Across the city, tiny cracks were appearing—small tears in reality that no one could ignore for long. At first, they were barely noticeable, like heat waves on a summer day. But from each one spilled creatures that broke every rule humanity had ever learned.
The first emergency alert came at exactly 2:37 PM Seoul time.
"This is Seoul Defense Command. Unusual phenomena have been reported downtown. Please stay indoors as we investigate," the official voice announced on every screen and channel.
By 3 PM, those strange tears weren't just in Seoul anymore. Twelve other cities across three continents were reporting the same impossible occurrences.
By 4:30, military units were rushing into affected areas.
By 5:45, none had returned.
"Sir, our weapons aren't working," Colonel Park reported, his voice controlling panic. "Plasma rifles, quantum disruptors, fusion charges… they all pass straight through those creatures like they aren't even there."
On the command center's screen, General Nam Jong-su watched in horror.
In New Tokyo, a creature as tall as a building poured like smoke through the streets, swallowing cars, trees, and people without a trace.
"What about nukes?" Nam asked.
"We tried that in Lagos," Park replied grimly. "It only made the thing bigger."
Fear gripped Nam for the first time in decades. Humanity had defeated disease, beaten death, solved hunger, and prepared for nearly every danger imaginable—including alien contact and rogue AI.
But this? This was something new.
"Sir!" Lieutenant Yi burst in, pale and breathless. "Seoul's tear has grown—much bigger!"
The screen shifted to a live feed: the small shimmer had exploded into a massive hole in the sky.
It wasn't darkness. It wasn't empty space.
It was pure... nothingness.
And through it, things were coming.
First, small scouts probing.
Then, something huge, moving with the grace of a predator.
It was like a mountain waking, shifting between solid, smoke, energy, and impossible forms.
Where it stepped, reality cracked.
It raised what looked like a head and fixed its gaze on a satellite hundreds of kilometers above.
General Nam felt its presence like a weight on his very mind.
Then it screamed.
Not a sound you could fully describe—the scream shook quantum space, flew silently down encrypted channels, and slammed into the minds of every enhanced human across half the continent.
Three million people across Seoul screamed in pain, clutching their heads in agony.
The scream lasted thirteen long seconds.
When it finally ended, half the city's floating districts fell like shattered glass, crashing into the ground below.
Deep beneath the Earth, where ancient magma had long cooled, something stirred.
It was not alive. Yet.
Fragments of a consciousness lay scattered like seeds in dark soil. Each carried memories of a life cut short in a forgotten alley, a life full of stories never told.
Yoo Seung-yoon.
Twenty-eight when he died, a game developer with dreams bigger than himself. Dreams of changing how people told stories.
His death was quick, cruel, and soon forgotten—except by his grandmother.
But death wasn't the last word.
The war raging high above—the endless game of Order and Chaos—sent ripples through unseen dimensions.
These ripples gathered Yoo's scattered soul like iron filings around a magnet.
Piece by piece, memory by memory—debugging code, grandmother's kimchi, frustration, and dreams—he was reforming.
Order fought to make him conform.
Chaos tried to scatter him back to nothing.
Together, they forged something new.
Something unexpected.
Something pulsing with power no one planned.
In the darkness beneath Seoul, as monsters poured through tears in reality and humanity's golden age crumbled, Yoo Seung-yoon's soul began to dream of life once more.
Above it all, the cosmic game played on.
Aethon, embodiment of Order, studied the board with cold calculation.
Chaos whispered dark laughter between atoms.
"The mortals adapt too fast," Aethon said, watching scientists struggle but learn.
"Let them climb," purred Chaos. "Their fall will be delicious. But... do you feel that? Something stirs below."
Aethon's senses pierced the planet's core, seeking the unknown.
There, in the final resting place of souls, something was changing.
A consciousness reborn.
Unseen energies from their game, merging into a being unlike any before.
"Should we stop it?" Aethon asked.
"No," Chaos said at once. "Surprises sell best. The Supernovas will pay extra."
So they watched the game unfold, unaware of the greatest mistake they'd made.
Far below Seoul, Yoo Seung-yoon's soul throbbed in time with the heartbeat of the universe.
His time was coming.