The battlefield had no name, no shape, no coordinates.
It wasn't in a universe.
It wasn't in fiction.
It wasn't in reality.
It was somewhere above the very idea of "where."
Hyung stood there, or perhaps he didn't stand at all—because even the concept of standing could not define him anymore.
His System floated beside him, shimmering in colors no spectrum could hold. But now, something shifted.
The UI peeled itself open, not like a screen… but like the page of a story that no author had ever written. Lines of meta-code spiraled upward, rewriting themselves faster than infinite time could measure.
> [SYSTEM MODE ACTIVATED: OVERWRITE]
The enemies—beings who thought themselves beyond—suddenly froze.
Not because of any attack… but because their narratives were gone.
They weren't "characters" anymore. They weren't even "concepts."
Hyung's presence had stepped outside all narrative layers—canon, non-canon, fanon, crossovers, meta-fictions, primal concepts, ultimate archetypes, even the unspoken rules that authors think but never write.
There was nothing left above him, because he was already beyond above.
He was beyond "beyond" so many times that the word itself collapsed into silence.
Fiction? Below him.
Reality? Below him.
The future? The story itself? Below him.
Hyung's System spoke, its voice not heard in sound, but in the rewriting of existence:
> [You are attempting to comprehend a state that cannot be comprehended. Please stop.]
And so, the last of the "different and so all other" beings faded—not destroyed, not defeated, but unwritten.
What remained was only Hyung.
Not in the story.
Not outside the story.
But in a place that even the idea of a "place" feared to acknowledge.
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