"This was the case I wasn't allowed to touch," her mother said softly. "He entrusted it to me for this day."
"What do you mean?" Nancy asked her curiously.
"I thought I'd give it to you once you were selected as a Meta-bot owner," her mother smiled, her voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "In case you needed to follow your father's footsteps."
Nancy's expression darkened. "But... the Meta-bot didn't chose me in the Awakening Zone," she replied quietly, a deep sadness creeping into her words. "Maybe I wasn't worthy."
"Nancy," Tyson said gently, trying to reassure her, "it's not about worthiness."
Her mother's voice was calm as she paused before opening the case. "Do you regret not being selected, Nancy? Is it because you can't serve humanity, or because you can't carry on your father's legacy?"
Nancy hesitated, the weight of her emotions pressing down on her. Her mother seemed to understand, her knowing smile softening the moment.
"I thought so,"
Nancy remained silent. It was true—what she had always wanted was to become a Ranger, not just for the sake of humanity, but to walk in her father's footsteps. Nothing more.
Her mother's hand lingered over the briefcase. "He told me there was something precious hidden inside this case," she said, "Something he wanted to protect."
Slowly, her mother opened the case. At first glance, Nancy's childhood photos lay neatly inside. Her mother looked back at her with a look of quiet understanding. "These were the things he held close to his heart."
Nancy's fingers trembled as she took one of the photos into her hands. Beneath it, she found a small, worn diary and a chip—something used to record memories.
Nancy's mother carefully removed the small circular chip and placed it gently on the desk. "This is his recording, made before he was drafted into the tournament," she explained softly.
Nancy lifted her gaze, her eyes fixed on the chip. Tyson leaned forward, curiously.
With a faint click, the chip activated. A hologram of her father flickered to life. He appeared seated in his personal lab, deep within the mansion. His glasses gleamed softly in the dim light, and he was engrossed in writing something in his diary.
It was the middle of the night. Nearby, his Meta-bot rested on a small stand, its form outlined in the glow of the lab's ambient lighting.
"You know," he began, his voice filled urgency, "there are still four years left before Earth's doom, but I have this feeling that any time now, we could be summoned." He looked up, lost in thought for a moment, his mind clearly working through something.
"I think this time around I might get summoned for the first time, I am not sure but there is a possibility. I head Tournament is terrifying, but havent experienced it thus many of my researches have been cast aside since I have no experience under my belt. My theory that suggests if a person gets summoned for a second time to fight in tournaments then he will less likely to survive. It's down to zero or says we haven't seen a person who survived the tournament a second time"
His gaze lingered on the screen for a moment, a pen in his hand stopping mid-way as he stopped writing. "Although I am afraid of these so-called phenomena I want to experience them so I can validate my own research, so I can say I found some things which can help humans as all"
Nancy covered her mouth in disbelief at her father's words. Tyson's gaze turned 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 researche, even Edward was around 45 power points at that time.
In the hologram, her father leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I hope I'll uncover some things At least for my daughter."
"But maybe it's better if she just graduates and lives her life happily. I would love to see her living her life" He let out a small, bittersweet smile, as if he could sense the eyes watching him.
"I may be the youngest General or even say genius researcher but I am human" He added, "I also want a peaceful life but if I were to say that out loud many will say I am-"
Just then, the door creaked open, and small, adorable Nancy toddled in, throwing herself into her father's arms.
"Hey, sweetie, you're 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, adorable response. "Is there?" he asked playfully. "How about you take Daddy's armor for a bit?"
He gently handed her the Meta-bot, and she wrapped both hands around it. "You see, this is what makes me powerful. It's how I can fight monsters."
Nancy's eyes lit up curiously, "Oh really? When can I get one for myself?" she asked, planting a kiss on the Meta-bot.
Her father paused and then he kissed her forehead. "I hope not," he whispered, his voice heavy with a mixture of love and concern. "I don't want you to be like me. I want you to be you."
Watching the hologram, Nancy felt her heartache. The bittersweet scene unraveled something deep within her, leaving her struggling to stay on her feet. Tyson noticed her trembling and gently placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Her mother stood silently nearby, her expression calm but 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, then I guess I didn't make it but always know that your dada 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 make them worthwhile. I don't know if what I've written is true, but even if there's the slightest chance, I want someone to test it on my behalf, and carry 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'm capable of pulling this all alone" He hesitated for just a moment and then gave a faint smile. "Goodbye."
With a faint click, the hologram flickered and dispersed.
Nancy broke into sobs, unable to hold back her tears. Her mother rushed to her side, wrapping her arms around her daughter, trying to console her.
"Mom, Dad… he…" Nancy choked out, clinging to her mother desperately.
"I know, honey," Mrs. Winters said softly, stroking Nancy's hair as tears welled in her own eyes. "He's always been a strange one."
She turned her gaze to Tyson and offered a small, bittersweet smile. "I want you to take that diary with you, Tyson. It's his last memento."
Tyson nodded solemnly. "Yes, thank you."
He carefully took the diary, his hand lingering for a moment as he glanced at Nancy, who was still crying in her mother's arms.
Mrs. Winters spoke gently, "She'll need some time. You go ahead."
With a final nod, Tyson stepped away, the weight of the diary—and the legacy it represented—heavy in his hands.
Tyson nodded again, bidding farewell to Nancy and her mother before returning home. His thoughts lingered on Nancy's father—the way he had hugged her, the way he had spoken of not wanting her to follow in his footsteps. Those moments replayed in Tyson's mind as he walked, each step felt heavy.
Sitting silently on his bed, Tyson stared at the diary in his hands. His thoughts drifted to his own life, the fragmented 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—it was a constant, grueling chase. A life where they always reached for the moon but returned empty-handed. It wasn't just the battles or the training—it was the toll it took on their very souls.
Tyson's gaze fell to the floor as he mulled over a truth he had always known but rarely acknowledged. No one ever talked about what happened inside the tournament's battle rooms. The Rangers who survived, those who came back alive, never spoke of the horrors they'd witnessed. They carried their scars silently, their faces etched with 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 those with incredible strength and high power points bore 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 his parents didn't want him to be Ranger, either.
He had heard whispers over the years—rumors of Rangers who broke down completely after their return, unable to even describe what they'd felt in the tournament's battle rooms. The secrecy wasn't enforced by any rule or regulation; it was an unspoken understanding, born of the unspeakable.
Tyson shivered, a chill running down his spine. What could be so terrible that no one dares to even speak of it?
He let out a slow breath, his mind heavy with questions and doubts. For the first time, he began to understand the immense burden Rangers carried—not just the battles they fought but the memories they lived with. He wondered if his parents had been broken in the tournament and maybe they knew what awaited him, that's why they left in care in Orphanage.
The thought settled like a weight on his chest, but as much as it hurt, it strengthened his resolve. If the tournaments were so horrifying, someone had to face them and find 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.