Location: Fringe Wastes – Outskirts of Seoul Safe Zone
Time: 03:18 AM
Active Scenario:None (Rest Period)
*Personal Contract: Undefined
Constellation Activity: Maximum
"What do gods see when they look down? A game?"
"What does the executioner see when he looks up?"
— System Comment, [Anonymous Constellation]
The air outside the Safe Zone was different.
Thicker.
Denser.
Like the atmosphere remembered war.
Agent 47 walked calmly beneath the shattered skeleton of a flyover, his polished black shoes crunching over ash, shell casings, and charred moss. The ruins of Seoul stretched far, twisted buildings tilting like broken teeth. A cold wind tugged his longcoat gently behind him.
The edge of the Safe Zone shimmered faintly — an invisible threshold, nothing more than system-defined coordinates.
He passed it without pause.
[Warning: You are leaving the protection of the Seoul Safe Zone.]
Respawn not guaranteed.
No allies beyond this point.
Monsters may mutate without notice.
Continue?
▸ Yes
The border vanished behind him.
[Constellations are observing your decision.]
"A mortal goes into the wastelands alone? Bold."
"I hope he dies quickly. I want my coins back."
"No... observe. That is not a mortal."
"This one does not fear death. How curious."
Your Coin Accrual Rate has increased.
Your fame among Mid-Tier Constellations is rising rapidly.
Your psychological profile has generated new tags: "Predator," "Unclassified," "Unknown Variable."
"Tch. What is this? A circus?"
Sukuna's voice crackled inside 47's mind, casual as ever — laced with dry cruelty.
"They're throwing coins like drunks in a brothel. Is this what passes for gods now?"
47 didn't answer.
He stopped, crouched, and touched the blackened dirt.
Footprints. Deep. Spaced apart. Running. Something big.
His silverballer slipped into his hand like a natural limb, smooth and silent.
Thirty meters ahead — something moved between the steel beams of a collapsed supermarket. A low, guttural sound. Then a second. Then five.
Eyes blinked in the dark.
Mutants.Jaws cracked open unnaturally wide.Clawed feet scraped pavement. Their skin was torn, stretched, melted — by something not meant to be inside a human body.
47 walked forward.
One shot — the first mutant's skull evaporated.Another — center mass.But it didn't drop.
The thing screeched and ran.
Too slow.
47 fired again — this time a burst of Matter Creation glinted at his fingertips — the bullet became a tiny lance mid-flight, glowing blue, humming through the air.
Impact.The creature's chest detonated.
Sukuna laughed.
"Nice shot, baldy. You almost made it look fun."
From the rooftops, four more mutants leapt. Clawing, snarling, moving like apes injected with liquid chaos.
47 slid his coat back.
System Command: Matter Creation – Reaper Blade v.3
From nothing, a jet-black scythe unraveled like smoke in his hands.
One swing — the nearest creature was bisected at the waist.
He ducked low, parried a clawed swipe with the back of his hand, and jammed the scythe upward — through a mutant's ribcage, lodging into the spine.
He kicked the corpse away like garbage.
[Constellation: 'Midnight Warden' sends 100 coins.]
[Constellation: 'Maritime War God' sends 300 coins and a thumbs up.]
[Constellation: 'Silent Prosecutor' has marked you as 'Morally Ambiguous.']
47 didn't open it.
Instead, he crushed the final mutant's head under his boot and reloaded one silverballer with precision.
His system pinged again.
[Progress: You have cleared 100% of hostile threats within this zone.]
Suggested Action: Return to Safe Zone or proceed deeper.
Warning: Deeper regions possess altered dimensional logic and unstable narrative structures.
Recommendation: Avoid if value system requires intact causality.
47 stared at the blinking "Continue" option.
Behind him, Seoul flickered like a dying star.Ahead — only dark.
"Go ahead, baldy,"
Sukuna murmured, stretching, amused.
"This world is broken in ways I like. Feels like home."
"And I still want to know if that brat with the sword is gonna try again. If he does… I'm taking his ribs next time."
47 stepped forward again — past the system's recommendations.
[Path of the Unknown Variable continues...]