Two men stood deep within the cavern's grand hall.
At a glance, nothing seemed remarkable—until one noticed that beneath their feet lay not stone, but empty air. The only thing supporting them was a gentle current of wind, holding them aloft as though they were standing on the sky itself.
"You've lost your mind, haven't you? To release them into the outside world at a time like this?"
The speaker, a tall man in a midnight-blue suit, floated effortlessly dozens of feet above the ground.
His long brown hair and beard, wild and unkempt, clashed with the tailored suit—yet instead of looking absurd, he radiated authority. An aura of blue light shimmered around him, draping him in the majesty of a god out of legend.
Beside him hovered an old man in a gray robe, leaning on a crooked staff that seemed more curve than line.
He looked every bit the wizard from an epic tale. Unlike his companion, no aura surrounded him,yet his presence carried equal weight. This was Alfor.
"You needn't worry," Alfor replied, eyes fixed on the depths of the cavern rather than his companion's furious glare.
"Old though I am, I've not yet gone mad."
His gaze lingered on a tunnel at the cavern's end—darker than the deepest sea.
Moments earlier, two young men had disappeared into its depths.
"Madness, you call it not?" thundered the man in blue.
"Do you grasp what this means? That thing is worth more than your very life—yet you would cast it aside for the sake of those wretches?"
His aura flared, surging with fury. The underground lake churned as though struck by a storm. Waves battered the cavern walls, and for a moment it seemed the entire chamber might collapse.
Alfor only sighed. Turning his eyes to the lake's heart, he watched as a white orb, the size of a football,rose gently above the surface. The Naga's Orb. Some said it was the egg of the serpent gods of Southeast Asian legend.
"I understand your anger. But those boys have passed my trials. What else would you have me do?"
A deep hum shook the cavern as the orb flared with light, bright as the sun.The man in blue frowned, raising a hand toward it as if to strike. His aura writhed like a tempest. Alfor, calm as ever, made no move to interfere.
But at the last moment, the man stilled. His hand dropped, the furious energy vanishing as suddenly as it had come. The cavern fell silent, the lake settling like a sea after storm. Alfor's brow lifted in surprise.
"If you would stop them, it must be now. Otherwise—"
"Enough," the suited man cut in.
"Old fool, I may disagree, but I know when something is beyond my reach.Pray you are not truly insane. If you are… not only Himmapan, but even Olympus itself may suffer ruin."
He glanced at the strange watch on his wrist—its single unmoving hand frozen in place—then muttered,
"I'm late. My brother won't forgive me if I miss the council.
Take care, and avoid darkened skies for a time. Zeus won't be pleased."
With that, his body blazed with blue light—and vanished.
Alfor whispered to the empty cavern, "Grandson… the fate of this world lies with you."
The orb above the lake shivered, then split apart into the shape of a radiant white serpent, ten feet long, its body woven from pure energy. With a flash, it darted into the tunnel. Moments later, a flood of white light poured forth, consuming everything.
---
Nawa's eyes fluttered open. Gone was the damp cavern. He now stood in the heart of a dense forest beneath a clear sky. Above, a passenger plane cut across the heavens—proof that he had returned to Earth.
Months in Himmapan had hardened him—months of monsters, miracles, and peril.And now, finally, he was home. A smile crept to his lips, and tears stung his eyes.
Here, there were no monsters. Here, there was family.
Yet joy gave way to confusion. The powers he once wielded were gone.
The enchanted relics he carried—a dragon-scale tunic, an ironwood armguard, and a keepsake from Alfor—were dull, lifeless. Still, it mattered little. In this world, magic had no place. Here, peace reigned.
He set off toward home. Birds and squirrels were his only company, no lurking beasts in sight.Relief washed over him. Soon, the forest thinned, giving way to a road lined with houses unmistakably Thai in design.
He had returned. And yet… something was wrong.
Floating above the street was a car—sleek, shining, and utterly wheel-less. It hovered a foot above the ground.
"What is this? Don't tell me someone… used my theory?" Nawa muttered, disbelief in his eyes.
"No… impossible. I was gone barely half a year. Even if someone stole my work,
they couldn't have built this so quickly."
It was his theory of spacetime fields—the experiment that had hurled him into Himmapan in the first place. Shunned, mocked, dismissed as madness, he had tested it alone, backed only by a wealthy friend who believed in him.
The trial had worked too well. Attempting faster-than-light travel, he had shattered reality, crossed worlds, and endured a realm where gods and monsters walked.
Now he was back. But this Earth was no longer the one he remembered.
...
Nawa shook the distracting thoughts out of his head and headed straight into the city. The first place he went was a bank—hoping to withdraw some cash for travel and for the expenses of gathering information about what exactly was going on.
But it was as if fate were mocking him.
While Nawa stood in front of the ATM, the bank seemed to be in the middle of a robbery.
He knew because police cars were now surrounding the building. Sirens blared so loudly they stabbed at his ears.
It was the first time he had ever witnessed something like this—but compared to the countless dangers he had endured in the Himmapan Forest, it barely counted as anything. He didn't feel fear or panic.
Even if he was powerless now, no different from an ordinary person, the experience of surviving peril after peril had given him confidence that he could get himself out of this situation without much trouble.
A man stepped out through the bank's doors, carrying two black bags bulging with cash. The outfit he wore looked strange—similar to the ceremonial attire of Brahmins, except it was entirely black.
The man showed no fear of the police surrounding him. He walked straight toward where Nawa stood.
His speed was unbelievable. In the blink of an eye, he was right in front of Nawa. Then he grabbed Nawa by the throat and lifted him up with one hand. It was clear the robber intended to use him as a human shield.
If Nawa hadn't lost his powers, then no matter how strong or fast this man was, he never would've been able to do this.
Even so, Nawa didn't panic. He understood that in life-or-death moments, what mattered more than raw power was calmness—and intelligence.
Seeing that Nawa didn't struggle, the robber set the money bags down and reached into the shoulder pouch he was carrying.
It wasn't a gun.It wasn't a bomb.
It was a small clay figurine—shaped like a water buffalo.
He placed it on the ground and pressed his palms together.
In the next instant, the clay buffalo expanded dozens—hundreds—of times over, growing larger than a real buffalo, massive and terrifying.
The clay buffalo rampaged forward, smashing everything in its path. Police cars were struck and flipped over, scattering like toys. Nothing could stop it. Even dozens of bullets only made it hesitate for a moment.
The robber seized Nawa and jumped onto the buffalo's back. Then the clay beast charged off at full speed, vanishing into the distance.
Nawa wasn't shaken by being taken hostage.
What truly unsettled him was everything he had just witnessed—technology so advanced, powers that seemed ripped from fairy tales. He couldn't help wondering:
Was this still the same world he had left behind?
As he sank into thought, a figure appeared in front of him.
A man wearing red—like the uniform of an ancient soldier. Gold patterns glowed across his clothing in the shape of an elephant's head. In both hands, he held what looked like an ordinary pair of swords.
The man charged the clay buffalo without a hint of fear. His movements were beyond anything a normal human could match—like a superhuman, a movie superhero brought to life. In an instant, he was directly in front of the beast.
Both blades began to glow with a pale green light, as if coated in some kind of energy.
A moment later, the clay buffalo—something dozens of guns hadn't been able to damage—was sliced apart into pieces.
The robber and Nawa tumbled across the ground, rolling several times. Even so, the robber still didn't release Nawa.
"Don't come any closer!" the robber shouted, pressing a short knife into the center of Nawa's back while using him as a shield.
"One more step and you can start preparing to collect this kid's corpse!"
"And you think that kind of threat works on the Ayira Unit?"
The man with the twin swords kept walking forward, showing no sign of stopping.
The robber clearly knew his threat wouldn't work—but he still refused to let Nawa go. He drove the knife hard into Nawa's back and shoved him forward, sending Nawa flying straight toward the swordsman.
The robber's plan was obvious: force the Ayira agent to worry about the hostage's life, then use that opening to escape.
But the Ayira agent didn't seem to care about Nawa's life the way the robber expected.
With a cold motion, he used the sword in his hand to bat Nawa's body out of the way—whether Nawa was dead or alive, he didn't even check.
Then he stepped in and severed the robber's ankle in a single strike.
"AAAAAGH!"
The robber screamed in agony, writhing and rolling on the ground pitifully before passing out, unable to endure the pain and shock of the wound.
"Reporting to HQ. Arrest complete. One injured and one deceased. Dispatch ambulance and cleanup personnel to the coordinates I've sent…Wait—cleanup team is no longer needed."
The Ayira agent spoke into his communicator, then glanced toward Nawa with surprise.
He had assumed Nawa would be dead—stabbed that hard in the back. Yet Nawa not only survived, his injuries didn't even look that severe. He was still able to brace himself and stand up.
"Are you hurt anywhere, kid?" the Ayira agent asked as he approached.
"Uh… just a little bruising. Nothing else much," Nawa replied flatly.
Even though he understood that the Ayira agent's decision not to prioritize saving him had been rational, it was still hard to shake his irritation. If he hadn't been wearing the Dragon-Scale Armor, he might have died—or been critically wounded.
"Sorry about what happened just now," the Ayira agent said, a trace of shame crossing his face.
"That criminal wasn't an ordinary man. If we'd let him escape, a lot more people would've suffered. I hope you understand."
"I understand," Nawa replied—and his tone softened, becoming more friendly after the apology.
Taking the opportunity, Nawa asked about many things that had been bothering him—trying to piece together what had happened while he was gone.
After nearly an hour of conversation, he finally got the answers he wanted.
---
The Oneness.
That was the name given to the otherworld—a realm not bound by Earth's laws, but brimming with creatures of legend, treasures untold, and dangers beyond imagining.
From this place, humanity had reaped its greatest prize: energy crystals.
Formed within the bodies of slain monsters, these crystals radiated power.
Each shard contained energy vast enough to fuel entire cities, and more—some crystals possessed unique properties that defied science,granting abilities thought possible only in myths. They became the foundation of Earth's leap into a new age.
And yet, not everyone could enter the Oneness.
The teleportation gates, built by NASA, responded only to a rare few—less than 0.1% of the world's population.The chosen shared one trait: brain activity exceeding 12.5% of its potential.
Those who passed this threshold were called Players.
Players were pioneers, explorers, and hunters. They ventured into the Oneness, braving its dangers to bring back crystals, artifacts, and riches.
To the world, they became more than adventurers; they were pillars of progress, humanity's champions. Fame, wealth, power—these were the rewards bestowed upon them. But the price was steep.
For every Player who returned with glory, countless others never came back.
The Oneness was merciless, its monsters stronger and stranger than anything Earth had known.Worse still, modern weapons and technology proved useless. Guns, bombs, even advanced alloys degraded to brittle scraps within the realm.
To survive, Players relied on weapons forged from the Oneness itself—blades of monster bone, armor woven from hide,tools infused with magic. And still, many perished.
Yet there was a secret glimmer of hope.
The flesh of the Oneness's monsters carried strange properties. When consumed, it strengthened the body—sometimes granting extraordinary abilities, sometimes awakening powers unseen. With each hunt, Players grew stronger, climbing beyond human limits.
The stronger the Player, the greater the rewards. Kingdoms and corporations vied to sponsor them, to claim a share of their spoils.
Rivalries erupted, alliances formed and shattered.
And so, a new era dawned—an age where survival was currency, and power reigned supreme.
The Golden Age of Players.