Baek Ryeo-woon crawled out of the broken dungeon, battered, armor dented, and pride bruised like a flimsy tin can run over by a truck.
The Escape Capsule flashed behind him with an incessant beeping noise that roughly meant: "You survived. Barely. Congratulations?"
Seven members of Oblivion Guild crawled out around him — injured, battered, and speechless.
Three didn't survive.
They had ventured into a 3-phase S-class dungeon.
And they hadn't emerged victorious.
Ryeo-woon's pale face was streaked with blood down his jaw.
Even to breathe was like a small war.
".Damn it," he cursed silently, stumbling slightly.
Just short of falling to the ground in the mud and having the sky berate him for arrogance, shadows crossed the land.
A whole bunch of them.
Four other people stood there — familiar shadows he both respected and wanted to hit on sight — each accompanied by a couple of their elite members.
The rest of the Big Five had arrived.
Of course they did.
The world had a sense of humor.
"Baek Ryeo-woon," said a deep, sensual voice. "Sweetheart, what did you do with that lovely face?"
He glanced up (barely) to find Lee Min-ah, head of Silverfang Dominion, District 2.
A walking power fantasy with silver braids as thick as her thighs, gold beast tattoos on her arms, and abs that made one wonder what they'd been doing with their life.
Behind her was her beast companion — a white lion with two tails and about zero chill.
Ryeo-woon didn't respond.
Partly because the next voice was already speaking up:
"Are you okay?"
Soft. Sweet. The voice of heaven itself.
Park Seul-bi, the leader of Celestial Dawn, District 14 — all in layers of spotless white robes and glowing like someone constantly filtering her own face.
She appeared to be the type who would shed tears if a flower were trodden upon.
Her ability, however, could level a city.
Ryeo-woon was able to nod.
Then there was a snort.
"Damn, Ryeo-woon. And I thought you were invincible."
That was Han Yoo-seok, leader of Ironblood Vanguard, District 11.
Tall, broad, clad in full black armor even when not in combat like a walking tank who got the dress code wrong.
He cocked an eyebrow but didn't smirk. Smooth. Watching. Judging. Always judging.
And last but not least, striding forward with the energy to fuel a power plant—
"Man, you Oblivion guys are always a blast. You literally went in first, huh? Didn't even bother to share?"
Ryu Shi-won, Heaven's Edge chief, District 5.
Toned as a dancer, smirking like a fox who'd just pilfered all the chicken.
Flashing knives on his belt, charisma on maximum chaos.
Ryeo-woon let out a sigh inwardly.
Perfect. All four of them. Just what I needed with blood internally bleeding.
Lee Min-ah hunkered down beside him with a smirk.
"Didn't you scout the phases?"
"Scouting's for people who play it safe," Ryeo-woon grumbled.
"Scouting's for people who enjoy living," Ryu Shi-won filled in with a helpful grin.
"Don't listen to him," Park Seul-bi said gently, already signaling her healers. "He once tried to tame a dungeon dragon with candy."
"Candy works sometimes," Ryu shot back. "Not my fault dragons have no taste."
Han Yoo-seok stepped closer, glancing at the injured team members.
"We've called the top medics from District 14," he said. "You'll be stabilized in ten minutes."
Ryeo-woon gritted his teeth but nodded his thanks.
Because friendship between the top five was like this:
Mock, roast, insult — then quietly save each other's lives.
They weren't childhood friends.
They weren't blood-bound brothers.
But they were survivors of the same war-torn world, selected by fate to babysit the crumbling ruins of humanity.
They shared history.
Shared trauma.
And enough power between them to rebuild — or destroy — the continent if they ever stopped playing nice.
As medics swarmed Ryeo-woon and his team, assessing wounds and injecting stabilizers, the guild leaders stepped aside for a quieter discussion.
"So," Han Yoo-seok said evenly, "that dungeon…"
"Not natural," Ryeo-woon rasped from where he lay. "It changed mid-run. Like it was. adapting to us."
Park Seul-bi's eyes flickered with worry. "Adaptive dungeon logic?"
"Or worse," Ryu Shi-won said, suddenly serious. "A seeded domain."
That shut them all up for a second.
"Stars?" Lee Min-ah asked. Her voice was low, tense.
Ryeo-woon didn't answer. He didn't have to.
If a Star had seeded the dungeon, things were going downhill faster than any of them expected.
Han Yoo-seok folded his arms.
"We need a meeting. Not just the five of us. All active districts."
Lee Min-ah nodded. "Agreed. If they're escalating their interference, we're going to need to respond."
"And soon," Park Seul-bi continued. "Before the citizens know what hits them."
At the same time, in the slum area of District 8, Kim Byeol-ha, who was still wearing his hoodie and spinning an apple like a coin, sat cross-legged on the roof of Park Jun-ho, looking up at the threatening sky.
He sneezed.
"Huh. Someone is probably talking about me," he grumbled.
He bit into his apple and leaned back, ignoring the warped spiritual pressure still churning faintly from the failed dungeon miles away.
He already knew.
The world's cracks were worsening.
The Stars were awakening once more.
They'd started probing Earth's limits.
--
He took one deep breath, ready to lean back and enjoy his latest snack—
—and immediately slipped on the traitor fungus.
"Shi—!"
He tumbled off the roof in the most ungraceful, absolutely undivine, aggressively human way possible.His limbs flailed like a tossed scarecrow as gravity reminded him that yes, even the son of gods must obey some laws.
He landed in a cloud of dust and disgrace.
Right on his butt.
The spiritual apple rolled away, betrayed and bruised.
Byeol-ha glared at the roof like it had insulted his lineage.
"You fungal piece of failed biology," he hissed, brushing gravel off his hoodie. "I'll burn you in three dimensions."
A quiet, high-pitched snort cut through the air.
Byeol-ha turned his head slowly.
Standing a few feet away was Han Seo-jin, trying very hard not to laugh.
His hands were clamped over his mouth, his face red with the effort. But his shoulders were shaking, and his eyes sparkled with too much mischief to pretend he was unaffected.
Then—
"—pfft...HAHAHAHA!"
Seo-jin lost it.
He bent over, wheezing, unable to breathe, full-on cackling at the fallen divine disaster that was Byeol-ha.
Byeol-ha blinked at him.
A moment passed.
Then he smiled, slow and real.
For a kid who had almost no reason to laugh, it sounded good.No, great.
"Glad my suffering brings you joy," Byeol-ha said dryly, though the corners of his lips twitched.
Seo-jin tried to speak between hiccups of laughter.
"You—y-you fell like a paper bag!"
"Gracefully," Byeol-ha corrected.
"Like air!"
"Controlled descent."
"Your face!"
"Regal grimace."
They both laughed now, the sound echoing down the empty street like a strange blessing.
It was in that moment — as if summoned by the noise — that Bit-na and Eo-ra came back around the corner, bags of groceries balanced in their arms.
They froze.
Eo-ra, even partially blindfolded, somehow sensed what was happening.
Bit-na looked from the groceries, to Seo-jin laughing, to Byeol-ha sitting in the dirt grinning like a maniac.
"…Do I want to ask?" she said slowly.
Eo-ra tilted her head. "Is he… sitting on the road?"
"Yup," Byeol-ha said cheerfully.
"You fell off the roof, didn't you?" Bit-na accused.
"I was inspecting air currents."
Seo-jin coughed and wheezed and bent over again laughing.
Bit-na set down her grocery bags and sighed deeply, the kind of sigh that only older sisters burdened with chaotic siblings could master.
"Oppa, can you not go one day without drama?"
"I can," Byeol-ha said. "But why waste the opportunity?"
Eo-ra raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"
"Physically, yes. Spiritually... my pride is limping."
Bit-na handed her bag to Eo-ra and walked over, grabbing Byeol-ha's hood like she was picking up a stray cat.
"Inside," she ordered.
"Yes, Mother."
"Now, Oppa."
He dusted himself off and followed, motioning for Seo-jin to join them, who was still snorting into his sleeve.
Inside the house, the smell of old wood, herbal tea, and low-budget survival greeted them.
Bit-na and Eo-ra started putting groceries away while Byeol-ha dragged out two salvaged stools and a crate to serve as their unofficial table.
Seo-jin helped, still smiling, cheeks pink from laughter.
"That's the first time I've laughed in years," Seo-jin admitted softly.
Byeol-ha handed him a piece of dried fruit from the stash.
"Laughter is a top-tier stat buff," he said. "Boosts morale, restores HP, and makes you immune to depression for like five seconds."
Seo-jin grinned. "You're weird."
"I'm an entire genre," Byeol-ha replied proudly.
Eo-ra, from the other side of the room: "We know."
Bit-na: "We live with it."
Seo-jin chuckled again, shoulders relaxed.
Byeol-ha leaned back on his crate, chewing on dried fruit thoughtfully.
He'd seen worlds burn.He'd stood between gods and monsters.He'd broken reality open like a candy wrapper just to get home.
And yet, somehow…
Sitting here with a former-stray kid, watching his sisters act like nothing had changed, and trying not to knock over a tower of rice packets?
It felt like the most important part of his day.
He glanced over at Seo-jin again — laughing, helping Eo-ra, slowly returning to himself.
A little light goes a long way.
Maybe Earth wasn't doomed.
Yet.
But also.
Maybe he should burn that rooftop later.
Just in case.