The crimson spiral tower collapses and rebuilds again and again at the edge of Lee's vision.
As the relevant modules activate, time and space begin shifting from abstraction into something real.
Crimson threads coil around his body, weaving together countless possibilities.
They unravel at each juncture, only to braid into something new, shaping a different future.
This is...
Some events are connected to him; others are not.
Some are from his perspective; others are from <phonetic=Commandant's>someone else's</phonetic>.
Who has been watching them all along, and who...
...<color=#ff4e4eff>corrected</color> it all on the timeline?
Commandant...
Golden specks of light leap through the tunnel of time.
It's you...
Lee's focus suddenly sharpens as he reaches out, grasping toward that radiant light—
—Ugh!
The distorted vision disappears, vanishing like a receding tide.
Ugh...
His M.I.N.D. churns with almost unbearable pain. In a daze, he glimpses the universe and the starry sky.
The sky...?
He's surprised to realize that the unfamiliar sky feels strangely familiar.
This place is...
Chaotic whispers echo in his ears. He can only wait, helpless, for the surge to pass...
Familiar golden light flickers in the space around him.
...
Wake up.
Ugh...
His scattered consciousness pulls together again. Lee forces his eyes open, blinking toward a vague figure standing in front of him.
Who's there?!
Lee draws his weapon on reflex, but the moment he sees what's in front of him, he falls silent.
It's a Construct that looks exactly like him.
...
Their gazes meet—past perceptions align, possibilities flash through his mind, and Lee arrives at the conclusion with ease.
I am you.
The galaxy rotates slowly. They seem to be standing at the window of a ship.
I'm you, from ▂▇ years in the future.
The sound of the number is muffled, as if intentionally erased, but Lee can still make out part of it from the way his lips move.
Which entrance did you come through?
...I was in Dead Zone ▇ on a mission. I didn't see any entrance, gateway structures, or landmarks.
I'm not sure how I got here either.
His words are also blurred by some unknown force, but Lee knows the other him understands.
...That Dead Zone number... That can't be right. The Hetero Tower isn't located there.
The Hetero Tower...
He has never heard of this term. But just like that starry sky, it feels strangely familiar, as if his life has tangled with it countless times before.
You don't know the term.
The other Lee furrows his brow.
You haven't seen it? It's a... No, never mind. If you'd seen it, you'd know what it is.
I haven't, but I might have heard of something like it. Maybe the same thing, under a different name.
Did you see something? Like... the "visions" you had before?
The Tower...
...
From that person... right?
They don't name who they mean. But they both understand.
Maybe. But I hope not.
If [player name] is involved, what kind of price would it take to erase something that means so much to his future self?
What's happening ▂▇ years from now? What is this place?
...You still have the luxury of asking that. Must be nice.
The voice of the other Lee suddenly softens, carrying a hint of exhaustion.
Have a look yourself.
How do I...
He doesn't finish the question. He already knows the answer.
The Hyperreal frame, a design that transcends time and space, includes modules that simulate evolutionary paths.
All he needs from his other self is the prerequisites and key parameters. After that...
The future unfolds before him.
▂▇ years from now... the commandant will <color=#ff4e4eff>die</color>.
Commandant and Lucia will both die because of the Hetero Tower.
His own voice sounds beside his ear, like narration from a story.
Heavy with exhaustion.
On day 1825 after the commandant's disappearance, the <color=#ff4e4eff>Hetero Zone</color> erupted. The Red Tide spread to every corner of the world.
We tried countless times to re-enter the Hetero Tower. But we were always kept out. Then the mutated Red Tide poured out from within and swallowed the world. And I couldn't stop it...
I couldn't stop any of it.
Lee looks down at his other self's hands.
The knuckles are stained with rust. It's clear this frame hasn't been maintained in a long time.
All I could do was land again and again. Keep trying to get close to the Hetero Tower. And get turned away. Again and again.
Why wasn't it me who entered? Why wasn't I the one who died? Why wasn't I the one who left?
Every minute... every second... I kept asking myself those questions.
Why was I able to rewrite the core of the Hetero Tower, but still failed to save the ones who mattered most? Why was I left standing outside the Hetero Tower, staring at that empty gateway?
His voice is calm. But anyone could hear the grief behind it.
...
On day 5475... after the commandant and Lucia entered the Hetero Tower... we waited <color=#ff4e4eff>5475 days, 4 hours, and 18 minutes</color>.
I remember every minute of it.
We waited <color=#ff4e4eff>5,475 days, 4 hours, 18 minutes, and 09 seconds</color>, until humanity could barely survive on Earth.
Babylonia left orbit and fled into deep space.
We considered staying, hoping to find Commandant and Lucia again, but...
Maybe deep space was the only place left to search for the future.
I don't know if it was the right choice. But there's no going back now.
...
The vision ends. They return to the present.
Lee stays silent. He doesn't know how to respond.
If it were him, what would he choose? Leave Earth behind to chase a future among the stars? Or stay behind, guarding a dead planet, waiting for a miracle?
He doesn't know. And he doesn't want to know.
So... it was that person who rewrote the future...
To rewrite the future—what kind of price would that take?
Everything about that person's state not long ago now seems to have an answer.
Stumbling back into the lounge... collapsing the moment when seeing them...
Maybe. But I hope not.
"Lee" responds with those same words.
I... we...
We gave everything we had and still couldn't change the past. I can't imagine the pain and loneliness that person must've endured to make it happen.
Countless memories flood into Lee's M.I.N.D. His pupils dilate as he taps into the computing power of countless versions of himself, reaching across all pasts and futures.
Even after venturing into deep space, I kept testing the limits of this frame—until I reached the farthest depths of my own M.I.N.D.
We have always been looking for the "right path," and eliminating every self that has gone astray.
This frame carries every failure, every death. It belongs to the past and the future.
Space twists in on itself, then folds outward again. The figure before him—Lee—shifts, one form after another.
You are the luckiest one, and also the unluckiest one.
You <color=#ff4e4eff>can't take</color> any of the future with you. But you still have all the possibilities.
The loop's been broken. It's time for you to go.
He stands inside his own M.I.N.D., staring down countless versions of himself.
We are you. And you are us.
Take our hopes. And our regrets...
Press on.
Within his M.I.N.D., that glowing Mind Beacon pulses—quiet and steady
That voice travels from the distant past to the present.
From the present, it moves forward into the future.
Commandant...
Ugh... what...
Pain from M.I.N.D. overload tears through his body. A suffocating weight grips his throat.
He seems to be absorbing endless information, and yet sees nothing at all.
From a forgotten communication terminal nearby, a familiar voice keeps calling his name.
Commandant.
As he regathers his mind from scattered fragments, Lee's fists tighten.
I'll... return to Babylonia immediately.
Please... wait for me to come back.
The transport ship slices through the clouds, racing back toward Babylonia at top speed.
The door to the Gray Raven lounge remains closed, as always.
Lee stands in front of it. His fingers tremble slightly.
In the blur of his "memories," he remembers flinging this door open countless times, hoping to find that familiar human inside.
But each time, all he saw was an empty room and a chair that held no warmth.
There's no time to question where those memories came from. He presses his palm firmly to the door.
!!!
The door suddenly swings open from the inside. It catches Lee off guard—he nearly stumbles.
But he steadies himself just in time.
Commandant—
Without warning, he grips your hand. Warmth floods from your palm into his M.I.N.D.
Commandant, I'm sorry...
Before you can ask what's wrong, Lee suddenly pulls you into a tight embrace.
...
The door suddenly flies open—
Warm light spills throughout the room, and the commandant sits in that usual seat, calm and steady.
Before the question can be asked, Lee grabs your arm tightly, as if trying to be sure of something.
...
His cold fingers slowly warm. Only after confirming you're truly safe does Lee finally exhale.
He seems to understand now—why you had rushed back to the lounge that day. Why they had kept checking on everyone's frame conditions.
But... that's all in the past now.
The memory fragments fade with time. The despair is wiped away by the light. Dawn begins to color the world again.
It's just... something this frame does. A special function.
Because...
I promised I wouldn't keep secrets from you anymore. If you want to know something, and I know it, I'll tell you.
Yeah. And if you have time, could you come with me?
His invitation comes out awkward, but sincere.
On the way to the Science Council, warm sunlight spills across the path.
Yes. I believe it happened because I was pushing the frame to full capacity. In an overloaded state, I couldn't keep the M.I.N.D. connection stable.
When I was overloaded... I think I saw a tower.
A crimson... spiral tower.
Something stirs inside you at those words.
A faint scene stretches across your vision. At the edge of your sight, a blood-red tower stands tall, glowing ominously.
But the "vision" is too vague. No clear signs. No real answers.
No.
Just... this strange feeling. Like I've been through something before. But I don't remember any of it.
Maybe... Asimov would know.
I don't.
I pulled all the frame data from that time. It only shows a few seconds of M.I.N.D. overload.
The fluctuations look a lot like what we see during a consciousness transfer. But there are subtle differences.
All I can say for sure is that your M.I.N.D. is full of locked data shards. What they are? No one knows.
Not advised. Forcing open locked data like that is risky. Lee's M.I.N.D. might become unstable.
I've limited its computing capacity for now. That should prevent anything similar from happening again.
As for the real answer... maybe we'll find it eventually.
Asimov looks at you with a meaningful expression.
Nothing.
With that abrupt remark, he leaves the lab with Rosa.
Late at night, a few scattered stars hang over the artificial sky.
Lee sits at his desk, staring at a blank message on the terminal. The recipient field is already filled in.
The memories from the M.I.N.D. overload blur like morning dew—fragile, faint. But a voice keeps pushing him...
Find time. Talk to Murray.
Those doubts, those barriers...
"We'll never know what you need if you never say a thing."
"And there are things that can go unnoticed if you always choose to be quiet about them."
He remembers what the commandant once told him.
So now... It's his turn to take that step.
His fingers start typing—clumsy at first, then more fluid. As the morning star rises, he adds the final period.
...
So this is the midpoint.
With nothing else changing, the Hetero Tower won't appear any time soon.
Lee has lost the chance to enter it—and with it, his right to ascend.
But maybe the Construct doesn't need that path to ascend anymore.
In the distant future, Lee might still step into the Hetero Tower. He might still climb that ladder.
No matter what happens, when that time comes, he won't face it alone.
