That night, after the terror at the City Terminal, Arkan dragged himself back to his dorm. It was already two in the morning when he pushed open the creaking door to his cramped room. He didn't bother changing clothes. He collapsed onto the bed, and exhaustion dragged him into a black, dreamless void.
The next day rolled on like nothing had happened.
Morning classes. A droning professor. Scribbled notes. Group discussions with classmates where Arkan forced a smile, pretending he was just another student, pretending his life wasn't already tangled with something far bigger—a system that had chained him to threats leaking in from another dimension.
By late afternoon, as the sun dipped westward, Arkan walked home along a narrow path shaded by trees. The air was calm… until a chill wind cut through him, sharp enough to raise goosebumps across his arms. He stopped. At the end of the path stood a man he'd never seen before.
The stranger's skin was corpse-pale. His eyes—gray, hollow—stared through Arkan with the lifelessness of stone.
The System flared alive before him.
[Warning: Target Detected. Entity Domain Rank C, Level 25.]
Arkan froze. An Entity… outside a domain? His pulse spiked.
The stranger stepped forward, voice low and steady, heavy as a tolling bell.
"At last… I've found you, Anomaly of OSBO."
Arkan's breath caught in his throat. No… That's impossible. Creatures like you shouldn't be able to leave the domain…
Sweat ran cold down his back. A Rank C, Level 25 entity—while he was barely Level 10. The gulf in power was monstrous. Facing this man wasn't just reckless—it was suicide.
The stranger's lips curled into a cruel smile, darkened by the fading light of dusk.
"True. But all it takes is a small fracture in Earth's OSBO seal… and I can step through."
A flash of silver broke the tension.
Elara materialized at Arkan's side, face pale, eyes sharp with urgency. She grabbed his wrist. "We're not ready. Run!"
Arkan didn't hesitate. Together they bolted down the path, lungs burning with each stride. Yet behind them, the stranger didn't chase. He only watched, his grin faint, chilling.
"Five days from now…" his voice echoed, disembodied, slithering into Arkan's ears. "A permanent domain will be born. I'll be waiting, Anomaly."
The words stalked him all the way back to his dorm. He collapsed onto his bed, heart still hammering. The memory of that voice—its certainty—looped in his mind like a curse.
Five days…
Arkan dragged his hands down his face, frustration boiling. "Damn it! It hasn't even been a week since I got this system, and every single day keeps getting worse!"
A chime cut through his thoughts. A translucent panel flickered into view.
[Special Event Unlocked: Treasure Island Trial]
Duration: 72 hours (accessible only in sleep).
Reward: Random Item (D ~ A Rank).
Risk: Permanent death in-event = Reset to Level 0.
Arkan sat bolt upright. His eyes widened.
"Treasure Island…? You mean, a literal treasure island?!"
The system's quests until now had been simple—training, hunting small monsters, minor domain runs. But this was different. The words Permanent Death screamed at him, chilling his blood.
He paced the tiny room, sweat trickling down his temple.
"If I die in there… I lose everything. Back to zero. Am I ready for that?"
He hesitated. Yet the lure of reward gnawed at him. D- to A-Rank items… any one of them could decide his survival when that permanent domain finally landed on Earth.
But the System remained silent. No hints. No guidance.
Grinding his teeth, Arkan pulled up his status panel.
[Host Status: Mile Arkan]
Level: 10 (EXP 5,905 / 10,000)
HP: 650 / 650
MP: 350 / 350
STR: 41 | AGI: 37 | VIT: 31 | INT: 32
Free Stat Points: 10
Hit Defense: 17%
Skills: Dash Lv.2, Appraisal Lv.1, Shadow Bind Lv.1, Energy Burst Lv.1, Focus Lv.1, Swordsmanship Lv.1, Slash Lv.1
Bond Skill: Elara — Healing Light Lv.1
Items: Expert's Sword [Lv.2]
Bank Balance: $2,252
His eyes lingered on his stats. After a long moment of thought, he dumped all ten points into Vitality. If he was going into a death trap, more HP was the only thing between him and an instant kill.
[Status Updated]
HP: 850 / 850
VIT: 41
A little safer. Not much, but enough for him to breathe.
Next, his inventory. The Expert's Sword Lv.2 gleamed faintly, its reforged edge steady in his mind. A set of basic armor offered meager defense, but it was something. Barely.
He scowled. Is that really enough?
The shop menu unfolded in front of him.
[Shop System]
MP Potion Lv.2 (Restore 200 MP) — $8
HP Potion Lv.2 (Restore 400 HP) — $10
Lucky Box (5% chance for C-Rank Item) — $500
His gaze lingered on the Lucky Box. The temptation bit deep. But the odds—five percent—were nothing but a gambler's trap. Too risky.
With a sigh, he bulk-bought safety instead.
Ten MP Potions. Ten HP Potions.
[Purchase Successful]
Balance: $2,072
The weight on his chest lifted, if only a little. At least I won't die in one hit without a fight.
Finally, drained, Arkan sank into his bed. His eyelids grew heavy. But even as sleep claimed him, a silent prayer lingered on his lips—whether to gods, fate, or the System itself—that he'd live through what came next.
And then, the world shifted.
He opened his eyes to find himself standing on a long wooden pier stretching over a sea of liquid black, its surface glittering like fractured glass. A golden mist hovered above the water, glowing faintly as though beckoning him forward.
At the pier's end waited a massive ship. Its white sails billowed, though the wind was still.
Arkan's breath hitched. "This… isn't Earth. I've really been dragged into the event."
Footsteps creaked behind him. He spun—and froze. Elara stood there. Silver hair catching the mist's glow, silver cloak rippling softly.
"You—how are you here too?" Arkan stammered.
"The System pulled me into your dream," she replied, tone grim. "That means this event isn't just a trial. It's a crucible. One you're not meant to face alone."
Relief coursed through him. "Good. Because I don't want to do this alone."
Together they boarded. The moment their feet touched the deck, the anchor unlatched on its own. The sails filled. The ship creaked forward into the golden fog.
Voices whispered in the mist. Laughing. Crying. Whispering secrets too low to catch.
Arkan stiffened. "Elara… you hear that?"
Her gaze stayed locked on the fog. "I do. They're the voices of those who failed. Don't look toward them—or you'll be dragged under too."
His stomach twisted, bile rising. He forced his eyes on the endless black sea ahead.
Then, a voice unlike the whispers boomed across the sky. Deep. Authoritative. Terrifying.
"Welcome, seekers of treasure. This island holds rewards… and ruin. Only those with true resolve will leave alive."
The words chilled him. He turned to Elara, who stared forward with unflinching eyes. "Do you think we can survive this?" he asked, his voice shaking.
"Survival isn't the question," she said coldly. "The question is: what are you willing to sacrifice to keep moving forward?"
The fog thickened. In the distance, a shadow emerged—an island. Towering trees. A beach glowing with unnatural light. A shroud of mystery hanging over it all.
Treasure Island. The trial had begun.
Arkan's hand tightened on his sword hilt, knuckles white. His eyes hardened with grim resolve.
"If I fail here… I may never wake up again."
The ship sailed on, carving through golden mist toward the looming shore. Each heartbeat felt heavier. Each breath sharper.
This wasn't just a quest. This was a gateway to his future. A step toward destiny—or a plunge into the void.