The air in the underground lab crackled with heat and static. Sirens wailed from above, each pulse more urgent than the last — a countdown to collapse. Sparks burst from loose wiring overhead, casting brief flares of white-blue light that danced across the reinforced steel walls. The ground trembled again, a low growl echoing through the sublevels.
A boy stood near a glowing console, fingers twitching above the controls, eyes locked on fluctuating energy readings. His black hair was messy, streaked with ash, and a pair of scorched goggles rested above his brow. His coat was singed at the hem, dark cargo pants scraped from crawling through ducts.
Despite the chaos, his face showed no fear — only focus.
"Professor," he said, voice steady. "It's ready. We don't have any more time."
Behind him, an elderly man stumbled toward a control pad, coughing violently as smoke filled the chamber. His coat, once white, was stained with oil and blood. Wires and tubes snaked from his sleeves, and one lens of his glasses was cracked.
"I know… I know," the professor rasped. "The transfer algorithms are locked in. Final coordinates entered."
Outside, the thunder of rotor blades drew nearer. Dust drifted from the ceiling with each growing tremor. Shouts and metal boots echoed through the air vents. The facility had been compromised.
"This wasn't how it was supposed to happen," the boy muttered, glancing at the reinforced blast door that wouldn't hold for much longer. "You were meant to go."
The professor shook his head weakly. "No. I built the device… but you're the only one who can use it now. You've spent more time synchronizing with the gauntlet than I ever did. You understand it on instinct." He gave a soft smile. "Even if you never believed you were special."
The boy didn't answer. He stepped toward the platform — a small, circular pad embedded in the floor, now glowing with pulsing blue energy.
The gauntlet sat waiting in a containment chamber, thrumming with unstable power. Its core was flickering between blue and white. It was never supposed to be activated under pressure — but they had no other choice.
The professor placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Listen to me, carefully. Once it's activated, you'll jump across spacetime. The target is fixed on the past — E-345-60. That's your Earth, your time, before everything went wrong. You have to prevent this future from happening."
The boy swallowed hard. "What if I mess up? What if I land too late… or in the wrong timeline?"
"You won't," the professor said firmly. "I've double-checked the sequence. You'll land safely."
A loud clang echoed from above — something had breached the facility's first gate.
The professor gripped the gauntlet with both hands and gently strapped it onto the boy's forearm. It latched with a mechanical hiss, locking around his skin like armor. Blue lights flared to life across the length of it.
"I believe in you," the professor said. "You're our last hope. The future… no, every future… is in your hands now."
The boy tightened his grip and nodded once. "I'll make it count. I promise."
A mechanical voice buzzed from the console:
> Activation: Ready
> Power Source: Charged
> Destination Locked: Earth Code E-345-60
The boy stepped onto the glowing platform.
The lab began to quake — violently this time. Ceiling panels collapsed. Flames burst from a shattered conduit. The last door groaned as something pounded against it from the other side.
Then—
FZZZZZK.
A blinding surge of energy enveloped the boy. Space twisted around him. Time bent. Colors split apart like broken glass in a whirlpool. He felt his own body stretch and compress, soundless and eternal.
Then—nothing.
He woke up gasping, drenched in sweat.
The scent of moss filled his lungs. The rustle of leaves echoed in the silence.
He blinked slowly.
A forest.
He was lying on a bed of grass, surrounded by towering trees. The sky above was bright and blue — peaceful. A breeze blew gently, warm and sweet.
No alarms.
No machines.
No fire.
No war.
Just… life.
Still dazed, he sat up and checked his gauntlet.
He tapped twice on the side panel. A faint digital screen flickered to life.
SPACE-TIME COORDINATES: UNREADABLE
EARTH CODE: E-242-03
His stomach dropped.
He tapped again. The result didn't change.
"…That can't be right," he muttered.
His original Earth — the one he had left — was E-345-60.
This place… wasn't even close.
His hands trembled slightly as he stared at the readings.
"This isn't the past…"
He stood up slowly, eyes scanning the tall trees, the chirping birds, the gentle sunlight filtering through the canopy.
"This… isn't even my Earth."
Silence answered him. As if the forest had no interest in his confusion.
He clenched his fist, then breathed out.
"Well… if I can't go back yet…"
He looked toward the forest trail ahead, adjusting his goggles and gauntlet.
"Then I'll start here no matter what will face in future and I've to set my goal here"