Amidst the war—reignited following the Utah declaration—the situation had reached a boiling point.
Dust and debris swirled through the air, kicked up by the assaults of both sides; it was impossible to tell who was gaining the upper hand.
In the rear lines, a young man with short, black hair and dark, obsidian eyes—dressed in practical, utilitarian gear—was at work.
He was transporting the wounded to safety, utilizing "dimensional domes" he had deployed across the battlefield before the enemy army's arrival.
His breathing was ragged, and the deafening roar of explosions had left him nearly unable to hear.
His expression betrayed a mix of anxiety and exhaustion. His energy was visibly depleted; he was tasked with maintaining these healing domes for students and faculty, all while the constant, looming threat of death pressed in from every direction.
Yet, beneath it all, he felt a strange, haunting sense of familiarity—as if he had experienced this all before. But when? And where? He couldn't quite recall.
Seok cast his gaze toward Suho, who was ushering students and staff into the healing domes—spaces saturated with such concentrated restorative energy that a faint green mist hung within them.
Seok drew in a sharp, involuntary breath, then looked up toward the sky. His gaze was hollow; two hours had passed since the war began.
In those two hours, he had witnessed the full, brutal reality of conflict. Though he served as a healer, he was, by training, a warrior specialized in defense—yet his unique, singular power had forced him to shift his role from combatant to healer. Wounds of every kind and shape, the desperate pleas of students begging to stay alive, the weeping and screaming all around him...
This was something he was entirely unaccustomed to; he had lived in a secluded village on a mountain in the city of Madinki, located in the southwestern reaches of the Kingdom of Athrias.
His life had been beautiful, despite the poverty. He used to work alongside his father, gathering medicinal herbs—for the "dungeons" were monopolized by mercenary guilds, nobles, and high-ranking officials, and the cost of entry was far beyond what his family could afford.
Yet, he had never lost hope. Raised in a loving family, he had never before witnessed such profound suffering and chaos. It was utterly shocking to him.
He found himself forgetting everything else, save for the task he had been assigned: transporting the wounded through the space-warping domes to receive treatment, while ushering members of the "Scorpion" organization into "discharge" domes—or other specialized enclosures designed solely to incapacitate them.
"What in the name of the Creator of Hell is happening? Is this what war—and its cruel clutches—truly looks like?"
"No, I don't understand any of this! Why am I unable to do anything other than what I've been ordered to do?"
"I'm truly terrified. I want to go home... Why am I thinking like this? I can't seem to think clearly!"
"Hahahaha! I remember playing with Suho and my little sister, Ye-rim—what a wonderful day that was! Suho had fallen face-first into a puddle of mud by the river—the rain had made it so slippery—it was absolutely hilarious!"
"Wait! What am I thinking about? Now is hardly the time to be dwelling on such things!" "We are at war, and death is everywhere!"
Seok's inner monologue shifted between different tones—at times recalling the past with a laugh, at others struggling to pull himself together—yet he was losing the battle against his own memories, both the beautiful and the sorrowful.
Ultimately, he was nothing more than a man desperately trying to escape a painful reality—whether by dwelling on the past or by convincing himself that the world around him was nothing but a lie, a fabrication.
BOOM!
Shock contorted Seok's features as an explosion tore through the space beside him, sending him crashing to the ground.
Everything around him blurred into a haze, and a sharp, piercing ringing filled his ears, drowning out all other sounds.
His face was smeared with dirt and blood; his gaze was vacant, his hair disheveled. He said nothing, did nothing—he simply remained where he lay, like a broken doll, unable to move.
"What the hell is happening? I want to live! Damn it, I'm so weak! I don't want to be weak—but in the end, I have nothing!"
"Just a character destined to fade away in the story of life, serving only so that the 'heroes' might claim glory and fame."
"I possess no great talent, nor any high standing. All I have is the ability to craft various types of 'domes'—a skill that demands a terrifying amount of training and rare resources. If I weren't inside the Academy, my ability to manifest these domes would be no different from any other power."
"I want to become stronger—much, much stronger! I refuse to die like a stray dog, whose existence—and death—no one cares about." "I... I feel pity for myself. I want to weep—truly weep—for my own sake! I have long yearned to cry over my situation, which has only grown harsher and more difficult with time."
"I want to survive, to live, to find strength—to lead a decent life, even if it's just an ordinary one! I want this so desperately! Is it too much to ask to live as a human being with dignity, with the basic conditions for a decent life? Is that not my right?"
Seok spoke to himself, his heart filled with sorrow and despair, as tears fell against his will. He longed to stop crying, to keep fighting in the war, and to emerge from it alive.
Yet, his body refused—it would neither stop the tears nor allow him to rise.
"Come on, just give up! For the sake of the creator of hell—what a pathetic fool you are! Who would even care if you existed at all? You're nothing more than a character who appears for a fleeting moment in the story of life, only to vanish. Who would ever care about your existence?"
These words echoed within Seok, as if his very body were screaming them—even without a mouth to speak. It was a feeling that had haunted him his entire life: the sense that he was a truly pathetic soul.
Seok was oblivious to his surroundings; he could hear nothing, save for a sharp, piercing ringing in his ears.
He lay on his back, gathering every last shred of strength remaining in his body. It was not merely physical exhaustion, but a profound psychological collapse—his body simply refused to obey his commands.
Half of Seok's face was caked in mud and blood, the result of an injury sustained while evacuating the wounded. His gaze remained vacant, staring into the void, utterly helpless, as his consciousness began to slip away, bit by bit. An impenetrable darkness closed in around him, and a chilling cold permeated his body, until he collapsed, losing consciousness.
Six years earlier...
In the city of Madinki, at 8:45 a.m., there was a man, fifty-four years of age Beside him was a nine-year-old boy. They were carrying medicinal herbs to sell.
A joyful smile spread across Seok's face as he wandered through a market in the city of Madinki. The harvest of medicinal herbs had been abundant that day, and they fetched a high price—three hundred and fifty-five copper coins and four silver coins—an excellent sum.
"We've gathered so many herbs! We'll have plenty of money—we won't have to worry about expenses for the next five months!"
Seok spoke with delight, all the while struggling to keep the herb-filled basket on his back from falling off.
His father laughed heartily, watching his son's reckless, impulsive behavior.
"Careful now! Your impulsiveness might just get you into trouble."
...
...
...
.....
...
...
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"
Seok pleaded, clinging to the leg of one of the prominent figures of Madinki.
A repulsive smirk curled the man's lips before he delivered a sharp kick to Seok's face.
"Aaaah!"
Seok cried out in agony, clutching his face as blood gushed from it.
His father's eyes were filled with profound pain, his own body battered by multiple injuries. He tried to move toward his son, but one of the man's henchmen kicked Seok, sending him flying several meters—crashing through a number of walls. Since Seok's father did not exceed the SS-rank, he was of no consequence to the City Lord's subordinate.
Seok's father lay there, his body riddled with fractures, completely unable to move.
A cold, cruel smile spread across the faces of the City Lord and his followers as they took in the state of Seok and his father. The City Lord of Madinki spoke:
"Kill these two wretched insects! Mere trash, daring to ruin my beloved's day! How annoying—truly, how incredibly annoying!"
Seok's pupils contracted to the size of pinpricks, and a dark, suffocating aura—steeped in murderous intent—erupted from his body. His eyes began to glow with a stark white light, and his hair drifted upward, as if suspended in mid-air.
Without a word, Seok rose to his feet. He began to mutter under his breath, his body swaying unsteadily as he moved forward:
"Anyone who hurts Seok must die! Seok is so, so angry! Whoever makes Seok sad will die! You are all nothing but insects—insects that must be crushed!"
Astonishment washed over everyone present. The City Lord of Madinki, clearly bewildered, stammered:
"What the hell is going on?"
Pulling himself together, he barked:
"Kill this damned clown!"
Seok cast a single glance at him—a look so intense that both the City Lord and his beloved collapsed to the ground.
.........
.........
"What the hell is happening? How could he possibly be this strong?"
The City Lord spoke, his gaze fixed on the mangled, unrecognizable corpses of his own followers strewn before him.
He looked up toward Seok, who was now drenched in the blood of those followers, steadily closing the distance between them. The face of the city lord turned ashen with sheer terror.
...........
The lord of Madinki City hovered in mid-air, his lover held fast beside him, while Seok watched them with a chilling, lethal coldness.
Tears streamed down the lover's face as she struggled to draw even the slightest breath.
"P-please... h-have mercy!"
Seok turned his gaze toward her and repeated the words he had spoken before:
"Anyone who hurts Seok must die! Seok is very, very angry! Whoever makes Seok sad shall perish! You are all nothing but insects to be crushed!"
"Mercy—that is something you shall never see. For those who show no mercy, none shall be shown in return."
...........
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......
Seok opened his eyes to find his father unconscious. Dried blood stained his face and clothes, yet his physical condition was better than Seok had feared.
Looking around, Seok saw only devastation, blood, and mangled corpses—so badly disfigured that identifying them was nearly impossible. His own body, too, was covered in blood.
Half of Madinki City had been completely obliterated within mere minutes of the incident's onset.
"What the hell happened?"
...........
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......
"Wow! The weather is wonderful today, isn't it, Ye-rim?"
Seok spoke cheerfully as he swam in a lake near their village.
Ye-rim, who was clinging to him—terrified of drowning, as she was only four years old—replied:
"Yes, it's truly beautiful... but please, let me go!" A faint smile appeared on Seok's face as he patted her head. She, however, looked troubled, placing her hand against his stomach.
.........
"Brother, stop! I'm fine—you don't have to do all this!"
Ye-rim spoke, her voice laced with fear, as she watched Seok—who was in a frenzied state—slaughtering the group of mercenaries that had attempted to kidnap her.
Nearby, Su-ho lay unconscious, warm, crimson blood streaming from his forehead and head.
...........
The mercenaries' expressions were a mix of shock and disbelief. It seemed as though everything—even their own strength—was working against them.
"Who the hell is he? How is he capable of this?"
"I have no idea, but he's a monster—a demon! He's killed our comrades in such a brutal way! We have to get out of here!"
"Yeah—given the situation, running is our only real option!"
...........
The mercenaries' faces darkened as they slammed into the walls of Seok's dome.
"What in the name of the devil is going on? There's some kind of dome blocking our escape!"
"We have to get out! Our lives depend on it!"
They unleashed all their attacks against the invisible barrier, but nothing changed; every attempt proved futile.
"Those who provoke Seok meet only one fate: death."
Seok's words were enough to strike terror into the heart of every one of them.
They turned their gazes toward him, their faces twisted in absolute fear and horror, until they collapsed backward onto the ground. Seok raised his hand toward them, and a cry of immense power erupted, shaking the entire forest.
"Aaaaaaaaaah!"
...........
Seok opened his eyes to find himself lying on the ground, his sister, Ye-rim, embracing him. Their clothes and faces were covered in blood.
Seok's gaze was filled with bewilderment as he shifted his eyes toward Suho, who lay unconscious against the trunk of a tree.
"What happened here? Why is this place covered in blood and corpses?"
He spoke in astonishment, taking in his surroundings. Blood was everywhere, and the bodies of the mercenaries were so mangled that it was impossible to identify them—or even tell if they had once been human.
Seok shook Yi-rim, only to find her unconscious, though he did not know why.
He leaned back against a tree trunk, cradling his sister, who was clinging to him with great intensity.
Then, he whispered in a low voice:
"There's nothing to fear. Everything is fine; I am..."
............
"Congratulations, Lady Shihai! You have a baby boy!"
The village midwife exclaimed joyfully, holding the infant in her arms.
Shihai looked at Seok—who was still just a baby—with eyes full of love and warmth. She took him from her and held him close.
"From this day forward, I shall call you Seok."
Shihai kissed her son tenderly, stroking his black hair.
A beautiful smile spread across Seok's face as he gazed up at his mother.
...........
"What do you want? Give me back my son!"
Shihai cried out in anguish, staring at the henchmen of one of the lords of Makitwa City. A smile spread across the face of the leader of the group of followers. He glanced back and forth between the woman and Seok's father, then spoke with an air of arrogance:
"Lady Zinhai Ri, our master desires your son—who was born on the very same day as him—to serve as his plaything. You see, both were born on Tuesday, May 23rd, at 20:56—the exact same day, month, hour, and minute as Master Zinhai Ri himself."
He continued:
"It would be best for you to simply accept this. Let your newborn son become a toy for our master, so that he may experience—and derive pleasure from—the sensation of motherhood."
...........
"What is happening? How could an infant possess such power?"
The leader of the followers uttered these words while staring at an infant, around whom swirled an aura as black as coal.
Seok gestured toward the leader, and the man's body began to lift into the air. His bones shattered, and his internal organs were crushed and mangled.
"Aaaargh!"
The leader groaned in unbearable agony as blood gushed from every part of his body.
His frame began to collapse inward, shrinking until it was no smaller than a child's palm—before, suddenly, it exploded.
The room was left splattered with the blood, flesh, and shattered bones of the follower—a minion of Zinhai Ri—right there inside Seok's home. The surviving followers of Zinhai Ri, his mother Shihai, the village midwife, and Seok's father all stared in utter, unimaginable shock.
Their gazes were fixed upon Seok—a newborn infant hovering in mid-air, his jet-black hair drifting around him, his eyes glowing with a brilliant white light.
...........
Shihai patted the belly of the sleeping Seok, who lay in her lap. A faint smile graced her lips, though it barely masked the shock she still felt.
"How is it that, just a few hours ago, you were a terrifying entity—a being forged solely as an instrument of death—yet now you are nothing more than an infant who cannot bear to leave his mother's embrace?"
Seok reached out, grabbing his mother Shihai's arm and pulling it against his chest.
His tiny hands held fast, refusing to let go. His expression—tinged with a hint of mild annoyance—brought a laugh from his mother.
"I wish you a happy life, my son, Seok."
Her voice was warm, brimming with love and a genuine, deep-seated concern for her child—a child whose very first sight in this world had been nothing but death and bloodshed.
...................
Meanwhile, beyond his conscious awareness, Seok's eyes began to flutter open, though with great difficulty.
A sharp, piercing headache made it nearly impossible for him to open them; it persisted for several minutes before he finally managed to do so, revealing a pair of deep, black eyes.
He found himself inside a dome—a structure that combined the properties of concealment, isolation, and healing. He did not know whether it had appeared on its own, or if he had activated it while he was unconscious and in an unstable state. The latter possibility seemed the most logical to him.
A dome, appearing out of nowhere...
Seok let out a deep sigh as he stared into the void. Then, recalling what had transpired, he spoke in a tone of disbelief:
"Did I do all this? Did I kill so many people? When I'm in such a chaotic state—who dies first? Is it those who were born into this world? I don't understand any of it!"
With great difficulty, Seok rose to his feet and looked beyond the dome, where the war was still raging—though the tide was now turning in their favor.
Seok felt a sense of satisfaction; 90% of the credit belonged to him, thanks to his unique domes. It was a fact that neither the students nor the professors present could deny, no matter how hard they tried.
A minor, background character—appearing for only a chapter or two before vanishing—had managed to accomplish something the main characters could not.
How truly ironic!
With that, Seok dispelled the dome that had been shielding him, revealing himself in the rear ranks, where the situation was relatively secure.
His steps were unsteady—the result of something he did not yet understand, and for which he had no time to seek an explanation.
After all, in the midst of war, there is simply no room to reflect on oneself, one's physical condition, or anything else. Seok's eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for any sign of Suho, but he found nothing—a realization that filled him with anxiety.
"What is going on here?"
Seok managed to speak, his voice strained, as he watched students and professors—now recovered—heading toward the front lines to join the battle.
He was stunned by their complete indifference toward him; in the chaotic crush, he was knocked to the ground.
"Get lost, you wretched scoundrel! Out of my way!"
One of the professors kicked Seok in the face, sending him sprawling. Warm, crimson blood began to gush profusely from his ears, nose, and mouth.
His condition was pathetic; his clothes were torn and stained with dried blood, while his hair—grimy and partially singed—was matted with patches of dried blood, giving him a wild, unkempt appearance, as if he had lost his mind. As for his face, one half was smeared with fresh red blood, the other caked in a layer of mud and dried blood.
Seok said nothing. He simply stared—his gaze vacant, heavy with despair and sorrow—at the students and professors he had saved from death.
Yet, they saw him as nothing more than a tool to be used. Such, after all, is the human mentality: people care for one another only when it serves their own interests.