When an interlinker enters an outside realm, their body here remains in a state of coma—fragile, vulnerable, and easily influenced by external factors. A sudden injury, neglect, or even something as simple as dehydration could mean death before one even has the chance to return.
That is why interlinkers under a contract with a university, a guild, or even official government-run clans are led into secured chamber vaults. These vaults are heavily protected, maintained by warding systems, and monitored around the clock to ensure the interlinker's body is kept safe while their consciousness wanders the realm.
Young interlinkers like me, those who have only just recently received the title, are strongly recommended to enter a university. Not only for the protection of those chamber vaults, but also for proper development—turning raw potential into a fully fledged interlinker capable of surviving the cruel systems that govern the realms.
Right now, I am… unofficial. A mere candidate recognized by the system, but not by society. For one to be considered official, there must be a license granted to them—a symbol of acknowledgement and proof of stability. With that license comes benefits: priority access to secure chambers, guild resources, allowances, and even recognition by the state.
Without it, I am just a fragile interlinker, still one unlucky accident away from never waking up again.
"Aunt Jeyda, you were a retired interlinker, but still—you are one, right? Can you recommend me to an agency or even a clan that could make room for someone like me?" I asked.
She paused halfway through folding clothes, her hands lingering on the fabric. Then, with a sigh, she tucked them into the luggage before answering.
"That depends, Seyfe. It always depends on how well you did before you became an interlinker. Children are trained and evaluated all the way until they're eighteen… and after that, the real lessons begin."
Her tone softened, but her words struck heavy.
"Seyfe… how do I put this? Judging from what you've done before the system chose you, you might fall into the middle pack. You're sharp, but your strength is more in theory and analysis. That makes you valuable, but—" she gave a short, bitter laugh, "—out in the field, a theorist's value ranks lower than combatants. Especially compared to interlinkers from direct clan bloodlines. Those kids are practically groomed for this from birth."
I stayed quiet, letting her words sink in. I always knew I wasn't cut from the same cloth as those "blessed" with clan heritage, but hearing it out loud… it stung.
"I believe Indra will speak with you about this matter, and I think he'll make a fair judgment. After all… he broke into the top twenty in our country," Aunt Jeyda added with a touch of pride.
I stayed quiet, watching her as she kept folding and carefully placing items into a leather bag.
"So it's either a government-backed university or a private one," I muttered, half to myself. "Government routes are free but hard to pass unless you have backing. Private ones… expensive, but at least they give access to resources, and a chance if you prove your worth."
"Exactly," she said, stacking folded clothes neatly. "Private might suit you more. People who excel in Nexus Protocol theories are granted benefits if they work under the university after graduation."
I nodded, but my eyes lingered on the things she was packing—small gifts, practical items, even food sealed in containers. They weren't things she'd need for herself.
"Aunt Jeyda," I asked carefully, "why are you packing things you'd never use?"
She froze for a moment before letting out a soft sigh.
"Remember my daughter? She's studying in the capital. I thought I'd send her a few things. She recently passed as an interlinker, same as you."
Her lips curved into a smile, but I could feel the longing beneath it.
It had been years since they'd last spoken properly. I knew her daughter was about my age—back when Jeyda took me in as my guardian, she was already growing distant. From what I heard, she resented Jeyda and leaned more toward her father for comfort.
Aunt Jeyda once admitted her daughter hated her. Now, watching her quietly pack these gifts, I wondered if this was her way of reaching out, a fragile attempt to bridge the distance that years had built.
For a moment, I thought about my own parents—their absence, and how Jeyda, my late father's junior, had stepped into the role of guardian for me even when she didn't have to.
She wasn't family by blood. But she stayed when I had no one else.
"I'm sure deep inside she would want to meet you," I said, trying to reassure her.
Aunt Jeyda paused and looked at me. For a moment her eyes softened, and she gave me a small smile that looked both grateful and tired.
"I'm praying so," she admitted quietly. "But I'm worried… that she won't have the feelings to see me as a mother anymore."
Her words lingered in the air heavier than I expected.
Come to think of it, I never really got a chance to see what her daughter even looked like. All I had were Jeyda's old stories—that she inherited her mother's features, but her father's personality. I used to brush them off as her usual bragging, but now it sounded more like fragments of a connection she was clinging onto.
I lowered my voice, almost to myself."Should I find a way then… to be a student in the capital?" I whispered.
"If you make it big, Seyfe," Aunt Jeyda said, her voice soft but tinged with hope, "maybe then you'll have a chance to meet her."
"Hopefully," I replied, scratching the back of my neck. "And when I do, I'll make sure to brag to her about your achievements… as my guardian."
She let out a light chuckle, the tension in her expression easing. At least her mood had lifted, even just a little.
A week had passed since that talk with Aunt Jeyda, and now I was sitting inside a small café across from Mr. Indra. He spread a stack of documents in front of me—papers about where I could apply as a student interlinker.
"Mr. Indra," I asked carefully, "is it possible for someone like me to enroll in a capital university?"
He adjusted his glasses. "That is hardly even possible."
…Damn. So I had no chance then?
"But," he continued, "if you really wanted to, there is another way to get in."
My eyes narrowed. "How?"
"It takes time. And money. Of the two, you only have time to make use of."
I frowned, sinking back in my chair.
"But if a student interlinker becomes number one in any field," Indra explained, "they're granted an exit option—either a transfer to a bigger university in the capital, or a license to become an officially recognized interlinker by the state."
"Getting a license early though…" I muttered, "feels like the short end of the stick."
"You're right," Indra admitted. "That's usually the route reserved for low-class students—those who are unlikely to climb higher, even if they graduate. But for someone who proves themselves indispensable, recognition goes beyond rank."
I leaned forward, repeating his words back to him."In short… I have to become someone irreplaceable before anyone takes me seriously?"
"Not necessarily," Indra said, his tone measured, "but at the very least, an individual who earns the rank of number one must have something that cannot be replicated by anyone else."
"A unique individual, then?" I asked.
He nodded. "If you possess something others don't—and cannot obtain—that's the signal you're a top contender to be sent to a bigger university."
He shuffled through the papers and slid one across the table toward me."I can recommend this university."
I picked it up and read aloud, "University of the Green Highland?"
"It's a strong institution, especially for people like you," he explained. "They value students with a strong grasp of nexus protocol theory. Your background fits that. But…" he leaned back, folding his arms, "I'd still recommend developing your combat ability. At least enough to balance yourself out. A theorist with no practical edge is easily overshadowed."
I stared at the paper for a moment before nodding. "I'll take the offer then."
I thought it would be smooth sailing but…
"Hurry up! One more lap!" our combat instructor barked, hurling little arcs of lightning at anyone who slowed down.
I've been hit fourteen times already.
This is great…
In physical lessons, I barely scrape by—ranked 11th out of 25. Just above the middle, but far from impressive. I should be thankful there are others worse than me, but it doesn't feel like much comfort.
In magical lessons, I manage 7th place. My only edge comes from understanding the inner structure and nature of spells—how they're built, how they flow. But theory can't replace raw mana, and my class doesn't even rely on the mana system. It's like watching everyone else run while I'm stuck studying the map.
Theory lessons are the only subject I actually dominate—rank 1 out of 25. But even that feels hollow. Everything they teach already has an existing breakthrough. Nothing I discover here would make me unique. To stand out, I need something new—something no one else can replicate.
History places me at 3rd, but only because it ties so closely with theory. Honestly, it feels like an echo chamber, not progress.
Overall? I still don't have anything that screams special. Just scattered sparks that don't form a fire.
One day after class, during the last day of the second week of the month—
"Seyfe, what's with the long face?" An instructor's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I turned and found Instructor Cortell watching me as I stared blankly through the window.
"Ah, Instructor Cortell," I said quietly. "I just can't seem to find something that will help me truly excel."
"Why?"
"I planned to dominate at least one field. But the one field I do dominate—Theory—already has existing knowledge stacked on it. There's nothing new I can add."
Cortell folded his arms, studying me. "Even people with talent stagnate, Seyfe. But I get the feeling your frustration comes from more than just pride. What's your reason for pushing this hard?"
"...The capital universities," I admitted.
"I know you hold rank one in Theory," he said. "But isn't that enough?"
I shook my head. "I want to grow more—to at least thank someone I owe my life to."
Cortell let out a small sigh. "You… hah. Then maybe I should tell you one thing most people overlook."
I looked up. "What is it?"
"Yes, being rank one can grant you the transfer to a better university—even to the capital. But do you know why most who reach that point still fail?"
"...Why?"
He leaned closer, his eyes sharp. "Because reality smashes them the moment they enter the true realms. The Lobby of Faith, where young interlinkers like you play around, is nothing more than a fabricated realm—a testing ground for the system to measure you. But once you step into the real realms, the system's influence becomes minimal."
My eyes widened. "So you're saying—"
"That the system will make you stronger, yes, but it will never guarantee your victory. And that is where most of the young fall. They were spoon-fed, sheltered by the system. In the real realms, cruelty has no bounds. They can't solve problems unless the system hands them an answer. And when it doesn't…"
He paused, then said with a grim voice, "The death toll for young interlinkers is fourteen out of every twenty who attempt the first stage."
I swallowed. "...The first stage being reaching level 10, right?"
"Yes. And the system isn't generous with its levels. That's why many remain stuck, never progressing beyond the start. From the very beginning, most have already sabotaged themselves."
"Because of the wrong choices?" I asked.
"Exactly. Think of it like certain games—you know how if you make the wrong build at the start, you can still play, but the road becomes painfully harder? Now imagine the opposite: starting with the right build. Progress flows more naturally. And of course, some just follow the meta to survive."
"But then… how does that correlate with the subjects we take?" I asked.
"It doesn't."
"...What?!"
"The real test, Seyfe, is not your rank on paper. It's how well you can survive inside the realms and finish the objectives given to you."
"So that's the straightforward way?"
He smirked. "That's the brute-force way."
Cortell straightened, his voice growing firmer. "Tomorrow is the start, Seyfe. All of you below level ten will be transported into the realms, each assigned your own objectives. Listen well—once you're inside, we cannot help you. The only thing the academy can guarantee is that your physical body will be preserved here while your consciousness is linked. Passing the test means not only completing your objectives, but doing so with efficiency."
My throat tightened. "...But you can't actually see what we're doing in there?"
"The evidence is in what you bring back—rewards, marks of completion, even traits you acquire. The realms leave proof."
I leaned back against the window frame, feeling the weight of his words settle in my chest. He was right. Tomorrow marked the start of the third week, the system-wide compulsory event. Every student under level ten would be forced into the realms for their trial.
One week. That's all the system gave us.
And the kicker? An hour in this world equaled a full day in the other. That meant for the next 168 days inside the realm—almost half a year in their time—I'd be trapped inside, fighting to grow, to reach level ten… or I'd be finished before my life as an interlinker even began.
The next day came like a heavy tide.
The announcement echoed across the campus: all students under level ten must enter their assigned chambers before the hour passes—the compulsory event is about to begin.
I watched the halls fill with chaos. Some students trembled, pale and sickly, their hands clenched tight as if they could stop time. Others wore wide grins, brimming with adrenaline and hunger for the challenge. The room was thick with fear and excitement, a storm of emotions colliding before the plunge.
And me?
…Of course, I had to deal with my own curse.
I sighed as the system prompt flashed across my vision, counting the time before my entry. My reflection on the chamber glass warped, stretching until I no longer saw the boy Aunt Jeyda raised. Instead, I felt as if my form twist, bones shifting, voice thinning.
Back to a female body. Again.
Could I have had worse circumstances?
The system didn't care. To it, this was my "attuned state," the form it deemed most compatible with the fragments of my soul that resonated in the realms. To me, it was a reminder that I didn't fit the mold. My classmates had it simple—they fought as themselves. Me? I had to fight while carrying the weight of a body that wasn't mine.
The chamber doors began to seal, one by one, the sound of locks and hissing hydraulics closing off any chance of escape. My heart thumped harder. In less than an hour, this body—this borrowed shell—would be thrown into a world where hesitation meant death.
I exhaled slowly, pressing a hand against the glass before it darkened."Alright then," I whispered. "If this is the hand I've been dealt… I'll make it work."
The countdown began.
[Welcome Regina][Your compulsory event: Phase 1 is starting...][Countdown 3][Countdown 2][Countdown 1][Loading]...
[Realm Code 097BC-D][May you find the path of growth in this cruel world]
And then—darkness.
It wasn't the kind of dark where you simply closed your eyes. It was heavy, suffocating, pressing against my very being until I wondered if I even existed.
A sudden gasp tore from me as air—cold and metallic—forced itself into my lungs. My eyes snapped open.
I was no longer in the chamber. Soil clung damp and sticky beneath my palms. Gnarled trees clawed up into the sky, their shadows swallowing the dim light. Somewhere far off, a scream rang out before being cut short.
I looked down at my trembling hands. Slender, pale, not my own. Strands of long black and beige highlighted hair fell across my vision.
Regina. Again.
The system's voice returned, calm and merciless:
[Objective: Survive until Level 10][Optional Objective: Clear "The Beast's Den" for bonus growth rewards][Failure Condition: Death]