The door finally broke.
With a scream of splitting hinges and tearing wood, the infirmary's entrance burst inward. Shards scattered across the floor. Light poured through the breach — not sunlight, but the glow of dozens of seals burning gold, layered one atop another, each one etched by a trembling professor desperate to contain him.
A flood of bodies pressed at the threshold: robed professors with their spell-engraved staves, nobles clutching amulets and talismans, students caught in the crush of fear and curiosity.
Every eye landed on him.
Chaos's child.
The dragon's eye on his sleeve pulsed once, and the collective shudder that rippled through the intruders was visible.
Seo Ha-young stepped forward. A single slip of a girl, barefoot, no weapon, no shield. Her hands hung at her sides, but her stance was steel.
"You're not coming closer," she said. Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the room with the sharpness of a blade.
The professors did not yield.
"Seo Ha-young, step aside," one intoned, his voice cracking despite his grandeur. "That boy's Modifier is an existential threat. He carries regressions we cannot permit. The Chaos Division should never have been—"
"Shut up."
The words snapped like a whip. Seo's eyes gleamed. "You think standing in a circle makes you gods? You think your seals mean anything when you've never seen what he's seen? He's still breathing, isn't he? And you all quake like cowards because a stitch blinked."
Her mockery rattled them more than any spell could.
But their fear did not vanish. It grew.
[ Fable: Hymn of the Silent Martyr resonates. ]
[ Probability of sacrifice: Rising. ]
Hae-won's throat seized. He lurched upright against the sheets, clutching his chest. The hymn poured into him like ice-water, memories unfolding in jagged reels.
Blood. Fire. Ash. Screams that weren't his own.
Her voice singing even when her throat was already gone.
"Not again…" he whispered. His nails dug crescents into his palms.
The dragon's eye blazed open wider.
And this time, something else stirred.
A shadow bled from the floor beneath him. Cold. Heavy. Metallic. The outline of a blade grew upward, whispering its curses with the patience of a noose tightening.
[ Fable Awakening: Sword of Cursed Salvation. ]
[ Condition: To prevent disaster, strike down your companions. ]
The system's words flashed in his skull.
The Sword rose, half-born, its edge dragging light into itself. The whispers inside it multiplied, flooding his thoughts.
"…end them before they bleed…"
"…better one death than a thousand…"
"…you are the executioner of every story you touch…"
Seo turned at the sound. Her eyes widened at the sight of the blade rising in his shadow, its hilt gleaming with the color of dried blood.
"No," she breathed.
The professors staggered back in unison. Their seals flared brighter, golden script twisting frantically across the walls, but none dared step forward.
One whispered, "A cursed weapon—he's birthing a cursed weapon!"
Another hissed, "Seal the room, seal him, seal everything—"
But the Sword did not stop.
Its edge shimmered higher, pulling air into a vacuum, dragging the sound out of the room. The whispers became a chant.
And Hae-won realized — they weren't only the Sword's words.
They were his.
Every regression where he had killed a companion. Every world where his hands had been red. Every scream he had silenced before it birthed a greater horror.
This was not just a cursed weapon.
It was him.
His five hundred selves forged into a blade.
Seo stepped closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Until she was between him and the Sword's shadow.
"Put it down," she said. Her tone was low, steady, no room for argument.
His voice cracked. "I can't. It's— it's me."
Her jaw tightened. She stared into the blade's length as it grew taller, its whispering edge kissing the infirmary air. She didn't flinch.
Then she snapped her gaze back to him. "Then fight yourself. Don't fight me."
The Sword roared. The dragon's eye glowed hotter.
[ Regression Trigger Possible. ]
[ Infinite Regression: Consent required. ]
Hae-won's hand lifted without thought. The hilt called to him, the whispers swelling until his skull felt like it would split.
"…kill her before she dies again…"
"…end the hymn before it begins…"
"…save her by destroying her…"
Seo moved faster.
Her hand slammed across his face — not gentle, not coaxing. Brutal. The crack echoed.
Her voice was a snarl. "Look at me, Hae-won! Do I look dead?"
His vision blurred. Blood sang in his ears. The Sword screamed.
Alive. Dead. Alive. Dead.
In every blink, Seo's throat split open, her hymn spilling out in silence. In every other blink, she stood, fierce and alive, threatening to break his bones if he faltered.
He didn't know which was real anymore.
The professors broke.
"NOW!" one screamed. "Seal him before the Sword fully manifests!"
Dozens of incantations ignited. Circles of light erupted across the floor, the air boiling with binding chants. Chains of runes erupted, lashing toward him.
Hae-won's scream tore through the room.
The Sword's shadow convulsed. Its edge flared. The runic chains shattered against it, light devoured like embers against an abyss.
The Academy recoiled in horror.
And for the first time, Hae-won realized the truth.
The Sword of Cursed Salvation was not his weapon.
It was their sentence.
Seo's voice cut through the chaos, sharp as a whip. "HAE-WON!"
His head snapped toward her.
Her hand gripped his wrist again, the same hand that had stopped him twice before. Her nails dug in deep enough to draw blood.
Her eyes were merciless. "You promised me you would live."
The hymn stopped. The regressions stuttered.
The Sword froze.
And in that impossible instant, when all the voices inside him fell silent — he believed her.
The Sword collapsed into shadow.
The dragon's eye dimmed, half-lidded, but not asleep. Watching. Waiting.
The professors' chants faltered into shocked silence. Students clung to each other. Nobles hissed in disbelief.
And Cha Hae-won fell back against the bed, drenched in sweat, his chest heaving, as Seo Ha-young stood between him and a world that wanted him sealed.
The hymn lingered faintly in his bones, but it was drowned by her words.
Alive.
Alive.
Alive.
For now.
Silence.
That was the first consequence.
The Sword was gone, swallowed back into shadow, but its absence carried no relief. The room held its breath as if the air itself feared to move. The shattered door remained open, the crowd beyond frozen mid-incantation, light still trembling in their spell circles.
And all of them watched.
A thousand eyes.
Every professor, every noble, every student unlucky enough to be caught in the pull of Chaos. Their gaze was heavier than chains, heavier than iron, heavier than any curse.
Hae-won could not meet them. His vision tilted to the side, to the floor, to the trembling crack where shadow still smoldered like a scar.
It wasn't gone.
The Sword wasn't gone.
It was waiting.
[ Fable Suppressed: Sword of Cursed Salvation. ]
[ Status: Dormant. Incomplete. Unforgiven. ]
The system's text cut across his vision like a lash.
"Seal him," someone whispered finally, a desperate prayer disguised as a command.
"No." Seo Ha-young's voice was cold. She hadn't moved from her post between Hae-won and the intruders. Her arms were crossed, chin tilted, gaze leveled with all the unshaken weight of stone. "He's not yours to chain."
One of the professors snapped, voice shrill, "You saw it! You saw the weapon! That was no ordinary Fable—"
"That was his."
Seo's interruption sliced through the man's outrage.
"Not yours. Not mine. His." She jabbed her finger toward the boy hunched in sweat and tremors on the bed. "And if any of you think you can control it better than he can, step forward. Hold the blade. Let it whisper to you. Then tell me how long you last before it eats you whole."
The challenge fell into the silence like a stone into still water. Ripples of unease rolled outward. No one moved.
Because they had seen enough.
Hae-won's breathing staggered, harsh and uneven. His vision swam, the whispers of the Sword crawling under his skin. Seo's defiance kept them at bay, but he knew the truth.
It wasn't gone.
It would never be gone.
[ Regression Probability: Rising. ]
[ Infinite Regression: Awaiting consent. ]
The words carved themselves behind his eyes, persistent as blood pulsing in his ears. He clenched his teeth until his jaw throbbed. He couldn't let it happen. Not here. Not in front of her. Not when her throat still flickered in his mind — slit open, blood spilling, hymn echoing.
Seo glanced back at him, her expression sharp. "Don't you dare vanish."
His lips trembled. He wanted to tell her he wasn't in control. That five hundred selves clawed at his mind like rats in a cage, each one screaming their end. That the Sword was every murder he had already committed with their hands.
Instead, he whispered, "…I remember."
Her brows furrowed. "Remember what?"
"…you."
The word fractured his throat.
The doors slammed again, this time from the outside. A voice boomed over the gathered professors — deeper, colder, older.
"Enough."
The crowd split as an elder strode into the infirmary, robes dragging like spilled ink, staff crowned with an orb of frozen light. The Archmagister. Head of the Academy.
His eyes were fixed on Hae-won, but there was no fear in them. Only calculation.
"Chaos Division," he said quietly, the words tasting like poison. "Your Fables stir far earlier than predicted. Infinite Regression. Cursed Salvation. A hymn that binds death itself. Do you know what this makes you, boy?"
Hae-won forced himself to raise his head. His voice cracked. "A curse."
The Archmagister did not smile. "No. Worse. You are a story that refuses to end."
Gasps shivered through the crowd.
Seo's voice was a blade. "He's not your story to write."
The elder ignored her. His gaze never left Hae-won. "You will destroy this Academy. Not today, perhaps. Not tomorrow. But inevitably. It is written in the marrow of your Fables. You cannot contain them. You cannot choose otherwise."
The dragon's eye on Hae-won's sleeve throbbed once, as if agreeing.
And then the whispers rose again. Not from the Sword. Not from the hymn. From beyond.
From the regressions.
Five hundred voices chanting in his head. Screaming. Laughing. Begging. Singing.
Each a life. Each a death.
Each him.
His vision fractured. The infirmary dissolved. For an instant he stood in the ashes of the 148th world again, Seo Ha-young's body crumpled before him, her throat torn, her song still echoing through the ruin. Then the reel snapped forward, and he saw another world — her impaled on a spear. Another — her drowning in blood. Another — her smile as she shoved him out of the way and burned instead.
Her. Her. Always her.
He collapsed forward, hands clutching his skull.
The crowd recoiled, but Seo didn't move. She bent low, her voice a hiss against his ear. "Listen to me. That isn't now. That isn't here. Look at me. Do you see me breathing?"
He sobbed through clenched teeth. "You always die."
Her hand struck him again, sharp across the cheek.
"Then fight harder. Keep me alive."
The hymn faltered. The visions stuttered. The regressions screamed louder.
But Seo's words stayed. Anchors thrown into a storm.
The Archmagister's voice echoed through the madness. "So this is the child of Chaos. Then let Chaos take him. I wash my hands of him. When his blade rises, it will not be this Academy it cuts first, but those who cling to him."
He turned his staff once. The golden seals dissolved. The professors backed away, murmuring curses and prayers.
And the infirmary emptied.
The door remained shattered, the hall beyond still heavy with whispers, but one by one, they retreated. Too afraid to come closer. Too afraid to stay near.
Until only two figures remained.
Seo Ha-young, standing.
Cha Hae-won, trembling.
The dragon's eye half-shut again, a lid closing with the weight of inevitability.
[ Infinite Regression: Awaiting trigger. ]
[ Fable: Hymn of the Silent Martyr binds you still. ]
[ Fable: Sword of Cursed Salvation awaits the blood of your companions. ]
Hae-won exhaled like he was drowning. His gaze shifted to Seo. Her hand was still on his wrist, her nails still drawing blood.
"Why…" His voice cracked. "Why do you stay?"
Her smirk was faint, bitter, but real. "Because you're unbearable without me."
He almost laughed. Almost.
But the hymn stirred again, faint as a heartbeat.
And he knew the truth.
She would die for him again.
And again.
And again.
Until he stopped it.
Or until the Sword demanded her life with his own hand.
The dragon's eye opened a slit wider.
Waiting.
Always waiting.
And Hae-won closed his eyes against the weight of it all, Seo's warmth the only proof he had left that this world was still real.
For now.