The year was 16,945, and my boots were firmly planted on the snow-dusted ridges of the Swiss Alps, a familiar chill biting at the air that felt anything but familiar in this new age. Our assignment here was deceptively simple on paper: monitor the Swiss Alps. Yet, beneath that brevity lay the weight of an interdimensional war. We still needed boots on the ground, even with all our advanced capabilities, and I was, as always, happy to do my job. This wasn’t just a career; it was my existence, forged in the crucible of necessity.