All of Jun-Hyuk’s carefully crafted bravado crumbled at the sight of the wolf-moth regenerating with alarming speed. The creature rose onto its hind legs, towering over the battlefield. Its grotesque form gleamed in the flickering light, and drool poured furiously from its gaping maw, pooling on the ground below. Jun-Hyuk’s grip on his sword tightened, but despite his effort to appear steady, the blade trembled in his hand.

Feng Jian leaped to his feet, his movements precise and resolute, followed closely by Liang Zhen, who adjusted his glowing green sword. Feng Jian turned and placed a firm hand on Jun-Hyuk’s shoulder.

“You did well, son. Now let us Starred Level Fives handle this,” he said, his voice calm yet heavy with the weight of the impossible task ahead.

Jun-Hyuk blinked twice in shock. The dome’s strongest fighters were only Level Fives? His stomach sank as realization struck—this meant the wolf-moth, a Level Seven, outclassed them all. He spun toward Lian Hua, who was hunched over, chest heaving as she helped the last of the injured into the safety of the military vehicles.

“Lian Hua!” he called, his voice cracking. “What happened to the last Level Seven? Who defeated it?”

She bit her lip, her face pale and drawn, and shook her head slowly. “No one. There was a loud screech, and then... it was like the creature was being called by someone. It stopped fighting and fled back to the black sphere.”

Jun-Hyuk’s gaze darted back to the chaos ahead. Sparks of fire and flashes of green energy danced wildly as Feng Jian and Liang Zhen clashed with the beast, their combined might barely scratching the creature’s hide. It swatted at them with ruthless efficiency, as if toying with its prey. Zhao Wei’s father rushed to join the fray, his spear spinning in a desperate attempt to pierce its joints. But even with their combined efforts, it was clear—they were losing. The wolf-moth wasn’t just holding its ground; it was growing stronger.

“How are Sphere creatures usually defeated?” Jun-Hyuk demanded, panic edging his voice. There had to be a method, a weak spot he could exploit. But his mind offered nothing useful from his fragmented knowledge.

“We cut them in half,” Lian Hua replied, her voice strained. “The weaker their level, the easier they are to kill. But as you saw with the Level Four last time, they sometimes develop a strange humanoid form when we split them.” She paused, her face clouding with dread. “As for the army, they aim for the chest and blow them up. But that only works if we can hold them down long enough.”

Jun-Hyuk stared at her, his mind racing as the creature let out a guttural roar, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. Time was slipping away, and so were their chances of survival.

If cutting in half… and blowing up the chest both can defeat them… then maybe….their weak spot is somewhere in the chest.

Jun-Hyuk’s heart thundered in his chest as the realization struck him. There was no more time to analyze or second-guess. The battlefield around him was descending into chaos, and the wolf-moth was only growing stronger with every passing moment. Tightening his grip on the sword, he sprang forward with renewed determination.

With a great leap, Jun-Hyuk propelled himself into the air, drawing on every ounce of energy he’d spent years training to channel into his blade. But this time, he tried something different. As he soared closer to the massive beast, he focused all of that energy that the Starred people of this world used for their sword techniques, not into his sword, but into the tip of his fingers.

The wolf-moth’s grotesque, glowing eyes locked onto him, and it let out a guttural snarl, swiping at him with claws as sharp as steel. Jun-Hyuk twisted mid-air, narrowly dodging the deadly strike, and landed directly on the beast’s chest. His palm slammed against its hide, and for a split second, there was silence.

Then the world erupted.

A massive explosion tore through the battlefield, a blinding surge of energy erupting from Jun-Hyuk’s hand. The sheer force hurled him backward through the air as chunks of the Level Seven creature were blown apart, raining down across the scorched ground. A deafening cheer erupted from the survivors below, breaking the tense silence that followed.

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Jun-Hyuk landed hard, skidding across the dirt. His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath, his body trembling from the sudden expenditure of energy. Before he could process what had just happened, a strong hand gripped his arm and hauled him to his feet.

“You really did it,” Liang Zhen said, his tone low and steady, though his sharp eyes betrayed the shock he felt. The head of the Liang family rarely gave praise, but this time he inclined his head slightly, a gesture of genuine respect. “That was… unconventional, but effective.”

Feng Jian approached as well, brushing dirt from his robes. His expression was unreadable for a moment before he gave a faint nod. “You’ve come far, Jun-Hyuk. I didn’t think you had something like that in you.” His voice carried no fanfare—just the simple, honest words of a father acknowledging his son’s growth.

Jun-Hyuk heard their words, but they barely registered. His focus was fixed on something no one else could see. Floating before him was a glowing, translucent window, the faint hum of its presence making his heart pound. He blinked hard, half expecting it to vanish like a trick of his tired mind, but it stayed right there.

[Congratulations! You have passed the tutorial and leveled up to Level Seven.][The real mission begins now.]

[WARNING: User has exceeded the twelve-hour limit. Transferring back to the original world.]

“Wait, what?!” Jun-Hyuk’s voice rose in panic as he stumbled back a step. The battlefield around him began to warp, the shouts of the other warriors fading into muffled echoes. His hands clawed at the air, but there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to stop what was happening.

“No, no, no!” he shouted, his pulse racing as the ground beneath him cracked like fragile glass. Light and darkness spiraled together, swallowing the chaos of the battlefield, until all that remained was the void.

Jun-Hyuk’s mind raced. Was this real? Was he losing his mind? And what did it mean that the "real mission" was only just beginning? Before he could form another thought, the world dissolved completely, leaving him in silence.

***

Jun-Hyuk jolted upright, his breath catching in his throat. The quiet of his room enveloped him, a stark contrast to the chaos that had consumed him moments before. His eyes darted to the glowing numbers on his bedside clock. 10 p.m. On a Saturday.

He blinked in disbelief. He’d slept through the entire day? His head throbbed painfully, each pulse dragging him back to the memory of the fight—the creature’s grotesque form, the explosion, the cheers. It all felt so vivid, so real.

“Was I dreaming? Or hallucinating?” he muttered, his voice hoarse in the stillness. But then his eyes landed on the sword resting against the side of his bed. The faint scratches on the hilt and the dried stains along the blade told him otherwise. He wasn’t crazy. Or at least, not entirely.

Jun-Hyuk ran a hand through his disheveled hair and exhaled deeply. He didn’t have the energy to untangle the mess of thoughts swirling in his head. Whatever was going on, thinking wasn’t going to solve it. His stomach growled loudly, cutting through the silence and reminding him of a more pressing issue.

Dragging himself off the bed, Jun-Hyuk shuffled out of his room and down the hall. As he passed the living room, he spotted his ten-year-old sister, Jin-Ah, lounging on the couch, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the television. She was engrossed in a cartoon, her legs swinging lazily over the armrest.

Without looking away from the screen, she called out, “Dinner’s in the fridge, oppa.”

Jun-Hyuk paused, leaning against the doorway. “Thanks, Jin-Ah,” he said, his voice flat.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, her tone distracted as the cartoon erupted into loud, dramatic sound effects.

He continued into the kitchen and opened the cooler. The faint chill of the fridge washed over him as he scanned its contents. His eyes landed on a neatly wrapped plate labeled with his name in Jin-Ah’s messy handwriting. Pulling it out, he unwrapped the foil to reveal a generous serving of kongnamul-bap—steamed rice topped with seasoned soybean sprouts, sesame oil, and soy sauce. The simple, familiar smell instantly made his mouth water.

Jun-Hyuk grabbed a pair of chopsticks and a glass of water, then settled at the table. As he ate, his mind wandered back to the events of the day—or whatever it was. The images of the glowing window, the system messages, and the transfer back to his room replayed over and over in his head.

“What does it all mean?” he muttered, poking absently at the sprouts with his chopsticks. He glanced toward the living room, where Jin-Ah’s laughter drifted in from the TV. For now, he decided he'd focus on the food in front of him. The answers—if they existed—would have to wait.

And then, just as Jun-Hyuk thought he could finally breathe, another screen materialized before his eyes, glowing ominously:

[Join this world’s server to complete a mission and gain points in the next.]