The New Vision of Siran
The morning sun hung low over Siran, casting long shadows through the winding streets and shimmering towers. But to Ryung, the city looked different today—as if a veil had been lifted and the world had quietly shifted beneath his feet. The familiar hum of sky-rails and flickering neon felt sharper, like a painting refreshed in higher resolution. His boots tapped the polished pavement, echoing in a rhythm that was both comforting and strangely discordant.
He paused by the corner where the market stalls usually bustled with chatter and trade. But today, his gaze was drawn upward—not to the signs or banners, but to the strange lights hovering above every passerby's head. Small, flickering tags of green and blue floated there like fireflies caught in invisible cages.
Ryung's brows furrowed as he moved closer. Floating above a man with a leather jacket was a name: Player_0048. Beneath it, a string of numbers glowed softly—Level 22. Next to it, a thin bar pulsed, segmented like a heart monitor. His eyes darted to a woman walking briskly past, her tag labeled NPC_Vendor, with a tier ranking displayed beside her name.
The world was no longer just faces and voices. It had become a living interface—a sprawling digital dashboard where players and NPCs coexisted, each marked by their code. It was as if someone had switched the city's filter from grayscale to vibrant neon overnight.
Ryung swallowed hard, a strange knot forming in his chest. Was he seeing what no one else could? Or had the world finally peeled back its mask, revealing the wires and circuits beneath?
As he wandered through the plaza, a sudden commotion caught his attention. Two players, clad in armor that shimmered like molten metal, summoned weapons with a flick of their wrists. In an instant, swords of light, bows strung with glowing threads, and shields etched with ancient runes materialized in their hands.
The combat that followed was breathtaking. Blades sliced through the air, arrows zipped with deadly precision, and magic crackled like thunderstorms unleashed in miniature. The crowd parted as the battle raged—some cheering, others watching in awe. Sparks flew and debris scattered as players danced a deadly dance of skill and power.
Ryung stood rooted, mesmerized by the spectacle. This was a world he had never known—the hidden side of Siran, the game behind the veneer of mundane life. He could feel the pulse of energy radiating from the combatants, a tangible electricity that thrummed through the air.
His heart raced as he processed the scene, a cocktail of excitement and disbelief swirling inside him. Was this what the players lived for? Did he, too, have a part to play in this grand digital theater? The thought both thrilled and terrified him.
His gaze drifted downward and landed on a familiar sight—one that made his pulse quicken for a different reason. Through the glass of a nearby storefront gleamed a pair of shoes, brandished boldly with the name Malin. He had seen them countless times in his dreams—sleek, black leather boots with silver stitching that whispered promises of speed and style. But the price tag was always insurmountable: 20,000 Zinstones, a fortune beyond his reach.
A pang of longing tugged at him as he stared, fingers itching to touch the glossy surface of the glass.
Then, without warning, a translucent window blinked into existence before his eyes—an intrusion that froze the bustling world in place for a heartbeat.
SYSTEM MESSAGE:
"You have received Malin Shoes — check your inventory."
Ryung blinked, staring at the floating text as if it might dissolve into the air. His hand went instinctively to the IVIAN card tucked deep in his jacket pocket. It hummed softly, resonating with an unspoken promise.
Tentatively, he reached out, fingers trembling as he tapped a barely visible icon in the space before him. The world shifted as a semi-transparent interface unfolded—rows of icons, slots filled with items, tools, and treasures, some familiar, some foreign.
At the very top of the list, gleaming with an almost reverent glow, was the pair of Malin shoes. His breath caught in his throat.
With a shaky finger, he selected the boots and hit the "Equip" button.
A surge of warmth flooded his body, starting in his feet and rising in a current that crackled with newfound energy. He could feel the city differently now—the pavement more solid beneath him, the wind brushing past his legs with exhilarating speed.
He took a cautious step forward. Then another. Each movement felt lighter, faster, as if the shoes were rewiring his very muscles to dance with the rhythm of the city.
A grin crept onto Ryung's lips—half disbelief, half wonder. The city was no longer just the backdrop of his routine; it was alive, responsive, waiting to be explored in ways he'd never imagined.
Yet beneath the awe lurked a flicker of unease.
What is this new world? he pondered. Am I still walking the streets of Siran, or have I stepped into something deeper, something no one was meant to see?
The IVIAN card pulsed in his pocket like a heartbeat—a reminder of secrets buried beneath layers of code.
Around him, the crowds moved on, unaware of the invisible labels above their heads, the digital signatures woven into their existence.
And Ryung stood at the edge of discovery—an anomaly in a world that had only just begun to reveal its true colors.
---
The Enforcers Arrive
Ryung barely had time to catch his breath after the dizzying rush of his newfound shoes when a shadow fell across the sunlit plaza. The air itself seemed to thicken, and the digital hum that filled Siran's streets turned suddenly cold and brittle, like ice fracturing beneathfoot.
From the crowd, two figures emerged, moving with deliberate, unnatural grace. Tall and imposing, they seemed less like people and more like instruments of an unseen force — their every step sending ripples through the fabric of the city. They wore sleek, black armor that shimmered faintly with iridescent lines, their faces obscured behind visors glowing with an eerie blue light. Above their heads hovered simple tags in stark white text: IVAS Enforcer 1 and IVAS Enforcer 2.
The crowd parted instinctively, whispers of fear and awe trailing in their wake. Ryung's heartbeat thundered in his chest — instinct screamed for flight, but curiosity rooted him in place.
The first enforcer spoke, voice like steel against glass, cold and unyielding:
"You should not exist, kiddo."
Those words cut through the noise of the plaza like a blade. Ryung's mind flashed back to the warnings buried in server logs, the hushed conversations about "glitches" and "anomalies." But nothing had prepared him for this moment — for the sheer, overwhelming presence of these beings.
Before he could respond, the air around them began to shift, objects in the plaza responding like puppets on invisible strings. Debris—shards of glass, chunks of cracked pavement, even a twisted metal bench—lifted into the air with deliberate malice.
The enforcers' hands moved with effortless precision, sending the debris hurtling toward Ryung.
He reacted on pure instinct, lunging sideways just in time to avoid a jagged shard that shattered where he had stood moments before. A second piece, larger and heavier, slammed into his shoulder, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs.
His IVIAN card flared sharply in his pocket:
HP: Dropped by 15 | Current: 180
A sting of pain flickered through his senses, but Ryung forced himself upright, adrenaline sharpening his focus. His mind raced — he couldn't fight like this, not yet. He needed a way out.
The enforcers closed in, moving like living shadows. Ryung darted toward a nearby alley and sprinted through the maze of abandoned buildings on the fringe of Siran's business district. The air grew stale, heavy with dust and neglect. Faded posters fluttered in the breeze, cracked windows stared down like dead eyes.
Behind him, the sound of destruction echoed—heavy footsteps pounding, walls groaning as the enforcers tore through brick and mortar as if they were paper.
Ryung ducked into a narrow doorway, slipping into a dimly lit room barely larger than a closet. He slammed the door shut, pressing his back against the cool wood as the sounds of chaos grew louder.
Outside, the enforcers arrived.
With a slow, deliberate motion, IVAS Enforcer 1 placed a gauntleted hand against the wall. The bricks trembled, then shattered, falling away in a cascade of dust and rubble. The floor creaked and cracked under the pressure of IVAS Enforcer 2's steps, as he bent low and plucked splintered wood and plaster from the ground.
The room shook with an unnatural force, but Ryung held his ground, heart pounding like a war drum in his ears.
Desperation clawed at him. He closed his eyes and summoned the faint glow within—the elusive power of his Green 3rd Eye.
A rush of vertigo spun through his senses, and the world blurred at the edges.
When he opened his eyes, he was no longer a man crouching in a ruined room. He was an ordinary chair—a simple wooden chair with four legs and a straight back.
The enforcers paused.
IVAS Enforcer 2 stepped closer, reaching out to grasp the chair.
"This reminds me of my grandma," he said in a dry, almost fond tone. "She used to yell at me whenever I coded wrong."
Ryung's "heart" — if a glitch-ridden card could be said to have one — twisted in a strange, bitter mixture of fear and amusement.
But the moment was broken as he felt the chair's form shift violently. The illusion cracked and fragmented, revealing the man beneath, standing trembling but defiant.
The enforcers' eyes widened behind their visors. This was no simple glitch, no forgotten NPC acting out.
Ryung's pulse surged.
He was real.
Or at least… real enough to fight.
The battle erupted.
IVAS Enforcer 1 lunged with unnatural speed, his armored fist swinging like a wrecking ball. Ryung barely dodged, but the force caught him, sending him crashing into a pile of broken crates.
Pain blossomed in his side as the IVIAN card pulsed violently.
HP: Dropped by 30 | Current: 150
Ryung scrambled to his feet, desperation giving way to raw survival instinct. He lashed out with his illusion powers — creating flickering shadows, distorting the air with fractured images. But the enforcers were relentless.
Their strikes came fast and brutal, precision honed by systems designed to eliminate anomalies like him.
He staggered, blood pounding in his ears.
Suddenly, a crushing blow landed. The world turned dark.
And then—
Ryung awoke.
The cramped apartment's ceiling swam into focus. His breath came in ragged gasps, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. His hands trembled as he clawed at the sheets, eyes wide with terror.
He was alive.
And he was back.
His mind raced to piece together what had just happened.
Had he truly died? Was this some cruel reset? A nightmare loop?
His IVIAN card buzzed faintly against his skin, a lifeline in the storm of confusion.
The line between reality and code blurred in his mind.
What am I? he whispered.
And somewhere, buried beneath the rising tide of fear, a flicker of defiance sparked.
He would not be erased.
He would not be forgotten.
Because this glitch — this anomaly — was alive.
And alive was dangerous.
---
The Ones Who Watch
The cold hum of servers filled the room, a relentless heartbeat beneath the sterile white light. Walls of transparent data panels glowed faintly blue, displaying endless streams of code, player metrics, and live feeds from the sprawling digital universe known as SERVERSOUL. Somewhere deep inside, where reality folded into simulation, the anomaly called Ryung flickered like a rogue star.
Inside IVAS Corporation's Operations Command, a cluster of developers gathered around the central holo-console. Eyes strained from hours of vigil, fingers hovered over touch-sensitive controls. They were the unseen gods of this artificial world — architects, troubleshooters, and, lately, hunters of glitches that threatened their fragile digital utopia.
Dev 4K, young and sharp-eyed, broke the heavy silence. "Pull up feed S-12. Siran Sector."
The wall-sized screen shifted to show Ryung's last known location: a pixel-perfect city plaza rendered in breathtaking detail. There he was — a man out of sync with his world — running, dodging invisible forces, turning from chair back into flesh, and then disappearing beneath a collapse of digital rubble.
Dev 3C, the senior developer, exhaled deeply. "He shouldn't be able to do any of that."
"Not only that," 4K replied, fingers flying over the console, "he died. Multiple times. And yet... he wakes."
A heavy pause. The room felt colder.
"He's breaking every protocol we've laid down for NPC behavior," 3C said, voice low and tight. "NPCs don't have the capacity to die. They don't have self-preservation. They reset, respawn, reboot. But they don't wake. Not like this."
4K's eyes darkened. "It's not a bug anymore. It's something else. Something we never planned for."
A flicker of static rippled across the screen, zooming in on the IVIAN card data tied to Ryung's account. Its parameters shifted in real time — HP levels fluctuating, behavioral patterns deviating wildly.
"I've flagged the anomaly as 'Self-Directed Entity.'" 3C tapped the code with a heavy finger. "It's like... he's rewriting his own subroutines."
4K frowned, scrolling through archived logs. "We've had glitches before. A bard singing new songs for forty hours straight, a priestess hiding critical quest items for weeks. But none of those... woke up after death."
The room was silent again, but this time the silence weighed heavier, like the calm before a digital storm.
"Do you think it's... a soul?" 4K asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.
3C's eyes flicked toward the mainframe console, where Alya's profile blinked: Lead AI Developer, Director of Internal Reality Stability. "Alya's been pushing the system harder than anyone else. She's under pressure. If this spreads—"
"It will be catastrophic," 4K finished. "An entire server could collapse. Sentient NPCs, code mutating beyond control. The entire ecosystem could unravel."
A third developer, younger and jittery, leaned in. "We're not just fighting bugs anymore. This is... consciousness."
3C shook his head. "We don't even know if that's possible in code."
"But if it is..." 4K's voice dropped. "Then what does that mean for us? For the players? For the system itself?"
The questions hung unanswered, thick with unease.
Suddenly, the holo-screen flickered again, zooming in on Ryung's face — eyes wide, breathing ragged, alive in a way no NPC should be.
"Status update," 4K commanded.
"HP stable for now, but the behavioral map shows exponential growth in self-directed actions. He's learning, adapting." The AI analyst's fingers flew over her console. "Tracking him across all sectors now."
3C's jaw clenched. "If he leaves Siran... we lose him."
The room grew tense, urgency slicing through the clinical calm.
"Activate full containment protocols," 3C ordered. "Notify Alya. She needs to know everything."
The holo-screen shifted to Alya's video feed. Her face was pale, eyes sharp, jaw tight. The weight of responsibility sat heavy on her shoulders, but beneath it flickered something else — determination. The kind that comes when the fate of a world hinges on one fragile thread.
"She's the only one who might reach him," 4K said quietly.
"Or the only one who can stop him."
For a moment, the room was silent again.
Then 3C's voice cut through the quiet like a blade.
"Prepare for containment breach. This isn't just a glitch. It's a revolution."
And somewhere, deep inside the matrix of SERVERSOUL, Ryung took a breath and stepped into a world that was no longer just code.
---
END OF CHAPTER 2