Three years had passed since the battle that cracked the very bones of the universe—since the cry of a newborn child rewrote the laws of existence.
Now, that child stood at the threshold of his destiny.
Descending from the sleek, silver hull of a Nano-Class Starship, a young boy with dark, tousled hair and brilliant blue eyes clutched his mother's hand. His expression was filled with innocent wonder, his gaze flitting between the towering gates of the majestic academy before him and the vibrant energy fields humming all around.
"Mom," he asked softly, tilting his head up toward her, "Is this the school that Big Sister Seo-yoon went to?"
Chae-min smiled gently, brushing a lock of hair from his brow. Her beauty, though softened by the years, still radiated with grace. "Yes, sweetie. This is it—Wysteria Academy. Where she trained to become who she is."
Wysteria Academy. A name that echoed across galaxies.
Located on the far edge of the Multiversal Spiral, this elite institution accepted only the most gifted students—humans, elves, lycans, and even hybrids. It was a place where potential was honed like a blade, where dreams could be forged into power, and where only those who met the Level 10 threshold were allowed to enter.
Muhan stood there in his freshly issued academy uniform—a crisp white jacket with black accents, gloves, trousers, and polished shoes—his small frame silhouetted against the grandeur of the entrance.
His heart pounded with a strange mix of nerves and excitement.
He was only three, but time in the leveling realm bent strangely. His mind—sharpened and expanded by his latent powers—felt older, aware.
And yet…
He still missed her.
Even as the warm memory of his mother's hand lingered in his grasp, he knew it was just that—a memory.
Chae-min had passed only months after his second birthday, her life spent shielding him from enemies who still hunted the prophecy etched into his soul. But she had given him enough—love, strength, hope—to carry him forward.
Now, standing alone before the gates, Muhan whispered, "I'll make you proud… Mom."
He raised his hand and opened his system interface, a soft blue holographic glow forming a floating display before him. It was a reflex now—checking his stats, measuring his growth. A habit from countless simulations, training sessions, and whispered lessons in forgotten places.
> Name: Muhan
Level: 10+
Class: Unknown
Experience: 0 / 1000
Attributes:
Strength: 20
Agility: 25
Intelligence: 10
Vitality: 20
Special Ability: Extreme Punch
His eyes narrowed slightly at the familiar frustration.
> Class: Unknown.
He still hadn't awakened it. Despite everything he had been through—the battle, the latent power that once destroyed a Level 100 martial artist with a single blow—his class remained locked.
"Unknown… huh," he muttered under his breath.
A soft giggle caught his attention.
Muhan turned his head slightly, his expression as blank as ever—yet his blue eyes, so vibrant and deep, betrayed a quiet curiosity.
A group of girls nearby had stopped mid-conversation, clearly caught off guard by the sight of him. Blushing faces, stifled laughs. One nudged another.
"Is he really a first-year?"
"Wait... Is he half-elf? His aura's insane!"
"He's cute…"
Muhan blinked once, confused, then turned his gaze back toward the academy.
He wasn't here to be admired. He was here to grow. To discover. To become.
His hand curled into a tiny fist, pulsing ever so slightly with that dormant, unexplainable power that still lived in his veins.
> Extreme Punch—a skill that transcended logic, forged in crisis, and born of instinct.
And now, he was here.
At Wysteria.
Where legends were made.
> "Right… Let's see how far I've come," he said quietly, stepping forward as the gates of the multiversal academy creaked open.
The future awaited.
And this time, the stars would remember his name.