The alarms eventually died.
Not because danger had passed—
but because the city had accepted it.
Sirens faded into a dull mechanical hum, like an exhausted beast giving up. The sky remained fractured, clouds sliced open by thin white fissures of light. Seoul looked abandoned, even though millions still hid behind windows and trembling screens.
Seo Joon stood alone in the middle of the street, staring at the countdown hovering before his eyes.
[Time Remaining: 2 hours 11 minutes]
[Candidates must enter the Tower.]
He swallowed.
Everything was too quiet.
Dangerously quiet.
Even the wind seemed afraid to move.
Joon slipped into a narrow alley, escaping the oppressive tension of the main road. Garbage bins rattled. Neon signs buzzed weakly. Somewhere far behind, a woman cried.
His footsteps echoed on wet pavement.
He didn't know where he was going—he just needed space.
Space to breathe.
Space to think.
But every time he blinked, the Architect's silhouette returned.
The hollow, empty eyes.
The voice that scraped inside his skull.
"Answer the summons…"
His stomach twisted.
Why him?
Why a Summon Gate that failed every time he tried to use it?
He rubbed his temples. The world pulsed inside his head like a heartbeat.
Then—
BZZZT—
Static ripped through the air.
Seo Joon froze.
A vending machine beside him flickered violently. Screens all down the alley sparked—old monitors, neon advertisements, even a shattered phone on the ground.
They all displayed the same symbol:
A single eye inside a circle.
The Architect's mark.
Joon staggered back.
"Not again… not now."
The static deepened, rumbling like a creature waking up.
Then a voice—layered, distorted, dragged through countless dimensions—leaked from every speaker at once:
"…Candidate… 017…"
Joon's breath hitched.
This time, it wasn't inside his head.
The vending machine's glass cracked.
An old LCD monitor erupted into sparks.
The voice sharpened:
"…your gate… incomplete…"
"…your summons… reject you…"
"…until you climb…"
His fists clenched.
"So you're saying I'm weak?"
The machines screamed with digital static—like they were offended.
Then the voice shifted. Calmer.
Almost… amused.
"…not weak… unfinished…"
The lights dimmed.
The air grew colder.
The world leaned in.
"…you are a vessel still being carved…"
A chill crawled down Joon's spine.
Vessel.
Being carved.
Before he could speak, the voice cut again:
"…the Tower will shape you… or break you…"
The symbol vanished.
Every machine shut down at once, plunging the alley into suffocating silence.
Seo Joon slumped back against a wall, breath trembling.
He wasn't just being watched.
He was being prepared.
And that terrified him more than anything.
He checked the time again:
[1 hour 56 minutes remaining]
He forced himself forward.
But the moment he stepped out of the alley—
he froze.
A crowd had gathered down the street.
Not screaming.
Not panicking.
Just… staring.
Every person pointed their phone toward the sky.
Seo Joon followed their gaze.
A tear—massive, glowing, jagged—split open above Seoul's Tower.
And through it…
A figure floated.
Not human.
Not alive.
Not entirely real.
Like a puppet hung by invisible strings, limbs dangling, head tilted unnaturally to one side.
A Guardian.
But unlike any legend.
Unlike anything sacred or divine.
Wrong.
Broken.
Hollow.
The system reacted instantly:
────────────────
[WARNING — KOREA'S FIRST GUARDIAN DETECTED]
[CLASSIFICATION: UNKNOWN]
────────────────
Whispers flooded the street.
"Is that… ours?"
"Why isn't it moving?"
"It looks dead…"
"God… is that thing supposed to protect us?"
Seo Joon's heartbeat quickened.
The Guardian's shadow stretched across the city like a dark hand closing over it.
Then—
its head snapped down.
Directly at Seo Joon.
His blood froze.
It didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't move.
It just stared.
The edges of the world blurred.
The Architect's voice echoed again:
"…a vessel still being carved…"
The Guardian's form glitched—flickering like a dying broadcast.
And then—
It vanished back into the rift.
The tear sealed shut.
Silence returned—heavy, crushing silence.
Seo Joon forced himself to breathe.
This wasn't a game.
This wasn't a dungeon.
This wasn't fantasy.
The Tower wasn't sending monsters.
It was sending judges.
A final message burned into his vision:
────────────────
[FIRST TRIAL BEGINS SOON]
[All Candidates, prepare for contact.]
────────────────
Seo Joon tightened his jaw.
He wasn't ready.
But the Tower didn't care.
The shaping had already begun.