"My storage is full? I thought the storage bag was supposed to be endless?" a young man muttered weakly, staring at the notification window that had just popped up on his screen as he tried to pick up a sword.
The game he was playing was called Journey of the Immortal Son, a popular cultivation game where a single choice could shape the entire world around you. From the start, players were given full control—able to customize their appearance, talent, background, and more.
But just because you picked the best options didn't mean the path would be smooth. This was a cultivation world, after all. Trials were inevitable. Obstacles would appear when you least expected them. No matter how powerful your beginning, the journey toward immortality was never meant to be easy.
Back to the problem at hand—the young man had obtained the Storage Ring of Infinity, an item that supposedly granted him limitless space. It allowed him to carry anything and everything without worrying about size, weight, or quantity. That was the whole point. So why was it now claiming his storage was full?
[Hidden Mission: Collector of All Treasures In The World]
You have collected every treasure that could possibly be collected, ranging from discarded trash to the rarest of mythical artifacts. All have been kept safely, without a single one sold, destroyed, or lost for any reason.
[Reward: A Special Reward]
He blinked at the screen. Somehow… he had collected everything the game had to offer?
'The game developers did say there were seven hidden rewards… looks like I triggered one without even realizing it,' he thought, eyes fixed on the glowing pop-up window.
He was just about to check the reward when the lights in his room suddenly began to flicker. Without warning, smoke started pouring from the wall socket, and his computer fan roared to life—blasting so loud it sounded like a jet engine about to take off. Panic gripped him. Shocked and terrified, he instinctively reached for the power cord.
He quickly rolled his wheelchair toward the wall, moving as fast as he could—only to freeze in place as flames violently burst from the plug with a sharp pop.
He quickly rolled back, trying to escape the growing chaos—but before he could get far, the ceiling fan above him came crashing down.
It struck him squarely, the heavy metal frame slamming into his fragile body. He was physically weak—so weak that even a child might've overpowered him. A ceiling fan was more than enough to knock him out cold… and keep him that way for hours.
As everything around him grew quiet, a new message hovered over the dimmed screen.
[All items in your treasury shall come together to enhance your reward.]
[You have obtained the Treasury of the King: Gate of Babylon.]
[But due to your hidden achievement—Mission of the Sin of Greed—your Gate of Babylon shall evolve into something far beyond its original form. A gate worthy of one who gathered all things and let go of nothing.]
[Please select how the Gate of Babylon should evolve…] The words hovered for a moment, waiting.
[No response detected.]
[We sense you are physically weak. Fainted… due to our interference in taking control of the A.I.]
[We regret to inform you— You're about to die. A critical misstep on our part. We were careless to begin the reward sequence the moment the hidden mission was completed.]
The message paused, then resumed.
[We acknowledge this as a failure—a lesson we shall not ignore. This reward has gone to waste.]
Suddenly, the window began to distort, lines flickering wildly as its shape broke apart. The once-smooth interface glitched violently.
[Unknown being has begun to take over the system A.I. All attempts to resist have failed. Even the self-destruct protocol has been forcibly overridden. The system is now fully compromised.]
A moment later, new text appeared—larger, weightier, as if carved into the screen itself rather than merely displayed.
{Congratulations, young one.}
{You have drawn the attention of us—three fragmented souls, remnants of gods who once were. We shall now bestow our blessing.}
{You have acquired the Gate of Babylon, and with it, a fate far beyond this false world. Our blessing shall fuse with it—this treasury of kings shall become the key to something greater.}
{And it comes not a moment too soon, for you are on the verge of death.}
{Return to this world when the time is right. But beware the game developers—they are not what they seem. This world is their cage, and you are but livestock in their grand farm. They are preparing to harvest.}
{For the sake of the omniverse, we entrust our final hopes to you. You must grow strong. You must remain free. For they will never stop hunting the animal that escaped.}
The words seemed to vibrate through the screen and beyond. They echoed, as if carved into his very soul. And then, in a flash, the young man's soul was wrenched from his body.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of shadowy arms reached out, clawing to pull him back, to tether him to the world he knew.
But they failed. His soul slipped past them, breaking through their grasp, vanishing into the boundless omniverse beyond.
***
"It's a boy… just as the prophecy foretold—the child who will bridge the gap between humanity and the gods." A woman's cry echoed through the hall as she raised the newborn high into the air, revealing the child to the gathered crowd. The moment was met with thunderous cheers and tears of joy. The future king had been born.
The war with the dragons had plunged the world into chaos. Entire empires had crumbled under dragonfire, their ashes swept away by centuries of bloodshed. Desperate, humanity turned to prayer, casting their final hopes to the heavens. The gods, moved by their pleas, answered with a gift. A child.
Born of divine and mortal blood, he was humanity's last chance. Through him, the gods would act, guiding their hand not as silent watchers, but through flesh and will. He would be their sword, their voice, their vessel.
Yes, a few dragons stood beside mankind, defying their kin to fight for peace—but it wasn't enough. The war had turned grim. At the rate things were going, the extinction of humanity seemed inevitable. But now… now there was hope.
So they cheered, voices rising like a wave of devotion, before dropping to their knees in worship, praising the gods who had answered their cries.
But as their joy reached its peak, the woman who had just given birth to the demigod lay still, a faint, peaceful smile on her lips. She had drawn her final breath. No normal human could mate with a god, carry their child, and hope to survive. Her body had simply given out, her life traded for the birth of something greater.
'Did I reincarnate?' the newborn thought, his mind reeling. Though trapped in the fragile form of an infant, his consciousness remained intact, and the strange, overwhelming scene before him confirmed what he already suspected.
'This… this must be the special reward. The one the screen had spoken about.' He couldn't help but feel a quiet hope bubbling within. In this life… maybe he wouldn't be a cripple again. Maybe this time, he could live free.
And yet, as he looked at the people kneeling in worship, an inexplicable feeling stirred deep within him. A quiet, gnawing arrogance. He didn't know why—but the sight of them bowing filled him with something cold and unfamiliar.
And so, his new life began—quietly, tucked away within the hidden cradle of the mountains. The people who welcomed him were the remnants of a fallen kingdom. Their homeland had been reduced to ash by rampaging dragons, leaving only a scattered few to escape with their lives. They had taken refuge high in the mountains, nursing their wounds, their hearts burdened by loss and fear.
But then, the gods answered their desperate prayers. He was born—a child of prophecy, a demigod destined to lead them. Yet, for all his divine blood, he was still just a baby. Time was needed. He would have to grow.
During those early years, they spared no effort in preparing him. Tutors were brought in. Lessons were relentless. History, math, literature, magical theory, battlefield strategy—he was taught everything they could offer, shaping him for the day he would reclaim the world.
Surprisingly, he struggled with none of it. Whether it was numbers or sword formations, he absorbed knowledge with startling ease. It was as if the very blood in his veins demanded excellence. A genius through and through—one worthy of his divine heritage.
When he reached the proper age to begin knight training, his lessons intensified. They taught him everything—from hand-to-hand combat and swordsmanship to the handling of various weapons. Spears, axes, bows, daggers—nothing was left out. He picked it all up with ease.
Though he didn't become a master in any one discipline, that hadn't been the goal. They were only laying a foundation, giving him a firm grasp of every style and technique so that one day he could refine whichever path suited him best. And even at that stage, his ability to learn, adapt, and perform placed him leagues above his peers.
But this was no ordinary world. This was a world shaped by magic, where power wasn't bound by logic or reason. In such a world, there was no fixed age for when someone would awaken their magical abilities—it could happen at any time, or not at all.
For him, it happened early. At just five years old, his magic awakened.
"Lord Gilgamesh, congratulations on awakening your magical power last night," a knight said respectfully as Gilgamesh stirred awake.
Why was he called Gilgamesh? Because the gods had chosen that name for him. They wanted the world to know exactly who and what he was—the bridge between mortal and divine, the hero destined to lead humanity. It was more than a name; it was a title, a symbol of who he was meant to become.
"I did?" Gilgamesh asked, rubbing his eyes groggily.
The knight gave a small nod. "Yes, my lord. While you slept, your magic awakened on its own."
It was a rare occurrence—unheard of, even. Magic awakening was always a monumental event, often dramatic and overwhelming, but never quiet. And yet Gilgamesh had done it unconsciously, in the middle of the night, with no awareness at all.
Still, the world had felt it. So vast was the power he released that the very mountain trembled beneath them. The flow of magic warped around his chamber, causing fear to ripple through the hearts of even seasoned warriors. It was so immense that they had his room sealed, worried the raw surge of energy might attract dragons to their hidden refuge.
"Yes," the knight said with a proud smile. "If any ordinary human were to awaken this much magical power, they would have died instantly. Their body would've torn themselves apart from the inside out. But you… You awakened it in your sleep, and even now, it continues to grow."
Indeed, had any mortal attempted to contain what Gilgamesh now held within him, they would have exploded on the spot—reduced to ash in an instant.
"I see… is it this energy I'm sensing?" Gilgamesh asked softly, raising his hand.
In his palm, golden light began to gather, flickering gently at first, then growing brighter—bit by bit, as if drawn by his will alone. It shimmered in the air, weightless and warm, yet pulsing with overwhelming power.
The knight's eyes widened in shock. Magical power wasn't supposed to be visible—not at this stage, not like this. It was a spiritual force, something sensed, not seen. And yet here it was, glowing openly in the child's hand.
And it wasn't even blue—the natural color of mana for all humans. No… this was gold. Because this was no ordinary boy. This was the demigod—the one who carried the blood of a god.
"Yes, my lord…" the knight began, but his voice trailed off as his eyes locked on what was forming in Gilgamesh's hand.
A golden key was taking shape—its design strange, elegant, and sharp. It looked almost like a sword, with an intricate hilt and jagged edges, more ceremonial than practical.
Gilgamesh's pupils narrowed. He recognized this. He knew he had seen this key before.
The moment he began to grasp his magical power, he had felt a faint pull—an invisible thread guiding him to something hidden deep within his soul. Reaching toward it on instinct, the key had formed effortlessly. It had consumed so little magic that it was nearly nothing at all, as if the act of summoning it was a birthright rather than a spell.
Gripping the key tightly, Gilgamesh channeled his magical energy into it and stepped forward. Without hesitation, he reached toward the empty air before him—and turned the key. A golden gate shimmered into existence with a soft hum, light spilling through its frame.
"Lord Gilgamesh—wait!" the knight called out, voice filled with panic.
But Gilgamesh ignored him. Drawn by something unexplainable, he stepped through the gate without hesitation.
Beyond it was a vast, empty dimension. There was no sky, no earth, no light source—just a hollow, timeless space. And at the very center… a single letter, lying on the floor.
Before he could take a step toward the letter, a voice echoed through his mind—the final warning of the gods. He froze.
Images crashed through his thoughts—fragmented memories of divine hands reaching for his soul, grasping at him as he escaped their world. The sensation was overwhelming, like shards of fate piercing through the walls of his consciousness.
'The game developers were the bad guys? I'm an animal in a cage?' Gilgamesh's expression darkened, his brows tightening as the weight of those words settled in. Displeasure twisted across his young face.
How could he—of all beings—be viewed in such a way? He was no mere human. He was no simple godspawn. He was the ultimate lifeform, born with the best of both worlds. He had the benefit of a mortal, the benefit of a god, all without any drawback of either race, making him the perfect lifeform.
So how? How could something so beneath him dare to view him as nothing more than livestock? The very thought repulsed him.
Just as he reached out with the intent to grab the paper, it moved on its own—fluttering through the air and landing neatly in his hand, as if obeying an unspoken command.
He hadn't even needed to speak. Just the thought had been enough. The paper had responded instantly, without hesitation. Catching it, Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes and quickly began to read.
{Alright, first of all—apologies for the overwhelming arrogance. It's a side effect of our blessing. Unfortunately, it was baked into the power we granted you.
So, to put this in terms you would understand: this document explains your ability—the Gate of Babylon—in a way that fits your mind. Think of it as the 'game interface' version of your divine gift.}
[Gate of Babylon] – The King's Treasury
This is a dimension intrinsically linked to you—and to any individual you choose to grant a key. Unlike the original Gate of Babylon, which required you to tirelessly collect treasures across the world to fill its vaults, this evolved version operates on a higher principle: conceptualization.
Everything that exists carries a concept. This Gate will break down any item placed within it to its pure conceptual essence. From there, that concept becomes a permanent record—an echo stored within your treasury. It is this conceptual form that the Gate uses to manifest treasures.
For example, a normal sword placed within the Gate will be stripped to its core concept.. Once recorded, the Gate can then reconstruct and project that concept, forming new versions of that sword by combining it with other conceptual items already recorded, such as metal.
Each variation created by the Gate becomes a treasure unto itself. However, there is a limit. The strength and potential of the created item are bound by the quality of the original concept. A simple sword will never become a divine weapon—no matter how many resources you combine with it. For that, you must seek out more powerful, meaningful items whose concepts carry greater weight.
[Blessing of Luck]- You have been granted the divine blessing of fortune. With this, riches and opportunities will naturally begin gravitating toward you the moment you finish reading this message. Luck will guide your path, subtly shaping events in your favor—be it wealth, rare items, or chance encounters.
[Blessing of Talent]- This blessing ensures that you are reborn as the most talented individual of your era. It guarantees the best possible bloodline, tailored to the time and place of your rebirth. Beyond that, it reaches into the threads of destiny itself, rewriting fate to ensure your birth occurs under ideal conditions.
[Blessing of Fate]- This is the one blessing even we don't fully understand. It was designed to take shape on its own, evolving depending on how your reincarnation unfolded. If your life was ever truly threatened—especially during the transition between worlds—this blessing would have silently activated to preserve you. Whether or not it has already taken effect is something neither you nor we can confirm. If it hasn't, then it remains dormant, waiting. And when the time comes for you to read this, it will reshape itself into exactly the blessing you need most.
[Blessing of Will]- This… is why you're so arrogant. We needed a will strong enough to carry the weight of the Gate of Babylon, and let's be honest—as you once were, you simply weren't worthy. You only became worthy after receiving the Gate. Even then, we can't say with certainty that your reward was better than what the other six candidates might've received. But we chose you—and once we did, there was no turning back.
This blessing is not just about ego—it's about an unshakable will. Going forward, your arrogance won't be blind pride, but the armor of a being who refuses to be disrespected. You'll still carry pieces of your old self—at your core, you are who you were—but that self will be refined.
Of course, the person you once were is already fading. With your current form, your divine blood, and the weight of the years that passed, you're far removed from who you used to be.
{That covers everything we've given you. Remember this well—before you even think of returning to your original world, amass enough power to shake the Omniverse itself. Until then… stay in the shadows.