The old Banjarbaru station stood silent under the midnight sky, a forgotten relic swallowed by time. Its walls were cracked, paint peeling in long strips, roof weighed down by moss. Shattered windows gaped like empty sockets, their rusted frames groaning whenever the night wind swept through. The tracks out front hadn't felt the weight of a train in decades—only wild grass claimed the steel, weaving through the rails like veins reclaiming a corpse.
But for Arkan, tonight the station wasn't just ruin. It was a threshold—one that didn't lead into memory, but into something stranger than any dream he had ever dared.
He stepped past the broken glass door, the remaining shards trembling with a faint rattle as his shoe nudged them. Creeeak! The hinges shrieked in protest, echoing through the stillness. Cold air swallowed him whole the moment he crossed inside, seeping into his bones, sharper than winter itself.
And then—the air changed.
Crack!
A streak of violet tore across the sky, splitting it like glass under a giant's hammer. The cracks multiplied, spreading like spiderwebs of light. Before Arkan could even move, the brilliance collapsed downward, flooding the station in a blinding surge.
The world spun. The ground roared beneath his feet, tossing planks and dust into the air. Arkan staggered, clutching a rusted pillar for balance. When his vision steadied—
He was no longer in Banjarbaru.
A vast chamber stretched around him. The floor gleamed like polished obsidian, smooth as a mirror that caught faint fragments of his reflection. Towering walls loomed, etched with glowing runes that pulsed like veins carrying the heartbeat of this strange place. The atmosphere pressed down on him, each breath dragging a weight that didn't belong to Earth.
And in the center—stood a man.
He wore a long white robe that rippled without wind. Black hair spilled down his back, framing a face refined yet ancient, handsome yet severe. His eyes were still pools of unfathomable depth, like the silence of someone who had watched centuries pass.
Arkan froze, words catching in his throat. "Y-you… You're the man from my dream."
The cultivator's lips curved in a faint, unreadable smile—neither kind nor cruel.
"A dream, you say?" His voice resonated, deep and steady, carrying weight that made the air tremble. "No. What you saw was a reflection of OSBO. You were given a glimpse of something no human from Earth should ever touch."
Arkan's chest tightened. That voice—the one that haunted his sleep—was real. Not illusion, not imagination. He stood before it now, awake.
"I… I don't understand," he whispered.
The cultivator clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing the chamber. His steps were silent, yet his presence was crushing, like a predator circling prey.
"Earth is unlike any other dimension," he said slowly. "Here, OSBO reigns—Order Suppression of Boundary Origin. A cosmic law that strips power from outsiders, forcing them into silence. That is why countless beings covet this world. They wish to break OSBO, to forge dominion here, to turn your Earth into the battlefield of the multiverse."
The words thundered in Arkan's mind, sharp and heavy. He didn't understand it all, but instinct screamed danger. "Then… why me? Why was I given this system?"
The cultivator stopped. For the first time, his gaze locked onto Arkan, sharp enough to cut through his chest.
"Because you," he said, voice dropping, "are an anomaly."
Arkan flinched. "A-anomaly?"
"Yes." He raised a hand, pointing directly at him. "You are not fully bound by OSBO. A fracture exists within you, a crack in Earth's law. Through that flaw, you can pierce boundaries. The system is merely your bridge. Mile Arkan—you are something that should never have existed."
The words rattled his core. He wanted to deny it, but how could he? Every impossible moment he had lived was proof enough.
And then—the floor shook.
BOOOOM!
The runes blazed with violent purple light. From the shadows, figures emerged—soldiers of mist, their bodies nothing but dense smoke shaped into human form. Yet their hands clutched glowing spears, humming with lethal energy. One, two, five… nine of them in total, advancing in a tight formation.
Arkan stumbled back, panic clawing at his chest. "Wh-what the hell are those!?"
The cultivator didn't flinch. His expression remained calm, almost amused. "Fight. Consider it your trial. You seek answers? You seek survival? Then prove to OSBO you deserve to be host."
As if responding to his command, a blue holographic screen flickered before Arkan's eyes.
[Trial Quest: Defeat all Shadow Soldiers.]
Reward: EXP +50, Rare Item (Random), +1 Level.
Failure: Elimination.
Arkan's throat tightened. "Elimination… it always means death."
One soldier lunged, spear whistling through the air. Arkan's body moved before thought, dashing sideways as a surge of light coursed through him. [Dash Lv.1 Activated.] His steps felt weightless, sharper.
"Haaah!" He drew the Beginner's Sword the system had given him. A simple blade, dull silver—but solid enough to cling to hope.
Clang! The blade bit into the mist, the soldier's form shuddering violently.
[Success: -20 Enemy HP.]
[Remaining: 80/100.]
Arkan blinked. "They… have HP?"
Another soldier came, spear slicing at his ribs. Arkan ducked, slashing upward—smoke splitting as the soldier staggered.
[-25 HP.]
[Remaining: 55/100.]
Again, and again. They swarmed, spears flashing violet, but every time Arkan was cornered, faint system markers blinked before his eyes—lines guiding his dodge, his roll, his strike. [Dash Lv.1] triggered, propelling him just fast enough to survive.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Sparks flared as sword met smoke-made steel. His hands shook, his breath ragged, but each strike landed truer than the last.
[+10 EXP.]
[+10 EXP.]
Step by step, terror gave way to rhythm. His body adapted. His movements grew sharper. And amidst the desperation—he felt it. Power surging through him, molding him.
[Level Up!]
A rush flooded his veins. His limbs felt lighter, steadier. His grip on the sword no longer faltered.
"I… I'm getting stronger just by fighting," he muttered, stunned.
One soldier collapsed into shards of violet light. Then another. And another. Until at last, only one remained. Arkan roared, thrusting his sword into its chest. The mist cracked, splintered—then burst into glowing fragments that scattered like fireflies before fading.
Silence.
Arkan dropped to his knees, gasping, drenched in cold sweat. Notifications poured before his eyes.
[Quest Complete!]
[EXP +50. Reward: Ring of Light Lv.1.]
[New Skill Acquired: Appraisal Lv.1.]
In his trembling palm appeared a silver ring, etched with tiny runes pulsing faintly.
"I… I did it," he whispered, voice hoarse.
The cultivator finally moved. He approached, gaze sharp but approving, and gave a single nod.
"You have passed your first trial. But do not mistake this for victory. This is only the beginning. The world has turned its gaze upon you. The deeper you walk, the deeper you will sink."
Arkan stared at the ring in his hand, its glow both reassuring and terrifying. He clenched it tightly, then lifted his sword with renewed resolve. Fear still lingered in his eyes—but so did fire.
"I'll walk forward," he said.
The cultivator's faint smile returned. "Good. From this moment on, the world you knew is gone. Welcome to the battlefield of the multiverse."