Chapter 3
Awakening (1)
Vrooooom──!
A neon-colored Ferrargini sped down the Olympic Highway, zigzagging between cars.
The roar of its engine made other drivers panic and clear the way.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!!!!”
Taehun slammed the emblem-branded steering wheel like a madman.
The humiliation and fear he had just experienced for the first time in his life rattled his mind.
He knows I’m a Player…!!!
Up until now, Taehun had lived a life free of failure.
Born into wealth, raised without want, he crushed anyone who dared oppose him.
And whenever he caused trouble, the “Community” of Players would conceal and erase it all.
…But I can’t lose everything because of that bastard.
Even so, the Community didn’t give unconditional support.
There was one absolute rule.
Their identities must never be revealed to outsiders.
If violated, even a Player would be severely punished.
This must never reach the Community’s ears.
Sehyun knew he was a Player.
Where on earth had his identity been exposed?
No. That’s not the issue.
The fact remained: his identity had been leaked to Sehyun.
Fine… I’ll just get rid of him. Just like that woman.
Taehun pulled out his phone and pressed a speed dial.
Ring──
[Yes, boss.]
“You’ve got a week. Gather the guys.”
He ended the call abruptly, then finally managed to calm his trembling heart.
Keh-heh-heh… why am I even panicking over something like this?
This wasn’t the first time he had dealt with matters like this.
Besides, worst case, I still have this…
He opened a small box in the dashboard and checked its contents.
The special item he had obtained after killing that woman.
With this, no one could threaten him.
“Let’s see you try, you bastard!!”
Vrooooom──!!!
The Ferrargini roared louder as it shot down the highway, Taehun’s maniacal laughter drowned out by the engine’s thunder.
“Phew… what a crappy mood.”
Sehyun sat on the workshop sofa, sighing.
After years, he had finally been enjoying a peaceful daily life, only to have it ruined by some thug.
Enough whining. Time to focus.
He thought there was still plenty of time before the Apocalypse. But thanks to that Yu Taehun or whatever his name was, he had to change his mindset.
It wasn’t just about preparing for the future.
Who would’ve thought I’d run into a Player this soon?
At least Taehun had backed down after such a small provocation.
If he had been even a little smarter, he could’ve reported Sehyun to the Community right away.
They’re extremely wary of any leaks about their existence.
Standing out now was dangerous.
He could be eliminated before even getting started.
…Yeah. What I need first is armament.
He had been thinking this ever since realizing his regression.
As someone without any special ability, his only hope against awakened Players was Artifacts.
But in my previous life, I left that job to someone else.
Only after being thoroughly betrayed at the end of the world did he realize:
If you don’t seize power yourself, you’re useless.
This time, he would forge Artifacts with his own hands.
That was the very first step of his regression plan.
“But to do that, I need core materials first.”
Sehyun walked the streets, deep in thought.
Materials can only be obtained from monsters… but there aren’t any yet.
It would still be a long time before the Apocalypse spread monsters across the globe.
Of course, even before that, Players had secretly hunted creatures from rifts that appeared here and there.
But there was a problem.
As an ordinary civilian, I’ll never get near one of those monsters.
If they went so far to conceal the existence of Players, then rifts were hidden even more carefully.
But…
When it comes to materials, there is another way.
There was always a loophole.
Not one he liked, but now wasn’t the time to be picky.
“Good. Still here.”
His eyes settled on an old public phone.
Since many elderly still lived in this workshop district, relics of a bygone era remained.
Sehyun picked up the receiver and dialed a number from memory.
The next day.
“…What’s all this?”
“Materials.”
“I can see that, but…”
Inha touched the pile of logs stacked in the corner of the workshop.
Freshly cut, they smelled of sap.
Sehyun often ordered supplies for his props, but this time the amount was unusual.
With the logs behind him, Sehyun focused on carving a bat.
Once he starts working, no one can interrupt him.
Knowing it was useless to ask, Inha quietly watched him.
Wood shavings and sawdust piled at his feet like snow as his carving knife and sandpaper wore down the logs.
By the time the sky turned violet, the logs had taken the form of a bat.
But Sehyun didn’t stop sanding.
“Sehyun, aren’t you going to eat dinner?”
“You go ahead.”
“You skipped lunch too.”
Once he started, he didn’t stop until the end—that was Sehyun’s strength, though it worried Inha.
He could take it easy sometimes…
Still, she was relieved.
This kind of dedication was the Sehyun she knew.
I’ll make him some tteokbokki later.
With light steps, she went upstairs to the kitchen.
“…She’s gone?”
Sehyun finally set down the sandpaper.
Truthfully, the work was almost finished.
But he couldn’t perform the final step in front of Inha.
Clink─!
Something chimed softly from his pocket.
“…Never thought I’d actually use this.”
In his past life, thanks to Hailhwan’s support, he had never worried about material supply. But this time, he had to do it himself.
A shard glowing faintly between his fingers.
A soulstone fragment.
Containing astral force, it was the core material for an Artifact.
“Phew… The problem is the astral force is too weak.”
Its energy was so meager a stray mutt had more life force.
That was why Sehyun could get it so easily—but for now, it would do.
Now, time to inscribe the Mythos…
The second key element of an Artifact: Mythos.
To grant power to an Artifact, it needed a “personal myth.”
A story attached to an item, treasured like a family heirloom or relic.
For example, a sword that cut off an enemy general’s head a thousand times, or a lighter that blocked a bullet.
Such stories were the Mythos.
In simple terms: the “backstory” that gave the Artifact its setting.
Normally, you’d need a real object with such a story.
But that made Artifact creation nearly impossible.
How many items in the world carried legends like that? And how often could you find them?
So Sehyun had changed his perspective.
Even if the stories were true, they were surely exaggerated over time.
Then shouldn’t fabricated stories also work as Mythos?
What mattered wasn’t factual accuracy, but the sense of reverence they inspired.
And his guess was right.
As long as the material and form matched, even an invented story could imprint as Mythos.
Of course, knowing that doesn’t mean just anyone can do it.
It required the creator to truly believe the imagined story—a difficult task.
People were shackled by too many doubts, their faith too shallow.
But beginnings were always the hardest.
Having created thousands of Artifacts, Sehyun was well-practiced.
I was a batter forced to retire due to injury. But I never lost my eye for the ball.
He engraved the Mythos into the bat as if it were his own lived experience.
If I could stand at bat just once more…
He repeated the imagined scenario until it fused with the bat.
Freshly cut logs for the body,
a soulstone fragment as the astral medium,
and now a fabricated Mythos.
The essential components aligned, glowing blue inscriptions rose on the bat’s surface.
Then they sank in and vanished.
…It worked.
A faint energy pulsed from the bat.
The Mythos had settled.
It was a simple, earnest story.
Because the materials were so weak, the power granted wasn’t much.
He could be greedy, but pushing too far would only shatter it before use.
“At this level, it’s not even low-grade Meteoric rank.”
Artifacts and Player abilities were ranked after celestial bodies.
Meteoric rank meant “a rock fallen from space.” Barely usable as weapons.
But this bat didn’t even qualify.
If ranked, it was closer to “Dust rank.”
“As expected. I had little energy to work with, and the story was made up.”
It would probably break after a single use.
Still, if I make enough of them, they’ll be useful.
He had practiced all day; mass production would be easy.
Stretching, Sehyun pulled out his phone.
[Finished the work.]
He sent Inha a quick text, then glanced around the workshop.
I really made a lot, didn’t I…
The walls were covered with weapons.
And with them, the stories he and Inha had come up with.
A frostbound helmet—said to have corrupted a virtuous king into an undead lord.
A dry wooden bow—the last legacy of the elf race, given by the dying World Tree.
Concepts, nothing more.
Why did we put so many decorations on everything?
Now, with a master craftsman’s eyes, all he saw was gaudy excess.
Like that bat on the wall covered in celebrity autographs.
It was shallow, one-dimensional thinking.
The marks of hard effort—that’s enough.
A tool with nothing but signatures was just a souvenir.
But a bat scarred with countless strikes—that was true Mythos.
He hadn’t known this at first.
Only after forging the final Artifact, the Black Dwarf, had he realized.
Damn. Didn’t need to remember that.
Shaking off the thought, he scanned the workshop again.
His eyes fell on one weapon.
A silver sword, ornate and dazzling beyond all others.
Its guard bore the Ω (Omega) symbol.
The Black Dwarf.
Or rather, its unfinished prototype.
But it hardly resembled the completed Artifact.
I must have thought the end of the world would be grand and glorious back then.
But the reality had been the opposite.
A crude, lightless blade of pure black.
No sheath to return to.
And only emptiness etched at its end.
So different from this resplendent sword before him.
…Naïve.
With a bitter smile, Sehyun picked it up.
And at that moment──
“…!!!!!”
His knees buckled.
An overwhelming weight pressed from within, instantly transforming into energy.
Blue ghostfire blazed in his eyes.
“Ghh… What the hell is this…!”
Dense energy poured out, resonating with the sword.
Scenes from his past life flashed before him like a lantern slide.
The moment he lost Inha helplessly in the Apocalypse,
the betrayal of the one he trusted most,
and finally, the emptiness beyond the event horizon.
So deep.
His regrets were unbearably deep.
And deeper still was the silent darkness of the event horizon.
Clang─! Clang─!
As if to fulfill his unfinished wish, the sound of hammering echoed.
Strangely, that darkness felt peaceful to him.
Around him, countless Artifacts floated as though defying gravity.
Each one more complete than anything he had ever made.
What use are these, when the world has already perished?
Almost unconsciously, he reached for one.
And then—
“Haah…!!!”
The sight of reality snapped back, stealing his breath.
“What on earth just happened…?”
Had his trauma triggered hallucinations?
He looked at his hand gripping the sword.
The Ω symbol on the unfinished prototype had turned black.
And from within his body, a faint but heavy presence emerged.
I’ve… awakened to the Star.
It was the moment Sehyun awakened as a Player.
