Yoo's infant mind raced.
What did he have? What could he do?
Extras World—but that couldn't heal. Just offered sanctuary.
Akasha Archive—information, not power.
Melt and Bind—destructive abilities, not restorative.
Energy Sense—passive awareness skill.
Nothing useful.
Unless...
An idea formed. Crazy. Probably wouldn't work.
But doing nothing meant watching his father die.
Akasha. Can I bring Dad into Extras World?
"Unknown. Previous testing inconclusive. Risk: dimensional instability, consciousness fragmentation, death."
For him or me?
"Both."
If I don't try, he dies anyway. If I try and fail, same result. If I try and succeed—
"Then you've performed unprecedented spatial manipulation and possibly discovered healing application of pocket dimension."
Exactly.
"Odds of success: 3.7%."
Better than zero.
"Barely. Recommendation: reconsider. Host father accepted his fate. You should—"
I'm doing this. Help me or get out of my way.
Silence. Then:
"...Acknowledged. Preparing dimensional transit protocols. Warning: this will exhaust host energy reserves completely. Potential side effects include: loss of consciousness, developmental regression, permanent damage to spatial abilities."
I accept the risks.
Yoo focused everything—his consciousness, his will, his desperate need—into a single purpose:
Save my father.
The Pull
Jae-sung was bandaging his shoulder when reality shimmered.
"What the—"
A gap opened in the air. Not like the rifts that monsters came through.
This was different—cleaner, controlled, warm.
Through it, he felt... invitation. Safety. Home.
His son was staring at him from the crib.
Eyes too aware. Too intense.
He's doing this.
The gap widened. Became large enough for a person.
And Jae-sung felt the pull.
Not physical force. Gentle tug on something deeper than flesh. His consciousness. His soul.
"Kid, what are you—"
The pull intensified.
Jae-sung's vision blurred. The tent around him faded.
Everything narrowed to that gap, that warmth, that need radiating from his impossible son.
He's trying to save me.
Against all logic, Jae-sung let go.
Stopped resisting. Stopped questioning.
Just trusted.
Reality snapped.
Inside Extras World
Jae-sung crashed onto soft grass that hadn't existed moments before.
He gasped, rolled onto his back, stared up at—
Nothing. Empty space. But not void-dark.
Soft illumination from no visible source.
Warm air. Comfortable temperature.
"Where...?"
A sound. Infant crying.
Jae-sung sat up.
Saw his son—physical body, not just consciousness—lying on the grass five meters away.
Crying weakly.
He scrambled over. Picked up the baby.
"You okay? What did you do?"
Yoo's infant body was cold. Shivering. Exhausted beyond measure.
"Emergency transit successful," a voice said—not aloud, but directly in Jae-sung's mind.
"Host father has been relocated to Extras World. Dimensional stability: 67%. Host body energy reserves: depleted. Consciousness: fragmenting."
"Who's talking? What is this place?"
"I am Akasha Archive. Component of host consciousness. This is Extras World. Personal pocket dimension. Host brought you here to save your life."
Jae-sung looked down at his son.
At the baby who'd just pulled him through dimensions to—
"Save my life? How does this—"
He stopped.
Because his shoulder wasn't hurting anymore.
Jae-sung pulled back the bandages.
The wound was still there—still ugly, still infected.
But the pain had vanished.
More than that.
The fog in his head was clearing. His breathing coming easier.
"What's happening?"
"Extras World's properties include: accelerated healing for biological entities. Not instant regeneration. But recovery rate increased by factor of approximately 8.5. Your infection will clear in hours rather than days. Wounds will close in days rather than weeks."
"That's... that's impossible."
"Yet occurring. However, cost was severe. Host body has expended all available energy creating transit aperture large enough for adult human. Current state: critical. Recommendation: remain in Extras World for minimum 6 hours to allow host recovery."
Jae-sung held his son closer.
The baby's breathing was shallow. Skin too pale.
"He's dying?"
"Negative. But close. Host pushed beyond safe limits to save you. This is consequence."
"How do I help him?"
"Warmth. Contact. Wait. His body will recover naturally. He is remarkably resilient."
Jae-sung sat on the impossible grass, cradling his son against his chest.
Around them, Extras World existed—a pocket of safety carved from nothing by a two-month-old's desperate will.
"You're insane, kid," Jae-sung whispered. "Risking yourself for me. Stupid. Selfless. Insane."
Yoo made a small sound.
Not quite crying. Not quite awake.
"But thank you."
Jae-sung looked around the space.
Saw the apartment furnishings—desk, chair, bed. Objects that shouldn't exist here.
"What are you?" he asked again. "Really?"
No answer came.
Just his son's breathing. Slowly, gradually stabilizing.
And Jae-sung's own body, healing in ways that defied medical science.
They stayed there.
Father and son.
In a space outside reality.
For six hours, the apocalypse couldn't reach them.
For six hours, they were safe.
Outside
Ji-hye returned to check on them at dawn.
Found the tent empty.
Both Jae-sung and baby Seung-yoon—gone.
No signs of struggle. No blood. No evidence of entry or exit.
Just empty space where two people had been.
She stared at the empty crib for a full minute.
Then quietly closed the tent flap and walked away.
Some things, she thought, I don't want to understand.
Return
Yoo woke to warmth.
His father's chest.
Heartbeat strong and steady beneath his ear.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Different from his own racing pulse.
Calmer. Healthier.
"Welcome back. Host energy reserves: 23% recovered. Sufficient for basic function. Recommend: remain dormant for additional 12 hours."
Did it work? Is Dad okay?
"Affirmative. Host father's infection: 87% cleared. Wound healing: accelerated. Survival probability: 94%."
Relief flooded through Yoo's tiny body.
We did it.
"Correction: YOU did it. This achievement: unprecedented. No recorded instance of infant-stage hunter manifesting spatial healing domain. You have created something unique."
I didn't create anything. Just... needed him to survive.
"Need is the mother of ability. Remember this: desperation unlocks potential that training cannot reach."
Yoo would've nodded if he could.
Instead, he just pressed closer to his father's warmth.
And let himself rest.