The wall was cold. Kai sat with his back pressed against it, and three days had already passed. Meals came three times a day, slipped through the door from outside. A tray would be placed, and ten minutes later, it would be collected. During that entire time, he didn't speak a single word to anyone. Cameras embedded in the four corners of the ceiling blinked their red lamps on and off. They never went dark, even in the dead of night. Even when he tried to sleep, that red dot kept glowing in the darkness. Kai traced his finger along a crack in the wall, still hugging his knees. (The source material won't work. I can't control the power. Cecil suspects me.) He'd tried to find a reason to be useful, but nothing came. The patterns he'd read from the Flaxsans fight, the strategies from the Machine Head battle—all of it had crumbled to dust. The fact that he'd come to this world and changed history. That truth alone hurt deeper than his broken ribs. How many times in these three days had he almost stood up and punched the wall? Each time, he remembered the weight of Nolan's hand on his shoulder. That man had simply placed his hand there, and his bones had creaked. Thrashing around with brute force wouldn't change anything. It would only make things worse. All he could do was stay quiet. But when he stayed quiet, voices echoed back in his head. Outside the community center. A little girl carrying an old man on her back. Vivid crimson hair. —Thank you so much. It was Amber's voice. No hesitation. No calculation. It didn't matter whether she had GDA registration or what her true identity was. She'd simply said it. That single phrase hadn't left Kai's mind in three days. Every time he felt like breaking, that voice held him back. Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Light ones. Staff footsteps. But today they came earlier than usual. There was no sense of someone carrying a tray. The door opened. "[surprised] Kai... you were here?" Bandages wrapped around his face. From his right cheek to his forehead. He was still in hospital clothes, and one of his sneaker laces was undone. A nurse behind him was saying, "Mr. Grayson, you still need to rest—" but Mark completely ignored her and stepped into the room. The moment he saw Kai sitting on the floor, Mark's expression hardened. "[serious] How long?" "[cold] The morning after you were brought in." "... Three days, the whole time here?" Kai nodded. He didn't offer unnecessary explanations. No window, camera surveillance, no conversation—that was enough to say. Mark was silent for a few seconds. Then he turned on his heel. "[angry] I'm going to see Cecil." "Wait, if you go now in your condition—" "[angry] What else can I do?" His back disappeared down the hallway. The sound of his undone sneaker striking the concrete floor grew distant. Kai stood up and placed his hand on the edge of the door frame. From far down the corridor, he could hear Mark's voice. Even through several walls, the volume was unmistakable. "Kai is my teammate. I made the same mistake in judgment. If you want to monitor someone, monitor me too." Cecil's voice didn't carry through. It was low, quiet, didn't penetrate the walls. But Mark's voice continued. Each word sharp, cutting. The nurse saying "Please calm down" was audible too, but Mark didn't stop. Ten minutes later. Cecil came directly to the isolation room. A face marked with burn scars. Eyes devoid of emotion. The same suit as always. He stood in the doorway without using a chair, speaking from there. "[cold] GPS tracking will continue. Prohibition on solo travel outside the city. If you follow these two conditions, I'll lift the isolation." Kai thought for a second. "[cold] Understood." Cecil nodded and called for staff. The procedures began. Mark walked up from the end of the hallway. Bandaged face, hospital clothes, undone sneaker laces. Yet his gait was perfectly straight. He stood beside Kai and tapped his shoulder once. "[serious] We're a team, right?" That was all. Kai started to say thank you, then stopped. If he put it into words, something might break. So he stayed silent and walked forward. That was enough. --- That night, Kai entered the training facility inside the GDA compound alone. It was a vast space. The ceiling was at least ten meters high. The walls were concrete, with impact-resistant target materials installed in places. The impact marks left on the floor told the story of what had happened here before. An observation booth stood in the distance. Through the glass, he could see two figures. Cecil's analysts. They held clipboards, facing toward him. Kai glanced at them once, then turned his gaze forward. He didn't care anymore. He flew first. The control was rough. He accelerated too much and crashed into the wall. Concrete dust fell. His shoulder ached. But no bones were broken. Again. This time he lowered the output. He flew horizontally just below the ceiling. He increased speed. He crashed into the wall again. He repeated this. The speed was there. He was already approaching the numerical values from Mark's flight records that GDA had on file. But his directional changes were rough. He couldn't stop suddenly. His control precision was low. Next came striking. He drove his fist directly into a target. A dull thud, and the target shattered. The wall caved in. The power was there. But he couldn't modulate it. When he tried to hit with half force, his axis would shift and he'd miss. Kai looked at his hands. Blood was seeping from the base of his fingers. Because of the low temperature in the training facility, the blood vessels beneath his skin were faintly visible. They reflected light slightly with each movement—those blood vessels. He still didn't know what they were. When Cecil had called him a "designed existence," something in his mind had collapsed. But what he was doing here tonight wasn't searching for that answer. He was recreating the sensation of being beaten down by mercenaries in the last battle, confirming how to avoid losing the same way. A night to stop relying on source material knowledge. He kept moving until late into the night. Beyond the observation booth's glass, the analysts kept writing. --- The next morning, Cecil called him in. When Kai entered the office, Mark was already there. His bandages were slightly smaller. His complexion was better than yesterday. Cecil slid a document across his desk. "[cold] Chicago Downtown Underground. Tonight, Machine Head will execute a large-scale weapons deal. The intelligence source is reliable. GDA is considering a containment and suppression response." Mark straightened up. "[serious] Let's go." Kai stared silently at the map. Downtown underground, tunnels extending from the Midway Ruins. Machine Head's underground base—possibly the illegal facility known as Network Vault. They'd move with a large force. When he heard that strategy, something caught in Kai's mind. "[cold] Wait." Cecil's eyes turned toward him. "[cold] If we move with a large force, Machine Head's mechanical head becomes an advantage. His processing power is high. The more people moving, the more information he can process in parallel. Instead—we should increase the information load to the absolute limit and exceed his processing capacity." "[serious] What do you mean?" Kai recalled the last battle. The mercenaries' movements. The first one using sound waves, the second using chains, the three coming from the front—each had a separate role. Their coordination had been read. Machine Head had grasped everyone's movements in real-time and issued optimal countermeasures. That's why it became a perfect trap. But there had to be a limit to that level of parallel processing. "[cold] I confirmed it in the last battle. There were eight mercenaries. Against me and Mark—two people—he controlled all eight perfectly. But during that time, Machine Head himself barely moved. He was focused on processing. In other words—when the number of targets he has to handle simultaneously exceeds a certain threshold, his judgment lags." Cecil paused for a moment. "[cold] Your basis?" "[cold] Not from source material memory. I derived this from the battle I actually lost." Mark crossed his arms and looked at the map. "[serious] Then we move with a small force. Just the two of us." "[cold] Yeah. I charge in from the front. I draw all the mercenaries' attention. While that happens, you circle around through the underground passages and hit Machine Head himself at the deepest part of the fortress." Cecil's eyes fell to the document. He didn't move for a while. "[cold] ... GDA units will remain on standby. However, if the situation deteriorates, they'll intervene immediately. I'm approving this on those conditions." Mark stood up. Kai stood as well. Before leaving the room, Mark turned back. "[serious] Whether you can keep raging on the front lines. That's the key." "[cold] What else can I do?" Mark's eyes narrowed slightly. Then he smiled. When this guy smiled, his freckles showed. "[serious] That's the first time I've heard you talk like that." "[cold] That's bad." They stepped into the hallway. Their footsteps echoed side by side. --- That night, after the operation briefing ended, Kai stood in front of a window in the GDA facility's hallway. Chicago's nightscape spread before him. Downtown's cluster of buildings. The distant glow of the industrial district. In the sky, several remnants of half-destroyed buildings floated, their shadows cutting black silhouettes against the night sky. A landscape that made him realize, once again, that this wasn't the world he knew. (What's Amber doing right now?) Was she volunteering at a shelter? Doing schoolwork? Just that simple thought became vivid in his imagination. Her voice asking an old man, "Are you alright?" Her hand opening a volunteer bag. Her smile with dimples—all of it was clear. He still didn't know what his power was. He didn't know how to get back. Cecil's surveillance continued. But Amber's everyday life existed in this world. That fact alone held Kai slightly to the ground. When he realized that warmth—Nolan's face immediately flashed through his mind. A gentle smile. Quiet golden eyes. The weight of a hand simply placed on his shoulder. Something terrible was coming to the Guardians of the Globe. That scene he'd read in the comics. The day Omni-Man pulled the trigger was waiting somewhere, certain. Even if tonight's operation succeeded, a bigger problem remained beyond it. Kai looked at his right hand reflected in the window glass. The scar from tonight's training remained at the base of his fingers. The blood vessels were faint, reflecting light slightly. He would win tonight. But—he still didn't know where he'd be standing after that victory. Kai clenched his fist once, quietly. Then he turned on his heel. There was still time until tomorrow night came. He had no intention of wasting it.