The era of the Martial Revolution was supposed to be humanity's golden age. Instead, it became a funeral.
Across the globe, S-Rank Gates tore through the atmosphere like jagged glass. The "Iron Tiger" squads, once the pride of the military, were being reduced to red mist. The world's greatest martial masters, men who could split mountains, lay broken in the streets.
"The frontline has collapsed!" a reporter screamed into a hovering drone camera, her voice cracking as a shadow loomed over the city. "The Martial Revolution has failed! Is there no one left?!"
In the center of the apocalypse, a man with snow-white hair stood alone against a horde that had slaughtered armies. He didn't wear the flashy gold armor of the high-ranking sects. He wore a simple, obsidian-black jacket that seemed to swallow the light.
This was Min-ho, the world's only National Level Hunter. The man they called the Dreaming Sovereign.
'How many years has it been?' I thought, my eyes half-lidded as I watched the sky bleed purple. 'In the real world, it's only been 3 years. But inside the 110x dilation of the Slumber Realm... I've endured three centuries of hell.'
I felt the weight of my own soul. Inside the 110x time dilation, I hadn't lived for ten years. I had lived for over a millennium.
[Warning: Continental Threat Level Detected.]
[Slumber Realm Synchronization: 100% Active.]
I raised a single hand. The air around me didn't just move—it screamed. The monsters at the front of the pack suddenly stopped, their primal instincts screaming at them to run. For the first time since the Gates opened, the hunters weren't the ones afraid.
'I've mastered ten thousand years of martial arts while they were playing with wooden swords,' I thought, a cold, sharp light flickering in my eyes.
"System," I said, the blue HUD igniting across the sky itself. "I'm done resting. Let's show them what a thousand years of sleep looks like."