The interior of the alley was eerily silent.
“Ha… There really was a place like this. Joo Yidam, did you have a knack for architecture as well?”
“Well, something like that.”
Gwak Dohyeong adjusted the barrier generator, carefully handling the broken device.
“Is that thing okay?”
At my question, Gwak Dohyeong shook his head with a tired expression.
“Well, at least it’s not completely broken…”
Kang Han, who had been continuously engaged in combat, set down his greatsword to catch his breath, then looked up at me.
“Joo Yidam, what did you see on that terminal? Your face is still stiff.”
“That’s…”
I was about to speak when it happened.
[Ah, so it has come to this.]
A sudden voice from the lab director echoed.
The voice was calm, but it carried a sense of futility and resignation.
[It’s all over now…]
Gwak Dohyeong let out an exasperated sigh and clicked his tongue.
“There he goes again with his gloomy talk.”
However, as the lab director’s next words came through, Gwak Dohyeong’s casual demeanor quickly turned to vigilance.
[They have found us. You’ve uncovered the truth, and now…]
“What is he talking about?”
Gwak Dohyeong looked around in confusion.
“Wait a second.”
Kang Han muttered lowly as he suddenly stood up, his eyes narrowing and his entire body tense.
“What’s going on?” Gwak Dohyeong asked, but Kang Han didn’t answer.
Instead, he slowly raised his head to gaze into the shadows of the alley.
“Something’s wrong.”
Kang Han’s voice was laced with tension and unease.
As a berserker, he was more sensitive to killing intent than anyone else, but this time it was different.
“Kang Han, what’s wrong?”
I asked, but Kang Han only bit his lips tightly, scanning the surroundings in silence.
Soon, we all understood why.
Even I and Gwak Dohyeong began to feel it—clearly and vividly.
“What… is that…”
The space around us was subtly trembling.
It felt as if the air itself was distorting, vibrating, and pressing against our skin.
“The space…” Gwak Dohyeong stammered with a trembling voice. “It’s twisting.”
In that moment, the lab director’s story from the terminal flashed through my mind—arrogant humans who crossed the line and celestial beings who delivered divine punishment upon them.
There was no doubt about it.
What was manifesting before us was a Celestial.
It was a sensation I had never experienced before, yet it was unmistakable.
And among the Celestials, only one would descend so close to the mortal realm and reveal such an overwhelming presence.
The ‘God of Vengeance and Execution.’
The name surfaced in my mind just as it happened.
“Whoa…!”
“Ugh…!”
The air itself seemed to seethe with malice, as if the world was imbued with hostility.
It pressed against my skin with crushing force.
Soon, that sensation materialized into a single beam of light.
[Weak beings, know that the price of truth is annihilation.]
The voice of the Celestial echoed.
It wasn’t merely a sound; it was a proclamation engraved into the depths of existence.
Sweat beaded on Kang Han’s forehead, and his voice trembled.
“Run… This isn’t an opponent we can fight…”
Even the berserker, who would normally charge headlong into death, was now cowering like a frightened dog, his reaction revealing just how dire the situation was.
It was then I realized I had made the wrong choice.
‘If only I had trusted the lab director from the beginning.’
We could have bypassed the lab according to her instructions, opened only the panic room, executed her lover who had grown frail after decades of confinement, and escaped the dungeon with the promised reward.
But as always, regret comes too late.
The Celestial before us was undeniable proof of our mistake.
Thud.
The God of Vengeance and Execution raised a hand.
In that instant, a tremendous weight engulfed us, and it felt as if our very existence was suspended in the void.
The sensation was far stronger than the rush of a rollercoaster—an overwhelming sense of detachment that gripped my entire being.
It felt as if we had transcended the physical constraints of this world, our souls left floating, gazing down upon the world from a surreal perspective.
In this disorienting state, the entirety of the lab came into view.
I couldn’t comprehend what was happening.
[We still do not grant permission.]
The God of Vengeance and Execution uttered an enigmatic chant, channeling an unknown power into the raised hand.
And then, the unthinkable happened.
Clunk! Clunk! Screeeech!
All the locking mechanisms across the lab simultaneously lost their light and began to open, one by one.
All the doors dividing the corridors and sections swung open without resistance, and the monsters that had been slumbering in the darkness of the lab awakened.
From afar, grotesque creatures made of metal and flesh began moving erratically, prowling the area.
As they sensed the presence of living beings, they slowly but steadily advanced.
Soon after, even the most secure door of the panic room at the heart of the lab creaked open.
From the depths of its darkness, a tremendous entity began to emerge.
At that moment, a monstrous roar reverberated throughout the lab.
“GrrrrrraaaAAAAHHHHHHH!”
A piercing, agonizing howl shook the entire lab.
With that sound, all the monsters began moving as if following the orders of a commanding officer. The
Celestial, having fulfilled its purpose, left one final message before disappearing.
[Leaving behind ruin, I depart.]
When the presence of the Celestial vanished, we returned to reality.
Though it lasted only a moment, the oppressive exhaustion left by its divine presence made it difficult to move.
The sensation of having our souls bound by a divine entity went beyond discomfort—it tempted a horrifying urge for self-destruction.
Shaking my splitting headache away, I barely managed to regain my senses.
Of all of us, Kang Han, with his unparalleled mental resilience, was the first to recover.
Not long after, Gwak Dohyeong also displayed the quick thinking befitting his high rank in the academy.
“Damn it, damn it, damn it! Move! Get moving!”
Slapping his legs repeatedly, Gwak Dohyeong finally managed to stand on shaky feet.
“What now?” Kang Han asked, his gaze fixed on me. Confusion was written all over his face.
“What else?”
The path forward had never been clearer.
I adjusted my gear and replied.
“We survive.”
The timeline: until the lab collapses.
The objective: survive the monstrous creature that had escaped from the panic room.
The hunt had already begun.
Originally, the monster trapped in the panic room—Shim Junghoo, the former lover of the lab director—should have been weak, having been deprived of sustenance for countless years.
But the arrival of the Celestial had changed everything.
Celestials are beings that accomplish their goals while conserving as much energy as possible—energy-efficient entities, so to speak.
The God of Vengeance and Execution redirected all the lab’s energy and causality into a single monster, as divine punishment for the arrogant humans who dared to manipulate dimensions.
Without lifting a finger, the Celestial enacted its judgment on humanity, setting off a chain of calamities.
“SCREEEEECH! GRAAAHHH!”
Shim Junghoo, with grotesquely swollen limbs, rampaged through the lab corridors.
The door to the panic room hung in tatters.
The anguished cries echoing throughout the lab filled the air with an unbearable sense of dread.
“At this rate, Team 2 will encounter the panic room monster before we do.”
Team 2, led by the electromancer Kim Lara, had bypassed hacking the metal doors entirely by disabling the entire system, advancing at a rapid pace.
That was the problem.
Far ahead of Team 1, Team 2 would likely be the first to face the monstrous abomination.
If left unchecked, Team 2 would be annihilated—young academy prodigies who were supposed to one day conquer the Tower, shredded mercilessly in this enigmatic dungeon.
That couldn’t be allowed to happen.
“There’s no time. We’re going to save Team 2 now.”
“Damn, I like how clear that is! Let’s go!”
The lab’s collapse had already begun.
All the energy and causality meant to sustain the ‘buffer zone’ had been funneled into Shim Junghoo.
Even the dark, cosmic-like pathways felt unstable, with platforms disappearing one by one.
Stepping on an unstable platform risked plunging into infinite space.
If someone fell, they would drift forever in the void.
Gwak Dohyeong peered into the void beyond and turned to me, pale and horrified, like someone who had seen something they shouldn’t have.
“Uh, uh…”
“Idiot, stop overthinking and run!”
Unable to watch any longer, Kang Han grabbed Gwak Dohyeong by the back of his neck and jumped.
“AAAAAHHHHH!”
Leaving the flailing Gwak Dohyeong behind, I was about to follow when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“Whew, barely caught up.”
It was Wi Seoyeon.
I widened my eyes in surprise as she flashed a rare grin.
“What’s with the look? You disobeyed orders and charged into this dangerous space on your own. Where’s that bravado now?”
“How did you…”
“The lab director guided me. Turns out, she has a tragic story of her own.”
Apparently, Wi Seoyeon had uncovered the truth in her own way.
Should I commend her for that? Regardless, she skillfully avoided the crumbling platforms and leapt toward me.
Grabbing my wrist, she shouted.
“Let’s go!”
To be continued.