The Twisted Core pulsed softly in the clearing, its faint light casting warped shadows across the shattered stone.
Seo-jin staggered forward, each step a small war against his broken body.
The pain was constant now.
A dull roar in the back of his mind.
His ankle throbbed.
His chest burned.
His fragment flickered weakly, barely responding.
And yet…
His eyes stayed locked on the core.
It called to him.
A whisper too soft for words.
A promise too tempting to resist.
"Power."
"Freedom."
"You don't have to be weak anymore."
Seo-jin's heart pounded.
He clenched his fists so tightly his nails cut into his palms.
— "I'm not weak," he rasped aloud, though no one was there to hear.
The core shimmered.
And laughed.
**
In his mind's eye, images flared.
Himself — standing atop the ruins of the Lower City.
Monsters and men alike bowing before him.
Ko kneeling.
Ha-eun reaching toward him, awe in her eyes.
All he had to do was reach out.
All he had to do was take it.
"Isn't that what you wanted?"
"To never be helpless again?"
Seo-jin squeezed his eyes shut.
"No," he whispered.
But the word was hollow.
Liar.
Of course he wanted it.
He was tired.
Tired of scraping by.
Tired of bowing to those stronger than him.
Tired of surviving instead of living.
He took another step toward the core.
Another.
Another.
Each step harder than the last.
Each breath a battle.
**
Then—
A sound.
Low. Rumbling. Wet.
Seo-jin froze.
From the mist behind the core, something emerged.
Huge.
Twisted.
Wrong.
A creature — no, a Guardian.
Its body was a grotesque fusion of flesh and fragment stone, pulsing with sickly light.
Its eyes — if they could be called that — glowed red.
It moved with slow, deliberate purpose.
Blocking the path to the core.
Protecting it.
Seo-jin swallowed hard.
— "Of course," he muttered bitterly. "It was never going to be that easy."
The Guardian bared jagged teeth.
And charged.
**
Seo-jin threw himself sideways, barely avoiding a massive claw swipe that shattered the ground where he'd stood.
Pain lanced through his ankle as he rolled.
He gasped — but forced himself upright.
"Focus. Don't die here."
The Guardian roared and came again, faster than something that size should have been able to move.
Seo-jin danced back, limping badly.
He needed a plan.
Now.
**
Dialogue inside Seo-jin's mind:
"I can't match it in strength."
"I can't outrun it forever."
"Use the environment. Use your fragment. Outsmart it."
He scanned the clearing quickly.
Broken pillars.
Loose rubble.
Unstable ground near the core.
Risky.
But risk was all he had left.
**
The Guardian lunged again.
Seo-jin baited it — faking a stumble — and led it toward the nearest pillar.
As it closed in, he activated a micro-fissure at the base of the crumbling stone.
CRACK.
The pillar snapped, toppling toward the Guardian.
It reacted — smashing the debris aside with a swipe.
Too strong.
Seo-jin gritted his teeth.
"One trick won't be enough."
He ducked under another swing.
Activated another fissure — this time on the ground itself.
The ground buckled.
The Guardian stumbled — just slightly.
Seo-jin hurled a shard of metal at its exposed shoulder.
The metal bounced harmlessly off its armored flesh.
But the Guardian snarled, distracted.
Seo-jin moved.
Fast.
Or as fast as his broken body allowed.
**
He circled toward the unstable ground near the core.
The mist thickened, swirling violently.
The core pulsed faster.
As if sensing the battle.
As if hungry.
Seo-jin felt its pull growing stronger.
"I can use this."
He baited the Guardian closer.
Another fissure.
Another shudder of the earth.
The Guardian lunged — straight into a patch of unstable terrain.
The ground gave way with a grinding roar.
The monster fell partially into the sinkhole.
Trapped.
But only for a moment.
Already it was clawing its way free, shrieking in rage.
Seo-jin knew he had seconds.
Maybe less.
He didn't hesitate.
He poured what little strength he had left into his fragment.
One final fissure.
Sharp. Precise. Ruthless.
Right through the monster's exposed spine.
The Guardian spasmed violently.
Howled.
And collapsed.
**
Silence crashed down like a physical blow.
Seo-jin fell to his knees, gasping.
Every nerve screamed.
His vision blurred.
His fragment sputtered and flickered inside him.
But he was alive.
Again.
Barely.
He staggered upright.
Turned to the core.
And finally —
Finally —
Stepped forward.
**
The Twisted Core hovered before him, pulsating with malignant light.
Closer now, Seo-jin could feel it more clearly.
The promises.
The threats.
The hunger.
"Take me."
"Become more."
"Or die small and forgotten."
Seo-jin's hands trembled as he reached out.
His mind screamed warnings.
His heart screamed desires.
He touched the core.
**
Pain.
Agony.
Fire.
The world exploded into light and darkness.
He screamed — but no sound left his throat.
The core tore into him.
Into his fragment.
Into his mind.
Into his soul.
He saw visions.
A thousand futures.
Some glorious.
Most monstrous.
Him — standing atop the Lower City, drenched in blood.
Him — kneeling, broken, consumed by the core.
Him — alone, hated, feared.
"Who are you, Seo-jin?"
"What do you truly want?"
The core's voice thundered inside him.
He clung to himself desperately.
His memories.
His pain.
His stubborn, infuriating will to survive.
He wasn't a god.
He wasn't a monster.
He was Seo-jin.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
**
The core resisted.
It wanted to mold him.
To devour him.
To remake him.
He resisted back.
**
It felt like hours.
It felt like seconds.
Time ceased to matter.
Only struggle.
Only choice.
**
Finally —
The core shuddered.
Dimmed.
Yielded.
Seo-jin collapsed onto the cold stone, gasping.
The Noyau Déformé shrank into a thin sliver of burning light.
And fused into his fragment.
The world stabilized.
Seo-jin lay there, trembling.
Broken.
Alive.
Changed.
**
He didn't know what he had become.
Not yet.
But he knew one thing.
He had won.
At least for now.
He smiled bitterly.
And passed out cold.
His body twitched once, twice, as if rejecting the foreign power now anchored deep inside him.
Searing heat raced along his veins, setting every nerve aflame.
He convulsed helplessly against the broken stone, caught between life and something darker.
"This is just the beginning," whispered a voice at the edge of his mind — a fragment of the core that refused to fully sleep.
In the ruined silence of the Trial Zone, Seo-jin's breathing finally slowed.
Shallow. Ragged.
But steady
Above him, the mist churned.
And somewhere, far beyond sight, other eyes turned to watch.
The boy who had dared claim the Twisted core… would not go unnoticed.
Not anymore.