He pressed it against Yoo's forehead.
Pain exploded through his skull.
Not physical. Dimensional. Like something was trying to read him—peel back layers of his consciousness and examine the core.
Yoo's infant body convulsed.
"WARNING: UNAUTHORIZED SCAN DETECTED. HOSTILE INTENT CONFIRMED. AKASHA ARCHIVE ACTIVATING DEFENSIVE PROTOCOLS."
Everything went white.
Akasha's Defense
The device should have worked.
Standard-issue soul scanner, designed to detect anomalies in reincarnation energy, identify special abilities, measure threat levels.
It worked on 99% of subjects.
Yoo was the 1%.
Because Akasha Archive wasn't just an innate skill. It was reformed consciousness given form. Part of Yoo, but also separate. Ancient data compressed into soul structure.
And it did not appreciate being scanned.
The device shattered.
Energy feedback blasted the man backward. He crashed into the tent wall, dazed.
Yoo's infant body went rigid—every muscle locked as Akasha channeled defensive energy through underdeveloped nervous system.
"Threat assessment: Silver rank 22. Armed. Experienced. Host body insufficient for combat. Alternate strategy required."
What strategy? I can't even crawl!
"Extras World. Emergency protocol. Initiating forced transit."
Wait—
Reality tore.
The dimensional gap appeared—massive this time, unstable, crackling with energy.
Yoo's body was yanked through.
Just as Ji-hye ran back inside, screaming.
The man on the floor groaned, tried to stand—
And found an empty crib.
The baby had vanished.
Inside Extras World – Emergency
Yoo tumbled through impossible space and crashed into... nothing.
He floated—actual physical body this time, not just consciousness. Amniotic-fluid sensation but breathable. Warm. Safe.
What just happened?
"Emergency transit executed. Hostile scan attempt detected. Defensive protocols engaged. Host body has been removed from threat environment."
You can do that? Just pull me here automatically?
"When threat level exceeds host defensive capabilities: yes. However, this burns significant energy. Not sustainable for repeated use."
Yoo's infant heart hammered. Thump-thump-thump.
How long can I stay?
"Unknown. Previous longest duration: 47 minutes during birth. Current scenario: indefinite stay possible but inadvisable. External consequences unknown."
They'll think I died. Or was kidnapped. Dad will—
Panic set in. Real, choking panic.
His father would return to find him gone. Would think Yoo had been killed. Would blame himself.
I need to go back.
"Recommendation: wait. Allow threat to clear area. Return in 10–15 minutes when safe."
Ten minutes felt like eternity.
But Yoo forced himself to wait. Floated in the warm void of his pocket dimension. Counted seconds.
One. Two. Three.
His infant body wanted to cry. Wanted his father. Wanted safety.
Four. Five. Six.
But his adult mind knew—patience kept you alive.
Seven. Eight. Nine.
Outside
Ji-hye stared at the empty crib.
"Where—where is he?"
The man had recovered. Stood on shaky legs, staring at the spot where Yoo had been.
"He activated spatial ability. Defensive reflex. The scan triggered—"
"What scan? What did you do to him?" Ji-hye's voice rose to a shriek.
More people gathered. Drawn by commotion.
The man realized his mistake. He'd been sent for covert surveillance. Instead, he'd caused a scene.
"I need to report this," he muttered, and fled.
Ji-hye turned back to the crib. Empty. No trace of the baby except warmth where he'd been lying.
"Seung-yoon?" she whispered. "Please... please come back."
Return
Thirteen minutes after vanishing, Yoo felt the pull.
Not Akasha forcing him back. Something else. A connection to external reality, tugging gently.
Someone's calling me.
"Affirmative. Host father has arrived on site. Emotional distress signature detected. Recommend: respond to summons."
How?
"Will yourself back. The connection is established. Simply... go home."
Yoo focused. Thought about Jae-sung. About Ji-hye. About the life he'd been building here, however strange.
I want to go back.
Reality snapped.
He fell—
—and appeared in his father's arms.
Jae-sung was holding the empty crib, screaming at Ji-hye:
"—WHERE IS HE? WHERE'S MY SON?"
Then sudden weight. Warmth. A baby in his arms where nothing had been seconds before.
Everyone froze.
Yoo made a small sound. Infant distress. Real this time.
Jae-sung stared down at him. Face cycling through confusion, relief, terror.
"You... you just..."
Yeah. I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—
Yoo started crying. Couldn't help it. The stress, the fear, the impossibility of his situation.
He cried like the infant he technically was.
Jae-sung held him tighter. "It's okay. You're okay. I've got you."
But over Yoo's head, Jae-sung met Ji-hye's eyes.
And they both knew—this child was something far beyond normal.
That Night
Dr. Choi arrived at Jae-sung's quarters two hours later.
"I heard what happened."
"From who?" Jae-sung's voice was cold.
"I have sources. The man who tried to scan your son—he was one of mine. I sent him."
Jae-sung stood. Yoo in one arm, the other hand dropping to the knife at his belt.
"You sent someone to scan my infant son?"
"To verify he's not a threat." Choi raised his hands. "Please. Let me explain. The baby's development—it's not natural. You know that. I know that. Self-delivery, spatial abilities, advanced growth rate—"
"He's two months old."
"And he has powers most Gold-rank hunters never develop." Choi stepped closer. "I need to know what he is. Not to hurt him. To protect him. Because if he's this strong already—"
"Then he's my son. And if you send anyone near him again, I'll break their skull."
They stared at each other.
Finally, Choi nodded. "Understood. No more scans. But Jae-sung—he can't hide what he is forever. Eventually, people will notice. The guilds. The government. Entities far worse than me."
"Then I'll deal with them when they come."
Choi left.
Jae-sung sat on his mattress, holding Yoo.
"You understand, don't you?" he said softly. "You understand everything we're saying."
Yes.
"I don't know what you are. Past life? Blessing? Curse? Don't care. You're my son. And I'll protect you."
Thank you.
Yoo couldn't say the words. But he pressed his small face against his father's chest.
Thump-thump.
Two heartbeats. Father and son.
In a broken world, they had each other.
For now, that was enough.
Epilogue: The Watcher
Kilometers away, in a hidden facility, Dr. Choi reviewed the scan data.
The device had shattered, but it had transmitted 0.3 seconds of information before failing.
He studied the readings. Analyzed the patterns.
And felt cold dread settle in his stomach.
The baby's soul structure was impossible. Fragmented. Reformed. Like something had been scattered and pieced back together.
And the energy signature matched something he'd seen only once before.
In research documents from 823 years ago.
Before the apocalypse.
Before the rifts.
A case study about dimensional exposure. About a soul that had touched the void between realities.
"That's impossible," he whispered.
But the data didn't lie.
Yoo Seung-yoon wasn't just a prodigy infant.
He was a reincarnated soul.
Something that shouldn't exist.
Choi made a decision.
He deleted the scan data. Every copy. Every backup.
Then he destroyed the scanning device specifications.
"If I don't know," he said to the empty room, "then no one else needs to know either."
He would watch the baby. Record his development.
But he wouldn't dissect. Wouldn't experiment.
Because some knowledge was too dangerous.
And some children were meant to become legends.