The white ceiling of the hospital room hummed with the steady beep... beep... beep... of a heart monitor.
Mori's eyes slowly fluttered open. Sunlight burned his retinas, forcing him to wince and turn his head. He wasn't on the blood-soaked obsidian rock of the 8-Star Gate anymore. He was lying on a clean bed, hooked up to an IV drip, smelling rubbing alcohol and crisp linen.
"Mori? Oh god, Mori!"
A frail hand grabbed his. He turned to see his mother sitting in a wheelchair beside his bed. The black vein-like marks on her neck were still there, but her skin looked less gray than before, and an IV bag of pale blue fluidーlow-grade Association mana suppressorーhung beside her.
"Mom..."
Mori rasped, his throat feeling like dry sandpaper.
"How... where are we?"
"You're at the Central Association Hospital."
A smooth, authoritative voice answered from the doorway. A tall man in a tailored suit stepped into the room, flanked by two armed Association guards. He adjusted his glasses, holding a digital clipboard.
"I'm Director Flores of the Local Gate Management Bureau."
The man said, stopping at the foot of Mori's bed.
"Three hours ago, spatial energy readings spiked through the roof in your residential block. An Unranked Gate manifested directly inside your living room."
Mori's chest tightened.
"My apartment..."
"Secured."
Director Flores replied calmly.
"An Association emergency squad breached the portal to assess the threat. They found you unconscious on an elevated cliff, surrounded by high-grade spatial residue, next to the remains of an unidentified calamity entity. You're lucky our people pulled you out before the ambient pressure crushed your internal organs."
He tapped his clipboard, looking at Mori with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.
"Because a potential high-star anomaly is anchored inside your home, your entire housing block is under strict quarantine. The Association has relocated you and your mother to a secure Association apartment nearby until our S-Rank specialists can contain or seal the gate. All your medical fees and temporary housing are being covered by the state under anomaly protocol."
Mori blinked. Covered by the state? He looked at his mother, who gave him a tearful, relieved nod.
"We'll conduct a full debriefing once your vitals stabilize."
Director Flores added, turning toward the door.
"Rest for now, Mr. Relotto."
By evening, Mori and his mother had been transferred to the safe house. It was a calm and quiet, heavily fortified apartment building reserved for displaced citizens.
Once his mother fell into a deep, restful sleep in the adjacent bedroom, Mori sat on the edge of his bed in the dimly lit living room. He stared down at his hands.
It hadn't been a dream.
He closed his eyes and concentrated, calling out to the system in his mind. Immediately, a translucent window materialized in his vision:
[Name: Mori Relotto]
[Title: Slayer of Calamities]
[Class: God of Tailoring (EX)]
[Level: 1]
[Rank: F-Rank]
[HP: 240/240]
[MP: 370 / 370]
〉 STATS 〈
| Strength (STR): 5 [+10] |
| Agility (AGL): 4 [+10] |
| Vitality (VIT): 4 [+10] |
| Intelligence (INT): 7 [+10] |
| Perception (PER): 8 [+10] |
| Unallocated Stat Points: 0 |
〉 〈
[Title: Slayer of Calamities / +10 to all stats]
[Active Skill: Divine Threadmaster (F) ー Output Restricted by User Vessel]
Mori's breath hitched. God of Tailoring. It was real. And this 'EX' Rank. He's never heard of anything like it before. It has to be better than S-Rank, right?
He held out his right hand, focusing on the memory of the blood-red sky, the leaping hound, and the terrifying moment he had grabbed the air itself.
"Thread..."
He whispered with full concentration.
Nothing happened.
Mori frowned, concentrating harder. He pushed his mana down to his fingertips, trying to force the glowing spatial filaments to manifest again.
A tiny, faint white spark flickered at the tip of his index finger.
Pfft.
It popped like a dying spark of fire and vanished instantly, leaving a sharp, stinging pain in his palm.
[Notice: Skill execution failed.]
[Reason: Current Class Skill 'Divine Threadmaster (F)' possesses an 'EX-Rank' conceptual authority, but your body remains at 'F-Rank'. Mana output is insufficient to sustain full activation.]
Mori winced, rubbing his aching fingers. F-Rank.
Even though his class had evolved into a tier never seen before, his physical vessel and mana pool hadn't magically caught up. Trying to power an EX-Rank spatial thread with an F-Rank body was like trying to power an industrial crane with a AAA battery. The restriction was absolute.
If he attempted to unleash a full spatial web like the one that had accidentally diced the skinless calamity hound inside the 8-Star Gate, his own veins would rupture from the pressure long before the thread hit a target.
"Come on..."
Mori muttered through gritted teeth.
"There has to be a way."
He tried again. Instead of trying to rip open space itself like he did under the life-or-death adrenaline inside the gate, he scaled it down. Way down.
He didn't need a giant net to cut a monster into pieces. He just needed a single line.
Mori closed his eyes, visualizing a single strand of silk. He guided a tiny droplet of mana from his core, channeling it slowly down his arm, through his wrist, and out his finger. It felt the same as when he would normally sew pieces of cloth together.
But this felt different. More powerful and unique.
Bzzzt..
A razor-thin, pale white line of light shot out from his index finger, stretching about six inches into the air before wobbling unsteadily. It hummed with a faint, sharp energy.
Mori held his breath, staring at it.
He reached out his other hand and picked up an empty plastic water bottle from the nightstand. Carefully, he moved the bottle toward the floating white thread.
The moment the plastic touched the thread—
SLICE
Without a sound, the top half of the thick plastic bottle slid cleanly off, dropping onto his lap with a smooth, glass-like cut.
Mori let out a quiet gasp.
The thread instantly dissolved, and a wave of exhaustion washed over him. His head throbbed, and his mana bar dipped by a noticeable chunk.
[MP: 320 / 370]
He couldn't unleash world-cutting spatial slashes yet. He couldn't spam it in long battles, and if he pushed too hard, his mana pool would run dry in seconds.
But it worked. Somewhat.
The sunrise over the eastern district of the city was muffled by thick, low-hanging clouds of grey. From the balcony of the safe house, the city looked like an overgrown concrete grid, its edges blurred by the shimmering perimeter wards erected five miles away toward Mori's old apartment block.
Inside the safe house, the air was stale, smelling faintly of cheap disinfectant and mana-proofing paint.
Mori sat at the small formica kitchen table, a half-empty mug of tap water resting between his hands. His knuckles were raw, skin red and peeling around the cuticle line from where his mana had backfired during his late-night practice. Across from him, his mother slept soundly on the fold-out couch, her breathing steady thanks to the high-concentration mana-stabilizing drip the Association paramedics had provided.
He stared down at his index finger.
Five seconds, he calculated silently. If I keep the strand under three inches in length and no thicker than a single human hair, I can hold it for exactly five seconds before the mana feedback scorches my neural pathways.
The electronic lock on the front door hummed, blinking from red to green.
Mori immediately closed the status window as the heavy reinforced door swung inward. Director Flores stepped into the apartment, accompanied not by the tactical guards from the hospital, but by a woman wearing the dark crimson long-coat of a Senior Association Investigator. Her hair was tied in a sharp, low bun, and an orange rank-crestーan A-Rankbadgeーwas pinned to her collar.
"Mr. Relotto."
Flores said smoothly, stepping inside and shutting the door behind them.
"I hope the accommodations have been adequate."
"They're fine.."
Mori said, his voice flat. He didn't stand up.
"How is the neighborhood looking?"
Flores exchanged a brief glance with the woman beside him before pulling out a metal chair and sitting across from Mori. The woman remained standing by the door, her hand resting casually near the hilt of a curved short-sword strapped to her hip. Her sharp, gray eyes scanned the small kitchen, lingering for a fraction of a second on the cleanly sliced plastic water bottle resting in the waste bin by the sink.
Mori's pulse gave a slight spike, but he kept his expression deadpan.
"The neighborhood is completely evacuated."
Flores reported, resting his hands on the table.
"Our containment teams have sealed the entire third floor of your apartment complex with Class-4 Mana Barriers. The portal in your living room remains stable, but its readings are... troubling. It emits zero atmospheric pressure, yet the localized gravity around your coffee table has doubled."
He paused, leaning forward slightly.
"This is Investigator Specialist Clara."
Flores continued, gesturing to the woman.
"She led the secondary reconnaissance team that entered the portal fifty minutes after you were recovered."
Clara took a step forward, her voice cool and precise.
"Mr. Relotto, when my team crossed the gate, we expected an active outbreak zone. Instead, we found ourselves on an elevated rocky plateau overlooking an environment that matches the historical archives of the 8-Star 'Great Outbreak' Gate from forty years ago."
She reached into her coat pocket and placed a clear glass specimen vial on the table. Inside rested a tiny chunk of black, crystallized matterーthe dried blood of the hound Mori had killed.
"We also found a hundred-yard radius of diced organic matter."
Clara said, her eyes boring into Mori's.
"The biological remains belonged to an unregistered hound-type entity. Its hide was thick enough to deflect standard C-Rank artillery. Yet it was chopped into precise, three-inch cubes. The cuts were so smooth that the cellular structures on the edges weren't crushed. They were cleanly separated at a subatomic level."
The room grew very quiet. The hum of the refrigerator felt suddenly loud.
"The Association recovery report states that you were found passed out ten feet away from those remains."
Clara said softly while glaring straight into Mori's eyes.
"Care to explain how an F-Rank Tailor survived a Calamity-class beast long enough for our team to find him?"
Mori felt a cold drop of sweat trickle down his spine, but he forced himself to meet her gaze directly. He had spent his entire life being ignored, looked down upon, and trampled by high-rankers like Bouncer. He knew how the Association worked. If they thought he possessed a S-Rank anomaly or higher, they would lock him in an evaluation facility for 'analysis'ーor worse, draft him into a front-line suicide squad.
"I didn't fight it.."
Mori lied smoothly, his voice laced with the rehearsed terror of a weakling.
"I don't even know what happened."
Flores frowned.
"Explain."
"The portal opened in my living room.."
Mori said, letting his hands tremble slightly on the tabletop.
"I... I was desperate. My mother was dying because I couldn't afford her medicine. I thought if I went in for just ten seconds, I might find a mana stone or a piece of monster hide left behind by a scavenger. Something I could sell."
He swallowed hard, looking down at his scarred knuckles.
"The moment I stepped through, the air felt like iron. I couldn't breathe. Then that... that thing leaped out from the dark. It snarled at me, and I threw my arms up and fell backward off the ledge. I heard a loud snap sound, like glass breaking, and then everything went black. When I woke up, I was in the hospital."
Clara stared at him for five excruciating seconds. Her hand didn't move from her sword hilt.
"A spatial tear.."
She murmured slowly, turning her eyes back to Flores.
"When an Unranked Gate stabilizes, localized spatial shears frequently manifest near the event horizon. If the hound leaped through an unstable spatial fissure while lunging at him..."
"It would have been shredded instantly.."
Flores finished the thought, nodding slowly.
"And the pressure from the tear would easily knock an unarmored F-Rank unconscious."
He released a long breath and stood up, adjusting his cuffs.
"It matches the physical telemetry we gathered from the site. Mr. Relotto, you are extraordinarily lucky. Had you been standing two feet to the left, those spatial shears would have cubed you along with the beast."
"What happens to my home now?"
Mori asked, rising from his chair.
"The Association is classifying the gate as a 'Dormant Calamity Fissure'."
Flores explained.
"Because the portal is anchored inside a private residence, the property is being seized under National Security Statutes. However, in light of your hardship, the Association is providing a permanent stipend of 20,000 credits per month, along with full medical coverage for your mother's treatment, provided you sign over all salvage and exploration rights of the portal to us."
Mori's fists tightened behind his back.
20,000 credits. It was a fortune compared to his old life, but it was a pittance compared to what an 8-Star Gate was worth. More importantly, if the Association took control of the portal, they would construct an industrial outpost inside his living room. He would lose his only link to the world where his class evolution had taken place.
"I need time to think about it."
Mori said quietly.
Flores raised an eyebrow.
"Mr. Relotto, this is a formal offer, but under emergency protocol, we can requisition the property regardless. We are offering you a comfortable way out. You have three days to sign the transfer documents. Until then, you and your mother will remain here under Association protection."
With a brief nod, Flores turned and walked out the door. Investigator Clara stayed behind for a beat longer, her gray eyes lingering on Mori's face.
"A word of advice, Relotto."
She said, her voice dropping to a near-whisper.
"If you really are just an F-Rank who got lucky, take the money and run. People who wander into places they don't belong usually end up in pieces. And gates aren't always kind enough to cut the monster instead of the boy."
She turned and left, the heavy door clicking shut behind her.
The quiet returned, but it was no longer peaceful. It was heavy, suffocating.
Mori stood in the center of the living room, listening to the beep of his mother's heart monitor. Three days. He had three days before the Association locked down his old apartment permanently and cut him off from the gate.
He sat back down on his bed, pulling his small leather-bound tailor's kit out from his old backpack. Inside rested a few rusted needles, spools of cheap cotton thread, and a pair of dull iron shears.
I have to increase my output, he thought, his mind set on the goal. If I stay at F-Rank, I'm just a charity case waiting for the Association to sign my life away. I need stats. I need mana.
He closed his eyes and called up his passive skills.
[Passive Trait: Siphon Seam (S)]
[Effect: Restores 3% HP/MP per slain entity. Permanently absorbs 0.1% of a slain entity's highest stat upon death.]
[Passive Trait: Divine Needlework (EX)]
[Effect: Any physical or conceptual matter can be manipulated, sewn, stitched, or unraveled as if it were thread.]
Mori looked at the dull iron shears in his hand. Then, he focused his mind, reaching deep into his core for that tiny, flickering thread of spatial mana.
"Divine Needlework.." he murmured.
Instead of shooting the thread outward like a weapon, he focused the mana inward, wrapping a razor-thin strand of spatial energy around the blades of his dull iron shears.
Bzzzzzt
The metal hissed. The dull grey iron didn't melt; instead, the spatial thread merged directly into the atomic structure of the blades. The rusty metal shivered, its rough edges smoothing out into a gleaming, obsidian-like sheen. It reminded him of the 8-Star gate.
[Notice: Skill 'Divine Needlework' active.]
[Item Transmutation in progress...]
[Base Material: Low-Grade Iron Shears]
[Infused Material: Spatial Mana Filament]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[Success!]
[Item Created: 'Spatial Shears (Unique - Growth-Type)']
[Properties: Sharpness increased by 400%. Capable of severing physical matter and low-grade mana structures.]
Mori held the altered shears up to the light. They felt lighter, almost weightless, in his grip. The blades no longer looked like cheap iron. They were pitch-black, absorbing the room's light like tiny slits in reality.
He opened his hand, letting a tiny strand of spatial thread flow from his finger directly into the pivot screw of the shears. The thread acted like a high-friction kinetic joint, allowing the blades to snap open and shut with zero mechanical resistance.
Click!
Snap!
It wasn't a world-breaking weapon yet, but it was a tool built specifically for his class. He had successfully taken a basic, physical object and stitched a concept directly into it.
"It works.."
Mori whispered, a thin smile touching his lips for the first time in days.
"I can't throw S-Rank spatial nets yet, but I can use the knowledge I already have from being a tailor. I hope it works.."
He spent the next four hours pushing his limits.
He didn't try to summon large threads anymore. Instead, he practiced micro-threading: weaving microscopic strands of spatial energy through the fabric of his own heavy cotton jacket.
Fail. The mana was too concentrated, burning a quarter-inch hole straight through his left sleeve.
Fail. The thread was too loose, dissolving into harmless light before it could bind with the fabric's weave.
Fail. The tension was too high, causing the jacket's seam to snap under the pressure, ripping the cuff completely off.
By 3:00 AM, the floor around his chair was littered with ruined cloth scraps, burned thread, and empty water bottles. Mori was sweating profusely, his chest heaving as his mana pool drained down to single digits over and over again. Every time his mana hit zero, a blinding headache would tear through his skull, forcing him to lie on the cold floor for twenty long, grueling minutes until his natural regeneration kicked in.
[MP: 12 / 370]
[MP: 45 / 370]
[MP: 110 / 370]
With every cycle of exhaustion and recovery, he felt his control grow slightly sharper. The wild, unmanageable river of spatial energy inside him was gradually forming a channel. His body was adapting. Not by raising his base stats, but by refining his efficiency. He was learning how to achieve maximum sharpness with the absolute minimum amount of mana.
On his thirty-seventh attempt, Mori held up a simple black cotton sleeve.
He focused, sending a hair-thin line of spatial thread through the inner lining, stitching it along the major seam in a tight, interlocking zigzag pattern.
Swwiiishhh...
The fabric hummed quietly. The black thread settled into the cotton, becoming completely invisible to the naked eye.
Mori picked up a heavy stainless steel spoon from the kitchen counter and thrust the handle hard against the reinforced sleeve.
CLANG!
The cotton didn't tear. The steel spoon handle bent at a forty-five-degree angle, while the sleeve remained completely unmarred. The hidden spatial seam had absorbed and redistributed the physical impact across the entire thread structure.
[Notice: Item Successfully Crafted!]
[Level 1 -> Level 2!]
[Gained +5 unallocated stats points]
[Item Name: Reinforced Spatial Seam Sleeve (Rare)]
[Defense Rating: C-Rank (Physical Impact Resistance)]
[Crafting Experience Gained!]
[Item Details]
Name: Reinforced Spatial Seam Sleeve / Grade: E-Rank (Base) / C-Rank (Effect) Creator: Mori Relotto / Item Type: Light Armor (Arm Guard)
[Visual Description] To the naked eye, this appears to be the left sleeve of a cheap, faded black cotton jacket. However, to those with high-grade mana perception or [Flawless Vision], the inner lining reveals a microscopic, glowing zigzag skeleton made of pure, high-tension spatial energy. The fabric occasionally emits a faint, high-frequency hum when subjected to sudden movement.
[Base Stats]
Durability: 250 / 250
Physical Defense: +45 (Equivalent to C-Rank plate mail)
Magic Defense: +5
Agility Penalty: 0
[Embedded Traits & Effects]
[Kinetic Redistribution] (Passive): The spatial threads woven into the seams act as a hyper-efficient shock absorber. Any blunt force physical impact (up to a C-Rank threshold) striking the sleeve is instantly dispersed across the invisible spatial web, completely nullifying kinetic transfer to the wearer's bones. Note: Does not protect against extreme heat or elemental magic.
[Concealed Divinity] (Passive): Because the spatial thread is woven into the atomic structure of the cotton, scanning spells below A-Rank will register this item as a normal, non-magical piece of clothing.
[Spatial Anchor] (Active Synergy): Because the sleeve is laced with the creator's own spatial mana, it requires 20% less mana to channel [Divine Threadmaster] through this arm.
Mori stared at the bent spoon, then down at his sleeve. His hands were trembling, not from exhaustion this time, but from pure, adrenaline-fueled realization.
An F-Rank tailor had just created a piece of clothing with C-Rank physical defense using nothing but scrap cotton and a few drops of mana.
"Three days.."
Mori said to the empty room, his eyes glowing with quiet determination in the dim light.
"I have three days before they seal that gate."
He stood up, putting his altered shears into his pocket and pulling his newly reinforced jacket over his shoulders.
The Association thought he was a helpless victim who had survived by a stroke of luck. Bouncer and his raid team thought he was dead weight suitable only for sweeping floors or sewing underwear.
They were all content to leave him in the dust of the old world.
Mori looked back at his sleeping mother, checking her vitals monitor one last time. Her face was calm, her breathing steady.
"I'll be back before morning, Mom,"
He whispered softly.
He stepped toward the balcony sliding door, unlocking it silently. The cool night air rushed into the room, smelling of rain and distant mana exhaust. Below him, the quiet streets of the safe house district stretched out toward the dark, heavily guarded perimeter.
Beyond that wall lay his old apartment block. Beyond that wall lays the Unranked Gate. Or rather, the 8-Star Gate.
Mori gripped the balcony railing, his spatial shears resting firmly against his hip. He didn't have an army. He didn't have C-Rank armor or a high-grade hunter team behind him.
All he had was an F-Rank body, a spool of invisible spatial thread, and a god-tier class that was waiting to unravel the world.
He needed to get stronger. To protect the only family he had left.