"Iron Rank 10… That's rank 10," someone reported.
Then her energy stabilized. The lightning faded. She dropped to her knees, gasping.
"Breakthrough successful."
The crowd applauded. Clean breakthrough was rare. Most people spent weeks at threshold, carefully managing the transition. Seo-yeon had brute-forced it in twenty minutes.
When she recovered enough to stand, she found Yoo.
"Did you see?"
"I saw. That was reckless and impressive."
"Learned from the best." She grinned despite exhaustion. "You brute-forced Iron breakthrough too. Figured if you could do it…"
"I had Akasha Archive managing my energy flow. You did it raw."
"Details." She wavered. Yoo caught her elbow—his Iron 15 strength sufficient despite damaged state.
"Thanks. World's spinning."
"Breakthrough disorientation. Lasts an hour. Come on, medical bay's waiting."
He helped her walk. Other students watched—the injured anomaly supporting the new Iron-rank. Gossip would spread.
Let them. I don't care about academy politics.
In medical bay, Seo-yeon collapsed on examination table.
"Everything hurts," she reported. "Is that even normal?"
"For aggressive breakthrough? Yes. Your pathways expanded too fast. They're adapting now. By tomorrow, you'll feel amazing, just endure today's pain."
"Worth it. Iron 10 means I can actually help in combat. Maybe even—" She hesitated. "Maybe even join your rift missions. As backup."
"You want to watch me potentially erase from existence?"
"Someone needs to, and I'm better at it than most." Her expression turned serious. "I know I'm not strong enough for sealing itself. But I can protect the perimeter. Keep you safe while you work. That's worth something."
She wants to help. Same reason I have. Can't sit idle while world nears extinction.
"We'll see, Let me talk to Master Yoon. If she approves backup roles for Iron-ranks—then you're first on the list."
Seo-yeon smiled, then winced. "Ow. Even smiling hurts."
"That's breakthrough aftereffects. Rest. Heal. Tomorrow we celebrate properly."
He left her with the medical staff.
Outside, Min-ji was waiting.
"I saw the faction representatives visit you."
Yoo's blood went cold. They know.
"Academy has surveillance in all quarters. We saw them enter, saw them leave. Couldn't hear conversation—they blocked audio. But we know they made contact."
"Are you going to confiscate the token?"
"What token?" Min-ji's expression was neutral. "I didn't see any token. Neither did surveillance. As far as official records show—nothing was transferred."
She's giving me plausible deniability.
"Why?"
"Because you're right to have backup plans. Academy IS using you until you break. That's reality. I'd rather you have insurance than desperation." She stepped closer. "But understand: if you betray us to them, I'll kill you myself. Platinum 43 versus your Iron 15—it's gonna be my win. Even with all your tricks."
Yoo sighed
"I get it, I'm not planning betrayal."
"Good. Then we continue as allies. You seal rifts. We provide resources. Everyone pretends the other factions don't exist. Simple arrangement."
She walked away.
Yoo stood alone, trying to understand what had just happened.
I'm chess piece surrounded by players. Academy, mysterious factions, probably others. All waiting to move me across the board.
But pieces can become players. Just need right opportunity. And enough power that they can't move me without permission.
Next players won't even be able to move without my permission
---
Day 15 – Hae-won's Limit
Training session fifteen. Hae-won was progressing but hitting ceiling.
She could now maintain stable dimensional pocket for twelve seconds. Improvement from five seconds, but nowhere near the thirty-minute sustained manipulation needed.
"Again," Yoo instructed.
Hae-won focused. Her energy gathered. Pocket formed—
And collapsed at fourteen seconds.
"I can't push further. The energy drain is too much."
"Then we work on efficiency. You're using brute force. Need finesse. Watch—"
Yoo demonstrated despite his limited capacity. Created tiny pocket—barely fist-sized—but held it for full minute. Used fraction of energy Hae-won consumed.
"How?"
"Minimal energy expenditure. You're holding space open like lifting weight. I'm redirecting space to hold itself. Like opening door versus breaking through wall. Same result, different method."
"Can you teach that in three weeks?"
"Honestly? Probably not. It's instinct developed over months of practice. But we try anyway."
They continued. By session's end, Hae-won managed sixteen seconds.
Progress. But not enough.
After she left, Yoo reviewed calculations.
Sixteen seconds. Needs thirty minutes minimum—that's 1,800 seconds. She's at less than one percent required duration.
She's not going to be ready. The test run will fail.
"Probability of Hae-won success: 7%. However, attempt provides data. Understanding failure modes helps refine training for subsequent candidates."
So she's experiment. I'm sending her to potentially die so I can learn from her failure.
"Correct. Unpleasant but strategically sound. Three weeks isn't sufficient time. But attempting anyway generates valuable information."
I hate this. I hate treating people like expendable data points.
"Alternative: don't attempt test run. Continue solo closures until body breaks. Result: 51+ unsealed rifts, billions dead. Current path has higher expected value despite individual cost."
Yoo knew Akasha was right. Hated it anyway.
This is what war does. Turns people into calculations. Lives into numbers. Humanity into tactical advantage.
I'm becoming what I need to be to win. Question is: will I recognize myself when this is over?
---
Day 18 – The Report
Master Yoon called emergency assessment meeting.
Yoo, Hae-won, Min-ji, Jae-sung, and training supervisors attended.
"Progress evaluation," Yoon began. "Hae-won has demonstrated consistent improvement. Current capability: sixteen-second stable dimensional pocket. Energy efficiency: forty-three percent compared to Yoo's baseline. Spatial perception: adequate. Dimensional manipulation: insufficient for independent sealing."
Hae-won's face fell.
"However," Yoon continued, "performance exceeds expectations for three-week training. Recommendation: proceed with test run as planned. Modified parameters: Yoo provides direct support through shared Extras World access. Hae-won attempts sealing with full backing rather than solo. Reduces her individual load to potentially manageable levels."
"What's the risk assessment?" Jae-sung asked.
"Hae-won mortality: thirty-seven percent. Yoo mortality: nineteen percent. Both mortality: eight percent. Success probability: forty-one percent."
Worse than my solo attempts. But if successful—proves concept works. Worth the risk.
"I accept the parameters," Hae-won said firmly.
"As do I," Yoo added.
"Then test run scheduled in three days. Target: Void Rift Echo-9. Smallest currently tracked. Four meters diameter. Expansion rate: one centimeter daily. Low-risk scenario if sealing fails catastrophically."
Four meters. Half the size of my first successful closure. Small enough to be survivable. Large enough to be real test.
Meeting adjourned. People filed out.
Hae-won approached Yoo. "Thank you. For giving me this chance. Even if I fail—thank you for trying."
"Don't thank me yet. Wait until we see if you survive."
"Either way. You didn't have to train me. Could've kept attempting solo until body broke. You chose to share the burden. That matters."
She left.
Yoo sat alone with his father.
"Thirty-seven percent chance she dies," Jae-sung said quietly. "That's—"
"Better than one hundred percent if we do nothing. And if she succeeds, she can handle future closures. One successful student justifies the risk."
"You sound like academy leadership. Cold calculation."
"I AM cold calculation. That's what I've become. What I need to be." Yoo met his father's eyes. "I don't like it. But liking it isn't requirement. Succeeding is."
Jae-sung nodded slowly. "Just don't lose yourself completely. When this is over—if we survive—I want to know my son still exists under all the tactical thinking."
"If we survive, I'll try. That's best I can promise."
They sat in uncomfortable silence.
Outside, the countdown continued.
Three days until test run. Fifty-nine rifts still unsealed. Four months until dimensional collapse.
We're running out of time. Running out of options. Running out of me.
But we keep trying.
Because stopping means everyone dies.
And I refuse to let that happen without fight.
---
Day 21 – Pre-Mission Meditation
Final night before test run. Yoo couldn't sleep.
He entered Extras World. His sanctuary. His soul-space.
Inside, the realm had stabilized at ninety-three cubic meters. Larger than before Delta-3, but growth had slowed. Dual-existence trauma had damaged expansion capability.
Everything has limits. Even Primordial-tier abilities.
He manifested his apartment one final time. Sat at the desk. Looked at memories made solid.
If tomorrow goes wrong, this might be last time I see this place.
"Probability of host death during test run: 19%. Acceptable risk."
Nineteen percent isn't nothing. One in five chance.
"Compared to your previous missions: favorable odds. You've survived worse."
Doesn't mean I'll survive this.
He pulled up mental interface. Reviewed status:
YOO SEUNG-YOON – DAY 241 (Age: 11 months)
Physical Age: 4 years
Mental Age: 29 years + 11 months
Rank: Iron 15
Biology: 91% Human, 9% Dragon
Pathway Efficiency: 74% (recovering, was 60%)
Skills:
Extras World (93 cubic meters, Primordial-tier personal realm)
Energy Sense (200 m range, moderate precision)
Bind (35% effectiveness, 80 kg restraint)
Melt (moderate corrosion)
Spatial Sealing (2 successful closures, catastrophic self-damage)
Adaptive Evolution (active, slow recovery)
Current Status:
Rifts sealed: 2 / 63
Rifts remaining: 61
Estimated closures remaining in body: 8–10
Test run: 19% mortality, 41% success
Time until collapse: ≈ 4 months
Debts / Obligations:
Han's favor: PAID
Mystery faction token: HELD (unused)
Min-jun life debt: UNPAID
Academy contract: ACTIVE
Jae-sung promise: ONGOING
Eight to ten closures left. Sixty-one rifts. The math doesn't work.
Tomorrow either changes that—or kills us both trying.
He stayed in Extras World until dawn. Preparing mentally. Accepting risk.
I've died before. Scattered for 823 years. Came back.
If I erase tomorrow, maybe I come back again.
Or maybe I don't.
Either way—I tried.
That has to count for something.
When he returned to his body, dawn was breaking.
Test run day.
Make or break.
Live or die.
Let's find out which.