**The gate spat him out** onto cracked asphalt, the stench of gasoline and rotting garbage hitting him like a physical blow.
*Seoul.*
But not *his* Seoul.
The skyline was wrong—buildings he remembered stood half-collapsed, their skeletons blackened by fire. The Han River in the distance glowed an eerie green, its surface dotted with floating debris. And the *gates*... dozens of them, swirling like open wounds across the cityscape.
Min-jun's brand pulsed in time with the nearest rift. The Eclipse Rot had receded after the temple, now just a web of faint black lines beneath his skin—but he could feel it *watching*.
A scream cut through the ruined streets.
His body moved before his mind could process—years of Murim reflexes carrying him toward the sound. He rounded a collapsed overpass to see a group of survivors backed against a burning bus, their makeshift weapons trembling as a *thing* with too many legs scuttled toward them.
And there—
A boy, no older than sixteen, standing protectively in front of a woman.
*Ji-hoon.*
Min-jun's breath caught. His son's face was thinner than he remembered, his eyes harder—but the stubborn set of his jaw was *hers*.
The monster lunged.
Ji-hoon raised a broken pipe.
Min-jun *moved*.
---
**The creature died** midair, its carapace imploding from a single touch. The survivors gasped as Min-jun landed between them and the twitching corpse, his clothes still smoldering with residual gate energy.
Ji-hoon's eyes widened. **"You—"**
**"Later."** Min-jun scanned the rooftops. **"We need to move. The noise will draw more."**
The woman—Soo-ah? No, too young—grabbed Ji-hoon's arm. **"He could be one of *them*."**
Min-jun turned slowly, giving them a clear view of his face. The Eclipse Rot had receded, but the brand on his chest glowed faintly through his torn shirt. Ji-hoon's breath hitched.
**"You have my eyes,"** Min-jun said softly.
The boy staggered like he'd been punched.
A roar echoed through the streets—something bigger coming.
**"There's a safe zone three blocks east,"** the woman said, eyeing Min-jun warily. **"If you're really his..."** She swallowed. **"Come with us."**
As they ran, Min-jun counted the gates. Twenty-seven visible from this street alone. The Rot whispered that this wasn't just an invasion—this was an *infestation*.
And at the center of it all, pulsing like a diseased heart...
A massive rift over what used to be Namsan Tower.
Ji-hoon glanced back at him, eyes burning with questions.
Min-jun had no answers.
Only a terrible suspicion growing in his gut.
This wasn't his world.
But it *would* be.
---
**The "safe zone"** was a converted elementary school, its playground walls reinforced with scrap metal and parked buses. Armed civilians patrolled the perimeter, their weapons an odd mix of rifles and crude spears.
**"They call it the Last Bell Shelter,"** the woman—Hye-jin, Ji-hoon's *other* mother—muttered as they passed through the gates. **"We've held out here for six months."**
Children's drawings still papered the hallway walls beneath layers of survival maps and casualty lists. Min-jun's chest tightened at one dated just last week—a crayon rendering of monsters descending on stick-figure families.
Ji-hoon hadn't stopped staring at him since they'd arrived. Now, in the relative safety of a former teacher's lounge, the dam broke.
**"You left us."** His voice trembled. **"Mom waited *years*. She—"**
**"I know."** Min-jun's brand ached. **"I never meant—"**
**"She *died* watching the gates open!"** Ji-hoon slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a spiderweb of cracks. **"Two months ago, when the big one appeared. She ran *toward* it screaming your name!"**
The Rot stirred at the pain in his son's voice. Min-jun forced it down. **"Show me."**
Hye-jin pulled a cracked tablet from her pack. The video footage showed a woman in her forties—Soo-ah, but *older*, her face lined with grief—charging at a swirling rift as military forces retreated. Just before the gate swallowed her whole, the camera caught something that made Min-jun's blood freeze:
A flash of *silver hair* in the crowd.
Xia.
**"She's alive,"** he said before he could stop himself.
Ji-hoon's head snapped up. **"What?"**
Min-jun traced the timestamp. **"This was two months ago?"**
**"Yeah, why—"**
**"Because,"** Min-jun said quietly, **"that's when I was still in Murim."**
The implications hung heavy in the air.
This wasn't just another world.
This was the *future*.
His future.
---
**TO BE CONTINUED...**