"The gate to the new world has been opened. My soul shall be the wind that enters the gate. When the sleeping king awakes, my body, too, shall surely rise."

— the dying wish of a golden woodpecker

"Measures will be taken in the case that the Allied Forces break through everything. That includes V2. We've come so far; our cause will not be put down without consequences."

Their leader speaks with cool passion lacing every word of his composed demand. Like fabled knights of old, the men and women of A World With No Boundaries gather to hear a final rousing speech before the decisive battle. And given what they are, they listen as one.

"It may seem reckless to place our very last hope in a ritual so ancient and unbelievable, but for our cause there is nothing we won't do. The enemy will not understand, and that is to our advantage."

They all nod, for what he spoke of was no longer a mere fantasy. It was true that the phrase "Belkan Witchcraft" had been a humorous remark about the ridiculous yet feasible accomplishments of the eponymous country's technology, but Anton Kupchenko had truly done it: a feat that could only be described as the work of magic.

Their leader gestured to the motionless figure beside him, a woman armored in a dress and steel colored in the blackest ink. Her stance is alert yet apathetic, and the top half of her sickly pale face is eclipsed by a dark mask, leaving only the thin line known as her lips exposed. But most unsettling was her weapon– an eerie longsword glowing with four red rings along its blade. There was just something wrong and unnatural about her appearance here, and everyone could feel the power emanating from the figure.

The "King" of the Belkan Knights of old, given flesh once more.

It did not matter that their king was in fact a woman, for the miracle she wielded with her hands was more powerful than any conventional nuclear warhead, or eight.

"Aces. Those branded as such eventually learn the truth that we are no more than tools of war used by a greater force. We are lauded as heroes when it suits the world. We are insulted as traitors when it suits the world. You all would know, wouldn't you?"

The audience nods: some are in bitter agreement, some are in resigned despair, and all are weary. Kupchenko continues. "Then let us embody that purpose and optimize it on our own terms. To achieve OUR means to an end."

The Belkan man gently puts a hand on the woman's shoulder. She slowly raises her head, and the heavy gaze is felt on everyone's shoulders despite the lack of a visible glare.

"It's time," declared Kupchenko to the eager crowd. "Let us erase this world's borders with the true Sword of Promised Victory."

SINGULARITY 0

HUMANITY FOUNDATION VALUE: N/A

A.D. 1995 A WORLD WITH NO BOUNDARIES: OSEA

The King without a Country

Necoco Necocolight gave a rather cutesy yawn as she awoke in the comfort of her ergonomic custom chair, the gentle yet insistent beeping of her computer monitor gradually tugging her attention and senses back to speed. It wasn't really fair that her workspace was so comfortable when her assignments required her utmost focus (her villagemates' lives were on the line here!), but it was definitely worth the cat nap when times of relaxation popped up. Like now, for example.

Yes, like now. She could really use a breather-

Hold up.

"GAH! NO! I CAN'T BE SLEEPING ON THE JOB!"

The pink cat abruptly woke out of her stupor and snatched her glasses from the desk, slamming them onto her face. Necoco jerked her head left and right to scan the incoming data from multiple computer monitors and radars, but found nothing immediately concerning. With a deep sigh, she sank into her chair and turned on the radio.

"This is Mystic Eye, your absolutely dependable and trustworthy eye in the sky. No abnormalities have been detected yet on the radar. Neco Squadron, how are you all holding up?"

If everything was going according to schedule, Neco Squadron should be just past the Distortion Fringe and into the singularity itself.

"Neco 1 here, nya! God is dead."

Of course she would say that.

"Neco 2. Oh, the humanity…"

The baritone voice that definitely belonged more to a priest or perhaps an old man of the mountain was in fact from the gray cat nicknamed "Chaos", a rather wise one in the ways of wisdom if painfully melancholic all the time.

"Uhn! Uhn! UHN!"

That was Neco 3. Callsign "Bubbles" was…different. Enthusiastic, to say the least.

"*hic* This is Neco 4~ "Destiny"~. Ah, the humans here really did a number on the landscape. A veritable (*sob*) tragedy."

"Destiny," rebuked Necoco in a stern tone. "Save the melodrama until AFTER you are back on the ground and get alcohol into your system!"

"Neco 5. "Evolution", nyan desu! This place is just like one of my anime!"

The pink cat rolled her eyes. Evolution was the newest cat to the team and yet his hobby spoke volumes about his character.

Okay, good. Everyone made it through. No one has died yet. Not that death was going to be the biggest issue here, but still.

"Ahem," cut in a new voice on the radio. "Aren't you forgetting someone?"

"Ah!" Necoco cringed, realizing her mistake. "Callsign Lumi! H-how are you doing?"

"I'm fine," replied the token human on the team with a bit of snark. "Fine as any sane person carrying living cat ammo would be, anyway."

Lumi was the lynchpin in more ways than one. Her aircraft was the only thing literally holding all of Neco Squadron together, and she was their transfer pilot from the Arcade Security Organization which they all worked under. In a nutshell, the self-proclaimed "Humanity's last weaponized cat-sitter".

Okay, NOW everyone was truly accounted for. Necoco flipped on another channel on a monitor and scrutinized the visuals. A warzone's aftermath no matter where you looked. Currently Neco Squadron was flying over a massive crater in the ocean, where former maps located a peninsula and a city known as Oured to be. Whatever metropolis this place was, there was absolutely nothing left but water and free-floating debris.

"Like I said," Necoco murmured, "Nothing is showing up yet. The only clue we have of the enemy is the trail of destruction leading to its origin point, somewhere near the Waldreich Mountains of the country of Belka. Stay alert, Neco Squadron. It's going to be a long flight."

And so they fly across the apocalyptic wasteland. They fly together in hopes of reaching the source of the space-time distortion plaguing this world in order to destroy it.

Towards "Excalibur".