For the Normalization of Gangnam Real Estate
………… Threat Management Agency HQ, underground level 35, executive conference room.
As you descend from the surface in this building, the security classification rises with each level. Level 35 is where matters of the nation's highest secrecy are discussed. Walls of concrete three meters thick, external signal jamming fields, psychic ability shielding barriers. Safe from physical, electromagnetic, and mental attacks. Safe from every conceivable threat.
And right now, the Republic of Korea's top authorities on counter-threat operations—seated in the executive conference room—couldn't even breathe. Because disaster footage was playing on the massive screen at the front of the room.
First video. A red meteor streaks across Seoul's sky. Masked Warrior Red, one of the nation's top forces, an S-rank Awakener. His signature move—the Warrior Kick: Antimatter Annihilation—slams into the heart of the Form of Madness. A flash whites out the screen. It takes 0.8 seconds for the satellite camera's auto-exposure to compensate. In that interval, asphalt melts like lava across hundreds of meters of Gangnam Main Street, and the shockwave crumples buildings like paper. But the Form of Madness takes no damage. Like a moving swamp, it simply swallows the red flash and Masked Warrior Red whole.
Second video. Different angle. Footage from a military recon drone. Timestamp shows it's about ten minutes after the first. The sky fills with projectiles raining down on the Form of Madness. Dozens of hypersonic missiles loaded with tactical nuclear warheads, preceded by hundreds of kamikaze drones to disable intercept systems. This is nearly the full conventional air power the ROK military can muster. The pinnacle of modern science and technology pours down like rain. But the result is the same. Like tossing pebbles into a flowing river. That immense firepower is futilely sucked into the black pool called the Form of Madness. Not destroyed—simply erased.
The screen advances to the next scene. Gangnam streets fully evacuated of civilians. Amid the ruins, a girl in a white dress walks. Step by step. The sight is so alien it numbs the sense of reality.
Director Shin Chang-seok of the Threat Management Agency stares at the screen. Who is Shin Chang-seok? The man with unchecked authority on all threat-related matters, wielding more real power than even the Minister of National Defense. He can deploy S-rank Awakeners or issue citywide evacuation orders tantamount to martial law without presidential approval. The one who stubbornly sticks to gray hoodie-and-manteau fashion amid suited executives. Even he has nothing to say in the face of the calamity that descended on Gangnam today.
But he can't stay silent forever. After a long stretch of silence, Shin Chang-seok finally parts his dry lips.
"That's... the Form of Madness?"
The intelligence analyst replies.
"Yes, sir. After absorbing the Antimatter Annihilation, the entity suddenly halted movement. Then, for about 47 seconds, it entered an unobservable state, followed by observed drastic mass reduction and morphological transformation..."
The remote clicks. The screen shows a massive crater—and in its center, the girl in the white dress. She's holding both hands up beside her face, flashing a double V-sign.
"...culminating in transformation to its current humanoid form."
The girl on screen climbs out of the crater and starts walking down the road. Shin Chang-seok's eyes narrow.
"Current estimated threat grade?"
The analyst glances at his tablet.
"Mental contamination ability confirmed. Morphological transformation ability confirmed. High-energy absorption ability confirmed—including Antimatter Annihilation, multiple tactical nukes, and low-temperature fusion reactors. Also confirmed as a self-aware intelligent entity."
He takes a breath.
"Overall estimate: approximately 32 Tera. The threat entity's designation is amended from Form of Madness to Alpha Outer God."
Threat Grade: 32 Tera
Gasps of horror ripple through the conference room. An aide drops his pen. A staffer gapes blankly. Executives slump against their chair backs. No one can believe the number.
"Impossible. Last year's monster off Incheon was barely 15 Tera."
One staffer grabs the mic with trembling hands.
"To take that thing down, the entire 2nd Fleet was wiped out, and every domestic S-rank Awakener was deployed. 32 Tera? Must be a calculation error."
Incheon offshore. A colossal monster trudging from the middle of the West Sea, firing radiant heat beams. Height 120 meters, threat grade 15 Tera. At least it approached slowly from the sea's center, giving time—about three days. In those three days, they mustered nearly all S-rank Awakeners, assembled naval fleets, scrambled air wings, and unleashed missiles. But now? Threat grade more than double that—and it popped up right in the heart of Gangnam. No time at all.
A vein throbs at Shin Chang-seok's temple. Without looking away from the screen, he asks.
"What do we do?"
The operations chief speaks cautiously.
"We need to urgently assemble the remaining Masked Warriors."
"No."
Shin Chang-seok shakes his head.
"Masked Warrior Red got eaten. Vanished into that thing's body right after landing Antimatter Annihilation. That means he wasn't just defeated—he was consumed."
His gaze follows the girl on screen. She glances around the empty Gangnam streets—then looks up at a digital billboard broadcasting footage of herself.
"Even if we send every remaining Masked Warrior, what's to say we'd win?"
Nothing. No one in this room can guarantee it.
"Worst case, it's like feeding people into a tiger cage one by one. And if we lose them too, this country has no future."
Heads droop around the table. The Masked Warriors and other S-rank Awakeners are the Republic of Korea's ultimate weapons. Each a shield guarding a city, the final deterrent against external threats. With China’s Heavenly Horse Divine Army and Communist Demons, Japan’s Otherworld Truck Alliance, and the techno-feudal states of the Americas eyeing the peninsula, losing Masked Warrior Red is already a massive blow. Any further gaps in S-rank strength would mean the collapse of national defense.
Silence drags on. Only the hum of the AC fills the room.
"Director."
A communications officer, sweat beading on his forehead, calls out to Director Shin Chang-seok.
"What is it?"
"Word from the Blue House."
Shin Chang-seok's eyes turn to the liaison.
"[Nikola] has... made contact."
The room's atmosphere shifts. Eyes widen; faces twist.
Nikola. The mega-corporate nation-state built on the Texas plains. Ruled by its techno-feudal lord, Leon Dusk.
"What does Leon want in this crisis?"
"Nikola is... willing to provide support via the Stella-Link Phased Strike System."
Shin Chang-seok's brow furrows. Stella-Link Phased Strike System. Aka the Zeus Protocol. The planet-scorching weapon Leon Dusk developed to exterminate Martian indigenous life. Theoretically disintegrates all matter within a 2-kilometer radius down to atomic level—a god's power in name and fact. Single-shot cost: fifty thousand Bitcoin. That could solo a Tera-grade threat.
But owing Leon Dusk once means surrendering something irreplaceable.
Shin Chang-seok leans back, staring at the ceiling. Fluorescent lights stab his eyes, but he doesn't blink. Showing up in desperate times with an offer you can't refuse. That's Leon Dusk's business model. What will he demand from Korea? Monopoly on comms infrastructure? Sharing all Awakener research data? Or something even more vital? Whatever it is, it'll tighten the noose around the nation's neck.
But if they don't stop the Tera-grade threat masquerading as a girl—the Alpha Outer God—right now, there'll be no infrastructure left to lose, no data to share. Because Korea will cease to exist.
"...What did the VIP say?"
"He leaves it entirely to your judgment, Director. However..."
The officer hesitates, then adds with a troubled look.
"However... if Gangnam District is cleanly erased, it opens the door for full-scale redevelopment. And stabilizing Seoul's skyrocketing real estate could actually be a boon. So no need to feel burdened, he said."
"...Hah."
Shin Chang-seok lets out a dry chuckle. Bitter taste in his mouth. Discussing redevelopment upsides when millions of lives and properties are at stake. Politics isn't for just anyone, it seems.
"He means normalize Gangnam real estate."
Shin Chang-seok removes his signature Kim Gu glasses and rubs his face.
"Fine. Since we're breaking it, might as well smash it back to the Stone Age."
Obviously a joke. But no one laughs.
Shin Chang-seok stands. His chair scrapes sharply against the floor.
The decision is made. History will record him as a traitorous sellout who sold out the nation. Or a butcher who turned Gangnam to ashes. Or perhaps the hero who normalized Gangnam real estate and saved Seoul. He'll worry about that later. For now, just fulfill his duty.
"Alright. The responsibility's mine. Connect me to Leon. Coordinates: Gangnam Main Street, where Alpha Outer God is—"
Weeeeng, weeeeng, weeeeng, biiiii—!!!
In that instant, a piercing siren drills into their eardrums. White lights extinguish en masse; red emergency strobes flash, bathing the room in bloodlight. The highest security alert for internal intrusion at Agency HQ.
Soon, red text appears on the wall alarm panel.
Unidentified Reaction Detected Within Headquarters
Recalculating Threat Grade
Bang! The conference room door bursts open. The staffer who kicked it in shouts without saluting.
"D-Director—evacuate!"
Gasping for breath, he stammers on. His face drained of all color.
"It's... it's here!"
"What 'it'? Where?"
"Alpha Outer God! Agency HQ underground... the Threat Isolation Facility!"
Threat Isolation Facility. Underground level 41 and below. The maximum-security zone for containing captured threats. And into it walks a 32-Tera-grade monster of its own accord.
"...Insane."
Once more, no one could respond.