The pond rippled behind him, but Lee Kang Woo's mind was far from calm.
His sixteen-year-old face stared back at him. The face he had forgotten. The face from when he still believed the world was fair.
Now, that very face felt like a cruel joke.
"This is either a dream… or someone's idea of comedy," he muttered, standing up.
A breeze passed through the tall grass and distant trees. The floating island above cast a soft shadow on the glimmering pond. Birds circled overhead, free and untouched by the weight of life. Everything was calm — unnaturally calm.
Too calm.
Kang Woo clenched his fists. His body felt light, strong, healthy… but also unfamiliar. Like slipping into old clothes that didn't quite fit anymore.
His back didn't ache. His knees didn't crack. He didn't feel pain.
But he also didn't feel safe.
The mountains were sharp like blades. The wind carried something else now — faint echoes of shouting, the clash of metal. Distant… but real.
He stepped away from the pond and walked through the forest, each step crunching over leaves and soft moss. His senses were sharper. Every sound, every shift of shadow caught his attention.
Then — a scream.
A human one.
High-pitched. Painful.
Then another — louder and closer.
Kang Woo stopped.
From behind the trees, he saw them.
A boy — maybe thirteen — in ragged robes, running desperately. Behind him, three men dressed in crimson armor chased him, laughing like jackals. One had a curved blade. Another had a metal whip dragging across the ground. The third simply cracked his knuckles as he ran.
"No! Stop!!" the boy cried.
None of them listened.
Kang Woo's body moved before his thoughts did. He dashed forward, grabbing a thick branch off the ground — heavy and uneven, but solid. His heart pounded in rhythm with the approaching men.
He didn't have a plan.
He didn't know where he was.
But some things never changed.
Bullies were bullies.
Even in another world.
"HEY!"
The crimson-armored men stopped.
Kang Woo stepped out from the brush, branch in hand, eyes burning.
"Three adults against a kid?" he said, his voice sharp. "Must feel real brave."
They stared at him — confused, then amused.
"And who the hell are you?" the man with the whip asked, smirking.
"I don't know yet," Kang Woo replied. "But I've had a very bad day."
Kang Woo stared at the three men rushing the terrified boy.
He didn't have a plan. He didn't have power. But he had killed things before — not people, but dreams, hopes, chances. Survival had taught him everything he knew.
He spotted a broken, sharp branch beside him — long, pointy, jagged. A makeshift spear.
He gripped it tight.
> "I used to be good with javelins in high school… let's see if my arm still remembers."
He took a deep breath. Aimed.
Threw.
The stick sliced through the air like a bullet — pure instinct and muscle memory.
THUD.
Straight into the fat guy's neck. The one running barehanded.
The man's eyes widened as he stumbled mid-step. He choked, blood spitting from his mouth. He collapsed, twitching — dead before his face hit the dirt.
Kang Woo stood frozen for a moment.
> I just… killed someone.
The sword guy and whip guy froze too. For a second, their arrogance cracked.
Then the sword-wielder roared and charged, blade gleaming.
Too fast. Kang Woo couldn't follow his steps. He raised his hands in reflex, catching a shallow slash across his arm.
Blood sprayed.
But his feet moved on their own.
He twisted his body, grabbed a rock from the ground, and slammed it into the man's temple with a scream.
CRACK.
The sword guy twitched. Blood spilled. He dropped like a puppet cut from its strings.
Then—
SNAP!
The whip wrapped around Kang Woo's neck and yanked.
He fell hard, gasping, his vision spinning. His fingers clawed at the rope, but it was tight. Burning.
The whip-man stood above him, laughing. "You're dead now, brat."
Kang Woo's vision blurred. His arms went numb. The forest started to spin.
Then—
CRUNCH.
A sickening sound — like a melon being dropped from a rooftop.
The whip went limp.
Kang Woo coughed and rolled over.
There — standing behind the twitching corpse of the whip-user — was the same terrified boy from earlier. Barely thirteen. Blood on his face. In both arms, he held a massive 10kg boulder, cracked and red.
The boy dropped it.
His hands were trembling. His eyes were empty.
"I… I killed him…" the boy whispered.
Kang Woo sat up, still panting, still dizzy.
He looked at the dead men. Then at the boy.
This world wasn't a dream.
And it sure as hell wasn't heaven.
It was kill or be killed.
And even kids understood that.