The restaurant wasn't crowded.
That morning, it felt as though the city itself had taken a step back, leaving the small corner table isolated from everything else. The sunlight filtering through the glass was pale and fractured, as if it didn't want to witness what was about to be said.
Kang Seung-ho sat upright, both hands resting on the table, his fingers clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white.
Across from him sat Death.
Park Jin-woo didn't touch the menu. He didn't order anything. His presence alone was enough to thicken the air, enough to make the waitress hesitate before approaching—only to retreat silently without asking a single question.
Seconds passed.
Then minutes.
Seung-ho was the one who finally broke the silence.
"…I'm afraid."
It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't heroic.
It was raw truth.
Death slowly lifted his gaze.
"Fear is late for you," he said calmly. "You already died."
Seung-ho swallowed. His chest tightened.
"I know," he said quietly. "But I can't keep living like this. I can't keep trembling at every shadow. I can't keep getting crushed, dragged home, and left crying on my floor."
He lifted his eyes.
"I want to learn how to fight."
Death's expression didn't change.
"Fighting isn't just about strength."
"I know."
"And it isn't just about revenge."
"I know."
Death was silent for a moment, then said:
"Fighting means being ready to die every time you take a step forward."
This time, Seung-ho didn't look away.
"I'm ready."
Only then did Death smile.
It wasn't reassuring.
It was the smile of someone who knew exactly how much pain he was about to inflict.
Death didn't take him to a training hall.
Nor to another world.
He took him somewhere worse.
A forest.
Not a beautiful one. Not poetic. It was dense and suffocating, the trees twisted like broken bones, fog creeping between their trunks like the breath of the dead.
"This is where you begin," Death said.
Seung-ho looked around. "Where are the enemies?"
"Everywhere."
Before he could ask another question—
Death vanished.
No transition. No distortion.
One moment he was there.
The next, he simply wasn't.
The silence shattered.
A sound.
Rustling.
Something moved.
Seung-ho's pulse spiked instantly. He stepped back, eyes focused, body taut like a drawn bow.
Then—
Pain.
Something struck his back with crushing force, sending him tumbling through mud and roots. The air was ripped from his lungs as if invisible hands had crushed them shut.
He tried to stand.
Another kick.
Then another.
He couldn't see the attacker.
He was being beaten… by nothing.
"Get up," Death's voice echoed from all directions. "Or die."
Seung-ho screamed as he rolled away, pain igniting through his body. He tried to focus. Tried to call the system—
Nothing.
No windows.
No warnings.
Just his body.
And his failure.
"You're slow," Death said coldly. "You think too much. Fear controls you."
Another blow sent him crashing to his knees.
Mud filled his mouth. Blood streamed from his nose.
"Fight."
Seung-ho roared as he forced himself up, swinging wildly toward the voice—
Nothing.
He fell again.
Hours passed.
Or minutes.
Time lost all meaning.
All he knew was pain, falling, standing—then falling again.
Until—
Everything stopped.
He found himself kneeling, gasping for breath, his body barely responding.
Death finally appeared before him.
"What's wrong?" Death asked.
Seung-ho let out a broken laugh. "Everything."
Death leaned closer.
"No. There's only one thing wrong."
He raised a finger and pressed it against Seung-ho's chest.
"You're trying to survive."
Seung-ho trembled.
"Survival is no longer your goal," Death said. "Ascension is."
Silence fell.
Then Death spoke more softly:
"If you want power… you must abandon the desire to return."
Seung-ho slowly lifted his head.
"I won't go back," he said. "Even if I die."
Something shifted in the air.
The system stirred.
[Mental Condition Met][Partial Unlock: Combat Perception]
Seung-ho felt something open inside his mind.
Not strength.
Clarity.
Something moved within the forest.
This time—he felt it.
He turned at the exact moment.
He punched.
His fist collided with something unseen but solid.
A muffled scream.
A black shadow hit the ground, dissolving like smoke.
"Good," Death said.
Then, in a voice stripped of mercy:
"Now… the real lesson begins."
When the training ended, Seung-ho could barely stand.
His body was covered in bruises, cuts, mud, and blood.
But his eyes—
They were no longer empty.
There was something new within them.
Something sharp.
Something determined to endure no matter the cost.
Death watched him for a long moment.
"The entire underworld now knows you are my heir."
Seung-ho stiffened.
"The seven squads will not leave you alone."
Death paused, then added:
"And they are not the most dangerous thing coming."
Seung-ho slowly lifted his head.
"There's… something worse?"
Death smiled faintly.
"There are those who create the squads."
Silence fell.
Then Death said:
"If you want to reach the summit… you must learn how to kill those above you."
Seung-ho closed his eyes.
Then opened them.
"Teach me."
And in that moment—
A climb with no return began.