"So... whenever you're hurt, I can still heal you," Nari said as she slipped the bracelet onto my wrist.
It was a support item—one that let her heals reach me even if she was focusing on someone else. Normally, something like this should've gone to the tank. He takes the brunt of the damage. Not me. I'm just... there.
So why give it to me?
"Thanks... Nari-ssi," I said, smiling as we walked with the rest of the raid team.
We were headed into a Hell's Gate dungeon again. This time, it was a B-rank. And I'm just an E-rank scrub. I was already sweating bullets.
Nari had tried to talk the captain out of it—said it wasn't fair. He didn't budge.
"If anyone wants to back out," he said, "then leave the squad. Simple."
I couldn't afford to leave. Rent's due. And I'm broke.
"Alright, we're here," the captain called out, pulling us to a stop. "Everyone, gather up!"
The group circled him fast, like soldiers before a battle.
"Once we're in the boss room, anyone injured or running low—fall back. I don't want any unnecessary deaths. Got it?"
Everyone nodded. No one wanted to be the dead weight.
This is our world now.
Ever since the invasion started ten years ago, we've been barely hanging on. Monsters and other hostile creatures hunt us like we're nothing more than prey—rabbits in a forest full of wolves.
But everything changed when the Hunters showed up.
Out of nowhere, people began awakening powers. Celestial beings—deities, spirits, whatever you want to call them—descended. Beings we used to think only existed in old mythologies suddenly became real. They granted select humans a fraction of their power. And just like that, humanity started to fight back.
Cities crumbled. Skyscrapers fell. What's left now feels ancient, like we're living in the ruins of a world that once belonged to someone else. But for us, it was only the beginning.
People adapted. Fast. They started worshipping these celestial beings. Built statues. Temples. Entire faiths around them.
But not me.
I refused the crest a deity offered me. Turned it down flat. No powers, no blessings, nothing.
So while the others fight with divine strength, I'm just... me.
"Hey, Cap... what about the ones without a Pantheon crest? Shouldn't we kick them out?" Ilhoon asked, throwing a smug glance my way. His armor caught the glow from the orb overhead, polished like he actually earned it.
The captain didn't even look up. "If they can fight, they stay," he said, voice cold and focused.
Typical.
I get crap like that a lot. Some people think I'm an idiot for turning down a blessing. Maybe I am.
I'm the outcast—the only one without a divine sponsor, a crest, or glowing eyes full of borrowed power. While the rest of them worship their Devine sponsors and kneel before statues, I keep my distance.
They say the deities are generous. That they just give their powers to help humanity.
But I don't buy it.
There's always a catch. Nothing's free—especially power. And if there is a price, I wasn't ready to pay it.
So yeah, I said no.
And ever since, I've been on the outside looking in.
"Halt!" the captain barked.
We snapped into stance.
Around me, others shone in glinting armor, enchanted robes, and wielded legendary weapons. Me? I had a double-handed sword with no enchantments and a bulletproof vest over my worn hoodie. That was it—my only protection.
I was too broke for real armor and too weak to use the blessings I refused.
Then they appeared—leaping over our heads.
Red Goblins.
Foul little creatures that love ambushes and torture. A nasty subspecies of goblins, known for mugging travelers and playing cruel tricks.
"Watch out!" someone yelled.
While the others were effortlessly cutting down their targets, there I was—struggling to land a single hit.
"Ha!" I gasped, swinging my sword hard. The goblin dodged with ease, leaping back at me.
But before it could strike again, a flash of golden light hit the creature—instantly killing it.
Kang Ilhoon.
He smirked, chuckled under his breath, and muttered, "What a deadbeat," before lowering his sword and casually walking past me. He bumped my shoulder, and I stumbled to the ground.
"You okay?" Nari asked, helping me up.
"What's wrong with that guy?" she muttered, eyes narrowing.
I shook my head. "It's fine."
Yeah, it always is. The strong overpower the weak. That's just how it goes.
If my parents saw me now, they'd be even more disappointed.
Back in the "normal" days, they gave me a choice—sort of. My mother and father had big names, big reputations to uphold. They wanted me to follow a path that suited our family's legacy.
They'd sit me down, try to steer me away from my own dreams, encourage me to choose something "practical."
But I insisted on chasing my passion. I wanted to be an author—to write stories that could inspire others.
They said it was pointless. A dead end.
So, I was forced into business classes. It was a nightmare.
I graduated, sure. But I chose my own way anyway. I became a writer. I earned my own money.
When they found out, they were furious. They disowned me, kicked me out.
And instead of me, they put my younger brother in charge of the family company.
Now? That company's just ashes, wiped out by the apocalypse.
As we pushed deeper into the dungeon, the number of beasts increased—and of course, that made things even harder for me.
I managed to take down maybe two or three low-tier monsters. One was a goblin, the other a lesser ghoul. Barely worth the effort. They dropped low-grade essence crystals—probably worth ten silver coins, if that.
"Alright, we're here," the captain said, stopping in front of a massive door—the entrance to the boss room.
"I need everyone on full alert. This is a B-rank dungeon. One slip, and it could cost lives."
Suddenly, a heavy hand slapped down on my shoulder. Hard.
"Try not to be a fuckin' deadweight," Ilhoon muttered with a smirk, his friends snickering behind him.
In this world, I'm not the main character.
I wish.
Even if the story took a wild turn, I doubt it'd turn in my favor. Let's be real—I can barely survive low-level dungeons. What chance do I have in a place like this?
As we stepped through the door, the boss room lit up around us. Torches flared to life, flickering like they'd been ignited by magic.
And in the center of the chamber... it waited.
A red beast—its head that of a bull, horns curling like blades. Its torso was human-shaped, broad and muscular, but its legs were thick and hoofed, just like the creature's face suggested.
Then the system triggered:
[--Divine Link--]
[Demon-Souled Minus]
[Rank: A+]
[Loot Rating: High]
The Divine Link. A weird system-like monitor that got "vested" onto us humans. No one really knows where it came from. It just... showed up. Before Hunters did. Before the powers. Before everything changed.
"This is it... on my command," the captain said as we crept toward the beast.
It stirred.
Then its eyes snapped open—red, glowing, and full of malice.
Like its name, Demon-Souled Minus, it wasn't just a monster. It was demonized, corrupted by something far beyond normal magic.
With a guttural snarl, it let out a deafening roar and charged forward. The massive axe strapped to its back swung up in one hand like it weighed nothing.
"By the golden grace of Athena!" one of the mages shouted.
A wave of light swept across the team as they cast stat-boosting enchantments—buffs tied to their divine crests.
All of them got powered up.
Except me.
I felt nothing. No light. No boost.
Of course. I don't carry a crest.
A crest is like a divine insignia—proof that someone's been chosen, sponsored by a deity. It's more than a power-up; it's an ID card that says, "This one belongs to us."
Each guild is made up of people backed by deities from the same pantheon. Like this team—every one of them is sponsored by an Olympian, even Nari-ssi. Either Zeus, Athena, Ares... take your pick.
Me? Crestless.
Just standing here, surrounded by divine power I can't touch, can't borrow, can't fake.
Sigh.
I stayed just behind the others—waiting.
Waiting for the beast to weaken enough for me to jump in. Like a kid standing by, hoping someone would switch the game mode to Easy.
Pathetic? Yeah, you don't have to tell me.
I tightened my grip on the longsword, knuckles pale. I wasn't expecting much. Even if we somehow brought the boss down, I'd probably get the worst cut of the loot. Just a few silver coins and a pat on the head—if that.
After minutes of clashing steel and bursts of divine magic, the boss finally started to slow.
"Come on!! Go all out—let's finish this!" the captain shouted, activating his taunt. His aura flared like a golden flame.
That was my cue.
I stepped in. The creature was still on its feet, but bleeding heavily and barely holding its weapon.
I could do this. I was sure of it.
Then—
BAGHSS!!
One hit.
A massive fist slammed into me and sent me flying. I hit the ground hard—then bounced, hitting it again, and again. The pain exploded through my body as I finally came to a stop, flat on the stone floor.
"Seo-Jun-ssi!!" I heard Nari's voice scream.
"Don't bother with that fool—keep healing the rest!" Ilhoon barked.
My vision was blurry. My ears rang. But even through that haze, I saw the Minotaur raise both arms toward the ceiling.
Something was wrong.
A pulse of dark energy surged outward.
In seconds, they appeared.
Red spectral beasts—translucent, snarling, demonic forms—began to rise around us. I forced myself up to one knee, my legs shaking, breath shallow. Everything hurt.
"What the hell are these?!" one of the warriors shouted as he swung his blade through a spectral wolf.
It passed right through.
The beast lunged—its claws sinking into his gut.
He gasped. Blood poured from his mouth.
The battle turned. Just like that.
And in that moment, it was clear.
There was only one choice now.
One by one, they fell.
The spectral beasts tore through the raiders like paper, and the Minotaur—now barely clinging to life—stood as the eye of a storm made of blood and shadows. Maybe that's why these things showed up. A final defense. A curse triggered at death's door.
"We... we have to escape!" the captain gasped, voice cracking with fear. "Everyone, fall back! Now!"
He staggered backward, and the others followed. Some were limping, some dragging the wounded. Panic broke whatever formation we had left.
The red phantoms multiplied.
Their bodies shimmered like heat mirages, and no weapon—steel or spell—could touch them. Even the mages were helpless. I saw one scream mid-cast, only to have his head crushed between the jaws of a spectral lion, its blood-red mane flickering like fire.
No time for a strategy. No chance to fight back.
This was a slaughter.
I could barely move, my ribs screaming with every breath, but then—suddenly—I felt someone grab my arm and hoist me up.
Ilhoon.
He didn't say a word, just threw my arm over his shoulder to help me run. On his other side, Nari limped forward, her left leg bloodied—she must've been hit too.
I didn't understand it.
Ilhoon, of all people, helping me?
We stumbled through chaos, past the screams, past the blood and the broken bodies, running for an exit.
"Hey... muggle," Ilhoon muttered, voice low and sharp. "Do us a favor—slow them down a bit."
Before I could react, he shoved me.
Hard.
I stumbled, my injured leg giving out, and collapsed near the entrance.
"NO!! Seo-Jun-si!!" Nari's scream cut through the chaos. I looked up just in time to see her reaching out for me, limping hard—too slow.
Too late.
The door slammed shut.
Just like that, they were gone.
I was alone.
The silence was deafening. Just the sound of my breathing—and the soft, wet drip of blood from the broken bodies scattered around me.
The red spectral beasts had stopped.
They stared at me.
Unblinking. Waiting.
My legs wouldn't move. My fingers clenched uselessly around the hilt of my sword. I was shaking, and I didn't even realize it until my blade tapped against the stone floor with a soft clink.
I should've screamed. Should've begged. Should've fought.
I don't want to die.
I can't die.
Those were the words that should have come out of my mouth.
But they didn't.
I just stood there—frozen.
Staring back at the monsters like a deer caught in headlights, while death crept closer with each passing second.
Kang Ilhoon made me bait.
He tossed me to the wolves so he could run free.
I couldn't even fight back.
Hell—none of them could fight these things. What chance did I have?
Is this it?
Is this really how I go?
My mind started spinning, unraveling. Memories flickered—no, flashed—not like people say when their life "flashes before their eyes." Mine weren't grand moments.
They were just... pages. Blank ones. Typed ones. Some crumpled, some loved. My keyboard. My screen. My little desk in that cramped apartment I called home.
That was it.
That was my life.
And honestly, I was okay with that. Writing was the only thing that ever made sense. The only place I ever felt alive.
But reality doesn't care about that.
The lion-shaped specter lunged first. Its jaws clamped around my arm and tore it clean off. The others followed, sinking their fangs and claws into whatever was left of me.
"AAAAHHHH!!!"
The pain was unlike anything I'd ever imagined.
It wasn't just physical—it was personal. It was as if the world was punishing me for daring to exist without power. For daring to dream when I had no place in this broken, monster-ridden world.
I felt the tears trail down my cheek as I lay on the cold floor, being eaten alive.
I just wanted to write more.
If there is a next life—if my story somehow has a sequel—I hope my author gives me a better role.
I hope they gives me a happy ending.
Darkness crept in.
And everything—
Faded to black.
And then...
All of a sudden—
[CONGRATULATIONS]
[YOU HAVE EXPERIENCED YOUR FIRST DEATH]
[RESURRECTING...]
[DUE TO SEVERE BODILY DAMAGE, RESURRECTION DELAYED — 48 HOURS]
[ENTERING WORKSPACE...]
...What?
Where am I?
The world around me dissolved into white—an endless, quiet expanse like snow without cold. Floating in the center was a simple desk and a swivel chair. On the desk sat a single blank sheet of paper. And a pen.
I took a hesitant step forward. My voice cracked out of my throat.
"Am I... dead? Is this heaven?"
It didn't feel like heaven. No choir. No golden gates. Just silence—and the faint smell of paper and ink.
I reached the desk and looked down.
The paper was untouched. Clean. Waiting.
Then a voice broke the silence. Not from the Divine Link. Not automated. Human. Real.
"It must've hurt," the voice said, casual, almost distant. "Being eaten alive like that."
I spun around.
A man sat on a nearby bench, flipping through the pages of a book. I hadn't even noticed the bench before—it was as if it appeared only because I looked.
"You have an interesting... boring story," he said with a smirk, flipping a page.
He was cloaked in white, his face veiled by draped cloth that shimmered faintly in the lightless space. When he stood, it was like the stars themselves followed him—trailing behind his footsteps, twinkling softly.
I froze.
Was this it?
Had a deity finally come to punish me for refusing their blessings?
"Park Seo-Jun," the man said, voice echoing—not aloud, but directly in my mind. "Author. Artist."
My throat tightened.
"I am here to bestow something upon you."
I braced myself. A crest, maybe? A second chance from a Devine being I didn't recognize?
But he shook his head gently, as if reading my thoughts.
"No. What I offer is not a crest," he said, taking a step closer. "Nor power, as you've seen it."
I blinked.
Then what?
What else was there to give?
"Your fate..."
His voice echoed like a whisper from across eternity. Then, gently, he reached out and pressed his hand against my forehead.
A surge of something—energy, memories, something I couldn't name—flooded into me. My vision stuttered with flashes of scenes too quick to understand. Moments, people, places I'd never seen. Or maybe I had. It was a blur of lives lived in an instant.
Then, just as suddenly, he pulled his hand away.
I collapsed onto the floor—if you could call it a floor. It felt like standing on a glass pane suspended above the clouds. Infinite, endless.
"The next time you open your eyes," he said, his voice growing distant, "you'll return... from death. And when you do—"
He paused.
"Show me the greatest story you can write."
And with that, his body broke into a soft shimmer of stardust. One moment there, the next—gone, scattered like fireflies swallowed by the void.
I sat in silence, stunned. Knees on the glass, heart racing.
I was going back? Back to that dungeon? To the body I left behind?
And what did he mean—show him the greatest story I could write?
Was that a metaphor?
Or... a challenge?
Seconds passed. Maybe minutes. The stillness pressed in on me.
And then the white space began to fracture.
A ripple in the glass.
A pulse in my chest.
The real world was calling me back.