The Horn (1)

After Kang Hae-il failed his first awakening opportunity, Ram and Sam always kept his awakening stat chart displayed in one corner of the monitor.

But Ram was deep in regret.

“Damn it… I should’ve put the plausibility gauge up instead…”

In storyboard versions below 2.8, plausibility values had been handed out very generously. She had assumed version 3.0 would be the same, but the limit turned out to be this low.

“It’s because version 3.0 lets the Constellations snoop around everywhere. The tolerance level has no choice but to be extremely low.”

This was the ‘Watching Eyes’ theory taught to story fairies at Fairy Corporation.

The theory that the more branches the Constellations watched besides the main stream, the stronger the restrictions placed on the fairy.

In simple terms, the more Constellations that nitpicked even the tiniest details unrelated to the main stream, the more dangerous it became for the fairy to mess with anything.

For example, suppose you somehow obtained the signboard announcing a gate opening. If the Constellations then wandered off the main stream and started asking what the president was doing, what other countries were doing, what the coin prices were, or how tariffs worked, what would happen?

At the very least the fairy would lose control and the main stream would go off the rails. At worst, the entire story board would be shut down.

That was why the storyboard 3.0 system—equipped with viewing freedom and a sponsorship system for the Constellations—inevitably started with a low plausibility tolerance.

It was designed to prevent exactly those situations.

The graph was already glowing bright red and untouchable. Without permission from above, nothing could be done.

Of course Ram had no intention of reporting her own mistake to the higher-ups, so she had no choice but to leave the flow to the storyboard for the time being.

But—

“Ram! Th-the awakening value!”

You know the saying: you have to hit rock bottom before you can bounce back up.

The moment Ram’s situation hit rock bottom, Kang Hae-il’s awakening value—who had failed even his first awakening—began rising meaningfully.

“What… what is this?”

“He just blurted it out himself!”

“Bl-blurted what?”

Ram had been distracted by other metrics and missed the actual scene. When she heard Sam’s report, she was stunned.

“…He said he was the one who created the rag golem!?”

Exactly.

The entity originally designed as the boss of Chapter 3.

The one who had raised the rag golem in the graveyard and burned every necromancer to death.

That was the blond young man now appearing on screen.

“We’re screwed.”

The hopelessly tangled narrative was now grinding against itself, on the verge of shattering. One of the threads here would have to disappear.

* * *

“Aren’t you the guy who fought my golem in the graveyard?”

The blond pretty youth lifted his chin, a sneer playing on his lips.

“Why the surprised eyes? Didn’t we meet back then?”

Kang Hae-il’s expression was one of pure incomprehension.

At the same time, something inside his chest was boiling up at terrifying speed.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

His heartbeat was so loud he could barely hear his own voice.

“When… when exactly did we meet…?”

It wasn’t a curious question. It was the tone of a detective conducting an interrogation.

“Ah, well, we never met face to face.”

The blond youth smiled as he stepped down from the black flower blooming in his palm. Walking with his hands still clasped behind his back was an old habit from his elderly days, yet on his handsome frame it somehow looked refined.

Then he suddenly glared and shouted.

“Were you the rat bastards who raided my hideout?!”

Kang Hae-il’s eyes flew wide open.

“That voice…”

He remembered it.

Back in the graveyard, that voice had spoken. A ghost-like figure had appeared, asked that very question, and vanished. Right afterward, the rag golem had emerged.

‘This bastard… used my father’s corpse…’

Kang Hae-il’s fist clenched so tightly it shook.

“Ahahaha! Looks like you finally get it.”

The handsome man, who had only been sneering, now laughed heartily for the first time.

“Now you’re in the mood to fight—”

Whoosh!

At that instant a dark shadow fell across the handsome man’s face.

Kang Hae-il had appeared right in front of him.

The speed was monstrous.

A fist carrying every ounce of Kang Hae-il’s flames slammed forward.

BOOOOOOM!

“H-he hit it!”

Lee Suyeon sounded both surprised and a little delighted.

“Unbelievable.”

Yu Jihun clicked his tongue, seemingly dejected by his rival’s explosive growth.

However—

“What…?”

Yu Jihun’s jaw dropped.

The handsome man was smiling, one finger raised. Kang Hae-il’s fist had been stopped cold.

He had blocked an S-rank punch thrown with full power using nothing but a single finger.

The sheer dominance of the image was so overwhelming that even the Constellations fell into despair.

The smiling, beautiful lips delivered a warning.

“It’s better not to interrupt while I’m speaking.”

Throughout the entire sentence Kang Hae-il couldn’t move a muscle. The man’s finger hadn’t simply blocked the fist—it had paralyzed Kang Hae-il and pinned him in midair.

‘What the hell… is this?’

An unknown power at work. It felt as if the world itself had stopped for Kang Hae-il alone, leaving him frozen in space. He couldn’t even begin to guess how many spells were layered or what principle was behind it.

The only thing imprinted in the minds of everyone watching was the single phrase: overwhelming difference in power.

‘Damn it.’

Crack…!

Kang Hae-il grit his teeth and tried to summon his flames again, but the man simply smiled, as if playing with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a small puppy.

“Still, it’s nice to see you’ve found the will to fight. Everyone here seems more interested in stalling for time than actually facing me.”

Swoosh.

The moment the words left his mouth, his finger moved elegantly to the right.

“!?”

Kang Hae-il’s body, still suspended in the air, shot sideways as if launched from a cannon.

CRAAAAAASH!

“Urk!”

Kang Hae-il tumbled across the rooftop, flipping every tile in his path. No matter how much he rolled, the momentum refused to slow. Following the man’s casual gesture, he smashed through the rooftop railing and flew all the way to the building across the street.

BANG!

He slammed deep into the concrete. A thick cloud of dust billowed upward.

“……!”

Everyone’s mouths fell open at once—awakeners and ordinary viewers alike.

Even the casters aboard the helicopter hovering overhead shouted in despair.

“H-he blocked it with one finger! He just threw him with a finger!?”

“Ha……”

Professor Kim, who usually explained everything so clearly, could only stare with his mouth hanging open.

If a being like that left the evacuated area of Mok-dong and headed into the city… the thought alone was horrifying.

“S-still, it looked like Kang Hae-il recovered again. To be pushed back so helplessly… does that mean the World Boss’s ability isn’t purely magic-based?”

“I’m not sure. But according to current research, we awakeners have defined roles and positions… those beings might not. We receive power in a limited form called ‘skills,’ but… the enemy seems more fundamental.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Simply put, we’re finished PCs. They’re the self-assembly kits.”

“Ah……!”

The viewers were impressed by the professor’s analogy.

“While you were talking— Kang Hae-il! He’s back on his feet! As expected of the recovery monster Kang Hae-il!”

The caster had gone from briefing the situation to half-cheering at this point.

“He looks like our only hope right now!”

The reactions of non-awakeners and awakeners had completely diverged. But with non-awakeners forming the vast majority, the appearance of what looked like the true boss amplified everyone’s anxiety.

Public opinion coalesced at a speed incomparable to before.

The awakeners’ momentum was gradually being pushed back.

Even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Professor Kim, who had first argued they should delay defeating the World Boss, was now taking a step back.

“In truth, we’ve already dragged this out long enough. According to sources, easy-difficulty gates have opened across the region, creating opportunities to reach level 30.”

“A kind of low-interest-rate situation?”

“Yes. Everyone needs to level up as quickly as possible. If we predict the loss of life will be too severe… we cannot simply leave this alone.”

“Ah… You changed your opinion? Why?”

“Well… just look down there.”

“!?”

Sssssssss…!

Black, sticky liquid covered the entire rooftop. Shapes rose and writhed within it.

They were not Death Knights.

“Th-that is…?”

They were people.

People who were already dead.

The level itself seemed relatively manageable… but the name was ominous.

“What the hell is that!? Infected zombies?!”

The term zombie usually referred to walking corpses. In most stories zombies seemed to spread infection, but in reality the two concepts were strictly separate. A ‘walking corpse’ and ‘contagious’ were entirely different matters.

Especially when the zombies were controlled by a human from a medieval magic world.

Yet as if to deny that very logic, the words ‘Infected Zombie’ floated clearly above their heads.

“…If these things are released into residential areas, we won’t be able to handle it.”

“!”

* * *

Meanwhile, below the rooftop, on the top floor of the academy that boasted a long history and tradition.

The scene was utterly miserable.

Desks where students had once sat laughing and chatting were scattered everywhere. Nearly every window had been shattered by the aftermath of colliding mana. The walls were riddled with holes, and the flickering, creaking fluorescent lights looked like a scene straight out of a low-budget horror film.

In that desolate place that should have been empty, a man lay motionless.

Even while unconscious he gripped a sword that no one else could see. And just as invisible to everyone else, desperate messages floated chaotically near the edge of his vision.

He was Moon Junil.

After the side effects of Mana Acceleration and the inevitable mana battery depletion caused by borrowing Julian’s power here, he had fainted.

Once he passed out like this he sometimes slept for an entire half-day, so the Constellations had all fallen into despair.

‘……Huh?’

Junil opened his eyes.

What woke him was a noise that felt like it was tearing his eardrums apart.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!

‘Ugh. What the hell.’

Junil frowned and blinked. A message he had never seen before appeared.

The noise gradually faded, and blurry letters began to appear. They displayed the current setting values of this story board.