Access denied

The room was dark except for the lingering blue light.

[You drew closer to the Truth.]

That single notification held my attention more than any other. It seemed to beg for deeper exploration—like a forgotten treasure map.

I tried expanding it.

One tap. Two. A mental command.

Nothing happened.

What a surprise.

"You're fucking kidding me…" I cursed, rubbing my temples.

The System didn't respond.

I forced a priority override—as if that'd help.

The text flickered, then a new message appeared:

[Access Denied.]

I took a deep breath.

Dug my palms into my eyes.

"Luxxion. What does this mean? Truth of what?"

The AI took seconds to reply—weighing words.

[...I do not know.]

"How many times have you said that just today?"

[Not my fault. I'm checking internal logs, external backups, mirrored clusters. Even the System's parallel-update nodes.]

"...And?"

[Nothing. Zero references. Not a shadow of data.]

I closed my eyes.

Déjà vu.

The same hollow answer, the same blank screen I got asking about 97.

[Perhaps...]

Luxxion paused.

[...it relates to what we extracted from Sven's corpse.]

[The System may be reacting to that fragment's presence…]

"That stinking thing."

[Correct. Still analyzing, but a plausible hypothesis.]

"Update me when done."

My voice came drier than intended.

No jokes. No irony.

Just me lying back, staring at the ceiling, hoping it hid answers I hadn't cracked.

The System always did this.

Dropped breadcrumbs. Planted clues like a mad conductor.

Waited for me to stitch it all together with a throbbing skull.

"Guessing it's tied to the Main Mission," I mused. "Or that damn Seed."

Luxxion stayed silent.

I sighed again.

"Fine. Pull up the Stat Window, Luxxion."

The interface shifted.

New numbers glowed.

[STATUS WINDOW]

[Strength: 2 Stars (39%)] — [Agility: 2 Stars (50%)]

[Endurance: 2 Stars (54%)] — [Perception: 2 Stars (44%)]

[Energy: 2 Stars (5%)] — [Intelligence: 2 Stars (14%)]

[Spirit: 3 Stars (4%)] — [Luck: 4 Stars (5%)]

My Luck had risen. Again.

Four stars, even if barely. No doubt tied to the streak of good fortune since arriving.

My Endurance climbed too—direct reflection of fighting Sven.

The body adapts to pain when cornered.

Maybe that explained why Pain Resistance leveled up again.

But something else caught my eye:

[Low-Quality Spear Technique has reached max level.]

[Technique evolved to: Decent Spear Technique (Lv.1)]

I tapped the alert.

New description popped up:

[Decent Spear Technique (Lv.1)]

["The spear isn't just a weapon. It's the line between you and fate."]

— Another of the System's cheesy lines.

Classic.

[Description: You no longer just hold a spear. You understand it.]

[Effect(s): ➔ Enables fluid movements, intermediate range control, tactical spacing mastery. Grants moderate combat bonuses against multiple foes (4-15% combat stats boost). Also allows efficient improvisation of techniques.]

I exhaled slowly.

Finally shed that "temporary" weight from the old skill. Like I'd stopped being a kid swinging a long stick.

Yet what truly hooked me was smaller—almost shy—in the screen's corner:

A new skill.

[Mental Refuge (Lv.2)]

[Description: Acquired after facing a distorted entity.]

[Effect(s): ➔ Grants partial lucidity during terror, extreme pain, or psychic pressure.

➔ Reduces effects of fear, low-grade illusions, and mental manipulation.]

This synergized perfectly with one of my Titles.

Good to have.

Now I surely wouldn't go crazier than I already am.

"Guess that's it."

I rested my head on the pillow, feeling grimy clothes stick to my back.

Blinked slowly.

The interface still floated before me.

"Open General Window. One last time."

[GENERAL WINDOW]

[Name: Perseus (Liam Han)]

[Level: 9 (19% EXP)]

[Skill(s): Decent Spear Technique (Lv.1); Defying the Impossible (Lv.6); Pain Resistance (Lv.5); Blood Mark (Lv. 3); Mental Refuge (Lv.2)]

[Title(s): Witness of Judgment; Frankenstein.]

[...]

I'd leveled up to some extent.

The 3% stat boost per level was useful— and I'd already allocated it all.

"..."

I smiled.

Closed the window.

Now I knew what to do next.

______________

Friday arrived before I could process it all.

I attended classes—protocol demanded it.

Professors pretended a djinn hadn't attacked one of Cube's most notorious students less than 24 hours ago.

As expected, Chae Nayun didn't show.

And by some miracle—or someone's efficient info-manipulation—no one seemed to know of Kim Hajin's involvement.

Or mine.

Still, rumors swarmed:

"Hunting Club got attacked."

"I've heard that it was that Sven guy who did it."

"Sven turned djinn in the forest."

"Chae Nayun's in a coma."

Whispered conspiracy theories in hallway corners.

But the real nuisance wasn't the noise.

Kim Hajin spent the entire class staring at me.

Saying nothing, but his gaze... like he wanted to claw something out of me.

After class, I waited for him to approach.

He just stood, slung his bag over his shoulder, and hurried out with Kim Suho.

Not even a backward glance.

…Perfect.

My chance.

With everyone distracted—Cube's system damage-controlling, attention fixed on Nayun—I could train in peace.

Most importantly: train without the System holograms help.

Because unlike my original world—or even Kim Gongja's—the real advantage here was information access.

As a Cube cadet, I could enter almost any academic wing.

And the North Wing library? More valuable than magical vaults I'd read about.

Hours passed scanning spear technique manuals, martial styles, mana manipulation treatises.

Some pure theory; others annotated by famous heroes.

Visual records of stances, real-combat sims, even academic papers on mana attributes and channeling weapons.

All swiftly devoured by Luxxion.

As the sun dipped, I headed to the training field I'd found prior.

Near where I'd run before.

Deserted by late afternoon.

Perfect for mistakes.

Started with basics: long sets of push-ups, sit-ups, squats.

After forty minutes, I grabbed my spear.

No auto-drills today.

Just me, the weapon, and the dirt.

"Ascending Dragon's Fury…" I murmured.

An advanced technique. Brutally hard to execute fully.

Yet I used it as my foundation—day after day.

Improvising. Adapting. Forcing my body to learn the impossible through repetition.

First strike: an upward thrust, right foot forward. The spear cut air like a gale, seeking whatever loomed above—as if to rend the sky.

Second strike: pivoting on the strike's momentum, body whirling, spear-tip lashing sideways, using full hip rotation to maximize reach and force.

I always missed the step.

Or the angle.

Or the timing.

Or literally everything.

But that was the point.

Training wasn't about getting it right.

It was repeating until right became natural.

"Rock Lee did it this way. So can I."

[Nerd alert! I repeat: nerd alert!]

Over an hour, I cycled:

Stance.

Mistake.

Adjust.

Stance.

Mistake.

Adjust.

Only the sky's shifting hues marked time's passage—gold to orange, orange to violet.

Then—

A chill.

No warning. No sound. No perceptible movement.

But my body reacted before my mind.

Hands spun the spear in an arc, blade-tip snapping straight toward the intruder's throat.

"...!"

It stopped centimeters from Kim Suho's neck.

He person didn't even look surprised.

Just watched me with his usual serene gaze.

"Do you always show up unannounced?" I complained, retracting the spear.

Kim Suho tilted his head slightly as the blade withdrew.

Calm as ever, he stepped back, arms relaxed.

"I didn't see you in this area yesterday," he remarked.

I wiped sweat from my brow with my sleeve.

"Had things to handle. No big deal. Anyway, what the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be busy with... hero stuff?"

Kim Suho nodded slowly, glancing away awkwardly.

"Technically finished my duties before training."

"How?"

"Met who I needed to earlier. Me, Hajin, and a few others. We... clarified things."

At Hajin's name, his gaze flickered.

Faint discomfort crossed the perfect hero's face.

I understood without words.

A problem broken out there. And I knew why.

Hajin had likely been accused of being a djinn. 

Too convenient. Too capable. Too mysterious to not be a suspect.

Suho didn't elaborate—and neither did I.

"What you did just now..." I changed subjects. "...was creepy."

"Creepy?"

I nodded. "How long were you standing there?"

"Huh... I watched you for nearly twenty minutes... I think...?"

My eyebrow arched.

"And you didn't think to, I dunno... say 'hi'? Act like a normal person?"

Kim Suho laughed sheepishly.

"Didn't want to interrupt. You were focused."

"Focused is one thing. Nearly skewering your neck because you stood there staring, silent, is another."

"Think positively. You got good reflexes, at least."

I sighed, driving my spear into the ground with a thud.

"You're weird, you know that?"

"Been told," he chuckled.

We stood quiet, watching dusk reclaim the sky.

Cooler air soothed my aching muscles.

Kim Suho stepped forward, keeping clear of the planted spear.

"Saw you practicing that technique. It's someone else's, isn't it?"

I gave a slight nod.

"Anyway, I'm not there yet," I admitted. "But I'm improvising my best."

He crossed his arms.

"You're diligent. But make notable errors. Overextended stances, dead transitions... things a seasoned opponent wouldn't forgive."

He sounded like Luxxion.

Only difference? He wasn't mocking me while saying it.

At least, not intentionally.

"I'll take constructive criticism—but only if it comes with juice and cookies after."

Kim Suho smiled.

"I can offer better."

My eyes narrowed.

"What kind of 'better'?"

"A spar. Nothing serious. Just a friendly cadet match."

He extended his hand—not for a handshake, but an offering: knowledge.

Experience.

"If you're willing to learn... I can help."

I stared at his outstretched hand.

One of the heroes of this story... the strongest guy in this world, wanting to train me.

Yeah. The world was upside-down.

And maybe... just maybe...

...that was exactly what I needed now.