"Everyone else dies," Min-ji confirmed. "I'm sorry. But those are the numbers. Five thousand seeds to rebuild civilization when dimensional collapse ends. Or humanity goes extinct entirely."
Jae-sung stood, pacing. "This is insane. You're talking about abandoning the world."
"I'm talking about surviving. There's a difference."
"Not much of one."
They argued. Yoo tuned out, thinking rapidly.
Six months. Five thousand survivors. Void rifts erasing reality.
Unless—
"What if we close the rifts?" Yoo interrupted.
Everyone turned to him.
"The void rifts. Can they be closed?"
"We've tried," one Platinum-rank said. "Energy attacks just accelerate expansion. Spatial manipulation destabilizes them further. Physical matter erases on contact. Nothing works."
"Have you tried spatial sealing?" Yoo pressed. "Not attacking the rift. Sealing the space around it. Containing rather than destroying."
The Platinum-ranks exchanged glances.
"Theoretically possible," Min-ji said slowly. "But would require spatial manipulation expert. Diamond-rank minimum. And we have two in entire country, both deployed elsewhere."
"I could learn," Yoo said.
Silence. Then laughter — not mocking, incredulous.
"You're Bronze 9," the Platinum-rank said. "Spatial sealing requires—"
"Adult-level spatial understanding, which I have. I'm reincarnated. My consciousness is twenty-nine years old, not eight months." Yoo met their eyes. "And I have personal pocket dimension. Extras World. I understand spatial manipulation intimately."
Min-ji studied him. "You're serious."
"Completely. Teach me advanced spatial techniques. Give me six months. I'll close the rifts."
"You'll die trying."
"Maybe. But if I don't try, everyone dies anyway. Five thousand refugees in a bunker isn't saving humanity. It's preserving corpses."
Jae-sung grabbed Yoo's shoulder. "You're talking about suicide."
"I'm talking about the only option that saves more than five thousand people." Yoo looked at his father. "You raised me to survive. But surviving alone isn't enough. We need to save others too. Otherwise, what's the point?"
Jae-sung's expression was agonized. But he didn't argue. Because Yoo was right.
Min-ji made a decision. "I'll bring it to academy leadership. Spatial sealing training for anomaly child in exchange for rift closure attempts. They'll probably say no."
"Tell them I volunteered. That I understand the risks. And that Bronze 9 with spatial abilities is better than nothing."
"I'll try."
She left with the other Platinum-ranks.
Yoo and Jae-sung remained.
"You're eight months old," Jae-sung said quietly. "Chronologically. You shouldn't be volunteering for suicide missions."
"I'm twenty-nine mentally. I died once already. If I die again trying to save people, at least it's meaningful death instead of random alley shooting."
"That's not comforting."
"It's not meant to be. It's truth."
They sat in silence. Outside, the academy continued its routines. Children trained. Hunters planned. The world spun toward apocalypse.
And in one small room, a Platinum-rank father and his Bronze-rank son made an unspoken promise:
We'll save who we can. Or die trying. Together.
Three Days Later
Academy leadership approved Yoo's proposal. Conditionally.
He'd receive spatial manipulation training from Master Yoon — Diamond 53 rank, spatial expert returned from overseas deployment. Four hours daily for three months.
Then: live rift closure attempt. If successful, continue. If failure (death), Operation Sanctuary proceeds as planned.
Three months training. Three months missions. Total: six months. Perfect timing for apocalypse.
Yoo reported to Master Yoon's training hall. Found an elderly woman, tiny frame, but energy signature that made reality itself bend slightly.
"You're the child volunteering for suicide," she stated.
"I prefer 'attempting the impossible.'"
"Same thing." She gestured for him to enter. "Show me your Extras World. I'll assess if you're wasting my time."
Yoo opened the dimensional gap. Expanded it to full size — now sixty cubic meters, grown steadily over months.
Master Yoon stepped through. Examined the space. Her expression shifted from skepticism to fascination.
"This is... unprecedented. Pocket dimension this stable at Bronze 9? You're not just spatial user. You're spatial natural. Born for this."
"Can you teach me sealing techniques?"
"Yes. But understand: what you're attempting requires precision beyond most Diamond-ranks. One mistake during rift sealing, you don't just die. You erase. Completely. No afterlife. No void. Just nonexistence."
Yoo had existed in the void for 823 years. Knew that fate intimately.
"I understand. Teach me anyway."
Master Yoon smiled grimly. "Brave or stupid. We'll see which. Begin with basic exercises—"
The training began.
Four hours daily of spatial theory, meditation, energy control. Learning to perceive dimensional boundaries. To manipulate space without tearing it. To seal rather than destroy.
It was brutal. His three-year-old body wasn't designed for this level of concentration. Multiple times he collapsed from mental exhaustion.
But he learned.
And outside the training hall, the void rifts continued growing.
Ticking clock counting down to extinction.
Two Months Later
Yoo stood at training hall's edge, watching his father spar with other Platinum-ranks.
Jae-sung had grown stronger. Platinum 44 now. Not through Ascension Protocol — he'd refused, citing the need to stay alive for his son. But through constant combat missions, pushing his limits safely.
He's holding back. Protecting himself for my sake.
It made Yoo's chest hurt. His father sacrificing advancement to ensure he'd survive. While Yoo prepared for a mission that might erase him from existence.
We're both idiots. Sacrificing for each other.
But that's what family does.
Seo-yeon approached. She was Bronze 7 now, trained alongside Yoo when his schedule allowed.
"Your dad's strong," she observed. "But he's scared. I can see it in how he fights. Pulling punches. Holding back."
"He's scared of dying and leaving me alone."
"Are you scared? Of the rift closure mission?"
Yoo considered. "Terrified. But more terrified of doing nothing and watching everyone die."
"That's stupid and brave." She punched his arm lightly. "When you go on that mission, I want to come. I can't seal rifts, but I can watch your back. Make sure nothing kills you before you erase yourself."
"You don't have to—"
"We're friends. That's what friends do. Stupid, dangerous things together."
Despite everything, Yoo smiled. "Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet. Thank me when we survive."
When. Not if.
I like her optimism.
Later That Night
Jae-sung found Yoo in Extras World, practicing alone.
He'd learned to enter the pocket dimension — Yoo had taught him during private training sessions. Now Jae-sung appeared beside him in the space.
"You've been avoiding me," Jae-sung said.
"No. Just training. There's a difference."
"There's not." Jae-sung sat on a manifested chair — one Yoo had recreated from memories. "You're preparing to die. And you don't want me to talk you out of it."
"Would you? Try to stop me?"
"I should. You're my son. Protecting you is my job." Jae-sung's voice broke. "But you're right. Saving five thousand while billions die isn't salvation. It's cowardice. So no. I won't stop you."
"Then why are you here?"
"To tell you I'm proud. And terrified. And if you die doing this—" Jae-sung's hands clenched "—I'll follow. I'll close every remaining rift myself or die trying. Because I can't live knowing you sacrificed yourself while I played it safe."
Yoo turned to his father. Saw tears on the Platinum-rank hunter's face.
"Then we make a deal. I survive the missions, you survive yours. We both live through this apocalypse. Deal?"
"Deal."
They clasped hands. Father and son. Platinum and Bronze. Two impossibilities facing cosmic annihilation together.
We'll survive, Yoo promised silently. Both of us. Whatever it takes.
Outside Extras World, outside the academy, outside humanity's last bastions—
The void rifts continued spreading.
Eating reality one meter at a time. Counting down to zero.