The smell of smoke hit before his eyes opened.
Plastic and metal, burnt together—like the inside of a melted computer.
When Kang Jinhyuk finally forced his eyelids apart, a faint red light pulsed across the cracked ceiling.
Where… am I?
He remembered lying in bed. A long night of gaming, maybe three hours of sleep—then… nothing.
Now he was on a cold floor, cheek pressed against shards of glass.
A low, animal growl rolled somewhere beyond the door.
Jinhyuk's breath caught. Every muscle screamed to freeze, but his lungs betrayed him with a short gasp.
The growl stopped.
For a heartbeat, only the sound of static filled the air. Then—
—thud.
Something slammed against the door. Dust rained from the hinges.
His brain finally caught up. Run.
He crawled backward, feet slipping on debris, knocking over a broken chair. The crash echoed through the small apartment.
Another thud—louder. The door bent inward, hinges shrieking.
>
A translucent window flickered before his eyes, faint blue against the red light. His pulse hammered in his ears.
>
"What…?" His voice cracked. "What the hell is this?"
The door burst open.
A creature squeezed through—humanoid, but wrong. Skin gray and stretched thin, eyes glowing with hunger. A ghoul straight out of a game.
Jinhyuk grabbed the nearest object—a kitchen knife lodged in a countertop. His fingers trembled so hard he almost dropped it.
"This… can't be real."
The ghoul lunged.
Instinct overrode logic. He sidestepped, wildly slashing. The blade scraped bone; the thing shrieked. Black ichor splattered across the tiles, stinging his skin like acid.
Pain was real.
He screamed and kicked the creature away. It hit the table, wood splintering. The impact drove the knife deeper into its neck.
It convulsed once, then went still.
For a long moment, the only sound was his ragged breathing.
>
The message hovered in front of him, too bright against the dark.
He blinked at it, mind blank.
"…A system window?" he whispered. "Like… a game?"
Blood—or whatever passed for it—dripped from the blade onto his hand. It felt warm.
If it was a dream, it was far too detailed. The smell, the heat, the weight of fear pressing on his chest—every sensation was brutally alive.
He staggered to his feet, half-limping toward the shattered window.
Outside, the skyline of Seoul burned crimson. Mana storms twisted the clouds, and massive shapes moved between skyscrapers.
Hundreds of windows glowed with those same blue system lights.
"...No way."
>
"Adaption…? Termination!?"
Jinhyuk's laugh came out strangled. "You've got to be kidding me…"
Another roar echoed from a nearby building.
He tightened his grip on the knife, knuckles white. His entire body shook, not from courage but from raw adrenaline.
"Okay… Jinhyuk. Breathe. One step at a time."
He exhaled through his nose. The shaking eased—barely.
>
A small arrow appeared, pointing toward the corridor outside.
He swallowed hard.
The last thing he wanted was to open that door again.
But staying meant waiting for something worse to find him.
He looked once more at the dead ghoul. Its milky eyes stared back.
"...Guess we're really doing this."
He stepped over the corpse and pushed into the hallway.
---
The hallway beyond was half-lit, half-dead.
Emergency lights pulsed in slow intervals, painting everything in alternating red and black.
Water leaked from a broken pipe somewhere above, its rhythmic drip like a countdown he didn't understand.
Every sense in Jinhyuk's body was dialed to maximum.
He could hear the hum of power lines, the faint wind between cracks, even his own heartbeat—too fast, too loud.
>
He froze.
"…That's good to know," he muttered, keeping his voice to a whisper. "You could've said that earlier, though."
The System didn't reply.
He gripped the knife tighter, moving slowly along the wall. Every step felt like it echoed through the entire building.
Dust fell from the ceiling with each distant tremor outside. Somewhere, another monster howled.
He passed an open door—someone's apartment. Inside, furniture was overturned, a family photo cracked on the ground.
Two bodies lay slumped by the window, claw marks raking through their clothes. His stomach twisted, bile rising in his throat.
Don't look. Keep moving.
He forced his eyes forward.
>
His breath hitched. The messages were cold, clinical—like a machine observing an experiment.
"Just… keep walking," he whispered.
He reached the stairwell. The arrow pointed down.
The emergency door creaked as he pushed it open. A gust of cold, metallic air swept through—carried by the faint scent of oil and blood.
The stairwell was pitch dark. A few steps down, the light from above disappeared entirely.
>
"Without detection?" he repeated. "You've got to be kidding me."
He looked at the knife in his hand. The blade was dull, chipped at the edge. His other hand shook uncontrollably.
Then a faint glow pulsed at the edge of his vision.
>
Suddenly, he could hear the movement below—the slow drag of feet, the wet sound of breathing. Not one, but several.
"...They're waiting," he whispered. His throat went dry. "Okay, System. What now?"
>
"Wow. Very helpful."
He scanned the landing and spotted a loose fire extinguisher. He unscrewed the pin, tested the weight, and nodded to himself.
Not a weapon—but a distraction.
Step by step, he descended. The air grew colder, denser. A low growl came from the shadows below.
Three figures stood near the base of the stairs—ghouls, like the first one, but leaner, faster-looking.
Their eyes flicked up at the faint noise of his steps.
"Now," Jinhyuk whispered.
He hurled the extinguisher down the opposite hallway.
It hit the wall, exploded with a cloud of white gas, and the creatures screeched, rushing toward the sound.
He bolted the other way.
Boots thudded against concrete, echoing too loud. He didn't care anymore—he just ran.
His lungs burned, his pulse thundered, but somehow his body moved faster than it should have.
He reached a reinforced door marked "B2 – Shelter Access" and slammed the keypad.
It blinked red.
>
"Of course!" he hissed. "Why would it ever be easy?"
Behind him, claws scraped against the floor.
He turned, heart hammering. The ghouls were already rounding the corner, snarling, sprinting on all fours.
Time seemed to slow.
The world blurred into motion lines and soundless panic.
His knife felt weightless in his hand.
If I don't move now—I die.
He charged.
The first ghoul lunged. He ducked under its swipe, driving the blade into its ribs, ripping free. The second pounced—he kicked it square in the face, feeling bone crunch under his boot.
A third tackled him to the ground.
Teeth snapped inches from his neck.
"Get—off!"
He grabbed the fire alarm bar on the wall and slammed it down.
A shrill alarm blared through the building. Sprinklers burst open, spraying water everywhere. The ghouls screamed, recoiling from the noise.
He scrambled to the keypad again, half-blind from the spray.
>
The door hissed open.
He dove inside and slammed it shut, panting.
The alarm faded. For the first time in minutes, silence filled the air—broken only by the faint drip of water from his hair.
>
Jinhyuk slumped against the wall, knife still clutched in his hand.
His whole body trembled. Not from the cold, not from exhaustion—but from the realization.
"This… is real," he whispered.
Outside, claws scraped against the steel door—but couldn't break through.
He laughed softly, the sound brittle and uneven.
"Alright, System. You want me to survive? Fine. Let's play your damn game."
>
The blue light pulsed once more—then faded into the darkness.
---
The steel door sealed behind him with a heavy clang that reverberated through the small chamber.
For a long moment, Jinhyuk just stood there, chest heaving, listening to the muffled scraping on the other side. The monsters didn't stop immediately. They kept clawing at the metal, frustrated, until finally, the noise faded away.
The silence felt heavier than the danger.
His legs gave out. He slid down the wall and sat on the wet concrete floor, knife still in hand. Water dripped from his hair, running down his neck, stinging the small cuts along his collarbone.
Breathe, Kang Jinhyuk. Just breathe.
It took almost five minutes before his heart slowed to something resembling normal.
When he finally looked around, the shelter appeared more like an old bunker than a parking garage.
Rows of emergency lockers lined the walls; a few were open, their contents scattered—bottled water, canned food, first aid kits, even a handgun without ammunition.
Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, buzzing faintly.
>
"Eight hours…" Jinhyuk muttered, voice hoarse. "So even safety comes with a timer."
He pushed himself up, legs unsteady, and started checking the lockers.
A half-empty backpack.
A cracked flashlight.
A crowbar.
He gathered them all, setting them neatly in one corner. The act of organizing gave him something to focus on besides the gnawing panic in his chest.
When he finally sat down again, the blue light flickered back to life.
>
He hesitated. Then nodded.
The translucent panel expanded in front of him.
---
[Kang Jinhyuk – Status Window]
Level: 1
Title: None
HP: 90 / 100
Stamina: 42 / 70
Mana: 0
Skills: Basic Instinct (F-Rank)
Condition: Shocked, Fatigued
System Progression: Tutorial Phase
---
"Level one…" he muttered. "Like I'm some newbie character."
His eyes narrowed. "No mana. Figures. I never was the mage type."
He leaned back against the wall, arms resting on his knees. The digital glow reflected in his eyes as he read the words again.
Tutorial Phase.
"So this isn't the full system yet," he said softly. "It's… just the beginning."
>
A second window appeared, listing several small entries:
Main Task: Survive until Daybreak
Optional Task #1: Secure Food and Water (0/1)
Optional Task #2: Identify Local Threats (0/3)
Optional Task #3: Rest and Recover (0/1)
At the bottom of the screen, a line of smaller text blinked faintly.
>
He frowned. "Manually approved? Meaning… I decide what I get?"
No response.
Of course.
The System wasn't some friendly tutorial guide—it was more like an experiment watching him.
And the part about manual approval meant the real power was in his hands.
If he worked hard enough, fought smart enough, he could choose his own path.
That thought anchored him. For the first time since waking up, he wasn't completely terrified.
He looked around the small bunker again. A flickering map screen on the wall displayed part of the surrounding area—faded, glitched, but legible. A red circle marked their building.
All around it, glowing points of light moved like fireflies. Each was labeled Threat Level: Variable.
"Monsters everywhere," he muttered. "And I'm alone."
A beat of silence passed before he added quietly,
"…just like in the game."
He rubbed his face with both hands, trying to think.
He'd played something like this before—a popular VR RPG called Eternal Genesis. A modern fantasy world where players hunted monsters, joined guilds, rose through noble ranks, and fought demons disguised as humans.
This world looked exactly like it.
If he remembered right, the starting zones were always chaos. Survival rate? Less than ten percent.
"Three years before the academy arc, huh?" he said under his breath, connecting dots.
"If I really got pulled into the world of that game, then… I've got time. Time to grow before everything starts."
The thought steadied him.
>
He blinked. "Already?"
His stomach growled softly. "Maybe I should pick food next…"
A wry smile tugged at his lips—the first genuine one since arriving.
The fear was still there, gnawing under his ribs, but now it was mixed with something else: determination.
"Alright," he said, standing up. "If this world wants to test me, I'll play along."
He tightened the straps on the backpack, tucked the knife into his belt, and gripped the crowbar in his right hand.
"Let's start surviving."
The blue light pulsed again, as if approving.
>
The faint hum of the lights filled the silence once more. Outside the steel door, the world burned, waiting.
Inside, Kang Jinhyuk took his first real step as a survivor.
---
Hours passed like minutes.
The shelter's timer reached its final countdown—
>
Jinhyuk's eyes fluttered open. He hadn't truly slept; it was more of a daze, the body forcing a reboot while the mind refused to rest.
The faint hum of machinery signaled the approaching end of protection.
He packed what little he had—crowbar, knife, a single can of beans, and a cracked flashlight.
When the timer hit zero, the blue barrier that had covered the door flickered once and vanished like mist.
>
"Right," he whispered. "Back to hell."
He pushed the door open.
A cold, gray light greeted him. Not sunlight exactly—more like filtered dawn through smoke.
The building above was barely standing. Cracks spider-webbed across the concrete; half the walls had collapsed into rubble.
He climbed the stairs carefully, every creak of metal echoing in the emptiness.
When he reached the ground floor, he stopped dead.
The street beyond was unrecognizable.
Cars overturned and melted together as if hit by plasma fire.
Billboards flickered with broken holograms—half-ads, half-system notices.
And in the distance, skyscrapers leaned against one another, swallowed by vines glowing faintly with mana.
>
His breath caught.
"Seventy-two… percent?"
He stepped outside, boots crunching on glass.
Wind carried the metallic smell of blood and ozone.
Distant explosions rolled across the horizon, like thunder.
This wasn't just Seoul—it was the world.
"Welcome, New Participants. The Tutorial Phase has begun. Survive, evolve, adapt. Those who fail shall be erased."
The voice was mechanical but strangely calm, like a polite customer-service message announcing extinction.
Jinhyuk tilted his head back. The sky above wasn't blue anymore; it shimmered between crimson and violet, mana storms twisting like auroras.
Fragments of data—text, numbers, even monster silhouettes—floated among the clouds, forming and dispersing again.
"…A game world," he murmured, awe and dread mixing in equal measure. "But this time, I can't just log out."
He crouched beside an overturned bus. Someone had spray-painted words on its side in shaky handwriting:
> DON'T TRUST THE QUESTS.
THE SYSTEM LIES.
He stared at it for a long time.
Then a faint chime rang in his head.
>
Jinhyuk exhaled slowly. "So the tutorial isn't over."
The fear was still there—lurking, whispering that one wrong move meant death—but now it shared space with something sharper.
Purpose.
He looked down at his reflection in a puddle: pale face, dark circles, eyes that no longer looked like those of an ordinary office worker.
For the first time, they carried focus.
"Fine," he said to the world. "Let's see who adapts faster."
He turned toward the distant skyline, where faint flashes of light marked battles already raging. Somewhere out there, other survivors—maybe the future heroes of the canon story—were fighting for their lives.
He'd meet them one day.
He'd even join their academy.
But first, he had to live long enough to reach it.
The morning wind rose, carrying ash and the distant cry of something enormous.
>
A faint blue glow traced along his skin, fading just as quickly.
Jinhyuk tightened the strap on his pack and started walking toward the ruins of downtown.
Every step echoed the same quiet vow:
Survive first. Everything else comes after.
---
To be continued