The glowing interface shimmered, each word a cold, unyielding pronouncement that chipped away at the last vestiges of Kim Hyu-Gi’s hope. He stared, wide-eyed and breathless, at the translucent blue panel floating before him, its text demanding attention with an impossible, ethereal glow.
<SYSTEM ACTIVATION COMPLETE>
<WELCOME, USER: KIM HYU-GI>
<INITIATING: HELL SIMULATION SYSTEM>
His mind screamed in protest. This couldn't be real. Hunter Association protocol, advanced technology, all the logic he knew, rejected this spectral screen. Yet, it hung there, undeniably present, vibrating with an unseen energy that resonated deep within his bones. He tried to swat it away, his hand passing through the holographic projection as if it were mere light, but the text remained, mocking his futile gesture.
His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Despair, that familiar, suffocating shroud, had barely begun to loosen its grip after the failed awakening, and now this. A system? What was this? Was it some advanced prank? A hallucination brought on by stress and guilt? He pinched himself, hard. The sharp sting in his arm was painfully real.
More text flowed onto the panel, each line a fresh stab of dread:
<SIMULATION PARAMETERS: ACTIVE>
<REALITY INTEGRITY: 100% (ALL SENSATIONS, INJURIES, AND DEATHS ARE HYPER-REALISTIC)>
<PROGRESS RESET: UPON DEATH WITHIN SIMULATION, ALL TEMPORARY PROGRESS IS LOST>
<PERMANENT GROWTH: ONLY UPON COMPLETION OF A 'TRUE OBJECTIVE' PER STAGE>
<DECLINE OPTION: UNAVAILABLE>
<EXIT OPTION: UNAVAILABLE>
<OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE AND COMPLETE>
Kim Hyu-Gi felt the blood drain from his face. Hyper-realistic deaths? No decline? No exit? The words twisted into a grotesque knot in his stomach. This wasn't a game; it was a trap, a death sentence cloaked in digital light. He remembered the feeling of failure at the Association just moments ago, the hollow ache of confirming he was still F-Class, still useless despite Kang Hwok's sacrifice, despite Han-Yol's faith. Now, this 'System' was telling him he would experience death, repeatedly, with no escape.
“No,” he whispered, the sound raw and hoarse, a plea to empty air. “This isn’t happening. I refuse.”
The system remained impassive, its glowing text unwavering. It didn't respond to his words, only continued to display its chilling directives. He felt a profound, alien presence, not a person, but something vast and indifferent, pressing down on him. This wasn't human technology. This was something else entirely, something born of the same unknown forces that had swallowed the C-Class Gate and his guild members whole.
A fresh wave of guilt washed over him. Was this a punishment for his survival? For his weakness? For his inability to awaken? Kang Hwok had chosen him, entrusted him with the Awakened Stone, and he had failed. He hadn't just failed himself; he had failed the entire Three Flowers Guild, failed his sister, failed the memory of those trapped within that vanished Gate. Now, this system, with its brutal, inescapable terms, felt like the universe's ultimate retort to his inadequacy.
He wanted to scream, to smash something, anything, to break this suffocating reality. He looked around the sterile hallway of the Hunter Association, a few other hunters walking by, oblivious to the terror unfolding before his eyes. None of them saw the glowing panel. None of them would believe him. He was alone with this monstrous secret.
<FIRST STAGE INITIATING IN 10… 9… 8…>
The countdown appeared, each number ticking away his last moments of normal existence. Panic seized him, a cold, cloying hand squeezing his throat. His breath hitched. What did 'First Stage' mean? What kind of simulation? He knew nothing. He was going into this blind, defenseless, an F-Class Hunter with no abilities, no experience, and now, no choice.
He thought of Kang Hwok’s face, etched with a strange, resolute expression as he activated the scroll. He remembered the desperate pleas of his guildmates, their shouts of refusal to abandon their leader. And then, the crushing weight of the Awakened Stone in his hand, a symbol of hope and a burden of impossible expectation. He had failed with the stone, and now he was being dragged into something far worse.
He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut, as if doing so could make the glowing panel disappear, could halt the inevitable. He thought of Han-Yol's firm hand, the stinging slap that had jolted him out of his initial despair. She had told him to live, to honor their sacrifice. Was this 'Hell Simulation System' a path to honor that, or merely an extension of his suffering?
“No,” he mumbled again, more vehemently this time, a desperate defiance rising from the depths of his fear. “I won’t. I can’t die.”
But the system didn’t care about his refusal. It didn't care about his fear. It was an immutable force, and he was caught in its grasp. A sudden, intense pressure built behind his eyes, a dull throb that quickly escalated into a searing pain. His vision blurred, the pristine white walls of the Hunter Association hallway dissolving into a swirling vortex of colors – deep crimson, murky brown, splashes of sickly green. The ground beneath his feet seemed to give way, replaced by an unbearable lightness, then a crushing gravity.
His stomach lurched. It felt like falling, but without the wind, without the rush. Just a disorienting, sickening pull. His ears rang, a high-pitched whine that drowned out all other sounds, replaced by a distant, guttural roar that grew louder and closer with terrifying speed. He could smell it then – a cloying stench of blood, iron, and something burnt, acrid. It filled his nostrils, making him gag.
Then, abruptly, the falling stopped. He slammed into something hard and uneven, a jolt that rattled his teeth and sent a fresh wave of pain through his body. He gasped, his eyes flying open, and was immediately assaulted by chaos.
He was no longer in the clean hallway. He was on hard, muddy ground, littered with debris and bodies. The air was thick with dust and the metallic tang of blood. Around him, a cacophony erupted: screams, clanging steel, the thud of heavy boots, and the terrifying, incessant shouts of men. He scrambled to his hands and knees, bewildered, his head swimming, trying to process the impossible transformation.
Towering, rough-hewn wooden palisades stretched into the hazy distance, partially collapsed in places. Figures clad in dented, mud-splattered armor charged past him, crude swords and axes glinting menacingly. He saw a man fall, a spear protruding from his chest, his eyes wide and vacant. Blood, so much blood, seeped into the churned earth.
“Move, recruit! Get to the line!” a gruff voice roared beside him, followed by a heavy boot kicking his side.
He flinched, pain radiating through him, and looked up. A burly soldier, his face grimed with dirt and sweat, glared down at him. The man wore a tattered, crimson tabard over worn leather armor. Before Kim Hyu-Gi could respond, the soldier pointed with a blood-stained sword towards a chaotic front line where men clashed with savage intensity.
Kim Hyu-Gi’s eyes darted to his own attire. Rough, plain brown tunic, worn trousers, and crude leather boots. No Hunter gear, no system interface, nothing. He was just a random, insignificant figure in this overwhelming maelstrom.
“Kill the Southern dogs! For the Emperor!” a voice bellowed from somewhere behind him, and a wave of men surged forward, trampling over fallen bodies, their faces contorted in battle lust.
He froze, his F-Class instincts screaming for escape, but there was nowhere to go. He was trapped on an endless, chaotic ancient battlefield, a soldier in a war he didn't understand, surrounded by the stench of death and the roar of combat. This was it. The Hell Simulation.
He barely had time to register the metallic glint before a crude, barbed arrow slammed into his chest, just below his sternum. A searing, white-hot pain exploded through him, stealing his breath, his vision blurring once more. He looked down, seeing the fletching vibrate, feeling the arrowhead penetrate deep, puncturing something vital. His legs buckled.
This wasn't hyper-realistic. This *was* real. The agonizing pain, the sudden, shocking impact, the warmth of his own blood blooming across his tunic. He coughed, a wet, gurgling sound, and slumped forward into the mud, his last thought a desperate, terrified whisper: *This is really happening.*
Then, darkness. And silence. An absolute, crushing void.
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