Time: 10:17 AM
Date: 2742-08-29
After surviving Breakfast: The Endgame Edition, Ren had made it to work.
Barely.
He slouched at his desk, swirling instant coffee like it owed him child support. Around him, keyboards clacked, phones rang, printers jammed themselves out of spite — in other words, your standard Monday morning apocalypse.
"Finally. A quiet place," Ren muttered. "No flaming toast. No gravity-twerking waffle iron. Just…peace."
CORE (in his ear, calmly):
"If by peace you mean 'existential whispers from beyond time,' sure."
"Wait—what?"
[Cue: The Wind]
At exactly 10:18 AM, a gentle wind brushed through the office.
No windows open. No air vents active. Just...a breeze. Like the room exhaled.
And in that faint swirl, a voice.
A whisper.
A name.
"Ren…"
"What the—?" Ren sat upright so fast he hit his knee under the desk. "Ow—was that someone calling me or just my sanity ghosting me again?"
The voice didn't reply.
Just echoed faintly.
"Find me…"
BLAZE (suddenly active, speaking into his mind):
"...Okay, that's creepy. And I am a psychic eyeball AI with post-apocalyptic trauma."
FROST:
*"Maybe it's the wind. Or maybe someone realized you left the bathroom light on across dimensions again."
[Location: Restroom Hallway – Moments Later]
Ren had excused himself to "go for a walk" (read: panic silently near the vending machines). That's when he passed the mirror.
And that's when the girls reappeared.
Well—re-manifested.
POP!
There stood Frost in her icy blue glow, Blaze with her fiery crimson locks, and Core rocking what could only be described as "boss-ass villainess in a power suit with shoulder pads from the future."
A poor intern passing by dropped his coffee.
"Holy—are those models?!"
"Uh—cosplay. Yeah. High-tech cosplay," Ren muttered, pretending his nose wasn't bleeding from shock. "Very…immersive."
CORE (striking a pose):
"I am a limited-edition holographic assistant. Please ignore the gravitational anomalies."
BLAZE (winking):
"We only manifest when necessary. Or when you get too lonely, sugarcube."
FROST (to intern):
"Boo."
The intern screamed and ran into a filing cabinet.
[Back at the Desk – Work? What Work.]
Ren was now quietly vibrating in his chair. His screen showed spreadsheets. His soul, however, was loading error messages.
"So… you three only show up when it's 'necessary,' huh?" he whispered.
CORE (grinning):
"Absolutely. And emotional support counts."
BLAZE:
"Or if we're bored."
FROST:
"Or if you're about to do something dumb. Which is like... hourly."
[The Whisper Returns]
As Ren adjusted his tie, pretending to look productive, the whisper came again.
"Kami Terminal… Again…"
His watch flickered.
Time: 10:17 AM.
But it had already passed.
"Déjà vu. Time hiccups. Ghostly flirting wind," Ren muttered. "It's either another mission... or this is what a caffeine overdose hallucination feels like."
CORE (calmly):
"Oh no. That's real. Your shift's about to get spicy."
BLAZE:
"Better stock up on instant noodles and regret."
FROST:
"Also maybe avoid elevators for the next few hours. Just a vibe."
[Location: Kami Terminal – 12:04 PM]
Ren had excused himself from work with the grace of a man trying to flee both Excel sheets and existential dread.
The whisper had returned, insistent and slippery, threading itself through the corners of his consciousness.
"Kami Terminal again. Of course," Ren mumbled. "Because where else would one go for unauthorized glitchy timeline tourism?"
He stepped off the tram and was greeted by what he could only describe as a digital haunting.
The air shimmered like overheating code.
The breeze carried static.
And the sky was… buffering?
Then it started.
Text.
Floating.
Glowing.
Everywhere.
🟨 "DO NOT FORGET."
🟦 "YOU ARE THE CATALYST."
🟥 "YOU SHOULDN'T BE HERE YET."
🟩 "TIME IS FRACTURED—RECALIBRATING…"
They fluttered in midair like ghostly pop-ups in a broken game UI. And the most cursed part?
Nobody around him noticed.
Office workers passed by with umbrellas and bento bags like this was just another Tuesday. A guy on a bench was asleep with a rice ball on his chest. Kids played soccer across the road.
"Why is it always me?!" Ren hissed to the sky, batting away a floating red warning like a mosquito. "Text hallucinations? Really?!"
FROST (suddenly active):
"Oooh, look. It's the update patch notes from the universe's worst MMO."
BLAZE:
"No, seriously. It says you've unlocked 'Narrative Branch C-Ω.' That can't be good."
CORE:
"Keep walking. You're close to a pulse. The Aetherium's tugging the veil again. We're slipping through temporal filter-layers."
"...That sounds like something I shouldn't walk toward."
CORE:
"Step into the metaphysical Wi-Fi, babe. What's the worst that could happen?"
[Kami Terminal – Deeper In]
The further Ren moved into the district, the quieter everything became. Colors dimmed. Street signs glitched. Shadows stretched just a little too long.
More text whirled past him.
🟨 "THE ORIGIN CALLS."
🟥 "YOU LEFT SOMETHING BEHIND."
🟦 "FIND THE FINAL CORE."
He reached the alley behind an abandoned courier depot — the one with the burnt-out vending machine and vines creeping out of cracked concrete. The air was colder here. Metallic.
And there it was.
A low hum. A glow.
A ripple in reality, faint but pulsing like a heartbeat in reverse.
"Okay, this is either plot progression… or how I die tragically without wi-fi."
FROST:
"You'll be fine. Probably."
BLAZE:
"Unless this is another alternate you trying to merge timelines. Then we're toast."
CORE (deadpan):
"No pressure, Ren. But everything you've ever known might rewrite itself in the next five minutes."
Ren sighed.
Tightened his bag strap.
Stepped forward.
And the terminal breathed.
Location: Kami Terminal – Deeper Layer
Ren stood dead center in that shimmering alley, a soft hum surrounding him, like the world was vibrating in a different tone — not broken, just... off-key.
His breath caught. The pulse around him had shifted. Fused.
"Wait…" he whispered, patting himself down.
His fingertips brushed against four fragments hidden deep inside his jacket.
Each one warm, pulsing.
Each one singing to the area around them.
"I have all of them," he said, stunned. "Every Aetherium core particle…?"
CORE (in his head, nervous):
"This wasn't supposed to happen. Not yet. You're synced too early—"
FROST (half-mocking):
"Aw. You broke the divine schedule. The gods are gonna file a complaint."
BLAZE:
"Something's wrong. The temporal nodes in this area are melting. And I mean viscous dairy product levels of melting."
That's when it started.
The sky fractured.
The air became thick, like soup made of broken pixels.
And out of nowhere—
Figures emerged.
Malformed creatures with ink-dripping limbs. Their faces were either blank or too many eyes at once, blinking in silence.
And behind them — towering and still — a figure in a cracked cloak, half of their body built like stone and half shadow, their voice like a dial-up modem and a thunderstorm making love.
"DRIFT," the figure said.
"OR DIE."
"Well that's clear," Ren muttered. "No terms and conditions? No brochure?"
CORE (panicked):
"NO. Do not drift. You haven't stabilized. You'll burn your neural links and fry your temporal tether. You're not ready—"
Ren pulled out the letter from his inner coat pocket — the one that never made sense.
His hands trembled slightly. It was warm.
This time, it had writing. Both pages.
He unfolded it slowly, and the air around him stilled.
📜 Unknown Letter
[Sender: Classified]
[Receiver: R.I.]
[Time Code: 0113:Δ-System Hours]
[Place: Caldrith Verge – Subsector A-Ω]
To the one who carries the cracks of time:
You will forget why you started.
You will question if this path was ever yours.
You will want to run.
But remember — the future you protect may not know your name.
That's fine.
You were never doing this to be remembered.
The pieces you hold do not belong to this world.
They were scattered long before this version of you was born.
They yearn for something… else.
You must reach the Caldrith Verge.
It does not exist here.
But it remembers you.
When the moment comes —
Don't hesitate. Drift.
Even if you lose your way…
Don't lose yourself.
— From the You who stopped remembering.
Ren's fingers curled around the paper.
"...I wrote this?" he whispered.
FROST:
"Looks like future-you left a sticky note. Kinda poetic for someone who still uses Comic Sans in his dreams."
BLAZE:
"Wait... Caldrith Verge? That's a restricted sector across dimensional phase-lines. Why would a version of you have access to that?"
CORE (coldly):
"You shouldn't have read that."
Ren stood up straighter.
Behind him, the monsters shifted. The figure watched him silently.
"I'm drifting," Ren muttered. "Fuck it."
CORE (desperate):
"REN, NO—"
But it was too late.
The letter crumbled into light.
The air peeled back like curtain threads.
And Ren—gripping his bag, staring into the unraveling horizon—stepped forward.
A pulse of white.
The world tilted sideways.
Everything became gravity, light, and time punching each other in the face.