The weight of a thousand responsibilities pressed against me.
"Just a little longer....."
I muttered, adjusting the straps of my bag as I walked down the quiet aisles of the university library.
My eyes were heavy, but I had to push through. Finals were coming, and I couldn't afford to fall behind.
I was used to the grind anyway. Work. Study. Repeat.
It was the rhythm of my life, the only life I knew.
My parents weren't rich, and I had two younger brothers who depended on me. I didn't mind. I loved them dearly.
"I need to finish studying for this exam, then I'll head to the cafe for my shift"
I told myself trying to stay focused. But the books in front of me blurred, the hours of work slowly wearing me down.
I wandered through the library, searching for the right books to help me with my final exam preparations. Wedge awkwardly between two glossy hardbound volumes textbooks, it stood out like a wound.
It was a book. Old, dusty, with frayed edges. Almost as if it didn't belong there.
I reached for it, my fingers brushing against the worn cover.
" Why is there no label....?"
Curiosity got the better of me and I flipped the pages of the book only to be met with a puff of dust into the air.
"Ah___!"
I winced as the dust got into my eyes. Reflexively, I rubbed them blinking rapidly as everything blurred.
"Seriously? This thing hasn't been touched in years."
But something felt wrong. The air shifted.
The musty scent of paper and old wood was gone, replaced by something sharp-like metal and ash. I opened my eyes. And froze
The library had vanished. In its place stood an endless wasteland. Ruins stretched as far as I could see, skeletal remnants of buildings half-swallowed by blackened earth.
The sky was chocked with thick gray clouds, and wind howled low and mournfully through the broken arches and collapsed towers.
The air carried the scent of smoke, rot, and something colder.
"...What the hell is this...!?"
I took a step back only to stumble upon something. Behind me was a corpse . Eyes open, mouth frozen mid-scream. Blood soaking into cracked stone.
"Oh my god—!" I stumbled back, bile rising in my throat. "What the hell is this place?!"
I turned and ran. I didn't know where I was going, only that I had to get away. Anywhere but here.
That's when I noticed—I was still holding the book.
Somehow, it hadn't left my hands.
I flipped it open, desperate. The pages were all blank—except one.
"He stood alone in a valley of monsters, bloodied but unbroken.
The last survivor of the fallen.
Seonwoo, blade of the dusk, bearer of scars and the last light."
"What...?"
A screech shattered the air.
I looked up—and froze.
Monsters. Dozens of them. Hulking, snarling things with limbs bent the wrong way, their bodies stitched from shadows. Their eyes locked on me.
I couldn't even scream.
They lunged.
And then—steel.
A silver blur tore through them, faster than my eyes could follow. Limbs flew. Blood sprayed. One after another, the beasts were cut down like wheat in a storm.
A man stood at the center of the carnage.
His coat was torn. His sword dripped with black blood. His eyes... they were sharp. Wild. Human, but barely.
He didn't look at the monsters. He looked at me.
"H-Hey," I stammered. "Wait—I'm not your enemy!"
He didn't speak. I held the book up, trembling.
He stepped closer, sword raised.
"Who are you?" His voice was low, threatening. "And how did you get here?"
"I don't know!" I cried. "I was just—I found this book, and suddenly everything changed!"
"Lies," he said.
His blade hovered inches from my throat. Then, suddenly—his sword dropped.
He staggered.
"Wait—what's wrong?"
He fell to his knees, bracing himself on the ground. His body trembled. The blood on him wasn't just from the monsters—it was his too. His clothes were slashed, soaked in crimson.
His head lowered.
I stepped toward him instinctively. "Hey mister... are you alright..?"
He glared at me, and tried to stand up only to collapse.
The warrior who tore through monsters like they were nothing, now unconscious at my feet.
I dropped to my knees beside him, unsure of what to do. He was breathing, barely, but his body was covered in wounds.
Blood seeped through the ground beneath him.
"Hey—stay with me—" I whispered, even though I knew he couldn't hear me.
Then, the book in my hands pulsed.
I looked down.
The pages—once blank—began to shift. Unreadable glyphs swirled and bled into words, as if written by an invisible hand.
"The warrior fell. His strength was gone, his body broken, his blade dulled by too many battles. Death crept closer, silent and cold."
"But fate, it seemed, was not yet finished with him."
"From the horizon, four figures emerged—strangers to this world"
And with them, the story would begin again.