Yuria did not wake up all at once.
Awareness returned slowly, like light seeping through thick fog, not sharp or sudden but cautious, as if reality itself was unsure whether she should be allowed back yet.
At first, she felt nothing.
No pain. No warmth. No body.
Then came thought.
I'm… still here.
That realization arrived with a strange calm, followed almost immediately by confusion, because she could not remember falling asleep, only the moment the system screen had changed, the mocking sentence, the laughter that had not sounded cruel, only amused.
Darkness surrounded her, deep and layered, not empty but occupied, like a room where someone stood just out of sight.
"Still intact," a voice said lightly. "That's better than expected."
Yuria tried to turn, to look, but she had no form here, only awareness drifting in a space that did not obey direction.
"Who are you?" she asked, her thoughts carrying the question instead of sound.
The darkness rippled.
"Oh, come now," the voice replied, amused. "You've felt me before. Everyone has, They just give me different names so they can sleep at night."
Something brushed against her consciousness.
Not forceful. Not invasive.
It felt like someone tapping a glass window, checking how thick it was.
Her system reacted instantly.
Not with alarms.
With restraint.
For the first time since she had received it, the system hesitated.
Then it unfolded.
Lines of pale light formed around her awareness, weaving into familiar shapes, though the interface looked… cleaner now, sharper, stripped of unnecessary decoration.
[External Authority Confirmed]
[Classification: Unregistered]
[Threat Level: Cannot Be Measured]
[System Limitation Override — Temporary]
Yuria's breath caught, though she did not have lungs here.
Temporary?
The voice laughed softly.
"Don't worry," it said. "I'm not here to break your little assistant. I'm just curious."
Curious about what? she asked.
"About why you survived," the voice replied honestly. "Most collapse when they hear that echo, You adapted instead."
" He is a nasty bas**d."
Something clicked.
Not painfully, not violently, but decisively, like a lock turning after years of rust.
The system pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
Then exploded into motion.
[Level Increased]
[Current Level: 35]
Yuria froze.
What?
She had never jumped levels like that before. Growth was supposed to be gradual, earned through survival, effort, accumulation.
This wasn't growth.
This was acknowledgment.
[New Skill Unlocked]
[Skill: Gazer of Other Timelines]
[Description: Allows perception of fragmented memories from alternate timelines connected to the same existence]
[Warning: Excessive use may destabilize current perception]
Her thoughts reeled.
Other timelines?
Before she could process it, another window opened.
[New Skill Unlocked]
[Skill: Detection]
[Description: Allows detection of entities equal to or lower than the user's level]
[Limitation: Ineffective against superior authorities]
"That one's for safety," the voice said casually. "You can't keep bumping into things you don't understand forever."
Yuria swallowed.
Why are you doing this?
The darkness leaned closer, though she still could not see a shape.
"Because you listened," it replied. "And because you didn't beg."
" And you made a wish."
Then the system stilled.
Every window collapsed.
A new interface appeared.
Not a status screen.
Not a skill list.
Something heavier.
[Mission Interface Activated]
Yuria's heart raced.
Mission?
She had never seen this before.
The text formed slowly, deliberately, as if each word carried weight beyond the system itself.
[Primary Mission: Save the World]
No explanation followed.
Only silence.
Then another line appeared.
[Secondary Objective: Find the Forgotten One]
[Description: An existence that erased itself to be forgotten]
Yuria's thoughts trembled.
Erase… himself?
Who could even do that?
The interface waited, patient.
Then the reward section unfolded.
[Rewards:]
[— Survival]
[— A Chance to Become a God]
[— ??????]
The last line flickered, unreadable, resisting definition.
Yuria stared at it, unease crawling up her awareness.
What happens if I refuse? she asked.
The voice chuckled.
"You already accepted," it said gently. "The moment you chose to live."
" Event if you try not to... It doesn't matter because you're free, he let you act according to your own wish and the price already extracted."
" You can never leave this world."
Something shifted.
The darkness began to peel away, layers folding inward like curtains closing.
"Rest now," the voice added. "We'll speak again when you're closer to the answer."
Closer to what? Yuria asked desperately.
"To why Death felt mocked," the voice replied, amused. "And why he didn't strike back."
Then the darkness shattered.
—
Yuria woke with a sharp gasp, air flooding her lungs as if she had been drowning.
The holy sanctuary erupted into motion.
North was at her side instantly, presence cold and steady, not unleashing his authority but anchoring the space around her so firmly that even the seals seemed to relax.
"She's awake," Raka said, relief poorly hidden behind his usual tone. "Good. I was about to start yelling at the ceiling."
Cedar knelt beside her, eyes searching Yuria's face carefully. "How far did you go?"
Yuria pushed herself upright slowly, head spinning but clear.
"Far enough," she answered.
Graviel stepped closer, wings tight behind him, his expression carefully neutral. "Did you see it ?"
Yuria hesitated.
She could still feel the system behind her thoughts, quiet now, hidden so deeply that even she could barely sense it unless she focused.
She shook her head. "No."
It wasn't a lie.
She hadn't seen it.
She had been seen.
Sol studied her for a long moment. "Something changed."
Yuria offered a small smile, "I received a blessing."
That much was true.
"A strange one," she added lightly. "It lets me notice things that don't want to be noticed."
North's gaze sharpened, but he did not press.
Instead, he turned toward the bed.
Erdaline lay unchanged, peaceful, unaware of the storm gathering around her.
Yuria followed his gaze, and without calling the system, without opening the interface, she saw it.
Threads.
Dream wrapped around Erdaline like silk, soft and endless.
Space threaded through her bones, holding her together where she should have fallen apart.
And beneath it all, a connection stretching somewhere far beyond this world, thin but unbroken.
"She's not just asleep," Yuria said quietly.
Everyone turned to her.
" We all already know that."
A silence followed.
"She's sustaining herself," Yuria continued. "If we wake her the wrong way, she won't just wake up. She'll lose the place she's drawing life from."
Raka grimaced. "So that's a no on shaking her."
"Yes," Yuria replied calmly. "A firm no."
Graviel closed his eyes. "Then what do we do?"
North answered without hesitation.
"We enter the dream."
Cedar inhaled sharply. "Together and how do you know that?"
"No," North said. "Carefully."
Yuria looked at Erdaline again, feeling something stir deep within her awareness, not fear, not urgency, but recognition.
This wasn't about curing a curse.
It was about rewriting a wish.
And somewhere beyond dream and space, beyond death and memory, an existence that had erased itself watched patiently, waiting to see if she would find it.
The mission remained active.
The reward remained unknown.
And for the first time since she had arrived in this world, Yuria understood one simple truth.
Surviving was no longer enough.
______________________
Death noticed the laughter before he noticed the disturbance.
That alone was wrong.
Nothing laughed inside his domain unless he allowed it. Not souls, not gods, not even concepts arrogant enough to pretend they were alive.
The sound didn't echo. It didn't spread. It settled, sinking into the void like a memory that refused to fade.
Death paused mid-step, the scythe resting against his shoulder as the endless procession of silent souls behind him froze without command. Time itself stiffened, as if it had been corrected.
Slowly, he turned.
The sky of his realm had not cracked or bled or broken. It had curved, just slightly, like a thin smile carved into nothingness. Subtle enough that no god would notice, but Death was not a god.
He was older than noticing.
"Tch," Death muttered, irritation surfacing before alarm, "you're being loud again."
The laughter returned, closer now, layered with familiarity, the kind of sound made by someone knocking on a door they already owned.
"Loud?" the voice replied casually. "You call this loud? I remember when you screamed for three eras straight."
Death's grip tightened.
Souls trembled. Deathlines across existence drew taut, authority rising instinctively, heavy enough to erase lesser beings without intent.
"Don't," Death said calmly, which was infinitely worse than shouting, "touch my work."
The void rippled, not in fear, but in amusement.
"Oh, relax," the voice said, yawning audibly. "I didn't steal anything. I just… borrowed a rule or two."
Death exhaled slowly, the sound carrying finality.
"You're inside a contract," he said, eyes narrowing, "one that involves a child."
"And you're inside denial," the voice replied lightly. "She hasn't been alive or dead properly for a long time and You noticed that, didn't you?"
Silence pressed down.
Death did not answer immediately, because he had noticed.
A soul that refused to cross. A life that did not decay. A dream that never ended.
"You crossed into my domain through dreams," Death said at last. "That's cheating."
"Everything important is cheating," the voice replied warmly, "especially survival."
The void shifted, and then he appeared, not fully and not physically, just enough to be seen. A blurred outline, black hair falling as if he never bothered to exist properly.
Death scoffed. "Still hiding your face," he said. "Coward."
The blurry man laughed. "You liked it better when I was mysterious."
"I liked it better when you didn't interfere," Death shot back.
The man shrugged. "You say that every age, and yet you never stop watching."
Death's expression darkened.
"You're playing with balance," he said, voice colder now, sharper. "That girl is tethered to something outside the cycle."
"That's because she came from outside the cycle," the man replied lightly. "Honestly, you should thank me. I kept her from breaking your ledger."
Death stilled.
"…You what?"
"Oh, don't look at me like that," the man said, grinning. "You hate paperwork."
For the first time, irritation mixed with something far more dangerous.
"You rewrote a boundary," Death said slowly, "without asking."
"I never ask," the man replied simply. "You never say no."
The void twisted as Death's authority surged fully, deathlines flaring across realms, every soul trembling in recognition.
"You're mocking me," Death said quietly.
The blurry man tilted his head, thoughtful. "No," he corrected gently, "I'm mocking inevitability."
Death's eyes burned.
"Careful," he warned. "Even I can end you."
The man laughed again, softer this time. "You tried," he reminded him. "Once. Remember?"
Memory stirred. A war without names. A battle without witnesses. An ending that never finished.
Death clicked his tongue. "…You're still my best mistake."
"And you're still my favorite rule," the man replied warmly.
They stood there in the unmoving void, old enemies and older friends, bound by things neither would ever admit aloud.
Finally, Death looked away.
"North Frozenlight is involved now," he said, almost grudgingly. "And the girl with The beginning's blessings heard you."
" The beginning? You should talk carefully about the creator...hehehe!"
The blurry man's smile sharpened. "Oh, good," he said, delighted. "Things were getting boring."
Death turned back sharply. "If you push this too far," he warned, "even I won't protect you."
The man waved dismissively. "You never do," he said lightly, then paused, eyes gleaming. "But you always watch."
The void rippled. The laughter faded.
Death stood alone again, scythe resting against his shoulder, jaw tight, gaze fixed on the distant thread where Erdaline's soul hovered between states.
"…Idiot," he muttered, though there was no real anger in it.
Far away, a wish waited to be answered.
And for the first time in a very long while, Death was no longer certain that the end still belonged to him.