The fight went on for minutes that felt like hours.
Each second stretched thin — like time itself couldn't bear to watch.
The longer it went on, the more cracks appeared across Yuwon's body. Light bled through them — soft at first, then violently bright.
His breath came in broken static, each inhale catching on interference. He swung again — not out of hatred, but out of some fading instinct. His movements were messy, collapsing, desperate to hold onto the fragments of self still left.
Each strike rang hollow. Not rage. Not survival. Just… delay.
"I don't want to do this," I said over the crackle of the air.
"Neither do I!" he shouted back. "But I have no choice!"
He moved faster, body flickering in and out of existence, red light streaking behind him like smeared paint. Every time I hit him, he dissolved and reformed somewhere else — slower each time, weaker each time.
The chamber around us began to shudder under the strain. The hum grew into a chorus of distant screams — echoes of old loops, all bleeding through at once.
"Stop fighting it!" I begged. "You're only making it worse!"
"If I stop," he said, voice trembling, "then I stop existing."
His hand brushed mine. For a heartbeat, everything froze — the hum, the flicker of the lights, even my pulse. In that instant, I saw him.
Flashes — Mira laughing under broken streetlamps. Theo carrying him through the rain. Me, shouting his name across collapsing timelines. All the lives he lived and lost replayed in that breath.
Then the world shattered back into motion.
"Silva, behind you!" Mira cried.
I turned just in time to block his next hit. The impact sent sparks scattering across the floor.
"Enough!" Theo's voice cracked. He rushed to assist, aiming a trembling punch at Yuwon's chest.
Yuwon froze mid-swing. The light on his skin pulsed weakly, as if hesitating.
Theo's arm trembled. "I can't… my arm won't move—"
Mira stumbled forward, tears drying but her expression hardening. "We won't let you carry this burden alone, Team Leader," she whispered.
Yuwon looked between us — fear, sorrow, love, all tangled in his flickering face.
"You're making it harder," he said, voice breaking like a child's.
"Then stop fighting," I said softly, stepping closer, lowering my hands. "Let us save what's left of you."
He shook his head violently. Light burst through the cracks in his veins, burning bright.
"There isn't anything left! Not of me. Just a different Yuwon from a different timeline."
Then he vanished — a flare of radiance — and reappeared behind Theo, hand gripping his shoulder.
Theo gasped. Yuwon didn't strike.
I lunged forward, slamming my fist into Yuwon's side. The impact cracked something deep — his body flickering, glitching like a dying signal.
He stumbled forward, releasing Theo, who fell to the floor wheezing.
"Yuwon!" I shouted. "You're hurting them!"
He looked up, face half static, half tears. "You think I don't know that?"
For the first time, anger cracked through his voice — not at us, but at himself.
He punched the wall, and the world fractured. Red light spiderwebbed across the chamber, crawling like veins of molten glass.
"Silva!" Mira shouted, helping Theo up.
But I didn't move.
I just looked at him — this broken, half-human ghost of a friend — and whispered, "Then fight me, not them."
He blinked. The static faltered. "Why?"
"Because I'm the team captain," I said quietly. "And I need to take responsibility for what happened to you."
That stopped him cold.
The air fell still — almost reverent.
Then he nodded, slow and resigned. "Alright," he said softly. "Then I'll go all out one last time."
He charged.
The next few seconds blurred — fists colliding, air cracking, time folding in on itself like paper burning at the edges.
Every strike left trails of light in the air, like echoes of moments that never happened. His hits grew weaker, slower, until his arm finally gave out mid-swing.
I caught him before he hit the ground.
His skin flickered beneath my hands — pixelated, fading. A deep crack spread across his forehead and right eye.
Mira and Theo rushed forward.
Theo knelt beside him, whispering, "Yuwon, please—"
Yuwon's eyes flicked toward him, faintly smiling. "Theo, don't…" His voice dissolved into static halfway through the sentence.
He coughed — light spilling out of his mouth instead of blood. "When this ends… don't let it haunt you."
Mira shook her head violently. "We'll find another way! We always do!"
"There isn't one," he said softly. "This is the last loop. I don't belong in this timeline."
He turned his gaze to me. "Silva…"
I swallowed hard. "Yeah?"
"Please make sure the Yuwon of this timeline survives this."
The cracks widened. The light was almost blinding now.
Theo and Mira pulled him into a tight embrace, both of them crying openly.
I wanted to join them — to hold him, to apologize, to tell him he can rest now — but I couldn't move. My body refused to. My throat closed.
'This didn't have to happen if I'd just… done a better job.'
Yuwon began crying too. Not in pain, but in release — a deep, trembling sound that felt like every goodbye he'd never been able to finish.
He whispered small farewells to Mira and Theo, words glitching into broken syllables. Their arms tightened around him as the cracks spread across his body, glowing brighter with each passing second.
Then, slowly, his gaze drifted back to me.
"Team Leader…" His voice was barely a whisper. "Thank you for finishing what I started."
He smiled — fragile, weary, beautiful. The kind of smile that means goodbye.
Then his form gave way completely.
Light burst outward, wrapping around us like a soft wind before scattering. His body dissolved into a thousand drifting particles, each pulsing once before fading. One of them floated down and landed on my nose. Warm. Fleeting.
It lingered there — for just a few seconds — then flickered out.
Silence followed.
The hum had stopped.
The static was gone.
Time had stopped looping.
And with that… the Nine Frequency Anomaly was officially neutralized.
But there was no time to rest.
Mira's sobs broke through the quiet, Theo's shoulders shaking as he stared at where Yuwon had been. The light left no shadow behind, no remains — nothing.
I forced myself to stand. My legs shook.
"We have to move," I managed. "Our Yuwon lost half of his soul. If we get him to a hospital quickly, he might still have a chance."
Theo didn't answer. He just nodded once, wiping at his face. Mira followed silently, her eyes determined, steps deliberate.
And as we turned to leave, I looked back one last time — to the empty space where he'd stood. The air shimmered faintly, as if a memory still lingered there, trying to exist for just one second longer.
Then it was gone.
And so we left — carrying the weight of all the loops that ended here.