Episode 1
000. The Day the Sky Fell
Crrackle-crack-BOOM!
Lightning etches scars across the dark sky.
Those brilliant, momentary scars of light should flash and vanish in an instant.
But they don’t disappear.
Like brands, they remain, indelible, piling up layer upon layer upon the sky.
A man gazes blankly up at this precarious sky.
“They say even if the sky falls, there’s a hole to crawl out of… I wonder if there is one?”
If asked to describe a sky on the verge of shattering and collapsing, it would look exactly like this sky at this moment.
He could only stare at it blankly and offer a bitter smile.
Because there was nothing he could do.
No, he had done all he could.
And yet.
Messages float before his eyes.
[Genes’s Blue Staff has been destroyed. – Creator: Golden Hand]
[Barceleni’s Fang has been destroyed. – Creator: Golden Hand]
[Tiger-Demon Ghost-Face Armor has been destroyed. – Creator: Golden Hand]
[Elios’s Stone Tablet has been destroyed. – Creator: Golden Hand]
[Krabel’s Black Heart has been destroyed. – Creator: Golden Hand]
[Silverna’s Wing has been destroyed. – Creator: Golden Hand]
[Netherworld’s Earth Tile has been destroyed. – Creator: Golden Hand]
.
.
.
Creator: Golden Hand.
The name of the man staring blankly at the sky.
Looking at the messages bearing his name, Geumsom (Golden Hand) could only laugh hollowly.
Messages stating that every item he had poured his heart and soul into creating in preparation for the final battle was being destroyed in real-time.
So he could only laugh.
“Ah, if I’d known it would come to this, I should have delved deeper into the blacksmithing class…”
Looking at the rising messages.
He looks down at the hammer in his hand.
What if I had made unbreakable equipment?
What if I had made stronger equipment?
What if I had made equipment with special abilities?
.
.
.
Would things have been different?
Unanswerable questions ceaselessly swirl in his head.
But now, any regret is already too late.
Crackle-crackle—
The fragmented sky.
The sky begins to crumble and fall.
Geumsom merely stares blankly up at that sky.
‘A hole to crawl out of…’
There is none.
On this day, humanity was defeated.
The day the sky fell.
The world perished.
001 Lepione, round and round
Trrrrrrrring—!
He had long ignored his phone alarm, and now the last resort—the analog clock’s alarm—was blaring noisily.
A man struggles to lift his heavy body and laboriously turns off the alarm on the clock placed far away.
“Haham, the time…”
The man sluggishly rises and unconsciously lets out a yawn.
Saggy sweatpants, inside-out t-shirt, disheveled hair.
Late afternoon—a look that screamed ‘unemployed’ to anyone who saw.
Scratching his stomach with one hand, he rubbed his eyes.
It seemed like the start of just another ordinary day… but something felt off.
“…Huh?”
The man, Geumsom, suddenly stopped as if caught on something.
The scenery of the room felt familiar.
No, it was so familiar it felt strange instead.
“I… didn’t I die?”
The memory was clear.
The sky breaking apart.
Waiting for death under that sky.
The memory of helplessly awaiting annihilation while watching system messages about his equipment being destroyed was vivid.
“A dream?”
Perhaps it was a hallucination right before death.
Right before consciousness faded.
It could be a final refuge created by his brain.
Geumsom let out a shallow sigh and checked the alarm clock in his hand.
1:00 PM.
Shwa-ra-rak—
He swiftly drew back the curtains and looked up out the window.
It wasn’t a crumbling sky.
The blazing sun.
A clear blue sky.
The clear 1 PM sun greeted Geumsom.
“Uh… why is the sky clear?”
Geumsom let out a hollow laugh and muttered.
The dark sky that had been collapsing.
The memory right before the end was so vivid, yet this peaceful scenery made no sense.
The dissonance made his legs tremble, and a physiological signal, as if he might wet himself, arrived.
Staggering, Geumsom headed to the bathroom.
After taking care of business and casually glancing in the mirror—
“…!”
He held his breath.
His heart began to pound madly.
Because the reflection in the mirror wasn’t the exhausted 36-year-old man who had watched the world perish.
A young man.
No dried blood, no wounds.
Smooth skin, clean under-eyes without dark circles, abundant hair—a young man in his twenties.
A young man with no traces of being worn down by a gaming addict’s life or the desperate struggle to prevent the world’s end, just standing there with a stupid look on his face.
“F-for real, this?”
As he was about to force a laugh at this absurd sight—
An image of himself from just moments ago, his past self, surfaced in his mind.
‘I was active as a “ssalmeok” player and game streamer…’
A strictly neutral lifestyle.
He didn’t join a specific guild, the so-called ‘line’ life.
For a ssalmeok (a player who grinds for in-game currency to sell for real money), a ‘line’ life requiring constant monetary investment was poison.
However, he moved as a mercenary for lines during important raids or special events.
‘I was pretty popular, right?’
He wasn’t top-tier, but he was at a recognized level.
Thus, he built recognition in the gaming community, and his stream viewership was quite good.
Moreover, crafting was essential for being a ssalmeok.
Naturally, he also cultivated a crafting character over a long time, and that too was quite well-regarded.
‘Earned about… 5 to 6 million won per month?’
A significant income for a ssalmeok.
So, each day was quite satisfying.
Of course, there were countless things he had to give up for it.
‘Things like a girlfriend were a luxury to even dream of.’
To maintain that level of income, he had to play games all day.
Literally, all day.
Hence, severed human relationships.
A shattered social life was inevitable.
But it didn’t matter.
Even without those great human relationships.
Even without that impressive social life, it was enough to live.
No, it was even better.
Because he could live without worrying about such trivial things.
He thought that life would continue.
Of course, that thought was denied.
In a ridiculously absurd way.
“But is this for real…?”
While sorting through the past—no, the present—in his head, Geumsom checked his reflection in the mirror over and over.
But still unable to believe it, he unconsciously reached out and pinched his cheek.
“Ow!”
A stinging pain.
It’s not a dream.
Geumsom looked around once more.
Old wallpaper.
Snack bags strewn messily on the desk.
Game titles piled in the corner.
An old scene from the depths of his memory was unfolding before his eyes.
“This is… the one-room apartment I lived in seven years ago?”
Puzzle pieces began fitting together in his mind.
Seven years ago.
He had entered the gaming scene at 26; three years in.
The point when he was 29, establishing his place in the industry somewhat.
That meant the world was still at peace.
The problem was five years from now.
“That damn Gate opens… is that it?”
Five years from now, Gates would open upon the world, and everything would begin to fall apart.
Humanity desperately held on with the power of awakened Hunters, but ultimately failed to prevent the annihilation.
Two years.
That’s how long it took for the world to completely collapse.
And one astonishing fact.
Seven years ago, right around this time, the game 《Lepion》 launched.
When the Gates opened, the abilities and skills of 《Lepion》 characters manifested exactly in the real-world players.
As if someone had provided humanity with a training program in advance, saying ‘try to prevent the world’s end.’
But only speculation that this ‘someone’ was a divine, transcendent being ran rampant; their identity was never revealed.
‘This is insane.’
Geumsom, reeling from the shock of facts falling into place one by one, staggered over to the desk.
He found the phone he had unconsciously thrown aside due to the noisy alarm.
And the moment he opened the phone to check.
His fingers trembled slightly.
[XXXX年 X月 X日]
Seeing the date, Geumsom’s pupils shook violently.
He remembered exactly what day this was.
There was a reason he had set countless alarms.
It was the very day he had felt a ‘wise man time’ (post-nut clarity) about the game he’d been playing, quit it completely, and was about to start the newly launching virtual reality game, 《Lepion》.
Geumsom stood there, staring blankly into space.
He didn’t know why.
But, he had regressed.
To the very moment everything began.
Click-
Gulp- gulp-
“Gah! Hoo…”
Geumsom, having downed half a canned beer from the fridge in one go, plopped down onto the old sofa.
The cold touch of the aluminum can and the carbonation going down his throat proved he was alive, and that all of this was reality.
‘I regressed. Did I come back alone? Or did others too?’
No way to know.
But one thing was certain.
If he stayed still like this, seven years later, the world would perish again.
‘I have to stop it.’
How?
In his past life, even those called humanity’s strongest couldn’t surpass the level 450 wall.
Ultimately, to prevent the world’s end, he would have to become stronger than them.
But frankly, Geumsom’s own combat sense wasn’t top-tier.
A mid-to-upper tier skilled mercenary.
That was his limit.
‘Then… the answer is still just one, isn’t it.’
The regret from his final moments.
It surfaced.
Geumsom looked down at his hands.
The hands that had created numerous legendary pieces of equipment in his past life.
But the equipment that ultimately broke.
‘This time will be different. I’ll become a transcendent-level blacksmith. Let’s create arms and armor that never break, that challenge the realm of the gods. And…’
The faces of comrades he fought alongside in his past life came to mind.
Guiding them with the knowledge he possessed, arming them with the best equipment to make them stronger than anyone.
No, breaking through and surpassing the level 450 limit of that time.
That was precisely the best role he, who wasn’t combat-specialized, could play, and the only way to save the world.
“Damn, if I’d known, I should’ve at least looked at some stock charts. Or real estate prices… Remember something, my thick head! Anything!”
Of course, if he could whale (whaling: spending excessively in games) freely from now on, things would be easier.
But unfortunately, even as Geumsom tore at his hair, there was no way such information existed in his head that had only dug deep into games.
The game company that made 《Lepion》 wasn’t even publicly listed, so he couldn’t even dream of a stock jackpot.
“Ultimately, there’s only one thing for me to do.”
Geumsom got up.
Vitality began returning to his eyes.
With a resolute expression, he lay down in the capsule, almost like his other self.
“Shitty 《Lepion》. What else is there besides games?”
