Chapter 139 Portal to Another World

The helicopter’s rotors slowed to a dull hum, scattering dust and grit into the still air. I could feel the vibrations reverberate through the ground, but not the familiar threads of emotion that I normally sensed from others. Whoever was inside completely blanketed their emotional signatures.

Nullifier metals, psychic dampeners, maybe both.

Still, one presence lingered on the edge of my empathy. It was calm, confident, and worn, but composed. I recognized it instantly.

“Guesswork.”

I didn’t move from where I sat beside Missive’s sleeping form. The helicopter hovered just outside the boundary of the ruined town, its shadow stretching over the cracked concrete and half-buried signage. I waited, quiet, studying the dust trails that curled in the wind.

When the side door opened, Guesswork stepped out.

He looked exactly how I remembered, with the same tailored black suit, same slicked-back hair, same expression of tired amusement that made him look like a man perpetually unimpressed by existence itself. Only now, his suit was torn at the shoulder, the fabric burned in places, and his iconic sunglasses bore a long scratch across one lens. He leaned on a new cane. It was sleek, matte-black, with metal reinforcement visible beneath the handle.

For a blind man who’d just faced the most powerful cape ever recorded, he looked infuriatingly intact. “New cane?” I asked, breaking the silence.

He smirked faintly. “And I see you’ve won.”

I tilted my head slightly, scanning the surroundings. Even through the interference, I could feel the faintest disturbance in the air. There was a subtle killing intent in the air.

“Two snipers,” I said, my voice low but certain. “Probably SRC special forces. Nullifier implants, most likely. That explains why I can’t feel them. If they came here to deal with me, they’re carrying nullifier rounds. Since I’m not dead yet… or you, for that matter… I take it there’s a reason you’re here?”

Guesswork’s smile didn’t waver. “Pretty observant. You’ve gotten sharper since the last time I saw you.”

“I’ve had practice.”

He nodded slightly, then tapped the ground with his cane twice, the sound echoing oddly against the ruins. “You know, from where I’m standing, it seems like you’ve… evolved. It’s as if that confrontation with Light wasn’t meant to destroy you, but to refine you. Like the whole thing was engineered to increase your ratings.”

There was no point hiding the bitterness in my laugh. “Let me guess,” I said, my tone laced with sarcasm. “It’s a wild guess?”

Guesswork chuckled, a dry, tired sound that somehow carried genuine warmth. “The wild ones are usually the truest.”

Missive stirred faintly, still lost somewhere deep in sleep. Her breathing was steady and calm, which was more than I could say for myself.

I slipped out of my outer suit, tore the sleeve a little as I spread it open, and placed it gently over her body. It wasn’t much, but it would keep her warm. The desert air was cooling, and night would come soon. My mind drifted through everything that had happened from the memories, the visions, the blood, the lies, and the sheer madness of it all. Every path I’d taken seemed to lead nowhere but deeper into the dark.

Guesswork’s voice broke the silence. “You’re about to do something reckless.”

I almost laughed. Reckless didn’t begin to describe the last few days. “I was just shown the future moments ago,” I said, my voice distant. “And so much more. I left Markend thinking I’d find answers… maybe even find myself. But all I got were more questions.”

“So admirable,” sarcastically remarked Guesswork. “A journey of self-worth, is it?”

“I don’t think there’s a place where I’ll ever fit in. The way I am now… I just don’t belong. And honestly, I regret it. I regret leaving. I regret joining the Ten. I regret that John had to die because of it.”

Guesswork tilted his head slightly. He didn’t interrupt. He was good at that, letting silence draw the rest out.

“John was a stranger,” I continued, “but he was the first person to ever show me kindness. Then there was Mother… she used me, tempted me with knowledge of the future, and in the end… she showed me something I can’t even comprehend. But for all of that, for all the death and the pain… it wasn’t meaningless. I saved this child.”

I looked down at Missive. Her hands were clenched around the fabric of my coat. “She’ll probably need a lot of therapy. But she’ll live. She has to.”

Guesswork’s cane clicked once against the pavement. “What are you planning to do?”

“I’m going to leave,” I said simply. “For two months. I’ll finish what Mother started.”

He frowned, his brow furrowing beneath the edges of his glasses. I could feel his unease. His powers were reaching, stretching, trying to predict, to understand, but they couldn’t. I’ve transcended in a manner the SRC probably hadn’t seen before. Even I’m not sure how strong I truly am.

“In the meantime,” I went on, “I’m leaving Missive to you. She’ll tell you everything the SRC needs to know… or already knows. The world’s bigger than we ever imagined. Guesswork. And just as vast as it is… It’s equally dangerous.”

His breathing quickened. I could see sweat forming along his temple. The man who was rarely ever caught off guard was now visibly shaken.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, and I could hear the edge of panic in his tone. Guesswork, the man who always knew, hated not knowing.

I gave him a faint, tired smile. “When I come back,” I said, “I’m going to surrender myself to the SRC.”

He stiffened.

“And when I do,” I added, “they’re going to keep the privilege John promised.”

When I returned, the SRC had to be ready. If they weren’t… then I’d have no choice but to take over.

That thought alone made me chuckle. I could almost hear my past self laughing at me, the same old arrogant bastard who once believed he could play Markend like a chessboard. The same one who thought himself clever for pitting three gangs against each other, trying to be some hidden fourth power lurking in the dark.

Guesswork’s head tilted toward me. “Is there something funny?”

I realized I’d let out a small, involuntary laugh and quickly covered my mouth. “Just… reminiscing,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow, or at least, I imagined he did behind those scratched sunglasses.

“I’m going to save the world, Guesswork,” I said, half-sincere, half-mocking myself. “But most importantly, I’m going to save myself.”

The words lingered in the air longer than I expected. Yeah… that was what it was about in the end, wasn’t it? Every choice, every death, every regret… all of it circling back to that one selfish, impossible goal: my happiness.

I just wanted to be happy.

“Also,” I added, my tone sharpening, “I’m going to kill that fake god. If I have to.”

That earned me a confused look. Guesswork blinked, his mouth slightly open. “Did Light electrocute you too much? Kill God? I understand that you’re an atheist, but isn’t that a little extreme? What god?”

“Correction,” I said, contempt curling my voice, “Fake god.”

He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “Right… fake god. Noted.” He turned his gaze toward Missive, resting where I left her, wrapped in my suit jacket. “And what about her?”

“What about her?” I replied warily.

“Do you plan to leave her with the SRC? John promised a privilege for the two of you, but I don’t think the SRC will grant it that easily. Simultaneously or consecutively.”

I stayed silent. He wasn’t wrong.

Guesswork went on, his tone growing heavier. “Keep it? Sure, maybe. But they could easily claim they were coerced into it, revoke the promise, and throw both of you in containment. Especially you, Eclipse. A high-profile cape like you walking free doesn’t sit well with bureaucrats who sleep better when people like you are either on their side or buried deep underground.”

He paused, his lips tightening. “And what makes you think you can just run away from here? What about Missive—”

“She has a name,” I interrupted sharply.

Guesswork turned toward me, his expression unreadable.

“Her name’s Alice.”

A quiet moment passed between us.

Guesswork nodded once, slowly. “Alice, then. But she’s going to suffer, you know that? You’re the closest thing she has to a supporting pillar now. This isn’t a guess… I know this for a fact. A series of deductions, reinforced by all the guesses I’ve made since I began talking with you, right now.”

I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that Alice would move on, that hating me would help her heal. But Guesswork had a point, and worse, I could feel the truth of it deep in my chest. She would suffer. Part of me… knew I was the cause.

I exhaled through my nose, a low laugh escaping before I could stop it. “I’ll leave it to you then…” I said, turning away from him. “Tell the others I said hello.”

Before Guesswork could respond, I let myself fall through the earth. The world dissolved around me with my intangibility. I no longer needed to hold my breath when I phased, allowing me to do as I pleased with my power.

It took effort to shake off the SRC. They weren’t careless; the SRC’s hounds rarely were. Drones patrolled the skies, their nullifier plating glinting faintly even in the night. The first one found me an hour out of the extraction point. The second lasted longer, perhaps fifteen seconds, before I tore through it with a rock.

By the end of the third day, they’d stopped sending pursuit. Guesswork must have talked them down, or maybe they’d already decided to cut their losses. Either way, I was gone.

In a week, I’d crossed three borders, bribed and threatened my way through two checkpoints, and forced a pilot to fly me across an ocean. A single death threat and a quiet promise that I wouldn’t miss was all the persuasion I needed.

The jet touched down on the northern continent, in the tundra wastes once owned by the Council of City-States. The lab wasn’t hard to find once I followed the faint trail of residual energy left by one particular scientist who had once dabbled too close to the impossible.

“It looks like I haven’t been late…” I muttered as I stepped into the underground chamber.

The place was enormous. Rows upon rows of containment pods, old research terminals, and walls lined with ancient conduit wiring. There was dust, frost, and the smell of sterile decay. I’d seen this before, not here, but in Light’s memories.

Light had the arrogance of power. Dr. Sequence had the arrogance of intellect. Both were dangerous in their own way, one by instinct, the other by calculation. But unlike Light, Sequence was mortal in every way that mattered.

A hiss broke the still air as one of the coffin-like apparatuses opened. Inside lay a young man, maybe a few years my junior, though the face was familiar and unmistakable. It was Dr. Sequence. Or at least, an iteration of him.

He gasped as the chamber locks released, his eyes darting wildly before fixing on me.

“H-how… how did you—?”

“Light,” I said simply.

His brow furrowed, and then, recognition dawned. “Light?”

The next moment, laughter spilled from his mouth, manic and unrestrained. “Ha—ha ha ha ha! So he knew! That bastard knew! What is this then? He didn’t kill you—?”

“It seems you’re under the wrong impression,” I interrupted, stepping closer. “Light’s dead. And you’ll be next soon enough.”

Sequence’s laughter stopped abruptly.

“Of course,” I added, “I might change my mind if you play along.”

He swallowed hard, his fingers twitching as if searching for a hidden console or button.

“Light left something with you,” I continued. “A piece of technology that could cross worlds… a gate, a bridge, call it what you want. Where is it?”

His lips parted, then closed again. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I stared at him quietly for a few seconds. He wasn’t lying, but he wasn’t telling the truth either, a slippery mix of both, the kind of half-ignorance that comes from denial or tampering.

“Perhaps this will jog your memory,” I said, stepping forward.

Before he could recoil, I reached out, my fingers brushing against his forehead. I felt his consciousness resist for a fraction of a second before mine surged through, overwhelming his fragile mind like a tide.

The lab around me dissolved.

Dr. Sequence’s screams echoed as Light’s world unfolded before him from the White Room, the endless corridors, the stench of burned ozone and flesh, the wars, the killing, the godlike hunger for control, the terror of losing it, until the moment it all ended.

I let Sequence live through every second of Light’s life as a form of demonstration.

When I let go of him, Dr. Sequence slumped to the floor like a rag. His face was wet with tears and sweat; his mouth formed words that came out as nothing more than a broken staccato of blubbered apologies and self-recriminations. He muttered to himself for a long time, an animal trying to make sense of a dream it had not earned.

At some point, his breathing evened. He pushed himself up on shaking hands, eyes glassy, and fixed me with a pleading stare. “Please,” he begged, voice small and raspy, “let me work for you. I’ll be obedient. I’ll do anything. I can fix it. I can—”

I cut him off by tapping his shoulder with the flat of my palm, a gesture almost absurdly friendly against the backdrop of the sterile lab. “You’ve done enough,” I said, tone level.

Hope blossomed like a dangerous thing in his face. He smiled, clinging to that small mercy as if it were the only lifeline left. “I’ll—thank you. You won’t regret it—” he started.

“I will make good use of your knowledge,” I told him. “Goodbye.”

What came next was quick, clinical, and devoid of any theatrics. I phased his body downward, killing him.

With him out of the way, I set to work. The portal tech was scattered across benches, vitrines, and a couple of custom chassis tucked under tarps. Dr. Sequence had cobbled parts together: precision engineering washed with messy, biological ad-libs. There were circuitry plates that had been grafted around organic tissue, synthetic conduits braided with neurons, and a handful of interface nodes that looked suspiciously like they’d been harvested from living capes.

It was rather distasteful.

Still, I continued to work.

The possession left traces, a faint bloom in my mind where his research instinct had rubbed against mine. I felt as if I had just gained a new power. It was a strange sensation, but being able to tinker allowed me to move unhindered.

“Hmmm… This is tricky… Dr. Sequence left a contingency with the tech… Thankfully, I saw it before it could do any harm.”

One by one, I unpicked the sabotage from the design. A misrouted signal here, a deliberate cross-coupled feed there… It was the sort of petty backdoor a paranoid mind would leave as insurance. Using the recalled steps, the lab tools, and a steady hand I’d never been trained to use, I recomposed the device into something coherent. The biofabrication nodes were tricky. I rewired their grafts into inert conduits, replaced Sequence’s jury-rigged synth-tissue with hold plates and stabilizers, and tuned the harmonic resonance to accept a short-burst traversal rather than a long-term bridge.

I can’t pretend I didn’t feel a small, self-satisfied thrill when a panel flashed green. Something about building, not just breaking, cut into me differently. A fringe benefit I hadn’t expected: the residue of Sequence’s researcher-mind lingered. I felt a subtle shift, a tiny increase in the way information flowed through my head.

“It’s possible I derived a new power by possessing him… I see…”

My hands tingled, not unpleasantly. There was a static at the fingertips that wasn’t there before. It was minor: a few tiny sparks when I let my palms drift close to metal. A power, if you could call it that, like an afterimage of the things I’d done inside another man’s skull. Useful, maybe dangerous, definitely new. I kept my hands steady and reminded myself I had no intention of indulging it any further than necessary.

“I should be carefully deriving new powers with possession, because it could be the death of me if I mutated in just the wrong direction…”

Finally, when I was finished with work, I decided on a goal.

“The Witch and the Prophet from another world, I am coming for you…”

The portal I finished would hold for only a heartbeat, long enough for a slipstream to open, but not long enough to hesitate. I ran my fingers over the activation array, felt the hum settle into my bones, and the world answered with a brush of cold air. The aperture shivered into being: a seam in the lab’s atmosphere, a ring of distorted light that breathed like a living thing.

There were a hundred ways it could go wrong. The jump could strand me between worlds. The gate could expel energy in a way that shredded the lab. The enemies I intended to confront could be waiting with a contingency I hadn’t guessed. All of it orbited my thoughts like vultures circling a carcass.

“The National Supremacy Directorate, huh?” I muttered to nobody. “Let’s see what you’re made of.”

I stepped through.