As Clark stepped out of the tunnel, his legs burned with each step. The familiar sound of his boots hitting the cold stone echoed in the narrow space.
Where is this leading? He grumbled internally, frustration building up with every move. His feet ached from the constant walking. The tunnel seemed to stretch forever, and the more he moved, the more his patience wore thin.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reached the end. He climbed the last few stairs and stepped into a sudden burst of light.
"Argh—what the hell?" Clark hissed, squinting as the blinding light hit him straight in the face. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes, blinking rapidly in an attempt to adjust.
His eyes burned, and the world around him seemed to shift and blur. But when his vision cleared, what he saw made his heart stop in his chest.
He was back.
The dusty, dimly lit shithole of a house stretched before him, just as it had when he first entered. The cracked desk, the scattered papers, the musty smell of stale air—it was all the same. The bookshelf he had passed through was now wide open, just as it had been before. Everything was exactly as it was.
Clark stared at it, wide-eyed. "No... you've got to be kidding me," he whispered, a dry laugh escaping his lips. His voice was barely above a whisper, disbelief filling him.
He turned around, his pulse quickening as his heart sank. Please let me be wrong. But there it was—just like before—the tunnel, still framed by the same shelf.
For a long moment, Clark just stood there, frozen. The weight of his thoughts crashed over him. His legs suddenly felt like lead, and he collapsed into the nearest chair, burying his face in his hands.
"Did I just make a damn clown out of myself?" he muttered bitterly, the words muffled by his palms. His voice cracked, frustration bubbling up, mixing with a growing sense of embarrassment.
His mind raced in circles, replaying the events of the day—assassins, shadows, and the weird tunnel. Nothing made sense. Was the tunnel real? Was he imagining it?
Clark let out a sharp, humorless chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. "First assassination attempts, now tunnels that lead back to the same place. Great. Just great."
He sat there for a while, staring at the ceiling, trying to breathe.
Then, suddenly, he noticed something—the dagger he had dropped earlier. The same one he'd picked up during the chaos. The sight of it brought him back to reality.
He reached for it, but just as his fingers brushed the handle, a noise caught his attention. The sound of footsteps.
Tub... tub... tub!
Clark's heart skipped a beat. Someone was coming. Panic shot through him, sharp and quick. His body tensed. Without thinking, he darted back toward the shelf, hiding behind it and pressing himself against the wall.
He could feel his breath catch in his throat, his pulse pounding in his ears. The footsteps grew louder, closer. He held his breath, doing his best to stay still.
He couldn't afford to panic now. His only chance was to stay calm. Think.
The footsteps continued. Closer. Closer. Then, just as he thought he might be caught, something strange happened. His legs moved of their own accord. Without even meaning to, he found himself inching toward the tunnel again.
No, not now, not yet.
But it was too late. His legs had already started carrying him further into the narrow passage.
His heart raced, but he couldn't stop himself. His instincts screamed at him to run, to get out, to escape whatever was chasing him.
He stumbled down the dark tunnel, the air growing colder with every step. Then, just as he tried to steady himself, his foot caught on something.
He tripped and fell, his body hitting the hard ground with a painful thud. A sharp pain shot through his head, and for a second, he thought he might black out.
"Ahh..." he groaned, pressing his hand to the spot that had collided with the stone. "What the hell...?"
When he opened his eyes, the tunnel had changed. The walls seemed to shift, and the path before him stretched out into something unfamiliar. The floor was smooth, the air heavier, as though it had a weight to it. He could hear his own breath echoing off the walls.
He looked around, confusion gripping him.
Where was this? What was happening?
A loud rumble shook the ground beneath him, and he nearly lost his footing. His stomach churned with panic, but something deeper inside of him urged him to keep moving. It was as if he had no choice.
He moved forward, step by step, as the tremors subsided. Soon, he found himself standing in front of a massive stone tomb. The dim light illuminated it faintly, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch across the room.
The air was cold, thick with a sense of dread. Clark felt a strange pull toward it, but the weight of fear pressed on his chest. His heart thudded, his mind screaming at him to turn back. But he couldn't. He took one slow step, then another.
As he neared the tomb, he saw something engraved in the stone. The words were faint, but they were there. He squinted, trying to make them out.
"Do you wish to become a celestial?"
The words were like a punch to his gut. A chill crawled down his spine. His hand went to his chest as his breath caught in his throat. A sudden rush of panic hit him like a wave.
Was this some kind of ritual? A test? What was going on?
Without thinking, his finger brushed against the sharp edge of the tomb. A drop of blood fell onto the stone, and in that instant, the room exploded with light.
Clark gasped, his heart hammering in his chest as the world around him seemed to freeze. The cold rush of energy flooded through him, making his skin tingle, his head spin. His thoughts became a blur.
Before he could even process what was happening, he was thrown backward. His body jerked violently, the world spinning around him. He gasped for breath, the sensation of weightlessness overtaking him.
The light intensified, and everything went white.
When Clark opened his eyes, the world around him had changed again.
This time, he was standing in the middle of a grand room. The air was thick with the murmur of voices, a low hum of conversation, but the sound felt distant, as if he were hearing it from far away.
The room was enormous, filled with people, all seated around a long table. It stretched far ahead of him, covered with dishes and bowls, but the faces around him remained unfamiliar. Some were dressed in armor, others in robes Clark had never seen before. None of them looked at him.
Suddenly, a pillar appeared ahead, shining with gold and diamonds. Two beautiful women stood beside it, their eyes sharp as they guarded an old man seated on a throne.
Clark stared at them in shock, barely able to comprehend what was happening.
"What...?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Land of Supremes? What is this place?"
The old man's voice broke through his confusion. "Ah, young warriors who took the oath to be celestial, welcome to the Bridge Land of the Supremes."
Clark's mouth went dry. Celestial? He had no idea what this meant, but it sounded nothing like anything he had ever imagined. He looked around, his mind racing to make sense of this strange world.
The old man continued, "Being celestial is not easy. It must be earned. You will face trials. Challenges. And you will meet others from different realms, just like yourselves, each with their own destiny. The road to celestial power is not a simple one."
Clark's brain was still processing everything. His heart was hammering. Celestial? What kind of game was he caught in?
The old man snapped his fingers, and a blue screen appeared in front of everyone, including Clark.
......
Status :
Jaehyun kim / Clark
Human/?
Weapons : Celestial Dagger.
Partner : [ Un-Awakened ]
? [ Unknown]
? [ Unknown]
? [ Unknown]
......
His heart skipped a beat when his name—Clark—appeared on it, along with something else: "Human / ?." What was that supposed to mean?
A few other details flashed on the screen, including something that caught Clark's attention: "Celestial Dagger." The same dagger he'd picked up earlier. How could that possibly be connected?
The old man clapped his hands, snapping Clark out of his thoughts. "Now, take a look at your profile. Press the 'Partner' icon, and your journey will begin."
Without fully understanding why, Clark reached out and pressed the glowing icon.
In a flash, a small, glowing figure appeared before him. It looked like a tiny fairy, its wings fluttering in the air. It stared up at him with ancient eyes, and instinctively, Clark knew this being was important. It was his guide.
"That," the old man said, gesturing to the glowing creature, "is your guide. It will help you through the trials. Each one of you has a guide, unique in its own way. You may not understand them, but they will be essential to your success."
Clark watched the tiny creature, still trying to piece everything together. It looked so delicate, almost fragile. But he knew that this was just the beginning.
The old man's voice grew more serious. "You have two weeks to prepare for your partner's awakening. The trials begin in three months. Don't waste time."
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.
Suddenly, everything around Clark shimmered, and before he could blink, he was back in his room. The familiar space felt strangely empty now, as though the world had shifted while he wasn't looking.
His guide hovered beside him, while . Clark didn't know what to do next. He stared at the floating screen that appeared in front of him, his mind racing.
"Prepare well," the old man's voice echoed, "Don't waste time."
Clark swallowed hard. "Prepare for what?" he whispered.
The screen in front of Clark flickered once more, showing his next task: Return to your world and begin your training.
He took a deep breath, unsure of what would come next.
Before he could even process the words, the room around him seemed to warp, the ground beneath his feet vanishing. The world spun wildly, the pull of something unseen yanking him through the air. His stomach lurched, a familiar sensation of weightlessness filling him as he fell.
"Agh!" Clark gasped, his body jerking in mid-air before it slammed back to solid ground. He hit the floor with a soft thud, the breath knocked from him. He winced, groaning as he struggled to push himself up.
"Ugh... what now?" he muttered to himself, looking around in confusion.
He blinked rapidly, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. His surroundings... were eerily familiar. The apartment he had left behind was back, just as it had been. The cramped space, the cracked paint on the walls, the mismatched furniture—nothing had changed. The air smelled stale, a mix of old takeout, the lingering scent of cheap ramen, and the faint tang of coffee he'd long since forgotten about.
He squinted around, almost in disbelief. "Is this... my room?"
He stood slowly, his legs unsteady. Everything looked exactly as it had before, like he'd never left. The greasy stack of papers scattered across the desk. The battered laptop, its keys sticky from too many late-night sessions of work. A carton of flavored milk, half-empty, sat next to an empty instant ramen cup. The mess was all too familiar, the kind of hellish routine he had lived in for what felt like forever.
Clark let out a small laugh, a bitter one. "I'm back, baby."
He paused for a second, a dry chuckle escaping him. His heart still pounded from the chaotic experience of the celestial realm, but the contrast between the madness he'd just left and the state of his room was jarring.
The guide... the celestial trials... it all felt so distant now, like a dream fading fast. But that damn task on the screen was still in his mind.
He shook his head, trying to shake the sense of dizziness still clinging to him. The world around him seemed both comforting and suffocating. This... this was still his reality, even if the reality beyond the screen was far stranger.
Clark took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. He had returned to his apartment, to his life, but there was no way he could forget what had happened. The strange world. The trial. The celestials.