I glared at the beast in front of me, its barrier shimmering with a faint, ethereal light. It was like an impenetrable fortress, a wall that refused to crumble no matter how many times I struck it. Each time my blade clashed against it, the impact reverberated through my arms, sending a dull ache through my muscles. But that wasn’t what bothered me.
What gnawed at me was the beast itself—the Soul Reaver. It didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. It just stood there, its gaze locked onto me, almost as if it were… waiting.
I gritted my teeth, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. This was supposed to be a fight, yet it felt more like a test. But a test of what? My patience? My resolve? Or was it something deeper, something I hadn’t yet realized?
I launched another attack, putting all my strength into it. My blade met the barrier with a deafening crash, sparks flying as the force of the impact shook the air around us. But the barrier remained intact, its glow unwavering. I could feel my irritation rising, the thrill of the hunt fading as the fight dragged on.
"Why aren’t you attacking?" I muttered under my breath, my eyes narrowing at the Soul Reaver. "If you’re really an S-ranked beast, then what are you waiting for?"
A thought crept into my mind, unbidden and unwelcome. If it were truly fighting at full strength, would I even still be standing? The idea sent a chill down my spine. I didn’t like it—didn’t like feeling like there was something I was missing, something just out of reach.
As I circled the beast, looking for an opening, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was more to this than met the eye. The Soul Reaver’s behavior was unnatural. It wasn’t acting like the mindless beasts I’d fought before. It was… different. Smarter. More deliberate.
My thoughts drifted back to the day I returned to this world, sealed and powerless. I had dismissed it as some cosmic joke, the result of ancient magic gone wrong. But now, standing here in this cursed dungeon, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a connection. Was this beast somehow tied to my fate? Was it part of the reason I had been sealed on this planet?
"Is this all some kind of sick game?" I wondered aloud, my voice echoing through the chamber. "A test to see if I’m still worthy of the power I once held?"
The idea felt absurd, yet I couldn’t dismiss it. The timing, the circumstances—it all felt too… convenient. Almost as if someone or something was orchestrating this, pushing me toward a realization I wasn’t ready to face.
I gripped my blade tighter, the frustration now laced with a hint of doubt. Was there a pattern to this fight? A reason why the Soul Reaver hadn’t made a move against me? The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. If this beast had the power of an S-rank, it could’ve obliterated me by now. But it hadn’t. It was holding back, and that could only mean one thing—it was waiting for something.
"Damn it," I cursed under my breath, taking a step back to reassess the situation. "If this is some kind of test, then I need to figure out what it’s testing."
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. This wasn’t just about brute strength or raw power. It was about something more—something deeper. The Soul Reaver wasn’t attacking because it was waiting for me to understand… something. But what?
My mind raced, sifting through possibilities. Could it be testing my intelligence? My ability to strategize? Or was it something else entirely? I could feel the answers just out of reach, like shadows dancing at the edge of my consciousness.
"Think, Shinhyuk," I muttered, my voice tinged with urgency. "What’s the pattern? What’s the key to breaking through this barrier?"
The barrier itself was strong, too strong for brute force alone to shatter it. But maybe that was the point. Maybe the key wasn’t to destroy it outright, but to find its weakness—its flaw. Every barrier, every defense, had one. It was just a matter of finding it.
As I studied the Soul Reaver, I began to notice something—a faint flicker in the barrier, a momentary lapse in its strength. It was barely noticeable, but it was there. A pattern, a rhythm to its defenses. If I could time my attack just right, I might be able to break through.
But there was more at stake here than just the barrier. The Soul Reaver itself was an enigma, its presence tied to something far greater. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this fight was connected to my own past, to the reason I had been sealed in this world.
"Is this your doing?" I wondered aloud, addressing whatever force had brought me here. "Are you testing me to see if I’m still worthy of the power I once wielded? To see if I’m still the god who stood at the pinnacle?"
The idea sent a surge of determination through me. If this was a test, then I would pass it—no matter what it took. I would find the flaw in this barrier, I would bring down the Soul Reaver, and I would uncover the truth behind this twisted game.
Because one thing was certain: I wouldn’t let myself be controlled. Not by a beast, not by fate, and certainly not by whatever force had sealed me here. I would forge my own path, break through every barrier, and reclaim the power that was rightfully mine.
"You want to test me?" I said, my voice low and filled with resolve. "Then let’s see who comes out on top."
With that, I lunged forward, my blade gleaming with anticipation as I prepared to strike. This time, I wouldn’t just attack—I would find the flaw, exploit it, and bring this fight to a decisive end. And when I did, I would be one step closer to uncovering the truth behind it all.
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The entire building was in chaos. The alarms blared incessantly, filling the air with a shrill, high-pitched wail that made my heart race. Red lights flashed all around us, bathing the control room in an eerie crimson glow. Every screen, every monitor showed the same thing—Test #576 had lost connection. Shinhyuk had gone off the grid.
I stood in the center of the room, trying to keep my composure, but inside, I was a storm of emotions. Shinhyuk… What happened to you?
“Why did we lose connection?” one of the technicians shouted over the noise, his voice strained with panic. “Someone check the systems! Is it a malfunction?”
“It’s not a malfunction,” another voice cut in, cold and certain. “Look at the readings—everything was normal until a few minutes ago. This is something else.”
I clenched my fists, my mind racing to process what was happening. Just minutes ago, Shinhyuk had been fighting those A-ranked beasts with such precision, such confidence. He was handling them like they were nothing more than a warm-up. And then… the screen had shown something else. Something red. A glowing, ominous light that had cut off the feed.
“What the hell was that?” I muttered, recalling the last image we saw of him. That red light—it wasn’t natural. It wasn’t part of the simulation. And now, the capsule he was in…
I turned to the technician closest to me, my voice sharp with urgency. “What’s the status of the capsule?”
“It’s… it’s glowing red,” he stammered, his eyes wide with disbelief. “I’ve never seen anything like it. The system is going haywire—we’ve lost control.”
Red. That wasn’t supposed to happen. The capsules were designed to maintain a stable environment, to keep the test subjects safe no matter what happened in the virtual reality. For it to glow red… it meant something had gone horribly wrong.
“Damn it,” I cursed under my breath, my heart pounding in my chest. “We need to help him, now!”
I moved towards the control panel, my hands moving on their own as I tried to override the system. But the screen in front of me was a mess of static and error messages, the usual calm blue interface replaced by chaotic red warnings.
“What’s happening?” one of the engineers asked, his voice trembling. “Is he still in the simulation?”
I stared at the screen, my mind racing to make sense of it all. The connection was severed, but the simulation was still running. It didn’t make any sense.
“He’s stuck,” I realized, my voice barely above a whisper. “He’s stuck inside the simulation.”
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The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of my words sinking in. This wasn’t just a technical glitch. Shinhyuk was in real danger.
“But that’s impossible,” someone said, breaking the silence. “The system has fail-safes. If the connection is lost, the simulation should shut down automatically.”
“Then why hasn’t it?” I snapped, my frustration bubbling over. “Something’s wrong. Something we didn’t account for.”
My mind raced back to the scene of Shinhyuk fighting the beasts, the way he had moved with such precision, such control. And then that red light… What if it wasn’t just part of the simulation? What if it was something else entirely?
I looked at the capsule again, its glow intensifying with each passing second. The red light was now pulsating, growing stronger, more ominous. Whatever was happening inside, it was far beyond our control.
“We need to get him out of there,” I said, my voice firm with resolve. “Now.”
The technicians hesitated, unsure of what to do. They were experts in their field, but this situation was beyond anything they had ever encountered. They looked at me, waiting for instructions, for orders.
“Open the capsule manually,” I commanded, my tone leaving no room for argument. “We don’t have time to figure out what’s going on—we need to get him out before it’s too late.”
“But, ma’am,” one of them protested, “we don’t know what might happen if we interfere. The system is unstable—there could be side effects.”
“I don’t care about the side effects,” I shot back, my eyes locked on the capsule. “If we don’t act now, he could die in there. Do you understand?”
The room was tense, the air thick with fear and uncertainty. But I knew what needed to be done. Shinhyuk was in there, fighting for his life, and I wasn’t about to stand by and watch him suffer.
“Do it,” I ordered, my voice cutting through the chaos. “Open the capsule, now!”
The technicians scrambled to follow my orders, their fingers flying over the control panels as they bypassed the system’s safeguards. The tension in the room was palpable, every second feeling like an eternity as we waited for the capsule to open.
And then, with a hiss of releasing pressure, the capsule began to open, the red glow spilling out into the room like a wave of heat. I held my breath, my eyes locked on the figure inside.
Shinhyuk lay there, unconscious, his body limp and lifeless. But he was alive—barely. The monitors attached to him beeped frantically, his vitals fluctuating wildly. I rushed to his side, my heart pounding in my chest as I checked for any signs of life.
“Shinhyuk,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Come on, wake up. You have to wake up.”
He didn’t respond, his face pale and his breathing shallow. I could see the strain on his body, the toll that the simulation had taken on him. Whatever had happened inside, it had pushed him to his limits—and maybe beyond.
“We need a medic, now!” I shouted, turning to the technicians. “Get him stabilized!”
They moved quickly, their hands working with practiced precision as they connected him to the emergency medical equipment. But as they worked, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed—that something inside Shinhyuk had shifted.
The red glow had faded, replaced by the soft blue light of the medical monitors. But the memory of that ominous light still lingered in my mind, a reminder of the danger that had nearly taken him from us.
As the medics worked to stabilize him, I couldn’t help but wonder what had really happened inside that simulation. What had caused the connection to sever? What had triggered the red light? And most importantly, what had Shinhyuk seen in there?
I knew one thing for certain: this wasn’t over. Whatever had happened, it was just the beginning. And I would do whatever it took to uncover the truth—even if it meant going up against forces far beyond our understanding.
Because one thing was clear: Shinhyuk wasn’t just any test subject. He was something more. Something… dangerous. And if we weren’t careful, he might just bring the whole world crashing down around us.
But as I stood there, watching the medics work to save him, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were on the brink of something monumental—something that could change everything.
And for the first time in a long while, I felt a thrill of fear mixed with anticipation. Because whatever was coming next, I knew it would be a battle unlike any other. And I was ready to face it head-on, no matter the cost.
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After what felt like an eternity, Shinhyuk finally stopped attacking. He let out a frustrated sigh, realizing that no matter how much power he unleashed, the barrier around the Soul Reaver remained intact. The beast, for all its terrifying might, had not retaliated even once. Instead, it stood still, as if waiting. Shinhyuk, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, took a moment to compose himself. He moved to the side of the battlefield, leaning against the cavern wall, his mind racing with questions.
And then, the Soul Reaver spoke.
“Joo Shinhyuk,” its voice echoed through the chamber, deep and resonant, carrying an ancient weight. “Or should I say… Aeschylus.”
The words hit Shinhyuk like a thunderbolt. His eyes widened in shock, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a chill run down his spine. Aeschylus—his true name, the name he had not heard in eons, the name that belonged to the god he once was.
“How…” Shinhyuk began, his voice laced with disbelief. “How do you know that name?”
The Soul Reaver let out a low, rumbling sound that might have been a chuckle. Its glowing eyes fixed on Shinhyuk, and for a moment, the air between them seemed to hum with an unspoken understanding.
“You were sealed by that god,” the Soul Reaver continued, its tone darkening with each word. “The one who feared your power, the one who sought to bind you in chains forged by divine will.”
Shinhyuk’s breath caught in his throat as a vivid image flashed through his mind—an ethereal figure, shrouded in light, with eyes that burned with divine fire. The god—or goddess—who had sealed him away, stripping him of his divine power and casting him down to this mortal plane. His hands clenched into fists, a surge of anger welling up inside him.
“So, that’s the one who sealed me…” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. The bitterness in his tone was unmistakable, a raw reminder of the betrayal he had suffered at the hands of one he once considered an equal.
The Soul Reaver observed him silently, its own anger seemingly resonating with Shinhyuk’s. “I, too, was enslaved,” it said after a long pause. “Bound by the same god, cursed to serve as a guardian in this forsaken place. But I was not meant to be here. I was a creature of darkness, a being of immense power, and yet… I was shackled, forced to obey, to kill those who dared to challenge me.”
Shinhyuk’s gaze softened, the fury in his heart mingling with a strange sense of kinship. This beast, this monstrous being, was not unlike him—both were prisoners of a cruel fate, victims of a higher power’s fear.
“You… you were trapped just like me,” Shinhyuk said, his voice tinged with empathy. The Soul Reaver’s story resonated with his own, stirring something deep within him. A longing for freedom, for the power to break the chains that bound him.
The Soul Reaver nodded slowly. “Yes, and I have no time left,” it said, its voice tinged with a weariness that spoke of centuries of suffering. “The system is intervening, forcing my hand. But before I am erased from existence, I will give you a chance—a chance to achieve your goals.”
Shinhyuk’s eyes narrowed, his curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?”
“I will let you devour me,” the Soul Reaver explained, its voice steady and resolute. “Take my power, my strength, and use it to break the seal that binds you. In doing so, you will also free me from the curse that has held me captive for so long.”
Shinhyuk’s breath caught in his throat. The offer was tempting, almost too good to be true. To gain the power of an S-ranked beast, to strengthen himself enough to challenge the very gods who had wronged him… But more than that, it was the Soul Reaver’s final wish, a plea from one prisoner to another.
“I will… devour you?” Shinhyuk echoed, a mixture of disbelief and reverence in his tone. He had used his Gluttony skill before, absorbing the power of countless beasts, but this felt different. This wasn’t just about gaining power—it was about honoring the final wish of a kindred spirit.
The Soul Reaver’s eyes gleamed with a strange, almost gentle light. “Yes. It is the only way. My life has been one of servitude, of pain. But in death, I can be free. And you… you can be the one to end this cycle of suffering.”
Shinhyuk stared at the beast, his heart heavy with a mix of emotions. This creature, once a fearsome opponent, had become something more—an ally in his quest for vengeance, a symbol of the defiance against the gods who sought to control them.
“Thank you,” Shinhyuk said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I promise I will use your power to break free from this curse. I won’t let your sacrifice be in vain.”
The Soul Reaver inclined its head, a gesture of acknowledgment. “Then, it is time,” it said, its voice calm and at peace. “Do what you must, Aeschylus.”
With a deep breath, Shinhyuk raised his hand, the familiar sensation of Gluttony activating as he prepared to absorb the Soul Reaver’s power. But this time, it felt different—more profound, more significant. The air around them seemed to shimmer as the Soul Reaver’s essence began to flow into him, its power merging with his own.
As the last of the Soul Reaver’s energy was absorbed, the beast let out a final, shuddering breath. “Thank you… for freeing me,” it whispered, its voice fading into the ether as its body dissolved into nothingness.
Shinhyuk stood there, alone in the cavern, feeling the immense power coursing through him. But more than that, he felt a deep sense of gratitude, of respect for the creature who had given him this gift.
“I will not forget you,” he murmured, his voice filled with resolve. “And I will make sure that those who wronged us will pay.”
With that, Shinhyuk turned to walk away, the cavern now empty and silent. But just as he took his first step, a jarring message flashed before his eyes:
"SYSTEM DESTRUCTION: CREATING BACKUP PLANS."
His heart skipped a beat. What could that mean? He had never encountered anything like this before. The system had always been a silent, unseen force, guiding and measuring his progress. But now, it seemed... different, as if something—or someone—was interfering.
Seconds later, another message popped up, this time more unsettling:
"After all this time, I have finally found you."
Shinhyuk’s eyes widened in shock. In all his years, even as a god, the system had never directly communicated with him in this manner. But this wasn’t from the system. The tone, the choice of words—it was personal, deliberate. This was from an individual.
“What...?” Shinhyuk whispered, a cold shiver running down his spine. The implications were terrifying. Someone, somewhere, had not only bypassed the system but had done so to send him a direct message.
Before he could fully process the situation, everything around him started to blur. His vision darkened, and the exhaustion of the recent battle caught up with him all at once. As he lost consciousness, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something far more sinister was at play.
When he finally woke up, his body felt sore and heavy. Every muscle ached as if he had been put through the wringer. Slowly, memories of the fight, the Soul Reaver’s last words, and that ominous message came flooding back.
"What just happened?" Shinhyuk muttered to himself, trying to piece together the fragmented memories before he had passed out. But one thing was certain: whatever—or whoever—had found him was not to be taken lightly. And they were far from done with him.