...….☆...….
The safe house shifted. It was a subtle, tectonic change in the atmosphere that the automated sensors in the walls failed to detect. In the bedroom, the figure on the bed stirred.
Seo-Jun didn't wake up like a normal human. He didn't groan or rub his eyes. His body simply sat bolt upright, moving with a fluid, mechanical precision that defied the laws of muscle and bone. His head tilted slowly to the side, peering into the corner where Shi-Yoon had sat only moments ago.
His eyes opened. They were no longer the soft, empathetic brown of a college student. They were a vivid, bleeding crimson, the pupils stretched into those terrifyingly sharp, vertical black slits.
The child from the dream was here, peering through the windows of the boy's soul. He looked at the empty chair, then at the closed portal mark on the floor. A low, melodic hum vibrated in Seo-Jun's throat,a sound of ancient, cold amusement.
"Still running, little reaper," the voice was Seo-Jun's, but the cadence was wrong,too heavy, too old.
The entity inhabiting the boy's shell stood up, bare feet touching the cold floor. He walked to the window, his gaze piercing through the reinforced glass, through the city's smog, and perhaps through the very fabric of the dimensions. For a few minutes, the Sovereign simply watched the world, a faint, predatory smile playing on Seo-Jun's lips.
Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the red light vanished.
Seo-Jun gasped, his knees buckling. He caught himself on the edge of the bed, his chest heaving as if he'd just run a marathon. He blinked rapidly, his eyes returning to their normal brown, though they were clouded with a deep, lingering confusion.
"Shi-Yoon?" he whispered, his voice cracking.
He looked around the dark room. The heavy presence that usually anchored the space—the tall, cold man who smelled of ozone and winter, was gone. The apartment felt hollow.
"He left..." Seo-Jun murmured. A small, sad smile touched his face, a habit of a boy who had spent eleven years being protected by a ghost. He didn't know about the red eyes. He didn't know about the tentacles. He only knew that for a moment, he had felt less alone, and now the cold had returned.
In his high-tech sanctuary, Shi-Yoon was a man possessed. He wasn't sleeping. He wasn't resting. He was standing before a massive, three-dimensional holographic archive, his fingers flying through the air as he manipulated data streams that would have melted a standard computer.
"Chimera, deepen the search. Scrape the Forbidden Archives of the First Incursion. Filter for 'Red Sovereign,' 'The Zero Point King,' or 'Tentacled Apex'."
"Searching..." The system's voice was a monotonous drone. "Results: Zero. No records found in the known historical, dimensional, or mythical databases."
Shi-Yoon slammed his fist onto the console. "Impossible! I saw it. It's a Grade S, maybe higher. The resonance is real. How can there be no record of a Sovereign that can override a Reaper's Mark?"
"Hypothesis: The entity does not exist in the past," Chimera stated. "It is a localized anomaly born from your own interference. You are looking for a history that has not yet been written."
Shi-Yoon's eyes were bloodshot. His indifference was gone, replaced by a frantic, intellectual desperation. He began cross , referencing ancient texts from dimensions he hadn't even visited yet, trying to find a match for the vertical pupils and the black silk gown.
Suddenly, the Aether Watch on his wrist erupted in a series of sharp, rhythmic pings.
WARNING: CONCENTRATION VARIANCE AT 45%.
WARNING: SOUL ENERGY LEAK DETECTED.
WARNING: SUBJECT T-F-412 IS EXHIBITING IRREGULAR RESONANCE PATTERNS.
"Dismiss," Shi-Yoon hissed.
The pings didn't stop. Instead, a new window snapped open in front of his face,a bright, clinical red.
REAPER-DESIGNATE SHI-YOON. SYSTEM OVERRIDE INITIATED BY CENTRAL DISPATCH COMMAND.
A different voice filled the room. It wasn't the synthesized Chimera; it was the Core System Intelligence, the cold, governing logic of the Reaper organization.
"Reaper Shi-Yoon," the System spoke, its voice booming with an authority that made the air vibrate. "Your performance metrics have dropped below the acceptable threshold. Your obsession with the anomaly designated T-F-412 is compromising the security of the Eastern Seaboard."
"I am containing the threat!" Shi-Yoon shouted at the empty room.
"Correction: You are feeding the threat," the System replied. "Your proximity to the subject is stabilizing the resonance. You are acting as a catalyst. The distractions, the unsanctioned stay at the safe house, the unauthorized fabrication of the Chronos Needle are being logged as dereliction of duty."
Shi-Yoon reached for the 'Mute' button on his watch, his hand trembling with annoyance. He wanted to shut it out. He wanted to go back to the archives. But as his finger hovered over the glass, he stopped.
The System was right. And if he muted it, he would lose access to the very tools he needed to save the boy. He let his hand fall to his side, his shoulders sagging.
"Continue," he muttered, his jaw tight.
"The Sovereign does not exist in our records because the Sovereign is a future eventuality," the System continued, relentless and cold. "By saving the boy eleven years ago, you created a vacuum in the timeline. The entity you saw is the universe trying to fill that hole with a new god. If you continue to protect him, the entity will fully manifest. The red eyes you witnessed are the first stage of 'Sovereign-Seed' germination."
Shi-Yoon listened, every word feeling like a needle in his brain. The annoyance at being lectured by a machine was secondary to the chilling logic of the message.
"Recommendation: Immediate termination of Designate T-F-412. The Chronos Needle has been provided for this specific purpose. Execute the anchor. Reap the soul. Restore the timeline."
The System went silent, leaving the room in a heavy, oppressive quiet. Shi-Yoon stood there for a long time, staring at the empty space where the Sovereign's eyes had been in his dream.
He didn't dismiss the warning. He didn't argue. He just looked at the Chronos-Needle on his desk, glowing with a beautiful, lethal gold.
He had saved a boy and created a god. And now, the only way to save the world was to kill the only thing that made him feel like a man instead of a machine.
"The show hasn't even started," he whispered, the child's voice echoing in his ears.
Shi-Yoon didn't move. He didn't go back to the boy. He just sat in the dark, listening to the hum of his own power, knowing that the next time he saw those red eyes, he would have to decide which side of the scythe he truly stood on.