1 year

The sun hangs low over Athens, casting golden light across the narrow streets of Plaka. The air smells faintly of grilled meat, olive oil. 

Lucas Akiona stands at a street stall, his fair skin catching the warm hues of dusk despite his mixed heritage—half Black, half Polynesian—but somehow lighter than either lineage would suggest. 

His dark eyes scan through an endless feed on his phone while he waits for his souvlaki order to be called.

He scoffs audibly as he scrolls past yet another article about escalating tensions between the U.S. and Russia, headlines screaming predictions of World War III. 

Idiots. he thought bitterly. All this noise over trivial power plays when humanity’s real problems lie elsewhere. 

His recorded IQ of 189 has taught him one thing above all else: people are predictable in their chaos. They fear what they cannot control and seek comfort in manufactured narratives. As a philosophy student at Heckett University, he spends most days dissecting such absurdities, trying to find meaning—or perhaps escape—in abstract thought.

He swipes up from the news app to return to his current obsession: manhwa. This is his thousandth title, though it feels like nothing compared to the mountains of manga and novels he devoured before. Still, there’s something comforting about consuming stories where others face impossible odds without having to confront his own demons directly.

Lucas flicks through pages with practiced speed, absorbing dialogue and imagery faster than most can process a single panel. Just as he presses the NEXT button, the app freezes momentarily, then displays text across the page:

“Wow, you really have no life.”

What the hell? Lucas mutters internally. Some shitty AI pop-up ad?

Before he can dismiss it, the message changes again, this time addressing him personally: 

“Lucas Akiona.”

His heart skips a beat. How can it know my name? I always uses a nickname online—"Kijiu"—to avoid drawing attention. Panic flares briefly but rationally (because even panic must submit to logic), he reasons it could just be some bizarre coincidence. 

Maybe someone hacked the database or sold user data. Nothing new in 2025, right?

The next line slams into him like a freight train:“Why did you run away from FUTURE?” 

No. No no no. A cold sweat breaks out along his spine. 

He tries to rationalize—it’s probably just phishing, some hacker playing mind games. But deep down, he knows better. 

FUTURE doesn’t leave loose ends. If they’ve found me...

Another message appears, almost tauntingly casual:“Oh, don’t worry, Lucas. We know you—not the data from the app, but we know you personally. How’s Heckett? Is it fun?”Lucas drops the phone instinctively, though thankfully the screen remains intact. The app pings once more:“Pick it up. And also get your food.”As if on cue, the vendor calls out, “Order for Xavier!”That’s me. Lucas forces himself to move mechanically, picking up the wrapped souvlaki and mumbling a quick “Efharistó” in Greek. His hands tremble slightly as he tucks the food into a bag, gripping it tightly like a lifeline. 

Another notification flashes on the screen:

“When you come home, we need to talk.”

Then, as suddenly as it began, the intrusive messages vanish, replaced by the innocuous prompt:“Enjoying the manhwa? Leave a gift!”

By the time Lucas reaches his apartment building, his breathing is uneven, his thoughts spiraling wildly. 

How? How do they know? What do they want now? 

He steps into the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor. The ride feels interminable, each ding of the passing floors echoing louder than necessary. When the doors finally open, he rushes down the hallway, fumbling with his keys.

Inside, everything seems normal—at first glance. Then he sees them: three men in black suits standing silently, guns holstered but unmistakably present. And seated casually on his couch, as if he owns the place, is Noah—the man who haunted Lucas’s nightmares for years after FUTURE.Lucas freezes, I locked the door. I triple-checked it. How the fuck did they break in? Did they pick the lock? Disable the security system? Or… was I followed?Noah leans forward slightly, 

“We have a mission for you.” he says calmly, as if discussing tomorrow’s weather. 

“And this isn’t a request—it’s an order.”

Lucas clenches his fists, anger bubbling beneath the surface. “What the fuck are you talking about, Noah?”To drive the point home, Noah pulls out a tablet and taps a few times. On the screen, live CCTV footage shows Shanice—a stunning Chinese supermodel and Lucas’s girlfriend—walking through the airport terminal. She looks radiant, unaware that her every movement is being tracked.“She has nothing to do with this!” Lucas growls, stepping closer.“No.” Noah agrees, unperturbed.

 “But she will if you refuse. Your mission involves saving the world, Lucas. Think bigger than yourself for once.”

Something inside Lucas snaps. Without warning, he lunges forward, shoving Noah backward. One of the guards moves to intercept, but Lucas grabs his wrist with unnatural strength, twisting until he hears a sickening crack. The guard cries out, dropping to his knees. In one fluid motion, Lucas snatches the gun from the guard’s holster, cocks it, and points it squarely at Noah’s forehead.

“You tracked me here.” Lucas spits, his voice icy. 

“Blackmailed me with my girlfriend. Tortured me in FUTURE. And now you want me to do favours for you? Did the kids you killed have a choice? Did they get a say when you put bullets through their heads, huh, Noah? Did you grow a fucking heart all of a sudden?”

Noah’s composure falters. He stares into the barrel of the gun, then meets Lucas’s gaze. 

“No.” he admits quietly. 

“I didn’t grow a heart. But you have the capability to save billions—including her.”

He gestures toward the table, where a sleek watch lies. It looks indestructible yet impossibly light, its surface gleaming under the dim light.“So.” Noah continues, his tone steady again. 

“The mission is to save this world. Will you at least save the world… for Shanice?”

The gun trembles in his hand.“Why me?” Lucas demands, 

“Why not ask Jason—the so-called ‘king’? Or Nicole, your precious little princess? Hell, why not any of the graduates who didn’t escape FUTURE like I did?”

Noah sighs, leaning back slightly despite the barrel still pointed at his head. There’s an eerie calmness to him, as if he expected this exact reaction. 

“Because you’re the best.” he says simply. 

“You aced every test we threw at you—tests that would break even seasoned adults or regular geniuses. But here’s the thing: you made sure to place below them every single time.”

Lucas stiffens. Of course he knows. 

Of course Noah remembers how Lucas deliberately underperformed, hiding his true potential behind layers of calculated mediocrity. It wasn’t arrogance—it was survival. He learned early on that standing out too much meant becoming expendable, disposable. And yet, ironically, it seems his attempts to blend in only made him more valuable now.

“You survived FUTURE by playing their game better than anyone else.” Noah continues.

 “But you also understood something no one else did: empathy. You had the highest EQ we’ve ever seen. That combination—your intellect and emotional intelligence—is what makes you uniquely qualified for this mission.”

Lucas narrows his eyes, his grip tightening on the gun. “Unique enough to save the world? To save humanity? Come on, Noah. Even my hyperthymesia can’t rewrite history.”Noah smirks faintly, reaching for the tablet again. He taps a few times, then turns the screen toward Lucas. On it is footage of Alvin—a name that sends a jolt through Lucas’s chest. Alvin, who was second only to Jason in terms of raw brilliance. 

In the video, Alvin stands amidst chaos, speaking directly into the camera. His voice is strained but resolute:

“This world… this timeline… it’s stable. For now. But the war always happens. No matter where I go, no matter which version of Earth I find, it starts in exactly one year. If you’re watching this, Lucas, it means you’re next. You have to stop it—or everything ends.”

The screen goes dark. Lucas feels the room spin slightly, though he keeps his composure. Multiverse theory, he thinks bitterly. Mirror worlds. Paradoxes. All those late-night debates he’d had with himself, questioning whether such concepts could exist outside theoretical physics—they were real all along. Worse, they’re relevant now.

“So let me get this straight.” Lucas says slowly, 

“The multiverse theory is real. Mirror world theory is real. And somehow, I’m supposed to use”—he glances at the watch on the table—“that thing to hop between dimensions, mess around with time, and stop a global catastrophe that’s apparently inevitable across all timelines?”

Noah nods. “Yes. Everything you know—and don’t know—will come into play. Your job is simple: prevent World War III from happening. If you fail, humanity ceases to exist. Not just here, but everywhere.”

Lucas lowers the gun slightly, though his finger remains near the trigger. “And if I succeed? What happens to me? What happens to Shanice?” His voice cracks ever so slightly on her name. She’s his anchor, the reason he’s tried so hard to leave his past behind. Without her, there’s nothing left worth saving.

Noah’s expression softens, though only marginally. 

“If you agree to this, you’ll become… an addition. A person who shouldn’t exist in certain timelines. You’ll be able to hop between worlds, yes, but you must never meet yourself. Doing so risks unraveling the fabric of reality. As for when you ‘leave’ this world…” 

He pauses, letting the gravity of his words sink in. “You’ll disappear from it entirely. You can return eventually, but time isn’t linear when you start hopping around. You already understand paradoxes better than most people ever will.”

Lucas exhales sharply, his mind reeling. This is insane. Absurd. Impossible. 

Yet here he is, faced with undeniable proof that the universe is far stranger—and crueler—than he ever imagined.

“And if I refuse?” he asks quietly, though he already knows the answer.Noah shrugs, almost casually. “Then we all die. Including Shanice.”

Lucas closes his eyes for a brief moment, wrestling with the storm inside him. 

I ran from FUTURE to escape this kind of madness, he thinks bitterly. To live a normal life. To forget the blood on my hands. But normalcy was always a lie, wasn’t it?

When he opens his eyes again, they’re cold, calculating. He lowers the gun completely, tucking it into the waistband of his jeans. Then he walks over to the table and picks up the watch. It feels lighter than it should, its surface cool against his skin.“Fine.” he says finally, 

“I’ll do it. But hear this, Noah: if anything happens to her—if she gets hurt because of this—I’ll make sure you regret crossing me.”

Noah smiles faintly, satisfied. 

“Understood. Just remember, Lucas: time isn’t your friend. Neither is fate. One year. That’s all you have.”