Ka-jin stood, movements smooth. Too smooth. Like water flowing downhill. "You think I started Gold? I was weaker than you once. Bronze rank. Got my ass handed to me more times than I can count."
"Then how'd you get stronger?" Mira's voice cracked with desperation.
"Stopped trying to be strong." Ka-jin walked closer, eyes sharp. "Started trying to survive. Big difference."
Mira wanted to argue, but the words died in her throat. She'd seen too many people die. Her brother, torn apart by a Fledgling Beast while she hid like a coward. That memory burned every single night.
Ka-jin studied her face. "You're scared. Good. Fear keeps you alive. But you're letting it control your Gi. Energy follows emotion. Panic creates chaos."
He tapped her chest, right over her heart. "Breathe, center yourself. Then try again."
Mira closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe slowly, In, Out. The burning in her chest eased slightly. She opened her eyes and punched the dummy again. This time, her Gi flowed smoother. Not perfect, but better.
"Better," Ka-jin said. "Keep practicing. Tomorrow, we're heading into those ruins." He jerked his head toward the rift in the distance. "I need someone to watch my back."
"Why me?" Mira asked.
"Because you're hungry." Ka-jin's expression was unreadable. "Hungry people survive when everyone else gives up."
As he walked away, Mira stared at her bloody knuckles. 'Hungry. Yup, sounds like that's me.' She thought of her brother's face, frozen in terror. 'I'll get stronger. No matter what it takes.'
A young voice piped up nearby. "That was cool!"
Mira turned to see a kid—maybe ten years old—watching from behind a pile of rubble. Skinny, dirty, eyes too big for his face.
"You shouldn't be here, kid," Mira said.
"I want to be strong like you," the boy said. "Can you teach me?"
Mira opened her mouth to refuse, then stopped. She saw herself in those desperate eyes. "What's your name?"
"Min-ho."
"Well, Min-ho, if you want to be strong, first rule is: don't get yourself killed doing something stupid." She picked up a stick and tossed it to him. "Start with basics. Hit that post over there. A thousand times. Come back when you're done, and maybe I'll teach you something."
Min-ho's eyes lit up. He scrambled to the post and started swinging the stick with wild enthusiasm. 'Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!'
Mira watched him for a moment, then turned back to her training. 'At least someone's got hope left.'
---
Slums Marketplace – Sunset
The marketplace buzzed with desperate energy. Traders shouted prices for salvaged goods, monster cores, makeshift weapons. Everything was for sale if you had the currency.
A burly man with a massive salvaged axe slung over his shoulder examined a set of crude gauntlets. "These any good?" he asked the vendor, a scrawny woman with one eye.
"Reinforced with beast bone," she said. "Not fancy, but they'll save your fingers in a fight. Fifteen low-grade cores."
The man grunted. "Ten."
"Fourteen."
"Twelve, final offer."
"Deal." They exchanged goods and cores with the efficiency of people who'd done this a thousand times.
Nearby, a younger hunter practiced bare-handed strikes against a wall, his Gi leaving faint scorch marks on the stone. An old man watched, shaking his head. "Kids these days think Gi solves everything. Back in my day, we learned technique first, power second."
"Your day is over, old man," a passing hunter sneered. "Power is all that matters now. Strong eat, weak die."
The old man spat. "That attitude gets you killed in dungeons. Seen it happen. Power without brains is just a fancy corpse."
A commotion erupted near the edge of the market. Someone had returned from a dungeon—alone, bloodied, half-dead. People crowded around, asking questions.
"What happened?"
"Where's the rest of your team?"
"Dead," the survivor croaked. "Trap... the dungeon... it changed. Rooms moved. Beasts were waiting."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Fear. Uncertainty.
A hooded figure watched from the shadows, taking notes on a small device. Information to sell later. The survivor would be interviewed by a dozen brokers before the night was over.
The world was changing fast. Too fast. And everyone was scrambling to keep up.
---
Back at the Tent – Night
Jae-sung finally made it back, stumbling through the tent flap. Ji-hye gasped. "Jae-sung! What happened to you?"
"Trap," he managed before his legs gave out. "All... a trap..."
Ji-hye lowered him to the ground, yelling for someone to get Dr. Choi. Blood soaked through his shirt from a gash in his side she hadn't noticed before.
Yoo watched from his blanket nest, his tiny body completely still.
Inside his mind: Analysis: Father figure sustained critical injuries. Blood loss: severe. Without immediate medical intervention, survival probability: 34%.
'He came back,' Yoo thought, something twisting in his infant chest. 'He's back! That's great!'
Query: Do you wish to attempt intervention?
'What can I do? I'm a baby. I can't even walk.'
Available options: Minimal. Recommendation: Observe and await medical assistance.
Yoo's hands clenched into tiny fists. Power stirred inside him—Melt, Bind, abilities he'd gained at birth—but what good were they? He couldn't heal. Couldn't help.
'Useless,' he thought bitterly. 'All this power and I can't do anything that matters.'
Dr. Choi arrived minutes later, medical bag in hand. He knelt beside Jae-sung, scanner out, hands moving with practiced efficiency. "Su-bin, I need—"
"Already here." His assistant appeared with supplies.
As they worked, Choi's scanner beeped. He glanced at it, then at baby Yoo. The scanner had picked up something. A faint energy pulse from the infant, triggered when Jae-sung collapsed.
Choi's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. First priority: save the man bleeding out on the floor.
Ji-hye held Yoo close, tears streaming down her face. "Please save him. That baby's got no one else."
"I'll do everything I can," Choi said, already applying emergency sealant to the worst of the wounds.
Yoo watched it all with eyes too aware, too knowing for an infant. Inside his mind, Akasha Archive compiled data, tracked vitals, calculated probabilities.
But all Yoo could think was: 'I need to get stronger. Fast. Before everyone around me dies and I'm too weak to stop it.'
Outside the tent, Han-sol the information broker watched from a distance, making notes on his device. "Interesting. Very interesting."
He uploaded his report to his employer: "Anomaly baby confirmed. Father figure returned injured from dungeon trap. Will continue observation. Recommend patience."
Somewhere in the ruins, something ancient shifted in its sleep, disturbed by the changing energies in the world above.
And in the pocket dimension outside reality, two cosmic beings moved their pieces on an invisible board, completely unaware that one of their moves had created something unprecedented.
The game continued.
The pieces moved.
And in a small tent in the slums, baby Yoo Seung-yoon decided that being helpless was not an option.
Not anymore.