It was a day like any other. Warm sunlight bathed the earth. Fareed sat in his room, scrolling his phone, laughing at dumb videos. Outside, his parents argued over something trivial. His younger sister blasted music. Just another chaotic, ordinary day.
Then the sky cracked.
Literally.
A great thunderous roar shattered every window on the street. Fareed looked up and saw it. A split running down the blue sky like a spiderweb on glass, pulsing with eerie, purple light. People screamed. Phones buzzed with alerts.
The world was ending.
Buildings collapsed. Roads split. People began vanishing before his eyes disintegrating into particles of light. His mother screamed his name. His father tried to run. But they, too, disappeared. His sister reached out to him… and was gone.
He was alone.
And then
[SYSTEM BOOTING…]
Time froze. Everything faded into grayscale. Fareed collapsed onto a white void, breathless, shivering.
A mechanical voice spoke:
[You are the final soul of Universe-0911. The core structure has collapsed. Preservation impossible.]
"W-what…?"
[New Objective: Reconstruct the Mythic Crystal. Gather 30 Mythic Fragments from 30 alternate universes. Only then may the cycle be reversed.]
"Who… Who did this?! Why me?!"
[Information locked. Requirement not met.]
[WARNING: Upon death, you will be forcibly extracted and returned to the void. Rebirth will occur in the next designated universe. The process is extremely painful and psychologically damaging.]
[Survive at all costs.]
His screams echoed in the void.
Then a light enveloped him
------------ --------
Rebirth in the Murim World
Fareed gasped awake, coughing blood, in a hut of rotting bamboo and straw. His body was smaller. Younger. His hands no longer his. Memories surged.
A new name: Yoon Haneul. A beggar orphan in the slums of the Southern Wastes.
But inside… he was still Fareed.
Still broken. Still burning.
And still bound to the system.
[System Initialized: Murim World]
[Rebirth Status: Success]
[Fragment Presence: Undetected Begin Assimilation and Growth]
---
The Orphan Years
The first year was hell.
Fareed slept in sewage tunnels beneath the lower market district of Yeongseong City. Rats bit his fingers while he slept. Cold rain soaked his bones. He learned quickly that in this world, kindness was a liability. Boys his age would slit throats over stale buns.
He was beaten, robbed, starved, spat on.
And yet, every time he fell… he got back up.
Because the system never let him forget. Every three days, it flashed his objective:
[Survive. Adapt. Grow. Destroy. Rebuild.]
He soon discovered the worst part of this cursed mission:
Death wasn't the end. It was reset.
Fareed died.
Again. And again. And again.
He was stabbed, shot, burned, poisoned, crushed, drowned, impaled, dismembered, starved, bled, tortured, beheaded, and shattered into nothing.
Over 1,600,000 times.
One point six million deaths.
Each time, dragged back into the void, soul screaming, memories intact. Each time, reborn as a baby in the same slums, forced to relive the agony of rebuilding his body, mind, and martial path.
He knew what it felt like to feel his heart burst in his chest, his bones torn apart by beasts, his brain split by blades. He knew fear. He knew pain.
But most of all he knew exhaustion.
He was tired of dying. Tired of beginning again. Tired of hope.
He was no longer a man. He was a shell with purpose.
He stopped counting after the millionth rebirth.
But he never gave up.
---
By age 10 in his current life, Fareed had mastered the art of observation. He watched mercenaries train in the alleyways of broken dojos. He memorized footwork, breathing patterns, hand signs. He mimicked them alone at night.
He trained with sticks. Threw rocks for hours. Strengthened his fists by striking tree trunks until his knuckles cracked open and bled.
Pain became familiar. Hunger became fuel.
He began to fight back.
At 12, he took down a teenage gang leader using nothing but a broken wine bottle and a rusted dagger. He earned his first nickname: "Ghost Knife."
By 14, he controlled three city blocks in the slums, recruiting other orphans. But he never grew attached. They came and went dying in gang wars, plague, or betrayal.
At 16, he was offered recruitment into the Black Fangs, an underground martial cult. He refused. They sent assassins. He sent back heads.
Fareed was not building a kingdom. He was forging a weapon.
--- ------- ------- ----- ------
Arrival at the Lotus Sect
Age 17.
Fareed stood at the gates of the Lotus Sect, blood crusting his robes, a shattered blade tied to his back. His name was whispered in the streets now, feared by criminals, respected by outcasts.
The guards sneered.
Until an elder stepped forward and met Fareed's gaze.
And froze.
There was no innocence in the boy's eyes. No mercy. Only purpose. Only fire.
"This one… bring him in. He's… something else."
Fareed crossed into the Lotus Sect.
And the system whispered:
[This is where the test begins.]
So with blood-soaked fists and a shattered heart, Fareed stepped into his first world not to save it, but to destroy it.