."
The parallel wasn't lost on Minwoo. They'd both gained powers that could protect or destroy. They'd both hurt people they cared about. They both carried that weight every day.
"How did you get past it?"
Phoenix's flames flickered briefly around his fingers, a nervous habit. "Didn't, really. Just learned to carry it differently." He gestured to Jett. "She helped, actually. She told me one night that my guilt was stealing energy she needed from me on missions. She said, "If you are going to waste time feeling sorry for yourself, you can do it on your own time."
Despite everything, Minwoo felt a ghost of a smile. That sounded exactly like his sister.
"She's right, you know," Phoenix continued. "Jett doesn't need your guilt right now. She needs your focus. We all do."
Before Minwoo could respond, the medical bay doors slid open. Brimstone stood in the entrance, his weathered face grim.
"Command center. Now." His voice was pure steel. "We have a situation."
The command center hummed with tense energy. Holographic displays showed Seoul's skyline overlaid with pulsing red anomalies—dimensional weak points spreading like a virus through the city's infrastructure. Cypher stood at the main console, his masked face unreadable as his fingers danced across the controls.
"Timeline's accelerating," he said without preamble as Minwoo and Phoenix entered. "Dimensional convergence is no longer theoretical. It's happening."
Brimstone nodded to the central display. "Talk me through it."
Cypher expanded the hologram, revealing a three-dimensional model of Seoul intersected with ghostly outlines—the Omega Earth version of the city bleeding through.
"The beacons we disabled slowed the process but didn't stop it. Omega Earth is pushing through the dimensional barriers at an exponential rate." Cypher's voice remained clinical, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed his concern. "At the current progression, we have approximately eight hours before dimensional collapse begins."
"Collapse?" Phoenix asked.
"Think of it as reality tearing at the seams," Harbor explained from his position near the window, where he'd been monitoring the actual skyline. "Two worlds cannot occupy the same space. When they try—"
"Both are destroyed," Minwoo finished"
"Precisely." Cypher highlighted several points on the map. "These are dimensional anchors—points where our reality is still stable. If we can reinforce them, we might buy more time."
"And if we can't?" Brimstone's question hung in the air.
Cypher's pause was answer enough.
Brimstone's jaw tightened. "Options."
"Two viable strategies," Cypher replied. "Defensive: deploy teams to each anchor point, use Minwoo's rift manipulation to stabilize our reality. The first option buys time but doesn't address the source."
"And the second?"
"Offensive: strike at the convergence facility on Omega Earth. According to the intelligence we gathered, they're using a central node to coordinate the beacons. Take it out; we might stop the convergence entirely."
"Might," Brimstone noted.
"The variables are... complex," Cypher admitted.
Minwoo studied the map, his tactical mind—honed through thousands of hours of esports—calculating probabilities. "We can't do both. Not with our current numbers."
The unspoken reality settled over the room. Since Jett was in critical condition, the team's most mobile duelist was unable to participate in the fight. Previous missions had already strained the team. They'd have to choose.
Brimstone placed his hands on the table, the weight of command evident in every line of his face. "I won't abandon this city. But I can't condemn an entire world without trying to save both." He looked at Minwoo. "Your assessment?"
The question surprised Minwoo. Despite his time with the Protocol, he still considered himself to be the newest agent, not someone whose tactical opinion would be sought in a crisis of this magnitude.
"The anchors are symptomatic," he said slowly, working through the problem aloud. "Even if we stabilize them, Omega will keep pushing. The convergence facility is the source." He met Brimstone's eyes. "High-risk, high-reward play. Hit the facility."
Phoenix nodded his agreement. "Cut off the head, the body falls."
"It won't be that simple," Harbor cautioned. "Omega Earth knows we're coming. After our last incursion, they'll have reinforced security."
"And only one of us can reliably navigate their dimensional defenses," Brimstone added, looking at Minwoo.
The implication was clear. If they chose to strike at Omega Earth, Minwoo would have to lead the mission. This would require Jett to be left behind.
Before he could respond, Cypher's monitors flashed with a security alert.
"We have an unauthorized visitor at the main entrance," he reported, bringing up the security feed.
Minwoo's heart skipped a beat as he recognized the figure arguing with the protocol guards.
Hanna.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, this is a restricted facility. I can't let you—"
"Look, I don't care what protocols you have." Minwoo could sense the tension beneath Hanna's quiet authority. "I know he's here, and I'm not leaving until I see him."
The guard looked uncomfortable. "Ma'am, I don't know who you're referring to, but—"
"It's fine," Minwoo said, stepping into the entrance hall. "She's with me."
Relief and something more complex washed over Hanna's face. She wore a simple hoodie and jeans—her off-stage uniform—but even without the glamour of her performance persona, she commanded attention. Several of the security staff were clearly recognizing the famous singer, confusion evident in their expressions.
"Minwoo." She said his name like an exhale, weeks of tension releasing. "You're okay."
"Mostly," he replied, guiding her away from the curious eyes of the security team. "How did you find this place?"
"You'd be surprised what fans can figure out online." A hint of her usual mischief flickered in her eyes. "People track VALORANT sightings like they're rare Pokémon. This building had too many 'coincidences' to ignore."
They walked in silence through the corridors, Minwoo leading her toward a quieter section of the facility. He was acutely aware of how out of place she looked here, surrounded by military-grade technology and the occasional passing agent. Yet somehow, her presence felt like the first normal thing in days.
"I saw the news," she said finally. "The 'unexplained phenomenon' in the industrial district caught my attention," she said. The readings of energy were revealing. They're saying it was a scientific experiment gone wrong, but..." She studied his face. "It wasn't, was it?"
"No," he admitted.
"Is that why you disappeared? Why did you stop coming to the PC bang?"
Minwoo nodded, guilt twisting inside him. "I wanted to tell you. I just—"
"Couldn't," she finished for him. "I get it. Secret organization, world-saving missions, the whole deal." She attempted a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I figured it was something like that. Or that you'd gotten bored with hanging out with me."
"Never," he said, with enough intensity that she blinked in surprise.
They reached the observation deck—a glass-enclosed balcony overlooking Seoul's skyline. From here, the dimensional distortions were faintly visible to the naked eye, like heat waves rippling through reality. Most civilians would dismiss them as atmospheric anomalies, but they both knew better.
"My sister sustained injuries," Minwoo uttered, her words ringing hollow. "My sister sustained injuries during the mission." She's... it's awful."
Hanna's expression softened. "I'm so sorry." She hesitated. "Is there anything I can do?"
"You're already doing it." He gestured between them. "This. Normal conversation. Reminder that there's a world beyond dimensional convergence and tactical briefings."
"Dimensional convergence?" She raised an eyebrow. "Sounds serious."
"End of the world, serious," he confirmed, too exhausted for pretense.
To her credit, Hanna didn't flinch. "And you're in the middle of it."
"Always am."
She studied him for a long moment, seeing past his composed exterior to the storm beneath. "You look like you're carrying the weight of two worlds, Minwoo."
"That's exactly it," he said softly. "I am."
The truth hung between them, neither fully addressed nor ignored. Instead, they stood side by side, watching the city that might not exist tomorrow.
"I should have asked before," Minwoo said eventually. "What about your concert tour? Weren't you supposed to be in Tokyo this week?"
"Canceled the Japan leg." She shrugged. "Said I had health issues. My manager nearly had a coronary, but..." Her eyes met his. "Some things are more important."
The simple statement landed with unexpected weight. In their brief friendship, built over late-night gaming sessions and coffee, they'd both maintained careful boundaries. She had never inquired about his mysterious absences. He'd never asked about the pressures of her public life.
Now, those boundaries were crumbling under the weight of reality.
"I should probably tell you," Minwoo said, "that I'm not just Han Minwoo."
Hanna's lips quirked. "And I should probably tell you I'm not just a girl who likes PC bangs and iced Americanos."
"I know who you are, Hanna. I've known since the first night."
"And I've suspected who you are since the third time you disappeared right before VALORANT was spotted in action." Her expression grew serious. "But that's not what I meant. I didn't mean the person on stage, the one with flawless makeup, choreographed moves, and rehearsed soundbites. That's not really me. Not all of me."
"I understand that better than you might think."
A shadow passed over the sun, dimming the observation deck momentarily. When the light returned, it carried a strange quality—slightly too blue, as if filtered through something not quite natural.
"The convergence is accelerating," Minwoo said, recognizing the sign. "We don't have much time."
Hanna nodded, not questioning the statement. "Then we should probably stop dancing around whatever this is." She gestured between them. "I came here because I was worried about you. Because whatever is happening between us feels important. Additionally, if the world is ending, I didn't want to waste time pretending otherwise.
The directness was so refreshing that Minwoo couldn't help but smile, despite everything. "Would you like to meet my sister?"
Jett's condition hadn't changed. The medical equipment continued its vigilant monitoring of numbers and waveforms, tracking a body caught between dimensions. Hanna hesitated in the doorway, suddenly unsure.
"Is it okay for me to be here?" she whispered.
"Yes," Minwoo said simply. "She'd like you. You're both too stubborn for your own good."
Hanna approached the bed carefully, studying Jett with compassionate eyes. "She looks like you. Or you look like her."
"Twins," Minwoo confirmed. "Though she'd argue she got all the good genes."
The attempt at lightness fell flat in the sterile quiet of the medical bay. Hanna reached out hesitantly, then laid her hand gently over Jett's.
"Hi, Jett," she said softly. "I'm Hanna. I have been borrowing your brother for late-night gaming sessions. I hope you don't mind."
The simple introduction, spoken with such genuine warmth, pierced Minwoo's carefully maintained composure. He turned away, blinking hard against the sudden sting in his eyes.
"Minwoo." Cypher's voice came from the doorway. "We need you in intelligence. There's something you should see."
Minwoo hesitated, looking between Jett and Hanna.
"Go," Hanna said. "I'll stay with her. We have lots to talk about." She settled into the chair by the bed. "I'll fill her in on all the embarrassing things you've said about her while gaming."
The ghost of normalcy in her words was precisely what he needed. With a grateful nod, Minwoo followed Cypher toward the intelligence hub.
"Your friend," Cypher said as they walked, "she found our facility effortlessly."
"She's observant."
"Indeed." Cypher's tone revealed nothing. "Brimstone has authorized her temporary presence, given the circumstances. But security protocols—"
"She's not a threat, Cypher."
"Everyone is a potential threat, Minwoo. It's why I'm still alive." The intelligence agent paused outside the hub's entrance. "However, in this instance, I believe your assessment is correct. Her presence seems to... stabilize you."
The observation was unexpected. Cypher noticed everything, of course, but rarely commented on interpersonal dynamics unless they affected mission parameters.
"Is that relevant to whatever you've found?" Minwoo asked.
"Perhaps." Cypher's mask revealed nothing as he led the way into the intelligence hub—a circular room lined with monitors and data feeds. "We've decrypted files from Ω-Jett's beacon network."
The central display showed environmental readings from Omega Earth—atmospheric composition, radiation levels, and dimensional stability metrics. All of them were in the red.
"Their world is dying," Cypher stated. "Dimensional decay has reached critical levels. The industrial exploitation of radianite has weakened the fabric of their reality to the point of imminent collapse."
Minwoo studied the data, the implications sinking in. "The convergence isn't an attack. It's desperation."
"Exactly." Cypher brought up new projections. "According to these files, Omega Earth will experience total dimensional failure within seventy-two hours—with or without the convergence."
"So they're trying to merge the worlds to save themselves."
"At our expense," Brimstone added, entering the hub with Phoenix and Harbor. "If the convergence succeeds, our reality will be destabilized beyond recovery. Billions will die."
"And if we stop it?" Minwoo asked.
No one answered immediately. The silence was damning.
"We condemn an entire world," Harbor said finally. "Every soul on Omega Earth. Gone."
The moral weight of the situation settled over them all. This wasn't just about protecting their world anymore. It was about choosing which world would survive.
"There has to be another way," Phoenix insisted. "Something that saves both."
"If there is, we haven't found it," Cypher replied. "And time is running out."
Brimstone straightened, and his posture clearly indicated his decision. "We proceed with the assault on their convergence facility. If we can disable it without destroying it, maybe we buy time for another solution." He turned to Minwoo. "I need you to lead the team."
The words hung in the air, an impossible request made necessary by impossible circumstances.
"My sister—" Minwoo began.
"She is in the best hands possible," Brimstone finished. "But this mission needs your specific abilities. No one else can navigate Omega's dimensional defenses like you can."
The tactical part of Minwoo's mind knew Brimstone was right. His rift manipulation was their best chance of successful infiltration. But the thought of leaving Jett when she might not survive the day tore at him.
"I can't just—"
"Minwoo." Sage's voice came from the hub entrance. She looked exhausted but determined. "I've been studying the beacon fragments. I believe I can synchronize my healing across dimensional phases."
Hope flared. "You can heal her?"
"Potentially." Sage tempered her response with professional caution. "The procedure requires massive energy expenditure. It could heal her completely, or..." She didn't finish the sentence.
"What's the timeframe?" Brimstone asked.
"That's the complication. The procedure would be most effective during the convergence event, when dimensional barriers are at their thinnest." Her eyes met Minwoo's. "It's also when the risk is highest."
The choice crystallized with brutal clarity: stay with Jett and hope Sage's earlier attempt would be enough, or lead the mission that might save both worlds while Sage attempted the riskier, more effective procedure during convergence.
"If you attempt it now?" Minwoo asked.
"Limited effect, but safer," Sage answered honestly. "If we wait until convergence, we will achieve maximum healing potential, but there is a significantly higher risk to both Jett and me."
Before Minwoo could respond, the medical alert sounded. Jett's vitals were spiking.
They reached the medical bay in seconds, Sage pushing past them to reach her patient. Jett's body was convulsing, the dimensional phasing visibly accelerating—parts of her flickering in and out of solid state.
"She's destabilizing," Sage announced, her healing orb pulsing as she worked to contain the effect. "The dimensional energy is cascading."
Hanna stood pressed against the wall, eyes wide with shock but remarkably composed given the otherworldly scene before her. "She was fine, then she just started... flickering."
Minwoo moved to Jett's side, opposite Sage. Instinctively, he reached for his rift manipulation, trying to stabilize the dimensional fluctuations around his sister. The energy responded to his touch, slowing the cascade.
"That's helping," Sage said, surprise evident in her voice. "Keep doing it."
Minwoo concentrated, using the techniques Yoru had taught him to weave the dimensional energies back into alignment. It was delicate work, like trying to repair a spider's web with tweezers.
Gradually, Jett's convulsions subsided. Her form solidified, though the occasional flicker still disturbed the air around her. Her breathing steadied.
Then, impossibly, her eyes fluttered open.
"Minwoo?" Her voice was a rasp, barely audible over the equipment.
"I'm here," he said, gripping her hand. "I'm right here."
Her gaze was unfocused, drifting around the room before settling on him. "Did we stop it?"
"Not yet," he answered honestly. "But we will."
"Good." Her eyes drifted closed again, then snapped open with sudden clarity. "You have to go. Lead the mission."
Minwoo froze. "How did you—"
"Heard everything." A ghost of her usual smirk crossed her lips. "Not completely out, just... elsewhere. Sometimes."
Sage was monitoring the readouts, her expression cautiously optimistic. "The stabilization is holding, but it's temporary. We need to proceed with the healing procedure."
"Do it now," Minwoo urged.
"No," Jett's voice was weak but determined. "During convergence. Sage's words hold true. Better chance."
"Jett, that's too risky—"
"My choice." Her fingers tightened around his, summoning strength from somewhere deep. "You need to lead the mission. Save both worlds. That's who you are now."
"I can't leave you."
"Yes, you can." Pain clouded her eyes, yet they held the fierce certainty he had always admired. "You're not just my brother anymore. You're a bridge. Between worlds. Between people." Her gaze flickered to Hanna, then back to him. "That's bigger than us."
Minwoo felt the weight of her words, the understanding that had always existed between them. Jett wasn't just giving him permission to go—she was acknowledging who he had become.
"I'll come back," he promised.
"You better," she managed, before her eyes drifted closed again, exhaustion claiming her.
Sage adjusted her equipment. "I'll monitor her condition and prepare for the procedure. When convergence reaches its peak, I'll begin."
"And if I don't disable the facility in time?" Minwoo asked quietly.
Sage met his eyes with unflinching honesty. "Then we all face the same fate, regardless of our choices now."
The room fell silent save for the steady beep of the monitoring equipment. Brimstone nodded once, respecting the moment before speaking.
"Prepare for departure in thirty minutes. Phoenix, Yoru, and Harbor will accompany you. Cypher and I will coordinate from here." He placed a hand on Minwoo's shoulder. "This is the right call, son."
As the others filed out to prepare, Hanna approached Minwoo, her eyes reflecting a complexity of emotions.
"So," she said softly, "you're off to save the world."
"Worlds, plural," he corrected with a weary attempt at humor. "Apparently I'm a bridge."
"She's right, you know." Hanna glanced at Jett's unconscious form. "About who you are."
Minwoo shook his head. "I'm just trying to do what's necessary."
"That's precisely what makes you who you are." She took his hand, her fingers warm against his. "I can't fight interdimensional wars or heal quantum injuries. But I can be here. I can be your anchor to normal life, to the world worth saving."
The offer—so simple, yet so profound—struck Minwoo with unexpected force. Throughout his life, he, as both Alex Han and Minwoo, had found himself torn between two distinct worlds, never truly settling in one. The Protocol had given him purpose, but Hanna was offering something different. Something human.
"I would like that," he said quietly.
"That settles it." She squeezed his hand. "I'll stay with Jett while you're gone. She shouldn't be alone, and I've got plenty of stories about her brother to keep her entertained when she wakes up."
"When," Minwoo repeated, clinging to the certainty in Hanna's voice.
"Exactly." She smiled, the simple expressionsomehow containing all the hope he needed. "Now go save the world so you can come back and properly ask me out."
The Protocol hangar buzzed with pre-mission activity. Technicians made final adjustments to the dimensional transport—a modified aircraft equipped with Killjoy's latest innovations in radianite propulsion. Phoenix, Yoru, and Harbor were completing their preparations, checking weapons and equipment with practiced efficiency.
Minwoo stood at the edge of the platform, looking out over Seoul through the hangar's massive doors. The dimensional distortions were clearly visible now, reality rippling like fabric in a breeze. Time was rapidly ebbing away.
"All systems are operational," Killjoy announced as she emerged from beneath the transport, a smudge of grease on her cheek. "If reality doesn't completely collapse while you're away, she'll get you there and back." She adjusted her glasses. "No pressure."
"Thanks, KJ," Minwoo said, managing a smile for the enthusiastic engineer.
"Don't mention it." She patted the transport's hull affectionately. "Just bring my baby home in one piece, ja?"
As she moved away to complete the pre-flight checks, Sage approached, her healing orb dormant at her side.
"Jett is stable for now," she reported. "I've calculated the optimal moment to begin the procedure—approximately ninety minutes from now, when convergence reaches seventy percent."
"Which gives us—"
"Eighty-five minutes to disable the facility," she confirmed. "After that, the dimensional strain will be too great for either world to survive intact."
Minwoo nodded, the timeline burning itself into his mind. There are eighty-five minutes available to infiltrate an enemy facility, bypass the most sophisticated defenses of Omega Earth, and disable a convergence mechanism that they barely understood.
"We'll make it," he said with more confidence than he felt.
Sage studied him with knowing eyes. "Your sister believes in you. As do I." She touched his arm briefly. "May the wind guide you safely between worlds, Minwoo."
As she departed, Brimstone approached for a final briefing. The commander's weathered face was set in determined lines, but his eyes held the weight of sending his agents into near-impossible danger.
"Cypher's latest intel suggests the facility's core is three levels beneath the main complex," he explained, handing Minwoo a secure tablet with the schematics. "Disable it without destroying it, if possible. We're still hoping for a solution that saves both worlds."
"And if that's not possible?" Minwoo asked quietly.
Brimstone met his gaze unflinchingly. "Then you make the hard call. That's the burden of command."
The words settled on Minwoo's shoulders like physical weight. This wasn't just a tactical mission—it was potentially a choice between worlds.
"I understand," he said.
"I know you do." Brimstone gripped his shoulder firmly. "That's why you're leading this one."
As final preparations were completed, Minwoo made his way to the medical bay for one last moment with Jett. He found Hanna sitting beside her, quietly singing a melody he didn't recognize. The song faded as he entered, but its calming resonance lingered in the air.
"Just keeping her company," Hanna explained. "Music helps healing, or so they say."
"It's beautiful," Minwoo said. "What is it?"
"Something new. Still working on it." She stood, giving him space with his sister. "I'll give you a minute."
As she stepped away, Minwoo took Jett's hand. Her breathing was steadier now, though the occasional dimensional flicker still disturbed the air around her.
"I'm going now," he said softly. "But I'll be back before you know it. And when you wake up, I expect a full critique of my tactical decisions." He squeezed her hand gently. "That's an order, by the way. Wake up."
He thought he felt the faintest pressure in return, but it might have been wishful thinking.
At the doorway, he paused, looking back at Hanna. "Thank you. For staying."
"Always," she replied simply.
The transport was ready when he returned to the hangar. His team waited at the ramp—Phoenix with his characteristic confidence, Yoru's expression unreadable behind his mask, and Harbor calm and centered as always.
"Ready to make history, boss?" Phoenix asked, flames dancing briefly between his fingers.
"Ready to save it," Minwoo corrected, stepping aboard.
As the engines powered up, he cast one last look at Seoul's skyline. The dimensional distortions were more pronounced now, was bending and fracturing in ways that hurt the eye to follow. In the distance, he could see the Protocol headquarters, where Jett lay fighting her battle against the same forces threatening to tear their world apart.
The transport lifted off, dimensional engines humming as Killjoy's modifications prepared to tear a controlled path between worlds. Minwoo took his position at the front, hands steady despite the storm of emotions within.
I'm coming back, he promised silently. To Jett. To Hanna. To the world he'd sworn to protect.
As the dimensional portal opened before them, swirling with chaotic energy and impossible colors, Minwoo felt the familiar pull of his rift sense guiding him. This was what he was made for—to be a bridge between worlds, to carry the weight from both sides.
"Convergence in eighty-three minutes," Yoru reported from the navigation console.
"Then let's not waste time," Minwoo replied, focusing his power on the portal ahead.
The transport surged forward, reality bending around them as they crossed the threshold between worlds. Beyond lay Omega Earth, a dark reflection of their world, along with the mission that would determine the fate of everything Minwoo had ever loved.
He was ready.