The alley vanished without warning.
kang Seung-ho felt no sensation of movement—no pull, no distortion—only a sudden certainty that the world he knew had ceased to exist. One moment, the damp asphalt and flickering streetlight surrounded him. The next, he stood in an endless expanse of grey.
There was no ground beneath his feet, yet he stood firmly.
No sky above him, yet an immense pressure weighed down on his consciousness.
The space felt wrong—detached from reality, as if it existed between moments rather than within them.
A few steps away stood Death.
Park Jin-woo's black suit was immaculate, untouched by blood or rain. His presence bent the void subtly, as though even this place acknowledged his authority. He adjusted his gloves with calm precision, his expression unreadable.
"You survived," Jin-woo said at last.
There was no praise in his voice. Only confirmation.
A cold, neon-blue glow flickered into existence before Seung-ho's eyes.
[System Evaluation]
Host: Kang Seung-ho
Vital State: Stable (Post-Contract)
Synchronization Rate: 17%
Uniqueness Index: Absolute
Seung-ho's breath caught.
"Uniqueness?" he asked. "What does that mean?"
Death did not answer immediately.
Instead, the void reacted.
The grey expanse trembled, rippling outward like disturbed water. At the edge of perception, seven vast presences began to manifest. They were not physical forms, nor simple shadows, but overwhelming authorities—silhouettes so immense that reality itself struggled to define them.
Each radiated a different pressure.
One felt like suffocating cold, another like crushing gravity. One carried the stench of rot and decay, while another embodied a silence so absolute it threatened to erase thought itself.
Seung-ho's knees buckled.
"Humanity has always misunderstood death," Jin-woo said calmly. "They imagine it as a single end. A single will."
The silhouettes sharpened slightly, never fully visible, as if the universe refused to grant them clarity.
"That belief was false."
Seung-ho swallowed hard. "The seven squads."
"Yes."
Death's gaze remained fixed forward.
"The Seven Squads of Death are the true authorities governing extinction. Each presides over a different domain of the end—war, collapse, decay, annihilation, oblivion. Concepts far too vast for the living mind to comprehend."
The pressure intensified, driving Seung-ho fully to his knees. His chest burned as if the air itself had thickened.
"Then… they have people like me?" he asked through clenched teeth. "Others chosen by a system?"
For the first time, Death turned his eyes directly toward him.
"No."
The word struck harder than any physical blow.
"They tried," Jin-woo continued. "Across countless eras and worlds, the squads attempted to create tools. Messengers. Systems."
His voice darkened.
"They failed. Every single time."
Another system window appeared, brighter and more definitive than before.
[System Notice] Absolute Ascension System Status: Singular Replication: Impossible Registered Users: 1
Seung-ho stared at the final line.
"One," he whispered.
"You," Death confirmed. "You are not part of a design. You are the anomaly that endured."
The silhouettes shifted.
Seung-ho felt it instantly—their attention converging on him. Not curiosity. Assessment. Like predators evaluating prey that might one day bite back.
"They are aware of you now," Jin-woo said. "Some wish to claim you once you mature. Others wish to erase you before you become uncontrollable."
Fear crept into Seung-ho's chest. "So I'm… prey."
"And a weapon," Death replied without hesitation. "Which you become depends on your resolve."
The crushing pressure eased slightly, allowing Seung-ho to breathe.
"The system answers only to you," Jin-woo continued. "No one can see it. No one can steal it. No authority can interfere with its operation."
His voice lowered, heavy with warning.
"But every action you take will echo across all seven squads."
Fine cracks of light spread through the grey void, as if the space itself were fracturing.
"You wanted power," Death said as reality began to collapse inward. "Now understand the weight of being unique."
The world shattered.
Seung-ho staggered as cold night air slammed into his lungs. Neon lights flickered overhead. The familiar sounds of Seoul returned—distant traffic, humming electricity, life continuing as if nothing had happened.
But everything had changed.
Seung-ho looked down at his trembling hands.
Somewhere beyond reality—
Seven authorities were watching.
And for the first time in history, Death had chosen only one Messenger.