THE EDGE OF EXISTENCE

Baek Ji-Hoon found himself engulfed in an abyss of endless darkness. Shadow and silence pressed against him like a heavy shroud, a suffocating presence that rendered him utterly disoriented. He couldn't understand whether he was alive or dead, trapped in a limbo of uncertainty. The weight of existence bore down on him—an eternal void that seemed to mock his very being.

As he waited aimlessly, a flicker of movement drew his attention. From the depths of the inky blackness, a figure emerged, slowly taking shape. It was the head of Erebus, encircled by a searing ring of flames, a swirling black hole of malice and power that hovered ominously before him. It drew closer, growing larger, casting shadows around Ji-Hoon as if the darkness itself was retreating in fear.

Suddenly, in the midst of his spiraling thoughts, an ominous system message appeared before him, shimmering in the darkness like a beacon of despair.

**[Do you accept Erebus's fate?]**

Ji-Hoon blinked, stunned. The message echoed in his mind, relentlessly repeating itself as he tried to grasp its meaning. How could he accept the destiny of this fiend? It felt wrong, too dangerous. After a moment of deep contemplation, he decided. 

"No,"

he whispered, each syllable heavy with the weight of his conviction.

The reply was immediate, as if the very fabric of this dark realm reacted to his denial. 

**[Do you accept to fight against Erebus's fate?]**

This second message met with a swift rejection as well. Ji-Hoon felt trapped between two suffocating choices, yet a dark realization dawned upon him as a third message manifested before him, shimmering with an eerie glow.

**[If you choose neither option, you will die. Do you wish to continue?]**

His breath hitched. The dread coiled around his heart as he considered the implications of his situation. How could he abandon hope when there was no longer anything left to lose? In that moment of clarity, he understood; rather than living as a pawn, he would carve out his own destiny.

"I choose to fight,"

Ji-Hoon declared, the words filling him with newfound resolve.

In an instant, the void dissipated, and Ji-Hoon was transported to a small, stark room. The walls were devoid of color, bathed in sterile white light that seemed to swallow him whole. Before him shimmered five reflections, each representing a different trial, easily distinguished by the rewards they promised—from the simplest challenge yielding minimal gain to the gravest, fraught with danger yet offering untold riches.

Ji-Hoon's heart raced as he surveyed the possibilities before him. With nothing left to lose, he chose the most difficult trial, the prospect of victory igniting a fire within him.

In the blink of an eye, he found himself in yet another blindingly white room, alone. His eyes widened as a new system message materialized in front of him.

**[Convert all your mana to complete the test. Good luck!]**

Panic surged as he processed the message. How could he accomplish this without understanding the mechanics behind it? The upper portion of the room flashed a daunting display:

**[Converted Mana Percentage: 0%]**

---

Day 1:

Ji-Hoon's hands ran along the walls, exploring every corner of the unforgiving white space.

"How am I supposed to survive here?"

he wondered, his mind racing. Hours stretched into an eternity as he realized there was no room for basic human needs—no food, no water, not even a place to relieve himself. 

"This has to end. I can't be trapped like this forever!"

Hours became indistinguishable in this capsule of light, and the passage of time was an obscure concept embraced by the shadows of his mind.

Day 2:

Motivated by desperation, Ji-Hoon began improvising his training. "If I can't find a way out, I'll at least prepare myself to fight." He engaged in grueling sword training and combat drills, holding onto the hope that somehow, this effort might yield results. He convinced himself that every drop of sweat might inch him closer to understanding the riddle of this strange prison.

Day 4:

With two days of near-constant training behind him, Ji-Hoon felt time warping around him;

"What's the point in this? It feels like weeks have passed without progress."

The relentless repetition made the hours feel like weeks. Yet, each glance at the empty screens confirmed his fears—there was no progress to report. 

"I swear, there must be a way to escape this madness!"

he muttered to himself, frustration paving the way for despair.

Day 10:

As the days melded into an endless cycle, Ji-Hoon trained harder, desperately hoping his efforts would yield results.

"I cannot fail! I won't surrender to this emptiness!"

His movements were mechanical, each strike echoing off the walls, precise but lacking true finesse.

Day 20:

Weeks stretched into what felt like a lifetime.

"Is this it? Bound in this prison, forever to chase shadows?"

Ji-Hoon's body ached from the exertion of mundane training, but the gnawing frustration of stagnation festered within him.

Day 50:

Isolation crept into his bones.

"I must be missing something crucial,"

he thought, picking apart the fabric of his thoughts relentlessly. He analyzed every move he practiced during the torturous hours. Yet, with each day, it was as if the walls mocked him more obstinately.

Day 100:

A jagged crack in his psyche began to form.

"What have I accomplished in a couple years?"

Ji-Hoon could only shuffle through routines—the same endless cycle without reward or recognition. 

Day 200:

Now contemplating existence itself, Ji-Hoon lay immobile on the floor.

"Is there any point to fighting against this eternal void?"

The walls pressed down, and he felt the futility of his existence in this space of perpetual whiteness take a toll on his mental fortitude.

Day 250:

He had been here for what felt like decades. Doubt gnawed at him relentlessly.

"Am I executing this training incorrectly? If only I had guidance!"

Without knowing the correct path, he felt perpetually adrift, anchored by despair.

Day 320:

Jumbled thoughts began to crowd his mind.

"What more can I do?"

The constant solitude and repeated training fragmented his resolve. Was there even a purpose left to endure? 

Day 321:

Voices in his head turned confounding, the echoes of his thoughts blending into an unsettling murmur.

"Have I lost myself? Maybe splitting my focus will save me,"

he observed. He began to entertain conversations with the voice of his own making.

Day 330:

A curious companionship unfurled in his mind—his former self morphed into a distinct presence. "You're not just a figment. You're me,"

he remarked, chuckling lightly. They conversed whimsically and, for the first time in ages, Ji-Hoon felt a flicker of warmth; perhaps two thoughts could coexist in the silence.

Day 340:

He peered upwards, disbelief striking him like a thunderbolt as the system message finally shifted.

"Could it be? My mana percentage is rising!"

Ji-Hoon exclaimed. The mana conversion percentage began to rise, echoing the rhythm of his relentless banter with his inner self.

"This means I am making progress! Finally!" 

Jihoon didn't know why, but he could now control his thoughts completely, free from the chaos of emotions that once clouded his judgment. He had learned to separate numerous thoughts and make independent decisions. He had reached a different mental level.

Day 370:

"90%,"

the display flashed, but the progression slowed to a crawl.

"Why is it slowing down now? I can't let this slip away,"

anxiety began clawing its way back into his heart. All he could do now was wait,

"Come on, push through!"

Day 380:

99% . With uncertainty creeping closer, he desperately wrestled with countless theories, trying to ignite a spark of change and re-stoke flickering hope.

"I can't just sit idle; I must keep trying!" 

Day 390:

Frustration mounted as his mind flitted between many imagined scenarios of vengeance against the ones who cast him away.

"I refuse to resign to this monotonous existence!"

None felt sufficient, and each conjured narrative evaporated like morning mist. 

Day 415:

His conversations with his inner counterpart transformed into electrifying debates.

"What if we try a new strategy? Perhaps we can outwit ourselves!"

In time, these struggles began to coalesce into something tangible—two halves of the same whole, locked in an eternal stalemate, bringing life back to this endless void. Percentage was still 99%.

Day 420:

Now harnessing his mana with clarity, Ji-Hoon found his struggles escalating into grand duels.

"We will break this cycle! There must be a way out!"

These clashes were no longer mere skirmishes; they evolved into battles for supremacy, a reflection of his own chaos.

Day 450:

On this day, he felt a subtle shift.

"What is this sensation? This darkness—it feels familiar!"

In his relentless confrontations, he tapped into a foreign darkness—the very essence of Erebus. In a moment of clarity amidst the turmoil, Ji-Hoon embraced this new power, even as confusion shrouded him.

Day 500:

Acclimated to wielding dark energy, Ji-Hoon spent his days in a surreal tapestry of creation and battle.

"If I can control this, who knows what I might achieve?"

But unexpectedly, during a skirmish with his inner self, the unthinkable happened—his counterpart surrendered. 

"Why did you give up?"

Ji-Hoon questioned, taken aback by the sudden shift. Before he could grasp the full scope of the change, his other self morphed into a swirling black hole and entered him. At that instant, the walls of the sterile room flickered with a new system message.

**[Progress status has reached 100%]**

**[Congratulations, mission complete. Calculating your reward…]**

**[You have obtained the Abyss Sphere (Ancient level item)]**

**[Initiating return sequence. Remaining time: 23 hours, 59 minutes, 59 seconds…]**