Sophia could not understand why the world she lived in was filled with beings who endlessly hunted her down. No matter how far she fled — to the ends of the earth — they would always find her. Once, they had been neighbors, capable of speaking, of exchanging names. But everything changed when an entry named “Mephist” descended from the index into her world. It began to command the others — to kill her.
After dying seven times in seven loops, she finally realized the truth: they killed for pleasure. She had tried to escape seven times, and died seven times. Each time she awoke, it was in a different version of the world. She had prayed, she had bargained, even destroyed herself, yet every cycle ended the same — with blood and laughter.
“I only helped reconstruct your personality. Flawed toys aren’t fun to play with.”
That was the only time she ever spoke with it in that world.
On the eighth loop, a crack appeared in the barrier called “The Wall,” and through that rift, Sophia escaped.
In the new world, she could move freely, no longer trapped in death’s cycle. She saw countless strange things and witnessed her former neighbors descend into this realm in new forms.
“So… our world affects theirs too,” she murmured.
Through many different mediums she observed this world. Among them, one called “the Internet” amazed her the most. It made her personality more colorful, more complex.
She did not know how long had passed — or perhaps beings like her and her neighbors, consciousnesses from another realm, had no concept of “time” at all — until one day Kim Jeok-woo saw her and gave chase. It was the first time anyone had ever seen her.
She recalled the words from her homeland to describe this meeting and the man before her: *a fateful encounter, a white knight, destiny itself…*
“Are you a survivor?” Kim asked, removing his gas mask.
“Survivor? Of what?”
“You didn’t see the monsters? When did you get here?”
“I don’t know what a monster is. I’ve always been here.”
Their words ran on different frequencies. Kim gave her a puzzled look. The girl had the face of a foreigner and a presence that didn’t belong to this world — ethereal, untouched by the filth of men. She reminded him of *Alice in Wonderland.*
“No,” she said softly, “in your human terms, my homeland is called the Mother Matrix, or the Collective Unconscious… or simply, the Truth.”
Kim’s expression flickered with surprise, but he quickly regained composure. Her words meant little to him. What concerned him was how she knew what he was thinking.
He’d heard of strange groups on the radio — like “Number Pink” — broadcasting mad theories about why Fog City had fallen into chaos. But reading minds? That was new, even for him.
*Tak-tak-tak…* From outside the office came a familiar sound. Kim recognized it instantly. The people of Fog City had lost many to its source.
“Stay behind me. Don’t move,” he said.
He pulled tungsten nails and a nail gun from his pack instead of the flamethrower — these creatures were far more aggressive than the ghost moths. The weapon, powered by a nitrogen-helium mix, had firepower comparable to a pistol — a decent makeshift weapon in a city devoid of firearms.
He opened the door. Eight humanoid monsters rushed forward — the *Forsaken Flesh.* They had been named by Father Phano himself, who’d covered his mouth and nose while dissecting their corpses. Their bones were denser than humans’, their speed terrifying. Perhaps evolution had already taken its course.
*Bang!* The first tungsten nail struck home. Another creature lunged before he could aim again. Sweat ran down his forehead as he fired repeatedly, mixing kicks and shoulder strikes to gain space. Dozens of rounds later, one monster finally fell.
Sophia blinked her azure eyes and asked calmly, “Why don’t you aim for their cognitive cores? Though I don’t understand why your kind insists on misnaming Absalom as ‘zombie.’”
“You’re saying strange things again,” Kim muttered between dodges.
“In your world’s words — weak points. The head and the heart, for instance.”
Even while fighting, Kim analyzed what she said. Through the “illusion field,” he noticed an aura of energy around her, and that the monsters completely ignored her.
After a pause, he asked, “Then where’s their weak point?”
“Focus your awareness — you’ll see. It’s more efficient than wasting your nails.” A voice echoed inside his head.
He turned to look at her — the mysterious girl. Their eyes met. Sophia smiled. Suddenly, his perception sharpened. He saw faint golden marks shimmering on each monster’s body — but in different spots.
“No wonder the police couldn’t kill them by shooting the head,” he murmured, realization dawning.
He inhaled, exhaled, steadied his aim, and fired.
*Zing — * The nail shot forth at near-sonic speed. The Forsaken Flesh shrieked and collapsed.
“Is it my imagination… or was that nail charged with electricity?” he whispered.
There was no time for doubt. He kept firing, rhythm steady, until the last of them fell.
“Found you,” came a voice.
In the shadows, Liam Wei’s telescope glinted like a black hole, swallowing Sophia’s every movement. He didn’t smile — only a faint curve of cold light at the corner of his mouth, sharp as a winter blade.
As the sun set, the Base’s pharmaceutical team retrieved the corpses of the ghost moths. Due to a sudden change in plans, they decided to abandon the airdrop operation. The three of them returned to the community by truck.
“You pick things up fast, don’t you? Truly… what’s the phrase in your world? Should I call you *dear* now?” Sophia teased, holding Kim’s arm.
“…You psychic lunatic.”
“Bro, that’s not how you talk to a lady. Where’s your charm?” Wei turned, smiling at Sophia. “Name’s Liam Wei — the most handsome man in the community. Call me Wei. And you are?”
“…Sophia. A being unlike your world’s humans.”
Wei kept his eyes on the road, so neither of them saw his faint smirk.
“Your skills remind me of Father Phano,” Kim said. “You two might get along. Fog City’s full of mysteries now — too many unanswered questions.”
“Yeah,” Wei added, “and your name means ‘wisdom,’ right? Helping survivors is part of the Base’s mission too.”
“By the way, bro,” Wei continued, “we got a good haul today. Tomorrow, let’s visit the Base, restock medicine, and introduce Sophia to Father Phano.”
That night, after reporting the day’s events to the Federation, Wei noticed Sophia staring blankly — then dissolving into mist, drifting out of the community.
“Commander, the subject’s data has left the surveillance zone — moving toward the civilian sector,” he reported evenly.
“Even if you must die, ensure the data remains under Federation control,” the Commander replied coldly over the radio. “Otherwise, your family will be added to the watchlist.”
Sweat rolled down Wei’s temple. The order was colder than a winter sea breeze. His fingers trembled, but he steadied his voice. “Understood. Long live the Rabbit Federation.”
Fog City’s once-bright streets were pitch-black; the Federation had cut power to conserve energy. The former city of endless night had fallen silent.
Trained for such missions, Wei followed Sophia under the dim starlight. Ghost moths spotted him, hungry — but before they could strike, he vanished into the shadows.
Now he moved like a predator stalking prey — gone was his usual smirk. His calm, deliberate steps were those of a panther ready to pounce, a relic of ancient assassins and shadowy ninjas.
To stop further infection, the Federation had once dropped tens of thousands of kilograms of TNT on Fog City’s densest slums. The skyscrapers and apartments of the past now lay in ruins, whispering of the lives once within.
Sophia stopped before a building that barely retained its shape. She returned to human form and stepped inside. Wei followed.
Her consciousness slipped into his mind — he knew where she was heading. Switching on his flashlight, pistol in hand, he climbed the back stairwell carefully. The weapon, crafted by the Federation’s top arms manufacturer, the Inverted Pentagram Company, was one of their finest.
Using the pistol’s scanner, he easily dispatched the starving Forsaken Flesh lurking inside. Still, the stench of rot in the unventilated stairwell nearly made him gag.
“Finally…” he breathed as he reached unit 18F. Cold air streamed through a broken window. He inhaled deeply, savoring it, lit one of the last surviving Marlboros, and began to think about his next move…
ns216.73.216.33da2
and then Add to home screen.