Jaemin stepped out of his room, the soft morning light catching the edges of his hair. His bangs still brushed lightly against his eyebrows, framing a face sharper than before but still familiar. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he spotted Nari sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through her phone with a tired but content expression.
Nari looked up and immediately noticed him.
"Hey, you look different today," she teased, raising an eyebrow.
"Is that a new haircut, or have you been hitting the gym?"
Jaemin let out a small laugh, running a hand through his slightly messy black hair.
"Maybe a little."
He admitted, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
She rolled her eyes playfully.
"Come on, spill it. Which girl caught your eye this time, big bro?"
He shook his head with a smirk, leaning against the doorframe.
"Are you serious? You're going to be late for uni."
Nari stood up, dropping her phone in her pocket. She smiled warmly.
"Yeah, yeah. Take care of yourself, Oppa."
He nodded in return.
"You too. Have a good day."
With a final wave, Nari grabbed her bag and headed out the door. Jaemin watched her go, the quiet morning still holding a gentle calm before the chaos waiting just outside.
After Nari left, Jaemin quickly slipped back into his room. He changed into something more fitted—tight black workout pants and a sleeveless shirt that showed the lean muscle he'd been slowly building. The familiar burn of his morning workout welcomed him as he moved through his workout routine.
Once finished, he showered and changed again—this time into something comfortable but presentable: a dark jacket over a simple shirt, paired with jeans. Gone were the baggy hoodies he used to hide in.
Jaemin left the apartment and headed to the hospital.
The sterile smell greeted him as he entered the room where his mother lay. Her face was pale and peaceful but motionless, eyes closed as if trapped in a dreamless sleep. Next to her bed rested a thick file with her medical records. He picked it up and scanned the details:
Name: Han Mi-Young
Age: 47
Condition: Chronic Spinal Discoordination—core energy blockage, deep coma-like state
Jaemin sat beside her, his fingers tracing the edge of the file. His heart ached, but beneath the sorrow flickered a stubborn hope.
"I'll find a way, Mother. For you, for Nari… for all of us."
There were a few tears in Jaemin's eyes. He wasn't crying — those tears were born from the aching pain of helplessness, the frustration of being unable to do anything for his mother. He blinked rapidly, swallowing the lump in his throat.
After a moment, he forced himself to get up and quietly left the hospital, stepping back into the harsh light of the day.
Walking down the street, he pulled out his phone and began scrolling through listings for freelance Rift jobs. But as usual, there was nothing available—no openings, no opportunities. His shoulders slumped slightly in disappointment.
His gaze lifted, and he found himself staring at a towering skyscraper ahead. Near the very top, glowing in sleek, modern lettering, were the words:
Covenant: NOVA
Jaemin's eyes lingered on the sign, curiosity swirling within him. Without fully realizing it, his feet carried him inside the building.
The lobby was spotless and bright, with marble floors and a receptionist sitting behind a polished desk. She smiled politely as he approached.
"I'm looking for any freelance Rift jobs you might have available."
Jaemin said quietly.
The receptionist began typing, searching through the database. While she did, a subtle commotion caught Jaemin's attention.
A man was walking through the lobby — tall, with striking blonde hair and warm honey-brown eyes. A gentle, confident smile graced his face. He wore a simple black suit, yet his presence commanded the room effortlessly.
It didn't take much thought for Jaemin to recognize him.
This was Kwon Hyun-Woo — a seasoned hunter known throughout Korea. The strongest Volt elemental user alive, and the president of Covenant: NOVA.
"Excuse me?"
Jaemin turns towards the Receptionist.
"There are a few freelance Rift jobs available... but they're under NOVA jurisdiction. If you're registered with us, I can proceed with your request."
"Wait… you need to be a member?"
She nods, her expression apologetic.
"Yes, unfortunately. Unless the Rift job is a direct freelance offer you received through your phone, or it's unaffiliated, access to NOVA-owned sites requires registration under the Covenant."
Jaemin breathes in sharply through his nose, a bitter exhale escaping as he runs a hand through his bangs. He looks down at the polished desk, then offers her a soft bow.
"Thanks for your time."
"Of course. Good luck out there."
He turns and walks away, hands in his jacket pockets, shoulders heavy,
Jaemin scrolls through his phone absently as he walks, browsing Rift listings—"FULL," "TEAM-ONLY," "LICENSED," "COVENANT-LOCKED."
He stops near a crosswalk, eyes squinting at one odd title:
[URGENT] – CLASSIFIED STATUS: "STASIS-GLITCH" – Open Rift – Tier 4 Label (Unconfirmed)
Location: Yeoksam Industrial Zone (abandoned)Status: Beacon malfunction—Awaiting investigation.
His thumb hovers over it. No Covenant affiliation. No team signup. Just... open.
"...no one's claimed this yet?"
The screen flickers oddly, as if the Rift listing itself is unstable.
He locks his phone, eyes narrowing toward the skyline in the distance—storm clouds gathering far beyond the horizon over the industrial zone.
A low wind picks up.
"Alright. Let's see what's hiding in there."
He steps off the curb, walking toward the storm.
The abandoned Yeoksam Industrial Zone stretched out in cracked pavement and rusted steel, its silence interrupted only by the occasional gust of wind kicking up loose gravel. Jaemin stepped into the Rift site, the coordinates still open on his phone. Or rather, they had been.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the oppressive clouds that had loomed over the area—dark, turbulent, almost unnatural—vanished. Gone without warning. The wind died. Even the low hum of urban life in the far distance felt muted, as if the world held its breath.
He frowned and pulled out his phone.
[ERROR: Rift Job Not Found]
Refresh.
Nothing.
Gone. As if the Rift job had never existed.
Jaemin's brows knit in confusion. He turned slowly in place, scanning the crumbling buildings, the silent lot—and that's when he saw it.
Far ahead, half-buried in a collapsed loading dock, something shimmered.
A fragment.
It was unmistakable—jagged, fist-sized, and humming with dormant power. Every Coreborn knew what they looked like. It was the only way to awaken a core—physical contact with a fragment of the Giant Rock's essence. But this one wasn't like the others. No radiant gold. No warmth.
It was blue.
Not just any blue. A deep, spectral hue—identical to the riftstorms themselves. The same color as the sky when the world cracked open.
More unnerving than its color, though, was its position.
It wasn't embedded in rock or floating midair as usual.
It was just... lying there.
Waiting.
Jaemin's feet carried him closer on instinct. There was no reason to be here. No official job. No proof this fragment belonged to anyone. Yet, with every step, the world felt quieter. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. He crouched in front of it.
The fragment pulsed gently.
He didn't touch it—not yet. Instead, he studied the veins of energy swirling inside it like mist trapped in crystal. His breath caught. This wasn't normal. No signature like any of the five core types—Velocity, Precision, Flux, Bastion, Auxiliary. And certainly not something a mere trainee should stumble into.
His fingers hovered over the surface.
Why is it just here? Why me?
He could've walked away. Should've. But some part of him—some part deeper than logic—whispered that this was meant to happen.
Jaemin inhaled slowly, his heartbeat steady now. Controlled.
He reached out—
And the moment his skin made contact—
The fragment shattered.
No resistance. No delay. Just dust, dissolving into the air like a forgotten memory.
His arm glowed.
Not orange.
Not blue.
Gold.
A radiant, blinding gold, flaring from beneath his skin like fire drawn across paper.
He flinched, stumbling back, gripping his forearm. It didn't hurt. It didn't burn. But his nerves screamed from the overload, from the sheer unfamiliar clarity rushing through him. His senses sharpened, then blurred. Sound bent, gravity rippled, and time seemed to stutter. His knees hit the ground hard.
The light faded as quickly as it came, leaving only a faint trace under the skin, as though something ancient had branded him in silence.
Jaemin panted, staring at his hand in disbelief.
"I'm already a Coreborn."
He whispered.
"I awakened a month ago now. Precision. Orange."
Then what was that?
Why gold?
Why now?
Why him?
The dust from the fragment was already gone, scattered into nothing.
No Rift Gate opened. No alert. No witnesses.
Only silence.
The silence fractured.
A sharp wail cut through the stillness—police sirens, howling somewhere just beyond the industrial maze.
Jaemin's head snapped toward the sound. His body still buzzed faintly from the golden surge, his hand tingling as though the air itself hadn't forgotten what had just happened.
He dusted his pants off and pulled his jacket tighter, turning sharply on his heel and moving toward the echoing sound.
As he neared the intersection, he saw the telltale glow—shimmering waves of distorted air pooling above cracked asphalt like a heat mirage.
A Rift. Active. Growing.
No banners. No Coreborn sigils. No Covenant flags.
And most importantly—no team.
A handful of police officers had cordoned off the area with caution tape, standing nervously with weapons drawn, clearly unprepared for what could spill out.
Jaemin's lips curved into a smirk.
"Perfect opening… another Tier 5."
He approached calmly, slowing only as he passed the last squad car. One of the officers turned, alarmed.
"Sir, please stay back—"
Jaemin held up his Coreborn ID with one hand.
"Excuse me, officer. I'm a Coreborn. Let me through to handle this."
The officer blinked.
"A team hasn't arrived yet. Protocol says to wait for—"
Jaemin stepped closer, his tone gentle but firm.
"Is this Rift under any Covenant jurisdiction?"
The officer hesitated, checked his tablet.
"…No."
"Then there's no breach in protocol."
Jaemin nodded respectfully.
"Please report that the situation is being handled."
Before the officer could argue further, Jaemin was already walking past the caution tape, unbothered, his steps even and resolute. The rift pulsed just ahead—its surface a shimmering veil that rippled like disturbed water. The moment he passed through it—
The city was gone.
In its place stood a twisted mirror of the district—abandoned storefronts and decayed street signs, floating chunks of road levitating eerily in midair. Fog slithered between broken concrete like sentient mist.
And then came the growls.
Rough, serrated, low in their throats.
The Rifthounds, Vulpus...Staring at him...dead in his eyes.
Thirty Rifthounds. Thirty Vulpus.
Sixty Rift beasts total.
A wave of raw hostility.
Jaemin stood alone at the center of a collapsing, mirrored world.
And he smiled.
"Sixty? You guys are generous today."
The beasts began to spread out, circling.
Jaemin raised his hand slowly.
A breath.
His aura flared—
Sunrise Orange.
It burst from him in a radiant wave, his figure now outlined in flickering light like molten fire caught mid-motion. The air hissed, the space around his feet cracking from the pressure of the surge.
His eyes shifted—no longer their usual dark shade.
They were now the color of a blazing sunrise.
"Ready for round two?"
He extended his hand.
From the golden ring of his aura, something began to form—light converging, swirling, condensing—
The Eye of the Sun.
Just a katana—razor-thin, perfectly balanced, and deadly in the hands of someone who meant to survive...The weapon once broken now reformed.
The hounds didn't wait.
They charged.
And Jaemin walked calmly toward them—his aura growing brighter with each step.
SLASH!!!
A blinding arc of orange light carved through the air—clean, effortless.
Ten Rifthounds fell in an instant, their bodies split before they could even scream. Steam hissed from the corpses as they disintegrated, the heat of Jaemin's aura boiling their remains into vapor.
The katana, Eye of the Sun, hissed quietly in his grip—still glowing, still hungry.
Now that his aura was fully active—ignited, channeled into the blade—his presence shifted. Every stat climbed. His speed. His strength. His reflexes. His precision. All rising like a tide.
And yet, he didn't run.
He walked.
Slowly. Steadily.
A silhouette of orange fire moving through the mist of evaporating beasts. His bangs drifted over his eyes, glowing faintly with that same quiet blaze. His expression unreadable.
That's when the Vulpus stopped.
Dozens of them—sharp-eyed, cunning—stood frozen. Not out of fear. But calculation. They weren't dumb beasts. They were waiting. Assessing. Trying to understand what the hell they were looking at.
Because what they saw was one man.
One man burning like the sun, dismembering a small army of Rifthounds as easily as stepping through puddles.
And then—
He looked at them.
His voice cut the air, low and calm.
"Not having fun anymore, huh?"
No smirk. No cruelty in his tone.
But something about the way he said it—the slow, almost disappointed delivery—felt like a threat wrapped in fire.
The Vulpus shifted nervously.
Because this wasn't a Coreborn swinging wildly.
This was someone testing himself—and they had just become the next part of the test.
One of the Vulpus turned.
Its instincts screamed louder than its pack loyalty. Whatever this human was, it wasn't prey. It was something else.
Something they weren't meant to face alone.
It took a single step back—then bolted, claws skimming the cracked concrete.
Too late.
FWP
In the blink of an eye, he was there.
Behind it.
No sound. No warning. Just a presence—immediate and inescapable.
"Leaving so soon?"
SLASH!
A clean cut.
The beast's body folded in half before it even understood it had been caught.
Jaemin didn't stop moving. His body jolted forward with inhuman precision.
SLASH!
SLASH!
SLASH!
Every movement was surgical. He wasn't swinging wildly—he was executing.
Five Vulpus fell in one flowing arc, cleaved down mid-step.
The others barely had time to react.
Their ears caught the sound of wind breaking—then fire—then the shimmer of a golden blade slicing reality open.
The last thing most of them saw was a streak of orange flame ripping through their ranks, merciless and silent.
It wasn't a battle anymore.
It was a massacre.
And Jaemin—eyes glowing like the morning sun...stood there, in the middle of the dead steam.