The Sanctuary
Yoo's consciousness tumbled through impossible space.
He had no body here. No physical form. But he was aware—floating in a space that shouldn't exist, wrapped in warmth and safety.
"Emergency translocation successful," Akasha reported, voice calmer now. "Host consciousness and fetal body transported to personal dimensional space: Extras World. Current status: stable. Warning: Host body cannot survive extended stay. Amniotic environment required for gestation completion."
How long do I have?
"Calculating... Maximum safe duration: 47 minutes before fetal distress becomes critical."
Yoo tried to process this. He'd... he'd teleported. Himself. As a fetus. Into a pocket dimension his consciousness had created out of desperation.
What the fuck am I?
"Analysis: Host's unique reincarnation circumstances have resulted in abilities outside normal parameters. Your soul, reformed from 823 years of dimensional exposure, has developed spatial affinity. Combined with cosmic energies from the game's initiation, this manifested as Extras World."
Can I get back?
"Affirmative. However, recommendation: wait until external threat has passed. Current monster is still in vicinity."
Yoo wanted to argue. His mother was hurt—he'd felt the ribs break, the internal bleeding starting.
But what could he do? He was still a fetus. Even if he went back, he'd just be putting them both at risk again.
How long until the monster leaves?
"Unknown. However, analyzing bunker communication channels—"
A voice cut through the dimensional barrier. Faint, but audible.
"Min-ah? MIN-AH!"
Someone was shouting. Male voice. Deep, rough, desperate.
"Identity: Lee Jae-sung. Host mother's husband. Hunter classification: Gold rank 37. Combat assessment: capable."
That's... that's my father?
"Biologically: yes. Current situation: he has returned to bunker, searching for host mother."
Through the dimensional barrier, Yoo could sense it—feel the vibrations of someone running, the spike of energy that came from a hunter channeling Gi.
Then: CRASH.
The sound of combat. Jae-sung had found the spider-monster.
The Father
Jae-sung had been fighting on the surface for three hours.
The call had come while he was mid-swing, his war hammer crushing a Fledgling Beast's skull:
"All hunters return to base. Overlord-class breach. The bunker is compromised."
He'd run. Abandoned his squad, abandoned the mission—just ran.
Because Min-ah was in that bunker.
And their baby.
The baby that had been dead.
The baby that somehow, impossibly, was alive again.
He'd made it back to find chaos. Bunker sections collapsed, people screaming, monsters everywhere.
He'd carved through them. A Fledgling tried to block his path—he crushed it without slowing. Two more—he killed them both with one swing.
Then he found the medical wing.
And saw Min-ah lying in rubble, her belly flat, her breathing shallow.
"No. No no no—"
The spider-monster above screeched, having sensed new prey.
Jae-sung looked up. Saw it descending.
His Gi exploded outward.
Gold rank. Not the highest tier, but he'd earned every level—years of fighting, dying inch by inch in dungeons and on city streets, watching friends torn apart.
He'd survived because he was strong.
And because he refused to lose anyone else.
"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY WIFE!"
He swung.
The hammer, enhanced with golden Gi, struck the monster's thorax with the force of a small explosion. Chitin cracked. The creature flew backward, slamming into a wall.
It recovered instantly—these things always did—and charged.
Jae-sung set his stance. Let it come.
The spider's claw slashed. He deflected with the hammer's shaft. Another claw. He stepped inside its reach, swung upward. Caught it under the mandibles, lifted the entire bus-sized creature and threw it.
It crashed through support pillars. The ceiling groaned.
"Shit."
If he kept fighting here, he'd bring the entire section down.
But Min-ah couldn't move.
The spider recovered, more cautious now. It had assessed him—Gold rank hunter, combat-experienced. Dangerous. But still prey.
It circled.
Jae-sung didn't have time for this. He could feel Min-ah's life fading with each second.
He made a choice.
Dropped his hammer. Pulled out a small crystal from his pocket—salvation or suicide, depending on the day.
"Sorry, Min-ah. This is gonna hurt."
He crushed the crystal.
The Surge
Absorption was supposed to be done carefully. Slowly. In controlled environments with medical supervision.
What Jae-sung just did was the equivalent of chugging gasoline and lighting a match.
His Gi exploded. Not just Gold rank anymore—the unrefined energy pushed him temporarily to Gold-high, maybe low Platinum.
His body couldn't handle it. Blood vessels burst. His bones cracked under the strain.
But for thirty seconds, he was strong.
He moved.
The spider barely saw him. One moment he was five meters away. The next, his fist—wrapped in blazing golden energy—punched through its thorax and out the other side.
The monster screeched. Thrashed. Its legs carved trenches in the floor.
Jae-sung didn't let go. He pulled, ripping the creature's core from its body.
The spider dissolved into black mist.
Jae-sung collapsed, the stolen power already fading. His body was destroying itself from the inside—price of forced advancement.
But he'd won.
He crawled to Min-ah. "Hey. Hey, I'm here."
Her eyes fluttered open. Focused on him with difficulty.
"Jae-sung?"
"Yeah. It's me." He checked her belly, confusion flooding through pain. "Where's...?"
"Gone," she whispered. "The baby. He just... disappeared."
The Return
Inside Extras World, Yoo felt the combat end. Felt the monster die.
"External threat eliminated. Safe to return. Warning: Host mother is critically injured. Host body's absence is causing severe psychological distress. Recommend immediate return."
How do I get back?
"Focus consciousness on point of origin. Extras World will release host automatically."
Yoo did. Thought about the womb, the warmth, his mother's heartbeat.
Reality shimmered.
He fell—
—and suddenly he was back.
Amniotic fluid surrounded him. His mother's heartbeat thundered in his ears. But it was wrong—too fast, too erratic.
She was dying.
"Warning: Host mother's condition critical. Blood loss: 2.3 liters. Three broken ribs, one punctured lung, internal bleeding. Survival probability: dropping to 8%."
No. Not now. Not after all this.
But Yoo was helpless. He couldn't heal her. Couldn't do anything but float there, feeling her body shut down system by system.
Above, he heard his father's voice:
"Stay with me. Please. The baby's back—he's back, you feel that? He came back. Just hold on."
But Min-ah was already slipping away.
Her hand found Jae-sung's. "Promise me," she breathed. "Promise you'll protect him."
"You'll protect him yourself. You're gonna be fine—"
"Promise."
Jae-sung's voice broke. "I promise."
Min-ah smiled. Felt her baby moving inside her—alive, strong, impossibly aware.
She felt the man she loved holding her hand.
It was enough.
Her eyes closed.
Her heartbeat slowed.
Then stopped.
Orphan
Yoo felt the moment she died.
Not just through Akasha's clinical reports. He felt it—the sudden absence where her consciousness had been, the warmth draining away, her body becoming just meat and bone.
No. Mom. Please.
But she was gone.
He'd been reborn into this world, and his mother had died protecting him.
"Host mother deceased. Emergency protocols activating. Host body will not survive without immediate medical intervention. Estimated time until critical failure: 4 minutes, 23 seconds."
What do I do? WHAT DO I DO?!
"Recommendation: Forced delivery. Host body is 38 weeks developed. Marginally viable. However, current medical facilities are insufficient for—"
Akasha's voice cut off.
Because something impossible started happening.
Yoo's consciousness, driven by pure desperation, accessed skills he shouldn't have. Skills that shouldn't exist.
Melt: Cellular manipulation. Corrosion. Breaking down molecular bonds.
Bind: Energy threading. Creating connections.
He'd gotten these from somewhere—the cosmic energies? Akasha? He didn't know and didn't care.
He used them.
Used Melt to weaken the amniotic sac. Used Bind to create energy pathways through his own underdeveloped nervous system, forcing his premature body to move.
And he delivered himself.
The Birth
Jae-sung was trying to close Min-ah's eyes when he saw it.
Her belly moved.
Not kicked. Moved—rippling like something was trying to fight its way out.
Then it tore.
Not violently. Precisely. The skin separated along a line, the amniotic sac visible beneath, and then that opened too.
A tiny hand emerged.
Then another.
The baby pulled itself free.
Jae-sung could only stare as the newborn—impossibly small, impossibly aware—climbed out of its dead mother's womb, trailing umbilical cord, covered in blood and fluid.
It shouldn't be alive. Shouldn't be moving like that. Newborns didn't have motor control, didn't have awareness.
But this one turned its head. Looked at him.
With eyes far too old for an infant's face.
"What... what are you?" Jae-sung whispered.
The baby didn't answer. Couldn't. But something in those eyes said:
I'm your son. And I'm going to survive this hell.
Then the baby's strength gave out. It collapsed onto its dead mother's chest, crying weakly.
Human again. Helpless again.
But alive.
Jae-sung moved on autopilot. Cut the umbilical cord with his knife. Wrapped the baby in his jacket. Held it against his chest.
"I promised," he told Min-ah's body. "I'll protect him. No matter what."
He stood, cradling the impossible child.
Around them, the bunker continued to collapse.
But Jae-sung didn't care.
He had a son now.
And he'd burn the world down before letting anything take this child away.