Suddenly, my vision goes dark.
When I open my eyes again, I'm floating in a vast, weightless void alongside my companions. Countless motes of pale light drift around us like stars suspended in ink. Before us stands the figure I'd seen so many times in my visions: the Gatekeeper, the man of many names. His long coat ripples as if underwater, and a faint, celestial aura rises from the ground around his feet like mist. My throat tightens. Not knowing why we've been summoned here, I force down the fear, draw in a slow breath, and manage to ask, "What have we been brought here for?"
The Gatekeeper opens his eyes. They glow like twin silver moons, and his voice echoes through the void as if coming from everywhere at once.
"With that question, your trial reaches its true conclusion," he says. Floating windows of light bloom into existence around us, each one filled with lines of data, familiar icons, and shifting symbols.
Something inside my mind clicks. My scattered thoughts align like pieces of a glowing puzzle. Defeating the Demon Emperor really was the correct path. Every wound, every setback, every desperate clash of blades and magic—it had all been leading here.
Memories surge up in a rush: the Demon Emperor's obsidian armor cracking under the force of my final strike of light; Hana's barrier shattering as she screamed my name; Ryo charging forward with his spear, crimson aura burning like a comet. My chest tightens. We really did it. We finished the long, grinding trial.
Before I can get lost in the past, the Gatekeeper raises a hand, and all the floating windows freeze.
"However," he intones, "understand this clearly: you will return to your world, but the powers you have cultivated here will be reset to zero. Your levels, your skill proficiencies, your titles—all data accumulated in this realm—will be erased."
Another panel appears, displaying the word RESET in pulsing red characters.
"Yet," he continues, "the possibility of unlocking a new magic in your world will also be granted. You will retain your raw magic power—your core—even if your level falls to nothing."
With that, I realize we won't be keeping the system that governed our every move inside the trial.
I frown, not entirely understanding what he truly means. My gaze flicks between the panels and the slow streams of code-like symbols drifting through the void.
"Reset to zero… but keep my magic power?" I murmur.
The Gatekeeper's lips curve in the faintest hint of a smile, as if he can read my thoughts as easily as an open book.
"Sarah," he says.
Another window appears before me, displaying my final stats. At the top, in bold golden letters, is a single number:
MAGIC POWER: 9999
Seeing it with my own eyes sends a shiver up my spine.
"You may have doubted this value," he goes on, "but it is not an error. Your level will be brought to zero. All acquired skills and classes will be wiped. However, that value—9999—will remain unchanged. In your original world, the possibility that your Light attribute evolves into something else during a second awakening is high. Your Light may shift, fuse, or transcend into a higher form. That is the meaning behind this reset."
As he speaks, the word AWAKENING flashes in bright gold beneath my status. My Light affinity icon flickers, momentarily distorting into unfamiliar, prismatic shapes.
The "small fragment" of information he's given us feels anything but small. Behind me, I hear my companions shifting and whispering as their own status windows flicker into view. Hana's eyes widen at her values; Ryo clenches his fist, jaw tight; Mei adjusts her glasses, streams of data reflecting in her lenses. In that brief, shared silence, each of us measures what we're about to lose—and what we might one day gain.
At last, the Gatekeeper lowers his hand. The panels fold into streams of light and vanish.
"Now your questions are answered," he says calmly. "As a final decree, I will tell you what awaits you. You will be returned to your world with your powers reset. You will awaken in the exact place you stood before being transported into this simulation, at the same time of day, as if no time has passed at all."
His cloak flutters in a wind that does not exist. Behind him, a colossal gate of interlocking circles and runes begins to open, its edges lined with ancient characters that glow like burning constellations.
Before I can voice another question, the void around us trembles. The runes on the gate spin faster, forming a vortex of white and violet light.
"Wait—!" I reach toward my team, but the pull is already too strong.
My vision goes dark once more, and my body feels as though it's being dragged through a tunnel at impossible speed. Fragmented system messages flash in the darkness:
[CONNECTION TERMINATED] [SIMULATION COMPLETE] [TRANSFERRING USER DATA…]
Then, as suddenly as it began, the motion stops.
The darkness peels away. I open my eyes to find myself standing on the same quiet street I'd been walking along before everything went black. The air is cool and familiar. The streetlights hum softly, their warm glow steady and unchanged, as if nothing extraordinary had ever happened.
Yet to my eyes, the world feels different—clearer, sharper, like the resolution of reality has been turned up. As I start walking, faint translucent screens flicker at the edge of my vision, then glitch out, dissolving into static before vanishing. Even though the system and structured power I had before have been reset, I can feel that the strength I forged in that world—the reflexes, instincts, and courage—still clings to my muscles and bones. My fists feel light, my steps balanced. Deep inside, my magic core thrums like a caged star.
If my team and I were brought there only as a test, then something is bound to happen to this world too. Whatever is coming, this strength is my head start.
As I reach my apartment building, neon signs from nearby shops bathe the sidewalk in streaks of pink and blue, like something out of a cyberpunk anime. The world is exactly as I left it—cars passing, distant chatter, the faint hum of a train on elevated tracks—yet I can't shake the dissonance in my chest. What will truly happen to the world I love so much? Is this city destined to become a battlefield like the simulation?
Lost in thought, I'm snapped back by a sudden, loud growl from my stomach. I wince and press a hand against it. The hunger I'd ignored during the final battle has finally caught up all at once, like a debuff I forgot to clear.
With a sigh, I step through the entrance to my building, ride the elevator up, and fumble with my keys. Inside, my small apartment greets me with its familiar clutter—stacked manga volumes, a half-assembled model kit on the table, posters of my favorite anime heroes lining the walls. It feels surreal, like I've respawned at an old save point.
I raid the kitchen for instant noodles and leftover rice, moving with a speed and efficiency that surprises even me. My hands don't tremble, even after everything. As I eat, warmth spreads through my body. Exhaustion crashes over me in a heavy wave—the fatigue of countless days and nights spent fighting with barely any sleep finally demanding payment.
I finish my meal, rinse the bowl on autopilot, and stumble toward my bed. The quiet of my apartment wraps around me like a soft blanket I haven't felt in a long time.
I collapse onto the mattress and stare up at the ceiling. For a moment, glowing afterimages of the void, the Gatekeeper, and the Demon Emperor's twisted throne room flicker in my vision like frames from a fading animation. My mind, which had been racing nonstop since the trial began, finally starts to slow. The questions don't disappear, but they drift to the edges of my thoughts, stored away like quests in a hidden log.
Somewhere out there, my teammates are waking up in their own corners of this city, just as confused and changed as I am. Somewhere out there, the foundations of this world may already be shifting, preparing for an awakening that only we will understand.
As my eyelids grow heavy, I let out a long breath.
"Another day," I whisper into the dark. "I'll find the answers another day."
My vision blurs, the last fragments of system light dissolving into nothing. Wrapped in the familiar scent of my sheets and the distant sounds of the city, I drift into sleep—half in this world, half in memories of the other—knowing that this quiet is only the calm before a new story begins.