In a timeless void of darkness—
Shards of obsidian sparks erupted from a colossal black stone arch. Beneath the surface, emerald runes pulsed, alive, crawling across the rock. A low sound rumbled from within. It wasn't loud, yet it echoed crystal-clear inside the mind.
Flames of shadow curled outward, caressing the crimson-haired woman who stood before the gate—as if they understood each other's intent.
She extended a slender finger. The empty air solidified into a cube pulsing with soft radiance, no bigger than her palm, drifting forward slowly, spilling its otherworldly shimmer.
In that instant, the dark fire lashed into a storm, yanking her body into the nameless dimension beyond.
Far, far away in another realm—
"Here we go!" A cheerful voice rang out as the pink-haired girl's eyes ignited with reckless brilliance.
Her small body dipped low, toes digging into the ground, counting down to launch into yet another world-chaos mission.
But before she could even spring—the world itself kicked back.
Her feet flew out from under her, dangling in midair, a stray kitten grabbed by the scruff.
"Hey! That's not how it usually—!"
A blink later, she was sucked into a glowing arch, shimmering with sci-fi fantasy mode cranked to max.
"#&@!$*!!!!"
Her last sound was a censored curse—even the system refused to translate it.
Year 2327. Cosmic City.
The skyline blazed neon. Towers stabbed the clouds. Personal air-vehicles screamed between them, their echoes bouncing off glass facades.
Here, most citizens were biodroids—bioengineered humans who didn't need charging, maintenance… or even caffeine to stay awake forever.
But tell me—Was that still living?
Skyler wondered that as he sat at the counter of the Cosmic Vision Club.
White T-shirt. Black jacket. Simple—because he wanted to be overlooked. Unlike everyone else, he hadn't 'updated his version' yet. His power remained… locked.
"What will you be having today, Master Skyler?" The familiar synthetic voice chimed from the metal butler with a retro 8-bit face.
Tim. Built by Professor Valentine.
Sometimes Skyler wasn't sure if the droid existed to serve… or to test how long outdated tech could survive in a world where everything was uploaded to the cloud.
Answer: Tim survived too well. Practically cockroach-tier.
"Tim, drop the 'Master' routine—or I'll reset you."
"As you wish… Master." The emoji grin flickered on his screen, as fake as a politician's campaign promise.
"…You just skipped my command, didn't you?"
Tim said nothing.
Skyler sighed, turning to the window. Outside, the Cosmic Tower pierced the clouds, a monument declaring this was the universe's center. He didn't want to be up there with the elites. He had his reasons.
"You think I want to live up there?"
"I think you should focus on becoming a successful inventor first. Then you can buy your way into the tower."
"You don't get it, Tim. That's not what I meant."
"I understand perfectly, sir. But a dream without action is like a penguin trying to fly without a jetpack."
"…That's not even the same topic. I don't need a life-coach speech."
"Motivation without effort is meaningless. You must work tirelessly to achieve your dream."
"Enough. You're a life-coach trapped in a tin can, aren't you?"
"Thank you, sir. Though I prefer to think of myself as a visionary cyborg with a superior mindset."
"…Whatever you say." Skyler's tone went high, almost soprano.
The moment Professor gives me permission, I swear—I'm nuking that life-coach mode.
Twelve years ago—
After the day little Skyler first met Valentine, nearly every afternoon played out the same.
The boy would rocket home at supersonic speed, toss his backpack into his room, and shout while sprinting right back out: "I'm going to the professor's!"
"Don't bother him all the time!" his mother called—never once catching him in time.
"Mina, it's fine," Reno said, hands on his hips. "I've heard of Professor Valentine. High-ranking in Nexacorp. If anyone can teach our kid as well as me… it's him."
"You stopped teaching him long ago." Mina shot back, spinning into the house and ignoring the self-proclaimed genius of the neighborhood.
"Hey—I'm brilliant, okay! If I worked there, I'd be on par with the professor!"
—
Skyler arrived at the sleek one-story house, every corner glowing with refined taste. Modern concrete walls flowed seamlessly, glass panes stretched across, oak accents and polished steel catching the dusk.
Honestly? If someone said it was an art gallery, no one would doubt it.
A butler droid stood by the entrance, its face-screen blinking Rest Mode in lazy cycles—just like every day.
"You're the laziest bot alive."
It twitched slightly—subtle enough to say I heard you—but did nothing more.
"Professor! I upgraded the glove again—oh… not home?"
The boy's eyes caught blueprints on the table. Header: QUANIGMA PROJECT. Bold letters: TOP SECRET. Basically a neon sign screaming read me instead of a warning.
"Tempting…"
Just then, Valentine walked in.
"You shouldn't sneak into other people's homes." His tone carried enough weight to make guilt sting.
"Were you out collecting axions, sir? Next time, let me send a drone—" Skyler deflected fast.
"Call me Professor." He feigned a scold, sliding the blueprints into a drawer.
"Then call me Hegarty!" Skyler shot back with a grin.
"You never back down, do you? And no—that isn't axion."
Valentine set a carved wooden box on the table. Strange symbols etched across it practically screamed Do Not Touch.
He turned to the boy. "It's true axion has remarkable properties. But to wield it properly? You need more than textbook tricks. Without skill, it becomes dangerous. Understand, kid?"
His hand ruffled Skyler's blue hair, smile soft but steady.
Day after day, though he never meant to play teacher, Valentine kept passing knowledge down. Theory, torque, dimensional energy, techniques to stabilize volatile sources…
Whether he saw pure talent in Skyler—or simply a reflection of his younger self who believed anything was possible—Valentine couldn't say.
But knowledge seeped in.
And one day, that boy with sky-blue hair might carry the weight of the universe itself.
—
By the time Skyler turned seventeen, the day had finally come—the day he'd learn what his special power really was.
"Professor! I'm here!" Skyler burst into the house, breathless with excitement. Even grown into a tall, sharp-looking teen, he carried the same reckless energy as the boy who used to sprint here every single day.
Valentine turned from his workbench, that faint, knowing smile never leaving his eyes.
"I've been waiting. But before we begin, there's something you need to understand."
"I do understand! Can't we just start?"
"Do you even know what I'm about to explain?"
"Uh… some kind of particle thingy?"
"Which means you don't know enough." Valentine sighed with a tired smile.
Skyler shifted away, his earlier bravado shrinking fast.
"Comet Particles…" Valentine said, gesturing midair.
Shhk! A holoscreen flared to life.
"To this day, we still don't know where they come from…"
The first image showed a procedure implanting the particles into an infant. It flickered to a young man unleashing a bright surge from his palm.
"But in 2130," Valentine's voice dropped low, "Nexacorp discovered how to implant them into humans for the first time."
The feed shifted to an old lab filled with glass capsules—children floating inside. Skyler swallowed hard.
"Since then, everyone carries them. When the time comes, they awaken. And every citizen must test their SeC at the Cosmic Tower."
"Oh, I know this one!" Skyler blurted, hand snapping up in a perfect classroom salute. "SeC stands for Second of Core, right?"
"Correct. Or more precisely—the number of seconds you can access and wield your unique ability."
Skyler nodded eagerly. "So what about you, Professor?"
Valentine allowed himself a small smile. "One hundred twenty-five point eight."
Skyler's eyes went wide. "Whoa… that's insane."
The holoscreen shifted again: a chart dividing powers into four categories—
DimensionsSpaceGravityTime
"School might teach you there are only four," Valentine went on, "but what they don't say is this: the particle chooses the category, based on your genetics and your mind. When it awakens, it decides for you."
"What if I have… all four?"
Was the kid ambitious—or just greedy?
"It's never happened before." Valentine chuckled softly. "At most, one in a million can wield more than two."
Skyler leaned forward, more serious now.
"And those with SeC scores above 120? Less than two percent of the world. You see—it isn't just a number. It's an opportunity… and a brand."
He adjusted his glasses slowly, his tone sharpening. "If you score below ninety, you lose everything. No more school. No job in Cosmic City. You're erased from the registry. An Outer."
"I get it." The blue-haired teen nodded firmly.
"For you… no need to go to Cosmic Tower. I have a test unit here."
"Then let's start!" He bounced on his toes, coiled energy ready to explode at the crack of a starter's gun.
"Not yet. First, you'll take my exam."
"Wait—what? Nooo—"
"Haha. Just kidding." Valentine's laugh rumbled through the lab as his hand pressed a control on the console.
A device rose from the floor—an airport metal detector reimagined: bigger, sharper, ruthlessly upgraded.
"So I just… walk through this, and it'll tell me?"
"Yes. Easier than buying coffee," Valentine said flatly.
Skyler froze. He took a deep breath, the same way he had before jumping into icy water on the first day of winter. Yeah… that exact feeling.
One step—
Two—
The instant his foot crossed the threshold, everything went black. The lights. The hum of the room. Even the pulse in his veins vanished—swallowed whole, as if he'd fallen into a black hole with no way out. Pressure slammed him from every direction. His bones shook, threatening to splinter apart.
I can't breathe—what's happening? Am I… dying?!
A voice surged in his head, louder the more he fought back. The harder he resisted, the deeper he sank. Until—
Darkness.
Total collapse.
Skyler crumpled to the floor with no warning. The screen above the device flared alive, letters jagged and ancient:
𐎠𐎾𐎶𐎼Bug——SeC——0.000000001
"Skyler!" Valentine rushed forward, arms catching the boy before his head hit the ground. The professor's face—always calm, always rational—twisted with naked panic.
"No… no, no…" His vision jerked back to the screen. Bug blinked in harsh repetition, hammering the truth in neon: lower than any score ever recorded.
Valentine's heart plummeted into his stomach.
A bug? One word heavy enough to crush every dream.
All those years—every belief—meant nothing without power.
Skyler stirred, barely a whisper. "What… happened to me?" His blurred eyes searched for an answer, for hope.
"I'll find out. I swear it…" Valentine forced the words out. His hand trembled as he pulled off his glasses, pressing a palm against his forehead.
But for Skyler, what echoed through the silence—louder than any promise—was powerless.
And that word began to eat him alive from the inside.
—
Months passed. Skyler kept showing up at Valentine's doorstep every day—same as always. But something had shifted.
No one mentioned the test results.
No one brought up the impossible number.
No one asked if he was okay.
And yet… both of them knew it wasn't over.
Valentine, the kind of man who refused to bow to mystery, worked through sleepless nights—testing, recalibrating, cross-checking every function in the system. The more he searched, the more the absence of error screamed at him.
If not the machine… then the boy.
Finally, he found a way forward.
The Singularity Gate—a device thought to exist only in theory. A machine that could pierce into the quantum core of human biostructure… maybe even fix the hidden bug. Or burn Skyler's nervous system alive trying.
"Professor, you mean… you actually found a way to fix me?" Skyler asked, softly, his smile brittle. "Honestly, I'm not that hung up on powers." He laughed—dry as desert air, heartbeat racing with the same panic as the day the screen blazed BUG.
Valentine's gaze sharpened. "Are you sure? Because your face says otherwise."
Skyler turned aside. His mind refused to stop spinning—hope tangled with fear.
What if I really am different? What if 'Bug' isn't a defect… but a loophole? What if it's power no one should have… or even know about?
"How does this Singularity Gate even work?"
The professor arched a brow. "Didn't you say you didn't care?"
"Uh… purely academic curiosity."
With a gesture, a glowing hologram unfolded in midair: an intricate lattice of circuits, its core shaped as if luminous insect wings.
"I designed it years ago. Never built it. To activate, the Gate needs more power than even this entire grid can supply." His tone sharpened, words deliberate.
"And there's only one place with that kind of energy—"
"Cosmic City," Skyler whispered, eyes widening.
Elsewhere. Beyond this reality.
Five figures gathered around a holographic table, their presence warping the starlit void. The image shimmered before them: another universe, floating islands suspended as jeweled ornaments in the sky, defying every law of physics.
"We need the Grimoire back," one voice cut through the silence, sharp as a blade. "Reset everything."
A giant in plated armor gave a slow nod. "With it, we command the Fifth Dimension. The Code of Truth."
A woman laughed, soft and cruel. "And the man who touched the Sixth? You think he'll just hand it over?"
The leader leaned forward, a chill smile spreading. "Those who refuse… will be erased from the Grimoire. Along with their dimension."
The hologram flared, galaxies blazing in silent fury, as though the universe itself had heard the verdict.
But the story wouldn't begin there.
It began with a boy—powerless on paper, relentless at heart—who refused to kneel to destiny.