We didn't know if it was really over.
The rabbit monster's corpse had stopped moving. Its optic lens was shattered. Its armor cracked like an old statue. The system had chimed. The sky had quieted. We'd even leveled up.
But I didn't believe it. Not fully.
None of us did.
We were too used to the rug being pulled.
So we walked.
Back to the apartment. Silent. Bloody. Bruised. Dragging our feet through shattered glass and scorched pavement, like people crawling back from a war they didn't mean to win.
Mother leaned heavily against me, her breath coming slow and thin. I could feel how warm her skin was. Still feverish. Her spell had pushed her too far.
Seo‑Yeon walked beside In‑Ji. Neither of them said anything. But his eyes never left her—not once. His hand hovered near his holster, twitching occasionally like he expected another fight.
We didn't return to the apartment because it was safe.
We returned because it was the only place left standing near by. I clicked the elevator button to call it.
The elevator at the base of the apartment still worked. Its doors opened with a cheerful ding, like this was just another Tuesday.
Ye‑Rin stared at it like it had personally insulted her.
"Why," she said, voice dry, "did we take the elevator?"
Mother didn't even open her eyes. She just groaned, reached forward, and hitchhiked a ride by grabbing Ye‑Rin's shoulder like a koala.
"I'm tired," she mumbled. "No stairs. Elevator or death."
I snorted.
Ye‑Rin rolled her eyes but didn't push her off. "Fine. If I die because of this elevator, I'm coming back and haunting you."
"Fine," I mumbled, barely audible. "Bring snacks for juniors as well."
The elevator rose slowly, humming as we stood there—five people, one baby spider monkey, and the weight of a city's silence pressing on our backs.
In‑Ji was unusually quiet.
His hands were clenched tight, jaw set. When we stepped out into the apartment, he finally broke.
"I should've been there."
Seo‑Yeon looked over at him.
She said simply. "You did your best."
"I did nothing beside hiding behind concrete while everyone else nearly died."
"No," I said, cutting in before he could spiral. "You kept Ye-Rin alive when I couldn't even stand. You made shots. You stayed sharp."
He didn't answer.
But I saw his hand relax a little.
He glanced down at the two fresh steel magazines clipped to his belt.
"They've got piercer enhancement," he muttered. "Flash chambered. Should hit twice as hard as last time."
I gave him a nod. "Good."
Because we all knew the next one would be worse.
Then from the window, the three—headed dragon flew in. Back to its 2 feet size. As soon as it saw our haggard and injuries, it snorted.Then the dragon's voice rang out. Deep,from its central mouth—like a commandment.
"You. Mother of this tribe. Use your magic. Apply False Healing to your wounded kin."
The way he said it—like she was just a tool, something summoned, not someone.
Ye‑Rin whipped around. "Hey! Show some respect. She's my mother. Not some healbot you can bark orders at."
The dragon's three heads slowly shifted. Its gaze dropped from the skyline to her—then to Mi‑Sun.
And for the first time, something strange happened.
All three heads bowed slightly.
Not in shame. Not in fear.
But in acknowledgment.
"Ah… my mistake."
"Great Mother," the central head rumbled, voice now laced with theatrical grace, "honored matriarch of this party, I humbly request you grace us with False Healing—for your children and this humble guest."
"Smooth, Volt" Ye-rin spoke.
"Shut up," the middle one muttered back, then addressed us again. "My name is Volt. I do not repeat myself." It looked proud because of its new name.
Mother gave the dragon a long look—somewhere between tired and amused. Then her fingertips glowed faint blue.
Warmth surged from her palms. A wind of shimmering gold swept over us like a soft tide.A fine thread that connected everyone of us with the dragon, felt it in my ribs first—bones resetting, pain dulling. The burn across my shoulder faded. My breathing evened out.
For the first time in hours… I didn't feel like I was dying.
Everyone let out soft sighs. Even In‑Ji stopped pacing.
Volt turned away from us again, wings curling around his perch like a robe.
"My favor has been given.I paid my price due to my favor before. Do not forget it."
I suspected it was talking about it being my pet beast despite Ye-Rin being her original owner.
" I didn't plan to. " I answered confidently and then looked at Ye-Rin, "Volt? Really? Because it is a thunder dragon."
Ye‑Rin raised a middle finger when it turned away.
I smirked, but didn't say anything.
[Scene: Midnight – System Transfer Begins]
At 12:00 AM sharp, the air cracked like glass.
That was when the world exploded into white.
No transition.
No warning.
Just—gone
One second we were in the apartment. Next, we were standing in what looked like an open sports stadium—flat white ground stretching miles in every direction, surrounded by a distant, invisible wall of void-like light.
Thousands of survivors were scattered across the arena, all of them as stunned as us. Most were panting, some bloodied, others crying. Children. Soldiers. Grandmothers with knives. A guy wearing only boxer shorts and half a toaster helmet.
Above us floated a cartoon duck.
A perfectly round, white-feathered, bobble-headed, wide-eyed Donald Duck.
He floated upside down for a moment, staring at us all blankly.
Then with a dramatic spin, he snapped upright, arms folded, beak twisted into an annoyed sneer.
"Ughhhhhh. Finally! You people lived?! What the actual void?"
His voice wasn't squeaky or funny—it was like a tired actor trapped in a children's show, chain-smoking behind the scenes and now forced to do one last episode.
>Seven days of *ive broadcasts, and this is what I get? Three hundred million? Out of seven billion?"
A massive screen flickered into view behind him. It showed the Earth. Glowing red spots over every continent.
"Let me spell it out for your small, soft mammalian brains—"
The number 7,000,000,000 blinked.
Then the countdown began.
6 billion. 5. 4.
It kept dropping.
People gasped. Someone screamed.
The number hit 1,000,000,000.
Then kept going.
500,000,000.
323,604,128.
Then it froze.
Silence.
It stopped.
"Ah," the duck said. "Over 6.6 billion are gone. Not bad, actually."
Someone behind us vomited.
Seo-yeon's fingers curled into In-ji's hands. She cursed under her breath.
Ye‑Rin's eyes were locked on the number.
The duck's smile widened. "Hey! Why did you vomit. Is it my appearance? Don't like it? Too real for you?"
Its feathers shifted. It morphed.
Now it looked like Tom from Tom & Jerry—oversized ears, toothy grin.
"Still No?"
Then again—it became Sailor Moon, except its face didn't change. Still the same duck eyes. Then it shifts back to duck.
"Boom." Donald snapped his fingers. "That's your population now."
"Less than 9% of your species are still breathing. I mean, technically more than I expected, but still trash."
I felt the weight of it hit all of us at once.
That wasn't just a number.
That was the entire world—gone.
The duck grinned, rotating in midair like a lazy carnival wheel.
"You want to know how bad it was? For every human… we dropped three monsters."
"Do you know how many gods wanted no survivors at all? You were lucky I argued for this mercy rule. And now here I am, doing paperwork on your worms because of it. Yay me."
He fake clapped. The sound was wrong—like glass being chewed.
Seo‑Yeon muttered, "Is that thing serious…?"
Ye‑Rin squinted. "He's having a meltdown."
The duck flipped upside down and floated toward us.
"You know what? Screw introductions. Call me Beastman #002: Dodo-Don or something. I don't care. I was going to be the MC for Mission 5, but apparently you guys were so fun to watch, I got bumped up."
"I hate doing early game announcements."
His face twisted into a snarl.
"I should be sipping void-cocktails on Venus while watching the Vampire Arc unfold. But nope. Stuck babysitting Earthlings."
He flailed his arms mockingly.
"Ooooh, look at me, I survived the Golden Hell! Where's my cookie? Where's my plot armor??"
He snapped his fingers again.
A new screen popped up—bright neon UI text in gold and red.
-Mission 002: "Memories Worth Stealing"**
Objective: Prevent the Goblins from stealing three Sacred Memories.
Memory 1: A photograph of a young girl with her parents.
Memory 2: A basketball signed by Korean MVP, Hyun Jae-Kwon.
Memory 3: A sword wielded by national hero Kim Joon-Shik in the 1951 invasion.
"These are called Memory Anchors,by the way," Dodo-Don muttered. "Apparently they mean something to your stupid little planet."
"You lose them? Mission fails. You keep them safe? Next round begins. Yay."
"What happens if you fail. Simple, you die".
"Also—pro tip—these goblins are not your average fairytale gremlins."
And then—just like that—we were back on the rooftop.
No warning.
No transition.
Just blink, and it was like nothing happened. Only the new mission marker hovered in the sky.
We stood there, dazed, still tasting the smoke of that surreal stadium.
Everyone was quiet. Even Vault didn't speak.
Mi‑Sun looked calm.
Seo‑Yeon looked angry.
Ye‑Rin looked like she wanted to punch a cartoon duck.
In‑Ji stared at the rooftop floor like it might tell him what to do next.
And me?
I just felt cold.
Because this wasn't just survival anymore.
Suddenly.
Mother's voice cut in. "There's a hidden node in the UI."
Everyone turned.
She was looking through her Bloody Eyes again, fingers brushing across the glowing screen in front of her.
"I found a hidden question mark. It says… Goblins are roughly four feet tall. Green skin. Incredibly fast. Incredibly foolish… or terrifyingly smart. It's random. Some are tricksters. Some are geniuses."
She scrolled further.
"One of them once stole Mjolnir."
"Wait. Thor's Mjolnir?" Ye-Rin shouted in shick
She nodded.
"There's a documented incident. No one knows how they pulled it off."
In‑Ji leaned in. "You're saying we're fighting myth-stealing tricksters?"
"They don't want blood," Mother said. "They want stories. Symbols."
Seo‑Yeon folded her arms. "So... what, we're fighting gremlin-level tricksters with god-tier loot?"
"No," I said finally. "We're fighting creatures smart enough to make the gods look stupid."
Everyone went quiet.
In‑Ji muttered, "...we're so screwed."
[Scene Shift: The Moon – The Council Watches]
Far above, on the surface of the moon, the Council of Watchers stirred.
The obsidian dome pulsed faintly—eyes opening in every direction, rows upon rows of biological surveillance fused with alien tech. Screens flickered across the cavern.
One of the eyeballs blinked.
A screen zoomed in.
[PLAYER RANKINGS – EARTH | REGION A-1 | CYCLE 002]
1.Natsuki Subaru– Level 29 – Japan
2. Stephen Hawkins – Level 21 – UK
3. Zhang Wei – Level 20 – China
4. Ali Mahran– Level 19 – UAE
5. Luis Velasco – Level 19 – Chile
6. Elijah White – Level 18 – USA
7. Shin Ye‑Rin – Level 17 – South Korea
8. Shin Ye‑Jun – Level 17 – South Korea
9. Park Seo‑young – Level 17– North Korea
A mechanical voice murmured: "Disappointing yield. Only 300 million remain from an original 7 billion."
"They were unripe," another responded. "This soil was dry."
"But some crops show promise," said a third. "Look here."
It zoomed in on natsuki Subaru name.
A soft glow pulsed behind it.
"Hmm... this one burns differently."
The Council said nothing more.
They simply watched.
And waited.