Game 33: Drafted Into the Impossible
Han Tae-yang sat back in the cracked leather chair of the bar, one hand lazily swirling the last drops of cheap wine in his glass, the other tapping the chipped wooden table in a steady rhythm. The TV above the counter blared, its flickering screen spilling pale blue light across smoke-filled air. Every word coming from the suited man on screen tightened the mood in the room.
Lee Ji-hoon. Commander of the newly established Awakened Association. His clean-cut suit screamed politician, but his sharp gaze carried the weight of a soldier who had seen more than office desks and handshakes.
"I am here," the man said firmly, voice carrying authority even through the static, "to recruit awakened members. Each of you may have different levels of strength, but the government promises to offer an annual salary of sixty million won, along with the rank of level seven official. And for the right person, anything they desire."
The bar reacted instantly.
Low murmurs crawled across the room like fire racing through dry grass.
"Sixty million? That's enough to buy a whole house in Gangnam…"
"Forget a house. That's enough to buy three new livers after drinking here every night."
"Bro, who even drinks enough to need three livers?"
"Shut up, it's an example."
The bartender leaned forward, polishing a glass that looked like it hadn't seen soap in weeks, muttering under his breath, "Government finally moving fast, huh."
Han Tae-yang's lips curled into a thin smile. His sharp eyes never left the screen.
"They're not recruiting," he thought quietly, swirling the wine. "They're hunting. And I'm the trophy they want hanging on their wall."
For any other awakened, sixty million and the promise of limitless resources would have been a dream. For him, it was an insult. A golden leash disguised as an opportunity.
"I'm worth more than a hundred average awakened," he mused, his smirk tilting into something dangerous. "Lee Ji-hoon knows it. That's why he's offering me the world. Too bad I've already built my own."
Still, a small flicker of curiosity burned in his chest. If Lee Ji-hoon was bold enough to stand as the face of the Association, he couldn't be ordinary. "What's your skill, Commander?" Tae-yang thought, tilting his head. "Show me something good. Something worth copying."
He chuckled softly, earning a weird look from the drunk at the next table.
"What's so funny?" the man slurred.
"Life," Tae-yang said smoothly, draining his glass. "It's a joke, and I'm the punchline."
The room fell back into uneasy murmurs, some patrons discussing the offer with desperate hunger, others shaking their heads at the idea of working under the government.
Then the air changed.
The fluorescent light above flickered once. Then twice. Then it shattered, sparks raining down like tiny meteors.
At first, people thought it was a blackout. Someone swore. Another laughed nervously.
And then the sound hit them.
A deafening DING! reverberated inside their skulls, not from the TV, not from the bar speakers, but from somewhere deeper, inside their very bones.
The voice that followed was mechanical, cold, and final.
[System Announcement]
[All humans between the ages of 17 and 65 are hereby drafted.]
[The First Universal Trial begins now.]
[Each region will be transported to a separate plane of existence. Though divided, all will face the same trial.]
Silence.
Then chaos.
"What did it just say?"
"Drafted? Trial? What kind of joke is this?"
"My head, what was that sound?!"
Han Tae-yang's wine glass slipped from his hand, shattering against the wooden floor. But his expression didn't flicker in panic. If anything, his smirk widened.
"So, the Tower finally makes its move."
He leaned back in his chair, watching as the world itself began to unravel.
The bar around him shimmered, like reality had been painted on cheap glass and someone was now scraping it off with a knife. Chairs dissolved into smoke. People blurred, their outlines stretched thin like taffy. Even the smell of fried chicken and spilled beer was sucked out of the air.
The drunk man who had spoken earlier screamed as his body began to fragment into glowing particles. His words broke apart mid-cry, carried away like dust in the wind.
Tae-yang's heart hammered in his chest, but his grin only grew sharper. His vision swirled, his stomach twisted, every nerve in his body screamed in terror.
But deep down, he laughed.
"Dragged into another trial, huh? This world just doesn't know how to give me a break. Well then…"
His form blurred, half-body already dissolving into light, half anchored to the chair. His last words before vanishing into the unknown cut through the collapsing bar.
"…let's see if the Tower can handle me."