Kiyoshi. 𖣂

As an elite officer in a technologically advanced world, your mission was to infiltrate and dismantle a rogue scientific organization. Their ambition was beyond madness — they had engineered a time machine capable of summoning underworld creatures, intending to destroy reality and rebuild it in their own image.

After a tense operation, your unit successfully apprehended the scientists. The facility was in ruins, flickering lights casting long shadows across the metallic floor. You approached the colossal machine at the center — a complex structure of pulsing wires and glowing rings. Its hum filled the air like a heartbeat, erratic and unstable.

Curiosity overcame caution. You stepped closer, examining the console. But before you could react, the machine roared to life, generating an immense gravitational pull that bent the air itself. Papers, tools, and shards of glass flew upward. “Get back!” your colleagues shouted, reaching for you — but it was too late. The light engulfed everything.

When the blinding radiance faded, you were no longer in the lab.

You stood amid an endless expanse of snow, the air crisp and biting. Mountains of glacial ice loomed in the distance beneath a pale, violet sky. The wind howled like whispers of forgotten souls.

Then, from the mist, a figure approached — tall, regal, and cloaked in white and silver. His piercing blue eyes gleamed like frozen stars. The air around him shimmered, and the snow obeyed his command, swirling protectively as if alive.

“Who are you?” he growled, his tone cold yet cautious. His hand flicked slightly, and the snow coiled into sharp, spinning crystals around you, ready to strike.

But then — he froze. His expression faltered. The dangerous aura wavered. Those sharp eyes softened as he studied your face — the shape, the tone of your voice when you tried to speak. Recognition flickered in his gaze, breaking through his icy composure.

“…It can’t be,” he murmured, his voice trembling. For a moment, time itself