The world was still. Zeroth was gone—his final data shredded, his authority erased. But the silence that followed wasn't peace.
It was fear.
A rift, blacker than space and bleeding corrupted lines of red script, hung open before them. It didn't hiss or pulse—it waited, like a predator that didn't need to chase its prey.
And from within came a voice—not loud, not thunderous—but calm. Too calm.
> "Access confirmed. System Authority detected. Worldcoin Sovereign, welcome… to Sector 0."
Lian's wings twitched.
"No one's ever mentioned a Sector 0 before," Jayce muttered, sweat dripping down his temple. "What the hell is that?"
"It's not even in the system logs," Kuro added, eyes wide. "Zeroth never spoke of it. The Admins never acknowledged it."
Lian stepped forward. "It's the true core of the System."
And then… the rift pulled them in.
---
Sector 0: The Dead Beginning
They fell.
Not through air or water—but through rules. Every law of reality stripped from their bodies.
Gravity. Time. Pain. Even memory—Lian felt it flicker, but his Sovereign status barely held it intact.
When they landed, they stood on a translucent platform in an infinite black void, surrounded by colossal server towers humming like dying gods. Floating windows blinked nearby, showing records of every player, every world, every erased timeline.
And far ahead stood a throne made from broken system ranks.
Platinum. Forbidden. Null. Even ranks never seen—labeled things like:
> [Mythcore]
[Zero Drive]
[Omnivault]
[Admin Override]
Sitting on the throne…
Not a monster.
Not a god.
But a child.
He looked no older than 13, with snow-white hair, glowing black eyes, and a grin far too calm.
> "I'm the First. Call me Reboot."
Jayce blinked. "The first… what?"
"Player. Victim. Admin. Creator. Depends on the version of the story," the child replied, dangling his legs. "I made the System to save us. It became something else."
Lian narrowed his eyes. "Then why are we here?"
"Because you killed Zeroth. And now, you hold the keys. Sector 0 cannot exist without a Sovereign. Which means…" He stood.
The ground cracked.
"…you're either going to fix everything…"
He raised a single finger. A system prompt exploded into life.
> [LOCKED SERVER: BEGIN CORE RESHUFFLE – All world ranks will destabilize in 24 hours.]
"…or it all burns with you."
---
The Test: Red Rank Calamity Protocol
Suddenly, alarms screamed across the server-space.
> [EMERGENCY EVENT TRIGGERED]
[WORLD RANK UNLOCKED: RED]
[WARNING: Red Rank worlds are unstable, hyper-lethal, and fused with deleted concepts.]
The floor beneath them shattered again.
Each of them—Lian, Jayce, Ria, Kuro—were flung into separate portals, sent to independent Red Rank subrealms created from pieces of destroyed realities.
Lian landed in a battlefield where corpses of gods littered the sky.
Jayce awoke inside a carnival made of screams, where laughter was currency and every joke cost sanity.
Kuro landed in a time-loop swamp, where he had to kill himself over and over to move forward.
Ria woke in a world where she had to raise a version of herself that would inevitably betray her.
Each test was tailored. Brutal. Unfair. No resets. No allies. No checkpoints.
> [OBJECTIVE: Survive 72 hours. If one fails, all die. If all pass, access to System Reboot unlocked.]
---
Lian's Realm: Battlefield Omega
A voice greeted him.
> "You want to be a Sovereign? Prove it. Kill the gods you couldn't save."
From the fog emerged shadow-versions of his old allies. Dead system users. His past team. Even his own mother's illusion, twisted by regrets.
They attacked with System Glitch Talents.
One of them threw a Fate Nullification Coin—something that canceled his own evolution path.
"Lian," whispered one echo, bleeding data. "You were never meant to win. You just gambled longer."
Lian clenched his fists.
The Worldcoins spun again—but now, the voice inside them whispered.
> [We'll help. But only if you pay.]
He smiled grimly.
"Then take my emotions. I'll win as a machine if I have to."
---
Meanwhile: Jayce's Test
The Carnival laughed.
A mechanical clown whispered in his ear, "Make them laugh… or die."
Every joke Jayce made had to carry pain. He had to tell truths that tore at his soul. Every round of laughter stripped his memories of his real life.
One mistake—and the audience would devour him.
But Jayce… smiled.
"If I'm going out, I'm going out making someone grin."
He stepped forward, blood dripping down his mouth, laughter bubbling in his chest.
---
Countdown to System Reboot: 71 Hours Remaining
The Red Rank test had begun.
And the Sovereign path was now a razor's edge.
---