The silence after the slaughter didn't last.
It never did.
Ronan noticed it first in the way the air tightened again, like a fist slowly closing around the street. The wreckage hadn't disappeared—burned cars, shattered pavement, bodies of creatures that looked less real the longer he stared at them—but something else was happening beneath it all.
The world was recalculating.
Survivors huddled together in clusters, whispering, crying, clinging to one another like proximity alone might keep them alive. A few looked at Ronan with open awe. Others wouldn't meet his eyes at all.
He ignored them.
The countdown still hovered in the sky.
> TIME REMAINING: 14:32
Too much time.
That was the problem.
Ronan flexed his fingers. His knuckles felt heavier than before—not injured, not sore, just… weighted. Like something had settled into his bones and decided to stay.
A laugh echoed above him.
Slow. Delighted.
The dokkaebi descended until it hovered just above streetlight height, its shadow crawling over the ruined ground. Its grin hadn't faded even slightly.
"Oh, I love first Acts," it said. "Everyone's so honest. So desperate."
Ronan looked up at it. "We survived," he said flatly. "So what's next?"
The dokkaebi blinked, then burst into laughter.
"Oh, you think survival means completion," it said. "That's adorable."
It snapped its fingers.
The air shimmered, and translucent panels appeared in front of the remaining humans. People gasped as words burned themselves into their vision.
Ronan saw his own.
> INCARNATION: CONFIRMED
STATUS: UNSPONSORED
EVALUATION: ANOMALOUS
Anomalous.
He didn't like that word.
"What does that mean?" someone shouted.
The dokkaebi floated lazily from side to side. "It means you exist," it replied. "And existence, in this system, requires investment."
The sky darkened further, stars bleeding through daylight like stains.
Ronan felt it before he saw it.
A pressure—not singular, but layered. As if something vast had turned its attention toward him, then another, and another. Each gaze carried a different weight. Curiosity. Hunger. Amusement.
> MULTIPLE CONSTELLATIONS ARE OBSERVING THIS SCENARIO
Whispers echoed—not audible, but present. The sense of being discussed like a commodity made Ronan's jaw tighten.
The dokkaebi clasped its hands together. "Now then! Sponsorship time."
A man near the front stepped forward, shaking. "What—what does that mean?"
"It means," the dokkaebi said cheerfully, "that higher beings may choose to support you."
"And if they don't?" a woman asked.
The dokkaebi's grin sharpened. "Then you remain weak."
Ronan glanced at the man who'd spoken earlier. He looked average. Tired. Terrified. Not weak—just human.
A symbol flared above the man's head.
> A CONSTELLATION HAS CHOSEN INCARNATION LENA CROSS
Golden light poured down around her. She screamed—not in pain, but shock—as energy flooded into her body. Her posture straightened. The fear in her eyes sharpened into something harder.
Power.
People stared with open envy.
The dokkaebi clapped. "Marvelous! A fine choice. Let's see if the investment pays off."
Another symbol appeared.
> A CONSTELLATION HAS CHOSEN INCARNATION TOBIAS ROOK
Then another.
Then another.
One by one, select incarnations were wrapped in light, marked by unseen hands. Some collapsed under the sudden change. Others laughed hysterically. A few looked around like kings crowned too early.
Ronan felt nothing.
No light.
No warmth.
No blessing.
Only weight.
The dokkaebi's many eyes slid back to him.
"Oh?" it said. "Still nothing."
Ronan met its gaze. "I don't need it."
The dokkaebi paused.
Then it laughed so hard it doubled over in the air.
"Oh, you hear that?" it asked the sky. "He says he doesn't need it!"
The laughter echoed—distant, vast, and not entirely amused.
> CONSTELLATIONS ARE EVALUATING INCARNATION RONAN KADE
Ronan felt pressure spike, like hooks sinking into him without piercing skin.
The dokkaebi wiped an imaginary tear from its eye. "Oh, don't misunderstand. You're very interesting."
It leaned close, voice lowering.
"That's the problem."
The countdown ticked.
> TIME REMAINING: 09:41
A scream tore through the street.
One of the unsponsored incarnations collapsed, clutching his chest. Veins darkened beneath his skin, spreading like cracks in glass.
"W–what's happening to him?" someone shouted.
The dokkaebi didn't look.
"Operational inefficiency," it said casually. "Unsponsored incarnations degrade faster."
The man convulsed once—then went still.
No light.
No sound.
No announcement.
Just absence.
Ronan's fists clenched.
"So if they don't choose us," he said slowly, "we die."
The dokkaebi tilted its head. "Not immediately. That would be boring."
Another unsponsored incarnation screamed.
Then another.
Panic erupted.
People who had just been saved by Ronan now surged toward the sponsored ones, begging, pleading, offering anything.
Ronan stepped forward.
"Enough," he said.
The dokkaebi's eyes glittered. "Careful."
Ronan ignored it and raised his voice. "If this is about entertainment, then watch this."
He turned—and punched the ground.
The impact thundered outward. Asphalt shattered. A shockwave rippled through the street, throwing debris into the air and forcing everyone—human and monster alike—to stagger back.
The dokkaebi jerked in surprise.
Ronan stood in the crater he'd made, chest rising steadily.
"I'll survive without them," he said. "And you'll keep watching anyway."
Silence fell.
High above, something shifted.
> A CONSTELLATION HAS SHOWN INTEREST
The dokkaebi's grin returned—slower this time.
"Oh," it murmured. "You really are dangerous."
The symbol burned into Ronan's arm again, hotter than before.
> WARNING: INCARNATION RONAN KADE IS EXCEEDING EXPECTED PARAMETERS
The dokkaebi floated closer, voice almost gentle.
"Let me give you some advice, Strong One."
Its eyes gleamed.
"This story eats its heroes first."
The countdown struck zero.
> ACT I: COMPLETE
The sky shuddered.
And somewhere deep within the system, a new Act began preparing—
one designed not to test survival…
…but to kill the strongest incarnation alive.