July 13, 2045: The World Has Changed
July 13, 2045—the day the world changed.
The singularity began right in the heart of Seoul. The Gate phenomenon. An inexplicable portal ripped open in midair. At first, no one knew what it was, and people milled about in confusion. But after a few days passed with nothing happening, they dismissed it as no big deal.
Then, a week later, things took a sharp turn. The first Gate Break. Bizarre, otherworldly creatures poured out from the portal that had lingered for seven days. Clack, clack. Skeletons chattered with the grinding of their bony joints as they moved. Goblins with scrawny frames and bloated bellies protruding grotesquely.
The monsters that suddenly appeared in the city attacked civilians indiscriminately. The world turned into a living hell.
The government mobilized the military, but gates were popping up everywhere like terrorist attacks, making it impossible to defend every area.
"Battalion commander, monsters have appeared in Gangwon Province this time. We have to deploy within the hour."
"How the hell are we supposed to get there that fast? Monsters are swarming Ulsan right now too—!!"
"Damn it all! The gates won't close!! And monsters keep pouring out every week... "
"How do we even close a gate?"
"Why can't we go inside the gates?!"
The gates didn't vanish; they only multiplied. Every week, they spat out more monsters. Humanity's losses piled up relentlessly. Efforts to enter and investigate proved futile—no one could pass through the gates.
In the midst of this spiraling catastrophe, another singularity emerged: Awakeners.
Mana had begun saturating the atmosphere with the gates' arrival. Some humans absorbed it into their bodies as a result—the mana resonance phenomenon. But their physical changes were minimal, just a slight boost in strength. What mattered was that awakeners could now enter the gates. And when they destroyed the core inside, the first gate finally closed.
Cheers erupted. It was proven: awakeners were the only ones who could shut the gates.
But there were far too few of them compared to the gates. Watching them sacrifice themselves endlessly, fewer and fewer volunteered to step inside. To counter this, the government aired public service announcements nonstop on TV.
"Awakeners must serve three years as National Hunters under the Hunter Agency, a Ministry of National Defense organization, to close gates."
"National Hunter salaries increased! Starting pay now 10 million won a month—!!"
And they slipped in a terrifying caveat:
"Refusal to enlist will result in deployment of armed forces."
Awakeners had only marginally superior strength to civilians; they stood no chance against guns. The state's draft was absolute.
"Step up to defend the nation!"
"Earn money and protect your homeland!"
A tiger mascot in the ad flashed a thumbs-up and roared. Its face looked just like that old army mascot, GukX.
Watching it, Nam Gyuil snorted derisively.
"What a scam. Total scam."
Click. He turned off the TV with the remote and tsked.
National hunters did make good money, it was true. Hazard pay was standard, plus welfare bonuses, overtime, and location allowances. With recent law changes, family and weekend bonuses had increased too. It was a lucrative job.
But if it was that great, why the mandatory three-year service?
People hated becoming national hunters. Families wailed in despair when an awakener appeared among them. Because...
The survival rate for discharging from the Hunter Agency intact is 37% or less.
Politicians and tycoons bribed inspectors or faked test results to keep their awakened kids out of the draft—just like the old days when rich heirs dodged the army.
The root causes were the monsters' overwhelming strength and the gates' relentless proliferation. Sending enough hunters to safely clear one gate meant ten more popped up in the time it took. New gates outpaced closures, unleashing even more monsters. Even the military hit its limits eventually.
So they had no choice but to send small teams into each gate. That was one reason things were this bad.
The silver lining after ten years: Veterans who'd survived the Hunter Agency had formed guilds.
Why? Simple.
Gates mean big money. Some rare monster parts fetch billions.
Still, guild hunters were few. Even for the pay, few wanted to return to gate hell.
Nam Gyuil rose from the sofa and stared blankly at the calendar.
"Ha, damn it."
He too was an awakener, midway through mandatory service at the Hunter Agency. He slashed a red pen across the 25th.
Four months left till discharge.
Almost there. He'd survived two years and eight months of near-death scrapes. Just four more months for freedom.
"Once I'm out, this hell ends."
Then he could finally stretch out and sleep easy. Nam Gyuil was luckier than most. A 37% intact discharge rate meant massive deaths and injuries. Maimed national hunters were a dime a dozen.
His body was whole.
Heaven really watched over me.
Like awakeners, only mana-infused metals could enter gates. Guns, cannons, grenades—none worked. Human science weapons were useless inside.
Nam Gyuil entered his room. A crude dagger and shield sat on the desk.
Stuck using monster weapons. At least they can go inside.
They were in poor shape, naturally. If they could forge mana metals, things would improve—but modern tech couldn't.
Someone once suggested melting monster weapons into bullets.
It failed too. Those couldn't enter gates either. Awakeners fought with daggers and shields, just like the monsters—bloody close-quarters melees every time. Hence the dismal survival rate.
Damn, too many dark thoughts today. Better head to work.
He grabbed the shoddy shield and dagger and stepped out. The hallway of the communal housing for national hunters stretched before him—the Hunter Agency was right across the street.
He rode the elevator down, scanned his smartphone QR for check-in, and headed inside.
As he approached his unit, 01 Team...
What the—?
A woman burst from 02 Team's office, sobbing. He'd seen this dozens of times.
Damn, another casualty from 02 Team.
The grief-stricken atmosphere made his mouth taste bitter. He schooled his face to stone, sat at his desk, set down his weapons, leaned back with a sigh.
Four months. Just hold on four months, and I'm out. Somehow.
Then the wall siren blared.
Beep beep beep.
Deployment signal. Nam Gyuil bolted up and rushed to the vehicles. A Hunter Agency major stood out front.
"Gate reported in Dongdaemun-gu, Seoul. Stay sharp and exterminate the monsters. Understood—!!"
"Yes, sir!"
The hunters responded crisply and boarded the military bus with precise movements.
Nam Gyuil scanned his fellow passengers. Lucky survivors from past ops, plus fresh draftees from mandatory nationwide awakening tests. Some wouldn't make it back today—cold corpses, like his classmates who'd already died.
No veterans comforted the terrified rookies. Only a chill wind through a chest wound.
Nam Gyuil clenched his fists.
Survive today.
Vroom. The bus engine roared to life, heading for the gate.
Roll, roll. The ominous rumble of wheeled stretcher echoed down the hall.
Nam Gyuil lay on it, being rushed to surgery. During the gate fight with Lizardmen, he'd taken a mortal wound saving rookie teammate Kim Dongseon from mortal peril.
"Emergency patient!"
"Out of the way!!"
Doctors hustled him into the OR. Through half-lidded eyes, Nam Gyuil stared at the stark white ceiling. His vision blurred. The overhead lights bled into a hazy glow.
One thought surfaced.
Damn, just four months to go.
In the OR, Nam Gyuil lost consciousness.
A resident shouted urgently to the surgeon.
"This is bad! Patient's pulse is dropping!"
"Damn it all—!!"
The crisis deepened.
In his comatose state, Nam Gyuil saw a strange vision. No—he'd arrived in a strange world.
A vast library stretched endlessly, shelves crammed with tomes.
"What is this place?"
He cautiously scanned around. He'd been wounded by the Lizardman, en route to surgery.
Am I dreaming?!
Or had he failed to last the four months and died? But the sensations, the heartbeat—too vivid for a dream. This was real.
As questions swirled, a voice spoke from behind.
"Hello."
Nam Gyuil whipped around. Gooseflesh prickled his skin.
"An... angel?!"
A figure with pristine white wings stood there, radiant.
He swallowed dryly.
"Am I dead?"
"No."
The angel shook their head, gesturing to the endless books.
"You're not dead—you've come to the Akashic Records."
"A-Akashic Records?! What's that?"
"The repository recording the beginnings and presents of all dimensions."
"All dimensions...?"
Relief at not being dead mixed with bewilderment. An angel was weird enough; this place chronicling all dimensions? He pressed the angel.
"Why am I here? Who brought me?"
"The librarian of the Akashic Records invited you."
"Why me?"
The angel smiled warmly.
"The librarian has mastered all dimensional knowledge, reading fate itself—even the future."
"And?"
"They said fate is paradoxical: crisis brings opportunity."
"Huh?"
"A fate that turns crisis to opportunity. Among those, you, Nam Gyuil, shine brightest."
"I have the greatest light?"
"Yes. That's why you were invited."
Nam Gyuil blinked. He asked again, but got the same answer. Exasperated, he tried another tack.
"So what does the librarian want from me?"
"Even I don't know. But they said you're clever enough to figure it out quickly."
Not satisfying. He needed straight answers from the source.
"Where's the librarian?"
"At the top, overlooking everything."
He eyed the stairs. Up there, answers. But as he approached, an invisible barrier blocked the entrance.
Thud—!!
"What the hell?!"
"You're not skilled enough for the second floor yet."
"What does that mean?"
"Reach a certain level to ascend. Only then can you grasp higher-dimensional knowledge."
"I just want to meet the librarian."
"Then grow strong and climb to the top."
"Ugh—!!"
He groaned. Stranded in this unknown place, denied even the one who summoned him. Frustration and rage made his hands tremble, but he was powerless. One last question.
"How long do I have to stay?"
"You can come and go anytime."
"What?"
"The Akashic Records is a dimensional library recording all knowledge—not a prison."
"So..."
"Wish to leave, and you will. Wish to enter, and you can."
A smile crept across Nam Gyuil's face.
"For real?!"
"Yes. But don't squander this miraculous opportunity. There are rules."
"Rules?!"
The angel held up three fingers.
"First, only three hours a day. Second, time here flows the same as on Earth."
"Third?"
"Your body remains unconscious while connected."
"..."
Tough rules. Unconscious the whole time? Disaster if something happened.
The angel clasped hands behind back.
"I have duties. Farewell."
With that, their form dissolved into sparkling motes of light.
Nam Gyuil's eyes widened. Was that real? Alone in the vast library, he felt abandoned.
"Haa."
A deep sigh escaped. Leave? But curiosity burned—what knowledge did it hold? Why call it miraculous?
Scratching his head, he pulled a book from the shelf.
Arnia Empire's Monsters
Damn, this makes me think of Lizardmen nonstop.
Saving Kim Dongseon had led to this mortal wound, hospital, and now here.
Rescuing a teammate, and I get every damn experience imaginable.
Flip. He opened to the first page. His eyes bulged. Detailed info on countless monsters filled every page—exquisitely thorough!!
The last page gripped him: An evil dragon shattering a continent with one breath. The horrific scene illustrated perfectly.
A catastrophe.
I'd imagined powerful monsters from gates someday, but a dragon?!
Could humanity handle one?
If something this strong appears, it's over. Humanity wiped out in seconds.
His hand trembled faintly after finishing.
No, calm down.
Deep breath. Steady the racing heart. Dragons were strong, but not guaranteed from gates.
Next book: Principles of Dimensional Connection.
Curious, he read. The contents shocked him more.
This...!
Eyes racing, he devoured it. Dense principles, but summarized in three lines:
- Dimensional connections equal gate occurrences.
- Gates accumulate atmospheric mana over time.
- This increases gate frequency and spawns stronger monsters.
A massive crisis.
No stretching out after four months. He bit his lower lip.
Gates keep coming, so dragons are inevitable. Stronger monsters over time!!
Humanity must grow stronger. To face what's coming.
He clenched his fist.
I have to survive.
And the means? One.
Dimensional knowledge!
Earth lacked mana research. He needed other worlds' millennia of expertise.
Nam Gyuil read on. Astonishing info abounded: elixirs, magic, mana body enhancement.
First floor alone outstripped Earth's knowledge by leagues. Gasps escaped.
Magic? For real? Awakeners failed at mana spells left and right!
And, this elixir recipe... We didn't know the method, but ingredients exist on Earth.
He swept back his bangs.
Mana body enhancement is on another level. Earth's combat methods are infantile!!
Ways to grow: check. Now, train.
Back to reality—start cultivating now.
Wishing fervently to exit, his eyelids fluttered in the real world.
Surgery over, body hooked to life support, aching everywhere.
"Nam Gyuil's consciousness is returning! Doctor—!!"
The nurse's call rang clear.