Asol woke to the sound of his own heartbeat hammering against his skull. His breath came ragged, body slick with cold sweat. For a moment he didn't know where he was, only that the ceiling above him wasn't the one he'd fallen asleep under. The room was too quiet. Too still. Light filtered through half-drawn blinds, dust motes drifting in gold shafts of morning sun.
He sat up slowly, his head pounding. His hand went to his temple.
A dream? No—something worse.
The images still clung to him like smoke: the girl's crimson eyes, the mines, the screams, the word Liberator echoing through the dark. His prosthetic hand trembled faintly as he pressed his fingers against the sheets, grounding himself. The bed was real. The floor beneath his feet was solid. His lungs burned with real air.
He exhaled, shaky.
Was it real? If it wasn't, then how the hell did I end up back here?
A sharp knock startled him. He flinched as his heartbeat spiked again.
"…Come in!"
He said after a moment with his voice hoarse.
The door slid open, and Aoi stepped inside cheerful as ever. She wore the same bright clothes she'd had on yesterday. The same skirt, same ribbon, same faint smudge of makeup on her cheek. She smiled like nothing in the world was wrong.
"You're finally up! We were starting to think you'd sleep through breakfast."
Asol blinked at her, throat tightening. She wore the same clothes, the same everything.
"How… how did I get back here?"
She tilted her head.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't remember coming back. I was—"
He hesitated.
"—outside."
"Oh, that? You don't remember?"
Aoi said, waving a hand.
"You wandered off yesterday after the opening event in the dome. We found you near the garden, just… talking to yourself."
Her smile softened into concern.
"You looked tired, so Kazuma and I brought you back. You don't remember?"
He did remember. That was the same place he'd spoken to Bodhi or thought he had. He looked down at himself. Same clothes. He still wore the same clothes when he had talked to Bodhi.
His stomach tightened.
"Aoi... When was the last time we talked?"
She blinked.
"What kind of question is that? Yesterday, silly. Are you sure you're, okay?"
He nodded numbly.
"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine."
"Good. Then hurry up—breakfast's almost ready."
She turned and left, humming softly to herself. The sound echoed even after the door shut.
Asol stared at the floor. He remembers leaving the bed. He remembers the walk back. But his mind felt heavy, thick with the residue of something real. The girl. The old man. The word that still burned at the back of his skull.
That all happened yesterday did it not? Last night?
"Liberator..."
He whispered it once, under his breath, like saying it might make it vanish. It didn't.
He dressed and stepped into the corridor. The halls were the same as always. Polished white marble, wide and empty, the soft hum of energy conduits beneath the walls. The pictures hung in their usual places, lined like memories against the passage of time.
He slowed as he reached the one, he'd seen before—the photograph of Ultima with two smiling children, Providence and Aoi.
He stared at it longer than he meant to. Every detail looked the same. The faint smudge near the corner. The tilt of the frame. No difference. No… that wasn't true. Something felt off. The air around it seemed too still, too staged. He leaned closer, trying to find it—the irregularity, the glitch.
"Admiring history again?"
Kazuma's voice broke through his thoughts.
Asol straightened instinctively. Kazuma (Fire Mode) leaned lazily against the wall, a half-smirk tugging at his mouth. His flames licked faintly around his arms, subtle but constant—like the burn of someone who didn't know how to relax.
"Didn't mean to startle you."
Kazuma said.
"You looked like you're waiting for something to jump out of the wall."
"Maybe I am."
Kazuma chuckled and stepped closer, following Asol's gaze.
"Ah, that one. Classic. That's Ultima, the Strongest Hero of the old era. You know, he taught both Aoi and Providence. The guy practically built Aegis Prime with his bare hands."
Asol frowned.
"I've heard this before."
Kazuma arched an eyebrow.
"Heh. Don't think so."
"No, I mean it."
Asol's voice was sharper than intended.
"You told me that exact thing yesterday. Word for word."
Kazuma blinked. Then laughed.
"What? No way. I've never even mentioned Ultima to you before with the exception of today. Maybe you're remembering someone else."
"I'm not."
Kazuma shrugged, though his grin faltered slightly.
"You're a weird one, you know that? Anyway, breakfast's getting cold. Come on before Aoi eats everything."
He started walking, flames flickering softly with each step. Asol followed, unease tightening in his chest.
Word for word. The same pauses. The same tone. The same small laugh.
The dining room smelled of coffee and warm bread. Aoi waved from the dining table near the window with sunlight spilling over her like it was trying to keep up with her energy.
"Asol! Over here!"
He forced a smile and joined them. They ate, they talked, but Asol barely tasted anything. His eyes flicked from Aoi to Kazuma to the world outside the window, looking for differences. Anything. But everything was exactly as he remembered. The streets. The towers. The patterns of light reflected in the glass.
It all matched.
Too perfectly.
When Aoi laughed, he almost winced—it was the same laugh she'd used yesterday morning. Bright, effortless, practiced. He watched her a moment too long, and she noticed.
"What's wrong?"
She asked, half-smiling.
"Nothing."
He said quickly.
"Just… Thinking."
"Dangerous habit."
Kazuma muttered with a grin.
They left the house after breakfast, walking through Aegis Prime's glimmering streets. The city was alive, its air clear and warm, banners fluttering high above. Aoi walked ahead, chatting with Kazuma (Ice Mode), as her hands animated as she told a story. Their laughter blended easily with the sound of the crowd.
Asol trailed behind, silent.
Something about the rhythm of the world felt off. The flow of people, the pattern of sound—it all repeated in loops, like a song stuck on a perfect refrain. His gaze wandered to a vendor on the corner, handing skewers to customers. The same gesture, the same smile, again and again. Even the smoke from his grill rose in identical spirals.
He rubbed his temple. He had to test something.
"Hey!"
He called ahead.
"Weren't we supposed to meet Providence today?"
Aoi turned, walking backward with a grin.
"He had something to do. We'll meet him another time."
Another time?
Asol stopped walking.
He glanced around. The street was familiar—too familiar. He recognized the curved building, the café across from it, the faint hum of a hovering tram overhead. His eyes followed the alley to the left, and his breath caught.
That was it. The alley. The place from his dream. He stepped closer, his pulse quickening. The walls were the same, the neon sign half-broken, the cracks in the pavement identical. His gaze dropped to the far corner.
No vent?
It wasn't just sealed—it was gone. No trace of where it should've been.
His skin crawled.
Aoi and Kazuma followed him in, puzzled.
"Asol?"
Aoi asked.
"What are you doing?"
"There was something here."
He said quietly.
"A vent. It was supposed to be here!"
Kazuma frowned.
"A vent? Man, you really need more sleep."
"I'm serious. It was right here!"
He turned to them, frustration slipping into his voice.
"It was right here! I'm telling you!"
Aoi exchanged a glance with Kazuma, then forced a laugh.
"Okay, you're scaring me a little. You've been acting weird since this morning—asking about my clothes, repeating things. What's going on with you?"
"I told you..."
Asol said, gripping his head as the headache slowly returned.
"I had a dream. But it wasn't just a dream."
Aoi's expression shifted, the laughter dying.
"Asol…"
"There was a girl and an old man. Underground. People were mining something under the city. Heroes—your heroes—were forcing them to."
Aoi's voice rose, sharp and trembling.
"Stop. That's not funny!"
"I'm not joking!"
Tears welled in her eyes.
"My brother—he protects this city! He would never let something like that happen! None of them would!"
Kazuma's (Ice Mode) jaw clenched. He looked at Aoi and then at Asol.
"She's right. Whatever that dream was, it got in your head. There's nothing like that here."
Asol's vision swam, another spike of pain driving through his skull. He staggered, clutching at the wall.
"I'm telling you… I saw it. I felt it."
Aoi stepped back, shaking her head, tears falling freely now.
"You're tired, Asol. You've been through too much. Please—don't say things like that."
He looked at her—really looked at her—and the guilt twisted his chest. She believed in this world with everything she was. To her, Aegis Prime was perfection given form. Her brother, its beating heart. To doubt that was to break her.
"I'm sorry..."
He murmured, voice hoarse.
"I didn't mean to upset you."
He brushed past them before they could stop him, the crowd swallowing him whole. Aoi called after him, but her voice faded into the city noise.
.
.
.
The streets stretched endlessly, a sea of glass and light. Families laughed, heroes posed for photos, the world spun in a cycle of joy that felt too seamless to be real.
Asol walked among them like a ghost. The laughter around him sounded hollow now, like echoes bouncing off invisible walls. He tried to convince himself he was wrong—that everything was fine. That he was overthinking.
But then he saw a reflection in a shop window—himself, but not quite. His reflection turned its head a fraction slower than he did. Its eyes were dimmer. He blinked hard. When he looked again, it was gone.
"Get a grip..."
He whispered to himself.
"You're just… tired."
The ache in his head throbbed again, sharper now, like claws digging behind his eyes. He staggered, bracing against a lamppost. The world tilted. The laughter around him warped, slowing and stretching into static noise.
Someone called out to him. A hero, maybe. Hands reached for him.
"I'm fine. It's just a headache."
He pushed past them, slipping into a narrow alley where the noise died instantly. The light dimmed, replaced by cold shadow and the faint hum of electricity. He leaned against the wall, gasping. Sweat dripped from his temple. His vision pulsed with white spots.
"This isn't… real..."
He whispered.
"Something's wrong…"
The world wavered, the edges of buildings trembling like heat haze. The ground felt soft beneath his boots, unreal. The hum grew louder—no, closer. A whisper threaded through it.
Liberator.
His eyes widened.
"No—stop—"
The pain spiked. He dropped to one knee, clutching his head. His prosthetic arm flared, the metal creaked under strain. His breath was hitched with every pulse of pain syncing with the glow. He looked up, and for a heartbeat, the alley wasn't empty. A girl stood at the far end, crimson eyes gleaming in the dark. The same eyes. The same faint smile.
"You..."
His balance broke. The world folded inward, light and shadow twisting into nothing and Asol collapsed against the cold stone, his last breath slipping out like a whisper.