Everything was dark.
Not the kind of dark that came with night, or sleep, or even death—but a deep, swirling void that pulsed with ancient energy. There was no ground beneath him, no sky above. Just infinite space, humming with low vibrations, like the breath of something eternal.
Jae Hoon floated, eyes half-open, body limp as if suspended in water. But he felt no weight. No gravity. No pain.
Only… presence.
All around him, fragments of memories shimmered and spun like stars.
He saw his mother, smiling as she braided his baby sister's hair under the warm light of their kitchen.
He saw his father, holding back tears the day Jae Hoon first gripped a wooden training sword with both hands and refused to drop it, no matter how badly it bruised him.
He saw Liora.
Her laugh. Her eyes. Her smile.
And then, the moment she slapped him.
"You filthy commoner."
He winced.
The memory shattered.
All the fragments began to swirl faster, surrounding him in a cyclone of memory and emotion—love, rage, betrayal, grief. His chest tightened.
"Why?" he whispered. "Why did they all break apart…?"
The void pulsed again.
From the distance, a voice echoed—not cruel, not kind. Neutral. Ancient.
"The flame cannot rise without the ash."
Jae Hoon turned slowly.
A figure stood there now—hooded in gray, faceless, but radiant. Its outline shimmered like a candle through fog.
"You chose to awaken, Jae Hoon. That choice carries weight. Purpose. Consequence."
The figure raised a hand. Glyphs appeared in the void—circles of glowing orange and silver, turning like gears around Jae Hoon's floating body.
"Within you lies an ancient inheritance. Dormant no longer."
"I didn't ask for any of this," Jae Hoon said, voice cracking.
The figure remained still. "And yet, it answered you."
Suddenly, the glyphs ignited.
Power surged through him like wildfire. His chest burned—not with pain, but intensity. Like a dam breaking, a storm unchained.
He gasped, clenching his fists.
Symbols danced across his skin—light etchings, fading as fast as they appeared.
"What… what is this…?"
The figure's voice echoed one last time:
"Your path has been broken. And now, rebuilt. Wake, child of ruin. Wake… cursed emperor "
Beep…
Beep…
The sound cut through the void like a knife.
Then—
Light.
Bright, white, sterile.
Jae Hoon's eyelids fluttered.
He winced, groaning softly, his throat dry and body heavy.
Machines hummed around him. The scent of alcohol and clean linens filled the air.
A voice—gentle, human this time—spoke.
"Doctor! Doctor, he's waking up."
Footsteps approached.
Then a man in a white coat leaned over him, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Incredible… He's conscious."
Jae Hoon's lips barely moved.
"Where… where am I?"
The doctor smiled faintly, lowering his clipboard.
"You're safe now. Just rest. You're lucky to be alive."
But Jae Hoon's gaze drifted to the window.
Beyond the glass, there were big towers and happiness everywhere
and that when I noticed I was in a new world.