The rift was closed, but the night was still young, and his pocket watch was already ticking backward again.

Kaito didn't hesitate. He drew his twin Chrono-Blades, their edges shimmering with concentrated temporal energy.

Kaito's blades sliced through the core with a resonant ring. The Void-Stalker let out a silent scream as its physical form dissolved into pure, white light. The stolen memories burst free, floating gently out of the warehouse to return to their rightful owners across the city.

"You're in the wrong decade," Kaito muttered, his voice barely audible over the roaring vortex.

Kaito stood at the edge of the rooftop, the neon glow of Neo-Tokyo bleeding through the heavy evening fog. In his hand, he clutched a small, brass pocket watch that ticked backward. He was a Chrono-Weaver, one of the few humans born with the ability to stitch together fractured timelines, though his own life felt entirely falling apart.

The wind bit at his face as he plummeted, but he didn't feel the fear of falling. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he pulled a glowing thread of golden light from the air. He anchored it to the ledge he had just left and swung gracefully through the sky, shattering the glass of an abandoned warehouse directly above the rift.