The moment Yamino opened his eyes, a deep hum echoed faintly through the floor.
His gaze snapped toward the two boxes.
"What the…?"
They weren't the dull, metallic iron husks from last night. No, now they glowed—veins of crimson pulsating across their surfaces, like molten lava trapped under skin. The metal shimmered in a bloody red sheen, each box radiating heat so intense that the air itself wavered.
Cautiously, Yamino reached out. But the moment his fingers neared the first box—
"Hsssss—!"
He recoiled, a flash of pain zapping through his hand before it even made contact.
"Too hot," he muttered, rubbing his palm. "They're still changing."
With no other option, he kept his distance and turned toward the window. He pushed aside the curtain just enough to peek through the cracks. It was still dim outside. A sliver of light bled across the horizon. Was it still night? Or the earliest moments of dawn?
He wasn't sure. But he could see clearly enough… and he didn't like what he saw.
A shadow moved near the forest edge.
Then another.
His heartbeat thumped louder in his ears.
This feeling…
It was the same dread that had clawed at him in his past life—the one he felt right before death.
He knew this fear.
And he knew who caused it.
"Those bastards…"
His breath fogged against the glass.
He remembered them all too clearly—the ones who had taken first place in the Game of Babylon.
A strange, unnatural race. The game called them the Seraphborn—a hybrid lineage born from ancient humans and fallen angels. They weren't just players; they were executioners. Designed by the system itself to win.
And worse, they were the ones who killed him.
"They were always cheating…" he growled under his breath.
The Seraphborn had strange, terrifying powers. Their mere presence warped things—metal bent to their will, weapons danced around them, even souls trembled in their grasp. Yamino had seen them corrupt swords, spears, even bows—turning normal weapons into divine killing tools with a flick of their hands.
"They don't play the game," he muttered. "They are the game."
They could influence others through some kind of radiant energy—an aura that made people weaker, confused, obedient. Yamino still didn't know how it worked, but he had seen it happen. Entire camps fell without a fight. Leaders surrendered without reason.
It was like fate bent around them.
And now… one of them might be near.
Yamino narrowed his eyes. "If they find me this early, I'm done."
He inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. Focus. Think.
The only tool he had in this game, as a level 1 player, was the basic system panel.
He spoke the command softly:
"Map."
A glowing grid appeared before his eyes—a top-down layout of the forest zone. Trees, rivers, elevation changes. A blinking yellow dot marked his position. No other player locations. Just him.
Below the map, another number slowly faded into view:
[ Players Remaining: 100,000 ]
"The culling hasn't started yet," Yamino muttered. "Everyone's still alive."
But for how long?
He clenched his jaw, eyes flicking back to the boxes still glowing at his side.
.
.
.
An oppressive pressure crashed down from above like a mountain. Yamino's body tensed instinctively. He looked up.
A girl floated in the air, just above the treetops. She had long silver hair that flowed like moonlight and one enormous black wing sprouting from her back. Her eyes glowed violet. Her presence twisted the air around her—suffocating, almost divine.
"My, my," she said with a smirk, voice echoing unnaturally. "Looks like a ghost has entered the game."
Yamino's eyes narrowed. "A Seraphborn."
"Very well," she continued, licking her lips. "I shall devour you and make you a part of me."
Yamino grit his teeth. "Bitch."
"Oho?" She giggled, drifting lazily through the air like a feather. "Looks like we have a bad boy. Worry not—I won't let you feel pain." Her smile widened. "Now come to me, my baby."
"What do you mean by that?" Yamino snapped. "I thought everyone's powers were restricted here!"
"Ohhh, that?" She twirled midair, wing spreading with elegant menace. "You probably don't know. After all, you're just a weak little soul."
Yamino's mind was racing. If her power is working, then she's either cheating—or… she's not bound by the same rules.
"And what are you then?" he growled. "A parasite with wings? A power that only knows how to devour?"
She tilted her head playfully. "Am I not powerful? Come on, don't act surprised. We already knew something like this would happen. Some of us can see the future, you know."
She landed softly on a tree branch without even disturbing a leaf.
"I'm probably one of them," she said, lifting a finger to her lips. "And your future? It's death. Followed by a long, eternal stay… inside me."
Yamino's face twisted. "Why? Even if I die, shouldn't I just disappear? Not end up inside you."
"Ah, but that's the beauty of the Game," she cooed, spreading her arms. "The last hundred souls… those who kill them get to keep them. Their power. Their will. Everything. I want you, ghost boy."
Her form shimmered—and suddenly she vanished.
In the blink of an eye, she appeared in front of him.
Her hand drove straight into his chest.
"Kh—!"
There was no blood. No tearing of flesh. But Yamino's body screamed in agony. A searing heat surged through him, spreading like fire through his veins. His legs gave out. His vision blurred.
She's pulling my soul—!
"You'll make a beautiful addition," she whispered, stroking his cheek with her free hand. "Don't resist."
Yamino's mind began to fade.
No… not again… not like this—
And then—
"Don't give up, my lord."
A voice.
Unfamiliar. Ancient. Commanding.
It echoed through his soul like thunder cracking open the sky.
Yamino gasped. His right hand twitched, reaching out blindly. His fingers brushed something metallic—
—Click.
The boxes glowed like miniature suns.
The lid of the first one sprang open.
A crimson light burst forth.
And from it, a sniper rifle rose, forged anew. Sleek, brutal, godlike. The air around it bent as if obeying its presence.
The weapon slammed into Yamino's hand.
His finger landed on the trigger.
BOOM!
A red beam of destructive force tore across the air like a wrathful god's spear.
The girl's eyes widened.
"Wha—?!"
The blast struck her neck.
Her body flew back several meters, tumbling like a broken doll. Her wing convulsed, twisting midair as she hit a tree, cracking it in half.
A massive hole gaped in her neck, glowing from within. She struggled to regenerate.
Yamino collapsed to his knees. His eyes were heavy. The gun steamed in his hands.
Still… alive…?
Then, in the corner of his vision:
[ SOLO KING requests the soul of the dead. Do you agree? ]
His lips moved on instinct.
"…Yes."
And then—
Darkness.