Seoul, nighttime.

In a vast, secluded area far from public sight, remnants of once-standing buildings lay in ruins. The ground, as far as the eye could see, was covered in massive craters, each a testament to the devastation that had unfolded. Scattered across the battlefield were countless bodies, clad in black business attire and military uniforms. Severed limbs and dismembered organs littered the area, while blood soaked the ground, creating a thick metallic scent that hung in the air. The scene resembled a vision of hell itself.

Weapons were scattered across the destruction, katanas, daggers, firearms of all calibers, including those designed for bullets and rockets. The once-structured area had been reduced to utter carnage, resembling the aftermath of a war between nations. But this was no war.

"What a pitiful attempt that was."

A voice, laced with sarcasm, broke the silence. A lone figure walked through the carnage, his steps producing a wet squelch as they met the blood pooling around him. He maneuvered through the corpses effortlessly, not once stepping on them.

"Turning my own men against me, bringing in the forbidden military, and convincing the ten regional Kings to work together to take me down."

He continued speaking, his tone mocking. As he moved forward, faint black trails flickered behind his eyes before vanishing into the darkness. The moonlight slowly illuminated his figure, revealing his bare upper body, massive, chiseled, and coated in the blood of his victims.

A physique that could only be described as flawless. Broad shoulders, a sculpted chest, and ten razor-sharp abdominal muscles aligned in perfect symmetry. His arms were thick with muscle, his biceps and triceps well-defined down to his powerful forearms. His back tapered into a V-shape, each muscle sharply contoured, leading down to his waist.

"All this, just to fail miserably. Sad to see, right? Old man."

He came to a stop. Before him, slumped against the remnants of a crumbled wall, was an older man. His hair, once black, was now mostly white. His body was drenched in blood, his clothes completely stained. He panted heavily, his eyelids struggling to stay open.

"Nothing sad to see here." the old man replied weakly, tilting his head up to meet the eyes of the towering figure before him. "It's just that my opponent turned out to be greater than the devil."

There was regret in his voice. He had harbored great ambitions, dreams of building an empire. But standing in his way was a single person, a twenty-five-year-old young man. If he wanted to achieve his goals, he needed to eliminate this obstacle.

The old man had heard the rumors. The young man ruled over numerous criminal organizations, each involved in illegal activities. At first, he dismissed him, assuming his power stemmed from an influential family. But caution was necessary. The organizations under the young man's rule were more powerful than expected.

He devised a plan. If the organizations followed out of fear, then turning them against their leader should be simple. He reached out, offering them control, and soon they were his. Yet, a lingering doubt remained, was their loyalty bound solely by fear of the young man's strength? No matter. He had an answer for that, too.

He had secured the best military personnel from an illegal government operation, fighters from the forbidden military. A force of over five hundred soldiers, each forged from death itself. Their abilities surpassed conventional military standards, their combat skills transcending what normal humans could achieve. Every single one was an all-rounder, excelling in close-quarters combat, weapon mastery, and countless other military disciplines.

But even that wasn't enough.

There were others, beings beyond the forbidden military. Individuals whose strength surpassed even the best soldiers, considered to be superhuman. The Kings.

Each King ruled over a region. There were ten in total, but just one alone was capable of tearing through the forbidden military. These Kings constantly waged war against each other, yet when the old man reached out with an offer too good to refuse, one agreed. The others quickly caught wind of it, each demanding their own share. Refusing was not an option, it would have been a death sentence.

So, he struck a deal. A truce was formed among the Kings, ensuring they would all benefit.

With the criminal organizations under his control, the forbidden military at his command, and the ten Kings on his side, he had believed his victory was certain.

But he had been wrong.

Who could have predicted that a single twenty-five-year-old could destroy everything?

The criminal organizations, over a thousand strong, his own men, the ten regional Kings. All of them, crushed. Completely annihilated without resistance.

The young man's strength was beyond comprehension. Even the ten Kings, whose power overshadowed entire armies, were nothing in comparison. Against him, his men had been insignificant, mere insects before an overwhelming force.

He watched the massacre unfold. He witnessed a level of destruction no human should be capable of. His empire, built through years of blood and toil, had crumbled in an instant before his eyes.

And yet, he did not feel rage. He did not feel sorrow.

Instead, one emotion consumed him.

Fear.

A fear so profound it curled around his soul, suffocating him. A fear that gripped his bones, making them tremble.

Because what he had just witnessed was not a man.

Not a monster.

Not even the devil himself.

It was something far worse.

"No need to lie, your eyes speak for themselves." The figure chuckled knowingly, his gaze fixed on the old man. "So, don't be sad. After all, you got me too." He raised his arm, revealing something spiraling beneath his skin, dark purple veins spreading outward, infecting his body from within.

"I never expected there to be a poison that my breathing method couldn't suppress." He chuckled, unfazed by the venom slowly creeping through his veins.

"So you can go to hell with peace of mind." His voice was calm as he watched the old man take his final, ragged breaths.

"But after you, of course."

His right leg blurred in motion, leaving behind a trailing black line. A splattering explosion followed instantly.

The old man, once gasping for life, was now headless, his skull obliterated, chunks of brain matter and blood splattered across the ruins.

"What a life this was." The figure muttered, raising his hand to observe the poison as it spread further. His entire arm turned violet, the infection spiraling up to his chest, neck, and face.

"Truly, a boring life it was." A faint smile formed on his lips as his heartbeat slowed, his vision blurred, and death finally claimed him.

Most would panic in their final moments, but he only smiled, his tone laced with boredom, treating his own demise as nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

Darkness consumed his sight. His heart stilled. Silence.

"Huh?"

A sudden awareness jolted him. He was back in his body. His eyes flickered open, only to be met with an unfamiliar setting.

'Where is this?' He thought.

He was in what appeared to be a classroom. The room was nearly empty, except for a lone student seated at the front, engrossed in a peculiar sight, several phones hanging from a small gaming stand attached to the desk, the student fiddling with them as if multitasking through multiple games at once.

"Is this what comes after death?" he muttered, his brow furrowing in confusion. Everything felt like a dream, yet the reality of it all was undeniable.

[Alternate Universe Allocated]

[User Successfully Reincarnated]

[System Booted Successfully]

[Allow System To Bind With The User?]

A mechanical voice echoed in his mind. A series of prompts flashed before his eyes.

Expressionless, he observed the notifications.

'Interesting.'

A smirk curled on his lips as he processed the situation. Confusion was no more, only understanding remained.