Diary

"This case was off-limits for me," her mother said gently. "He gave it to me for today."

"What do you mean?" Nancy asked curiously.

"I thought I'd give this to you when you were chosen as a Meta-bot owner," her mother smiled, her voice feeling nostalgic. "In case you wanted to follow in your father's footsteps."

Nancy's expression darkened. "But... the Meta-bot didn't choose me in the Awakening Zone," she replied quietly, her words tinged with deep sadness. "Maybe I wasn't worthy."

"Nancy," Tyson said softly, trying to comfort her, "it's not about worth."

Her mother's voice was calm as she paused before opening the case. "Do you regret not being chosen, Nancy? Is it because you can't serve humanity, or because you can't continue your father's legacy?"

Nancy hesitated, the burden of her emotions weighing heavily on her. Her mother appeared to understand, her knowing smile easing the moment.

Nancy stayed quiet. It was true—she had always wanted to be a Ranger, not just for the sake of humanity but to follow in her father's footsteps. Nothing more.

Her mother's hand hovered over the briefcase. "He told me there was something valuable hidden inside this case," she said, "Something he wanted to keep safe."

Gently, her mother opened the case. At first glance, Nancy's childhood photos rested neatly inside. Her mother glanced back at her with a sense of quiet understanding. "These were the things he treasured most."

Nancy's fingers trembled as she picked up one of the photos. Beneath it, she discovered a small, worn diary and a chip—an item used to record memories.

Nancy's mother carefully removed the small circular chip and gently placed it on the desk. "This is his recording, made before he was drafted into the tournament," she explained softly.

Nancy raised her gaze, her eyes focused on the chip. Tyson leaned in, intrigued.

With a faint click, the chip activated, and a hologram of her father flickered to life. He was seated in his personal lab, deep within the mansion. His glasses gleamed softly in the dim light as he focused intently on writing in his diary.

It was the middle of the night. Nearby, his Meta-bot rested on a small stand, its shape outlined in the glow of the lab's ambient lighting.

"You know," he began, his voice brimming with urgency. "There are still four years remaining before Earth's doom, but I feel we could be summoned at any moment now." He looked up, momentarily lost in thought, his mind clearly processing something.

"I think I might get summoned for the first time. I'm not sure, but there is a possibility. I heard the tournament is terrifying, but I haven't experienced it, so many of my research findings have been cast aside since I lack experience. My theory suggests that if a person is summoned for a second time to fight in tournaments, they are less likely to survive. It's close to zero, as we haven't seen anyone survive the tournament again."

His gaze lingered on the screen momentarily, a pen in his hand halting mid-stroke as he paused writing. "Although I'm afraid of these so-called phenomena, I still want to experience them to validate my own research, so I can say I've discovered things that can help humanity overall."

Nancy clasped her mouth in disbelief at her father's words. Tyson's expression became serious as he listened.

He was aware of her father's former rank and accomplishments—standing at nearly 59 power points at the time of his draft. Having reached nearly 60 power points at that age, he was undoubtedly one of the most brilliant minds in the field and a well-known researcher, even Edward was around 45 power points at that time.

In the hologram, her father leaned back in his chair, contemplative. "I hope to uncover some things, at least for my daughter."

"But maybe it's better if she graduates and lives happily. I would love to see her enjoying her life." He let out a bittersweet smile, as if he could sense the eyes watching him.

"I may be the youngest General or even a genius researcher, but I am still human," he added. "I also want a peaceful life, but if I were to say that out loud, many would claim I am-"

The door creaked open at that moment, and the small, adorable Nancy toddled in, leaping into her father's arms.

"Hey, sweetie, are you still awake?" he asked, pulling her into a warm hug. Nancy, half-asleep, blinked groggily as she glanced at the diary in front of her father. "What happened?"

"There's a monster under my bed," she said, her voice muffled as she clung to him.

Her father smiled at her innocent and adorable response. "Is there?" he asked playfully. "How about you take Daddy's armor for a little while?"

He gently handed her the Meta-bot, and she cradled it with both hands. "You see, this is what makes me powerful. It's how I can battle monsters."

Nancy's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Oh really? When can I get one for myself?" she asked, planting a kiss on the Meta-bot.

Her father paused before kissing her forehead. "I hope not," he whispered, his voice heavy with love and concern. "I don't want you to be like me. I want you to be you."

Watching the hologram, Nancy felt her heart ache. The bittersweet scene unraveled something deep within her, leaving her struggling to stay upright. Tyson noticed her trembling and gently placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Her mother stood silently nearby, her expression calm yet unreadable.

"You're so silly, Dada. I am me," the younger Nancy in the hologram said with a soft, sleepy voice as she rested her head on her father's shoulder. "I want to sleep here."

Her father's smile widened, his love for her shining through. "Yes, of course, sweetie. I'm here for you. And if in the future..." He trailed off, his smile fading into something sadder, more resigned. "Well, if you're seeing this, I guess I didn't make it, but always know that your dad always loved you."

He picked up his diary, holding it in one hand while cradling the sleeping Nancy in the other. "I've written all my theories in this diary. I hope you—or someone else—can find them valuable. I don't know if my writing is true, but even if there's the slightest chance, I want someone to test it on my behalf and carry on this legacy for me."

His hand moved closer to the chip he was recording on. "Of course, I'll do everything in my power, but who knows if I can handle this all alone?" He hesitated for just a moment and then offered a faint smile. "Goodbye."

The hologram flickered and faded away.

Nancy broke down in tears, unable to hold back her sobs. Her mother rushed to her side, wrapping her arms around her daughter and trying to comfort her.

"Mom… he…" Nancy managed, clinging desperately to her mother.

"I know, sweetie," Mrs. Winters said, running her fingers through Nancy's hair as tears filled her eyes. "He's always been a bit odd."

She turned her gaze to Tyson and offered a faint smile. "I want you to take that diary with you, Tyson. It's his final memento."

Tyson nodded gravely. "Yes, thank you."

He slowly picked up the diary, his hand pausing momentarily as he looked at Nancy, who was still crying in her mother's arms.

Mrs. Winters spoke softly, "She'll need some time. You can go ahead."

With a final nod, Tyson stepped back, the weight of the diary—and the legacy it represented—heavy in his hands.

Tyson nodded again, saying goodbye to Nancy and her mother before heading home. His thoughts drifted to Nancy's father—the way he had embraced her and expressed his wish for her not to follow in his footsteps. Those moments replayed in Tyson's mind as he walked, each step feeling heavy.

Sitting silently on his bed, Tyson stared at the diary in his hands. His thoughts drifted to his memories of his parents. Maybe they felt the same way, he thought. Maybe they, too, wanted something different for me before leaving me at the orphanage.

He exhaled deeply, rubbing his temples. Being a Ranger wasn't just a job but a relentless, grueling pursuit—a life where they always reached for the moon but returned empty-handed. It wasn't just the battles or the training—the toll it exacted on their souls.

Tyson's gaze dropped to the floor as he reflected on a truth he had always known but seldom acknowledged. No one ever discussed what happened inside the tournament's battle rooms. The Rangers who survived, those who returned alive, never spoke of the horrors they had witnessed. They bore their scars in silence, their faces marked by trauma they refused to share.

"Is that why people hate becoming Rangers?" Tyson wondered. "Because they see what it does to those who survive? Even people with incredible strength and high power points bear that unspoken weight." He clenched his fists. "Maybe that's why Nancy's father didn't want her to follow the same path. Maybe that's why my parents didn't want me to be a Ranger, either."

He had heard whispers over the years—rumors of Rangers who completely broke down after their return, unable to even describe what they'd felt in the tournament's battle rooms. Any rule or regulation didn't enforce the secrecy; it was an unspoken understanding born of the unspeakable.

Tyson pondered, What could be so awful that no one is willing to discuss it?

He exhaled slowly. He had many questions and doubts. Now, he genuinely started to delve into their burdens, considering not only the battles they fought but also the memories they experienced. He wondered if the tournament had also broken his parents while they fought for humanity.

The thought weighed heavily on his chest; however, despite the pain, it solidified his determination. If the tournament was terrifying, someone must confront it and discover a way to break the cycle.

Tyson's gaze hardened as he looked at the diary once more. Whatever it takes, I won't let this end with me.