The corridor remained open for exactly seventy-three seconds before beginning to destabilize.
Kaito made his decision in twelve.
He ascended without ceremony.
Below him, fighter jets scrambled uselessly. Satellites recalibrated. World leaders shouted into secure channels.
None of it could reach where he was going.
As Kaito approached the twin Boundary Stars, they rotated faster in acknowledgment. The divided halves of the Origin pulsed once—as if recognizing that their axis was leaving orbit.
"You must maintain structural intent even at distance," Silver Eyes warned, her presence thinning slightly.
"I will," he replied.
Then he stepped through.
The corridor felt neither warm nor cold. It felt mathematical—like moving along a proof rather than through space.
Earth shrank behind him, blue and fragile.
The moment he crossed fully beyond the Boundary, he felt it—
The scale.
The Hunger had once felt infinite.
It wasn't.
This was.
Vast grids of faint luminous lines stretched across cosmic dark, connecting distant star systems in patterns too large for natural formation.
He was not alone here.
Ahead, something condensed from geometry into form.
Not flesh.
Not shadow.
Structure.
And it was watching him with focused curiosity.
The corridor sealed behind him.
And Earth was alone.