The wasteland groaned.
The chains grinding against the sky rattled louder, each clank like a judge's gavel. The smell of rust and blood seeped into their lungs.
Hae-won stood unmoving, though every instinct screamed at him to collapse. His knuckles were white around the hilt of his blade. His veins burned faintly, ink threading like cracks beneath his skin—the mark of his modifiers straining to answer.
Across from him, Yoo Seong-wu's golden aura burned brighter, haloing him in a radiance that mocked the darkness around them. He wasn't just strong—he looked inevitable.
The others felt it too.
Do-hyun, still leaning on his shield, shifted uneasily, lips pressed tight as if he knew his choice mattered.
Ha-young scribbled furiously in her notebook, eyes darting between Hae-won and Seong-wu, her smirk too sharp, too hungry.
Arin clung to Hae-won's sleeve, her voice shaking. "You don't have to do this. We can—"
"No." Seong-wu cut her off, his voice like a blade. His golden eyes narrowed on Hae-won. "He does."
He raised his sword. The glow intensified until the air warped with heat.
"The scenario has chosen. Two protagonists cannot exist. The one who remains will lead. The other…" His blade hummed. "The other is consumed."
Arin's breath hitched. "That's not fair—"
"Nothing about this world is fair," Seong-wu snapped. "It never was. Stop clinging to him before he drags you into the abyss."
Hae-won's lips twitched into a broken smile. "Funny. That's exactly what the abyss told me the last five hundred times."
The wasteland shuddered again. Chains split the ground like serpents. In the distance, one of the black towers crumbled, its ruins swallowed by fire.
[ Trial of Chains commences in 6 Hours. ]
[ Warning: Failure to establish a stronghold results in eradication. ]
The system's voice carved through their bones.
And then—another line, one that only Hae-won saw:
[ Narrator's Path Divergence Detected. ]
[ Choice: Submit to Script / Defy the Chains. ]
⸻
Hae-won's vision flickered.
In one worldline, he saw himself crushed beneath Seong-wu's blade, his companions scattering like ash.
In another, he saw Seong-wu triumphant, chains bending to his will.
But in a sliver of possibility—thin, fragile, shimmering like glass—he saw something else. A broken chain. A hand stretched out. A ledger torn in half.
The Most Ancient Dream stirred inside him, whispering fragments of a story that had never been written.
His lips moved without meaning to.
"…If instability is my sin… then I'll make it the foundation."
Arin looked at him, trembling. "Hae-won—"
He squeezed her hand once before letting go.
His blade rose.
The wasteland answered with a roar.
The heat roared higher, as if the wasteland itself was waiting for blood.
The black towers groaned, their chains rattling against stone, sparks bleeding into the red rivers below. The sky—if it could even be called that—flickered like a dying flame.
Seong-wu's golden aura flared brighter, wrapping around him like a second skin. It wasn't just light—it was authority, a pressure that bore down on the others, forcing their breath to quicken, their bodies to lock.
"Step aside," he told them, his voice sharpened into command. "This isn't your fight."
"Like hell it isn't!" Do-hyun snapped, teeth clenched. He tried to rise, clutching his ruined leg, but faltered. His anger burned, but his body betrayed him.
Arin moved instead, planting herself between Seong-wu and Hae-won, arms outstretched. "Stop this! Both of you! You don't understand—if you fight each other now, we'll all—"
Her voice broke when Seong-wu's golden gaze fell on her. There was no hatred in it—only finality. "Arin. Move. The system doesn't allow room for two paths. You saw it yourself."
Hae-won's laugh cut through the furnace air, jagged, raw. He pushed off Arin's shoulder and stumbled forward, facing Seong-wu head-on. His body shook, but not from fear.
It was the five hundred deaths clawing at his sanity. The ledger whispering unpaid debts into his skull. The dream's power pressing against his veins, begging to be unshackled.
"You think I'll bow to the system?" His voice trembled but didn't falter. "I'd rather burn this world down than let it decide who deserves to live."
The wasteland shuddered at his words. Cracks spiderwebbed beneath his feet, crimson light leaking through. The faint sound of pages turning echoed, though no book was in sight. His modifiers—the Most Ancient Dream and Enemy of Every Path—were stirring.
Seong-wu's grip tightened on his blade. "Then you really are a danger. To all of us."
The golden light surged—bright enough to blind.
At the same instant, the whispers of the dream screamed through Hae-won's mind, bleeding sanity into every syllable:
Rewrite. Break. Rewrite. Burn.
The first strike was blinding.
Seong-wu lunged, his sword a streak of gold, aimed straight at Hae-won's throat.
Hae-won's hand rose, trembling—then steadied. The world flickered, slowed, as if someone had torn a frame from reality itself. The blade cut forward, but in that heartbeat, Hae-won's voice rang like a cracked bell:
"Not here."
The ground buckled. Chains writhed like serpents, dragging both of them back. The world stuttered, reality rewriting itself to match his command.
The golden slash carved empty stone instead of flesh.
Seong-wu's eyes widened. "…You—"
But Hae-won didn't let him finish. His hand bled as he forced the power down, sanity unraveling thread by thread.
The dream answered him again, jagged and cruel:
Rewrite. Again. Again. Always again.
⸻
The others could only watch.
Do-hyun's jaw clenched, torn between awe and terror.
Arin's fingers dug into her palms until blood welled, her voice cracking as she whispered:
"Hae-won… stop. You're tearing yourself apart."
But Hae-won didn't stop. Couldn't.
The moment he stopped, the script would devour them all.
⸻
Seong-wu straightened, golden light stabilizing once more, his face carved with grim determination.
"You can bend the script," he admitted, his voice low. "But you can't break it forever. Power like that comes with a cost—and you don't even know what it is."
"I know enough," Hae-won spat, blood dripping from his lips. "Enough to know I won't let you be the system's chosen hero."
Their auras clashed—gold against crimson, authority against defiance.
The chains above rattled louder, hungry, as if drawn to the promise of battle.
And then the system's voice cut through it all, calm, merciless:
[ Trial of Chains begins in 5 hours. ]
[ Warning: Should the clash of protagonists persist, one will be forcibly erased. ]
The words sank like knives.
The wasteland itself seemed to hold its breath.
Seong-wu's blade rose again.
Hae-won's bloodied hand tightened into a fist.
There would be no turning back.
The wasteland did not wait.
The chains above groaned louder, grinding against stone, each clang like a war drum. The rivers of red boiled, spitting steam, as if the world hungered for the clash about to unfold.
Seong-wu moved first. His golden blade arced downward, splitting the air in two, a slash that radiated divine finality. It wasn't just a strike—it was a proclamation. The kind that demanded submission.
But Hae-won's sanity snapped like brittle glass. His voice came out raw, cracked by five hundred regressions.
"Not this time."
The world shivered.
The slash that should've split him in half faltered—rewritten—its path diverted into stone. Black rock erupted, dust spraying into the air.
Seong-wu's eyes narrowed. "You really can warp it."
"Warp it?" Hae-won laughed, blood dripping from his mouth, madness glinting in his gaze. "No—I can ruin it."
His hands tore against his palms, blood dripping into the ground. The dream's whispers rose in unison, a thousand voices chanting inside his skull:
Rewrite. Burn. Rewrite. Bleed.
The air buckled. Chains twisted, reshaping into jagged blades that tore free from the towers, hurtling toward Seong-wu.
He met them head-on. His golden aura burst outward, shattering the first, the second, the third. Sparks of crimson and gold clashed midair, painting the wasteland in a storm of light.
Do-hyun shielded his face, teeth grit. "They'll kill each other—"
Arin screamed, stepping forward. "Stop it! Both of you, please!"
Neither heard.
⸻
Hae-won staggered, his vision splitting. The dream bled into reality—five hundred lifetimes crashing through his senses all at once. His own voice screamed back at him from every direction:
Die again. Die again. Fail again.
His sanity frayed. His body trembled. But his rage burned steady.
He hurled it into the script, tearing at it, rewriting once more—forcing Seong-wu's footing to slide, a false crack opening beneath his boots.
Seong-wu reacted instantly, golden energy anchoring him midair. His gaze cut through the distortion.
"You're not bending fate. You're gambling. Each rewrite takes more of you away."
"Then let it take me!" Hae-won roared. "As long as it means it doesn't take them!"
The chains answered his fury, coiling like serpents, striking in unison.
Seong-wu raised his blade high, golden light bursting outward in a shockwave. Each chain shattered in turn—splitting, scattering molten fragments into the red rivers below.
The shockwave hurled Hae-won back. He slammed against the black stone, ribs screaming. His vision swam, the ledger's whispers filling his ears—
Unpaid. Unpaid. Unpaid.
Blood dripped from his lips as he forced himself up again.
"Still… standing."
Seong-wu's jaw tightened. His blade hummed with radiant power, burning brighter than ever.
"This ends before you tear us all apart."
And then—he lunged.
⸻
Do-hyun staggered forward, fury written across his face. "Enough! Both of you! You're tearing us down before the scenario even—"
But Arin grabbed his arm, stopping him. Her eyes were wide, wet with panic, but fixed squarely on Hae-won.
"He's… fighting for us," she whispered.
Do-hyun stared at her, stunned. "…And Seong-wu isn't?"
Neither answer came. Because at that moment, Hae-won and Seong-wu collided again—gold and crimson, sanity against authority, the script itself groaning as two paths warred to exist.
The wasteland roared.
The chains screamed.
And above them all, the system's voice pierced like a knife:
[ Warning: Collapse detected. ]
[ If the clash continues, scenario integrity will break. ]
[ One path must fall. ]
But Hae-won only grinned through blood, eyes wild.
"Then let it collapse."