Three Months Later – The Day Before First Mission
Yoo was eleven months old chronologically.
Physically, he appeared four years old.
The breakthrough from Bronze to Iron had happened two weeks ago during Master Yoon’s final training session. The moment his Gi pathways had fully integrated with his spatial understanding, reality itself had clicked. Bronze’s limitations dissolved. Iron’s strength flooded in.
Now he stood at the academy’s edge, overlooking a void rift from a safe distance.
It was beautiful—and horrifying.
A tear in space, edges rippling with non-color. Not black—absence. The space where reality had been edited out. Fifteen meters in diameter. Growing by three centimeters daily.
"Analysis complete," Akasha reported. "Void rift composition: 73% dimensional void, 27% cosmic game energy residue. Origin: confirmed as byproduct of Aethon and Chaos’s reality manipulation. Each game ’move’ creates dimensional stress. Stress accumulates. Eventually: rupture."
So they’re tearing reality apart just by existing.
"Affirmative. The entities are too powerful for Earth’s dimensional fabric. Like elephants walking on paper. Every step creates damage."
Yoo watched a bird fly too close. It touched the rift’s edge—
Gone. Not vaporized. Just gone. The space where it had been was empty. No feathers. No blood. No evidence it ever existed.
That’s what happens to me if I fail the sealing.
"Impressive view, isn’t it?"
Yoo turned. A girl—maybe fourteen physically, eleven chronologically—stood beside him. Long black hair, cold eyes, aura that read Gold 33.
Gold at eleven years old. Another anomaly.
"Who are you?" Yoo asked.
"Mira. Gold-rank. Recently ascended." She studied the rift with clinical interest. "I’m your backup for tomorrow’s mission. Master Yoon requested someone who could retrieve you if things go wrong."
"Retrieve my body, you mean."
"If there’s a body left." Mira’s voice was matter-of-fact. "More likely I’ll just watch you erase and report failure. But Yoon insisted on protocol."
"It’s realistic. I don’t do comfort." Mira’s expression shifted slightly. "My brother died three years ago. Torn apart by Awakened-tier beast while I hid. I don’t comfort people because comfort is a lie. The world is brutal. People die. Pretending otherwise helps no one."
Yoo recognized the trauma response—defensive cynicism covering grief.
She’s like me. Shaped by loss. Using cold logic to survive emotional pain.
"Your brother," Yoo said carefully. "What was his name?"
Mira’s mask cracked briefly. "Jae-won. He was Gold 35. Strong. Supposed to be invincible." She laughed bitterly. "Turns out invincible just means ’dies harder.’"
"Don’t be. Sorry doesn’t bring people back." She turned to leave. "Mission briefing is 0600. Don’t be late. If you survive tomorrow, we’ll have sixty-two more rifts to close. If you die—" she shrugged "—I’ll tell your father you died bravely. That’s the best anyone gets."
Yoo stood alone with the void.
Tomorrow I find out if my training was enough.
Tomorrow I might cease to exist.
Better make tonight count.
That Evening – The Slums
Yoo had requested permission to visit the slums one last time. Min-ji approved — "If he wants to say goodbye, let him."
Ji-hye’s old tent was still standing. Barely. The slums had deteriorated further during the three months of training. Food shortages. Disease. Despair.
But people survived. Because survival was all they had left.
Ji-hye found Yoo near the medical tent. "You came back."
"Before the mission. Wanted to see you."
She knelt, eye level with his four-year-old appearance. "Min-jun told me what you’re attempting. Sealing void rifts. He says it’s suicide."
Min-jun. Ji-hye’s son. The Silver-rank spear fighter.
"It might be. But someone has to try."
"Why does it have to be you? You’re eleven months old."
"Chronologically. Mentally I’m twenty-nine. And because I have the specific abilities needed. Master Yoon says my spatial manipulation is natural-born. Like I was meant for this."
Maybe I was. Maybe dying in that alley 823 years ago, scattering in the void, reforming here—maybe it was all leading to this moment.
Ji-hye hugged him. Tight. "You saved my son once. During the Surge battle. He was on the defensive line. Your warnings kept him alive. I never thanked you properly."
"You took care of me for six months. We’re even."
"We’re not. But I accept the lie." She released him. "Come. Min-jun wants to meet you."
Ji-hye’s son was training in a makeshift yard—spear forms, precise and deadly. Silver rank 22. Young face but old eyes.
He stopped when they approached. Studied Yoo with calculating assessment.
"You’re the anomaly kid. The one volunteering for rift closure."
"Stupid plan. Seventy percent chance of erasure. Better odds in Ascension Protocol."
"Ascension is seventy percent death rate too. And survivors only gain ranks. This actually solves the problem."
Min-jun grunted. "Fair point." He resumed training. Thrust, spin, slash. Each movement economical. "I wanted to thank you. For the Surge battle. Mom said you coordinated defense."
"I just had Energy Sense. Saw the attacks coming."
"That ’just’ saved fifteen lives. Including mine." Min-jun’s spear blurred through final sequence. "So I’m offering trade. You survive tomorrow’s mission, I owe you one favor. Combat support, information, whatever you need. You die—" he shrugged "—I’ll make sure your father doesn’t do anything stupid in grief."
Everyone’s so confident I’m going to die.
"I appreciate the faith in my survival."
"It’s not faith. It’s odds. Iron 15 attempting Diamond-level technique against forces that erase matter from existence?" Min-jun shook his head. "But I’ve seen impossible things happen. Core Surge. The entity battles. Maybe you’re another impossible thing." ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ Novᴇl_Fire(.)net
He extended his hand. Yoo shook it.
"Don’t die tomorrow," Min-jun said. "We need more impossible things in this world."
Final Night – Extras World
Yoo brought his consciousness into the pocket dimension one last time before the mission.
Inside, he’d recreated everything important from his past life. His apartment. His desk. The gaming setup. Even the coffee mug he’d used daily—chipped handle, faded logo.
He sat at the desk. Ran fingers over keys of a keyboard that didn’t truly exist, just memory given form.
If I erase tomorrow, this place might collapse. All these memories gone.
"Negative," Akasha corrected. "Extras World is bounded to your soul, not your body. If physical form erases but soul fragment survives—similar to original death—dimension should persist. Diminished, but present."
That’s not comforting. I don’t want to spend another 823 years as scattered fragments.
"Then succeed tomorrow. Seal the rift. Survive. Continue progression."
Easier said than done.
Yoo pulled up his mental status — Akasha displayed it like game interface, habit from his developer past:
Chronological Age: 11 months
Physical Age: 4 years
Mental Age: 29 years + 11 months
Biology: 91% Human, 9% Dragon
Akasha Archive (Information storage/analysis)
Extras World (60 cubic meters, healing 8.5x, full control)
Energy Sense (200m range)
Bind (35% effectiveness, 80kg restraint)
Melt (moderate corrosion)
Spatial Sealing (theoretical—untested in combat)
Adaptive Evolution (passive integration)
Minor Dragon Physiology (enhanced strength/durability)
Survive tomorrow’s void rift closure (12% success probability)
Reach Silver rank (blocked until spatial mastery achieved)
Protect Jae-sung (ongoing)
Prevent dimensional collapse (6-month countdown)
Twelve percent. Those are terrible odds.
"Odds improve with preparation. Recommend: final review of spatial sealing technique. Meditation to center consciousness. Rest."
Can’t sleep. Too anxious.
"Anxiety is counterproductive. However, understood. Alternative suggestion: manifest comfort object. Studies show physical touchstones reduce stress."
Yoo considered. What would comfort him?
He focused. Manifested a small plush—a rabbit his mother had given him when he was six in his original life. Before she died. Before everything fell apart.
It appeared in his hands. Worn fabric. Missing button eye. Perfect.
He held it. Let himself feel the child emotions for once instead of suppressing them.
Tomorrow... everything begins.