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My mother must have thought I skipped lunch because I was playing games all day.
So, she set a time limit on how long I could use the computer in my room.
Of course, I wasn’t actually playing games — I was using it for research — but there was no way to convince her of that.
‘Well, I guess it’s hard to imagine an eight-year-old skipping lunch because he was busy cultivating.’
Thanks to that misunderstanding, I only got nagged a little. No real harm done.
A few days later, after creating the magic circle that gathered ambient mana and beginning to practice the Harmony Art in earnest…
It was already November.
Time flew by. It felt like I had just entered elementary school, yet the second semester of first grade was already coming to an end.
Of course, I wasn’t wasting my time. Every single day was spent honing my Harmony Art and preparing for what was to come.
‘If I remember correctly… the Yeouido Disaster happens on December 5th.’
The Yeouido Disaster.
To put it simply—it was the day a powerful monster appeared at the entrance of a dungeon in Yeouido. When Korea’s top Awakened gathered to subjugate it, the dungeon suddenly overflowed, spewing out hordes of monsters.
The casualties were catastrophic.
Even as a mere elementary school student back then, I remembered it clearly—it was a historical event recorded in textbooks later on.
‘The top-ranked Awakened—those using Aura or psychic powers—mostly survived… but the mages and spirit masters took the brunt of it.’
Without proper vanguard support, those who relied purely on magic or spirits were defenseless once the battle turned chaotic.
Even if they could summon great power, their physical durability was no better than an ordinary civilian’s.
One hit from a monster was all it took.
And the civilians…
The ones who couldn’t escape in time.
People believed that the gathered Awakened would take care of everything.
They didn’t flee. They stayed.
And paid the price.
‘Of course, there’s nothing I can do to stop it right now.’
If I sent an anonymous letter, no one would believe it.
And even if I revealed myself—who would take the warnings of an eight-year-old seriously?
Stopping the disaster was impossible.
But maybe… I could reduce the casualties.
‘The incident happens on a weekday morning… so I’ll be in school.’
Meaning, I couldn’t be there myself.
Still, that didn’t mean I couldn’t do anything.
“That doesn’t mean I’ll just sit around,” I muttered under my breath.
My gaze shifted to the bracelet-shaped artifact wrapped around my wrist — the subspace artifact I’d obtained from the Orc Dungeon.
It had been small at first, barely large enough to store the Orc Chief’s sword.
But as I grew stronger through Harmony Art, the artifact evolved with me — expanding its internal space.
It was a growth-type artifact, one that strengthened as its owner developed.
Thanks to that, there was now plenty of room inside. I filled it with twigs and stones for experimentation.
At night, when everyone was asleep, I would take them out.
And begin crafting.
【User Han Geon-woo is crafting a doll.】
【Loading the skill — — from database.】
【Paying royalties to registered Puppetry users.】
What I was making wasn’t just any doll.
It was a doll that looked exactly like me.
Not my current appearance — but my past self, before regression.
‘I can’t expect much durability from these cheap materials…’
Still, I infused the doll with a bit of my inner energy and blood.
That alone should be enough to serve its purpose.
As my energy seeped in, the wooden doll’s surface shimmered—flesh-like texture spreading across its frame.
【Error detected.】
【The user’s Puppetry level exceeds current database limits.】
【Error. System unable to classify technique.】
The system seemed confused, as if it couldn’t comprehend what I was doing.
“This isn’t just puppetry,” I whispered. “It’s closer to… sympathetic sorcery.”
Homologous sorcery — magic that manipulates reality through resemblance.
Things that share form influence each other.
By crafting a doll identical to my old self and infusing it with my energy and blood, I had essentially created a link.
A second self.
Of course, it wasn’t complete yet.
“Empathy.”
The command word left my lips, and I invoked magic that synchronized my senses with the doll’s.
The lifeless figure trembled.
Then… one finger twitched.
“…Harder than I thought.”
I could feel the connection, but the movement was sluggish.
The problem was obvious—the materials.
Ordinary twigs and stones couldn’t conduct my mana efficiently.
Still, thanks to the Grandmaster’s Eye the system had given me, I could now see exactly what to modify to improve efficiency.
The issue was finding proper materials.
“…Materials… I need better materials.”
But where could I find them?
I was still just a child—breaking into a dungeon again wasn’t exactly easy.
That was when a system window appeared before my eyes.
【The Awakened System proposes a deal to user Han Geon-woo.】
“…A deal? Out of nowhere?”
The Awakened System existed for one purpose — the survival and happiness of humankind.
It provided support, guidance, and sometimes… trades.
But I hadn’t paid any fees this time.
So what did it want from me?
【The system requests that user Han Geon-woo register new technologies in the database.】
【In exchange, the system will provide materials suitable for completing the doll.】
“…New technologies? You want me to teach you?”
【Affirmative.】
【Please register techniques from user Han Geon-woo’s knowledge, similar to or other unique arts.】
I stared at the floating text for a long moment.
“…I can register them, sure. But why help me this much?”
Even the System had limited resources.
It didn’t just hand out rewards for free.
【Analyzing user Han Geon-woo’s condition…】
【Status: Regressor.】
【Supporting user Han Geon-woo will most effectively ensure humanity’s survival and happiness.】
Ah.
So that’s why.
Because I’m a regressor.
The future version of the System must have sent me back for this very reason — to alter the course of history.
Helping me was the most efficient way to protect humanity.
“…Makes sense.”
I couldn’t save everyone, but…
I could save many.
Our goals were aligned.
There was no reason to refuse.
From that day onward, my daily routine changed.
I began recording the countless techniques and arts I remembered into the System’s database —
And in return, the System sent me the materials I needed.
Since all of this had to be done in secret, I couldn’t use the school’s training room or my house.
So I trained in the mountains at night.
‘Many of the techniques I remember require special tools… or are too destructive to use near people.’
I didn’t need much sleep anyway; a bit of energy circulation was enough to recover from fatigue.
Night after night, I recreated every skill I had ever learned or witnessed before regression — registering them one by one.
And true to its word, the System upheld its end of the deal.
“…What’s this…?”
Before me lay a bundle of metal ingots and branches glowing faintly with divine light.
Of course, I knew what they were the instant I saw them.
【Reward issued: Branches of the World Tree and Ten-Thousand-Year Cold Iron.】
“Branches of the World Tree… and Cold Iron that’s endured ten thousand years…”
In other words—top-tier materials from both magic and martial realms.
The World Tree branch was the purest medium for channeling mana.
And Cold Iron — in martial terms — was the hardest metal known to exist.
People might throw those terms around casually in fiction, but in reality, their worth was immeasurable.
“…Honestly, I’d rather use these to forge my future sword.”
It was almost a waste to use them for a disposable puppet.
Still… if I wanted to prevent the Yeouido Disaster, I had no choice.
With a deep breath, I began crafting again.
I forged the skeleton from Cold Iron,
and used the World Tree branches to weave muscles and flesh.
As if anticipating my needs, the System seemed to adjust the materials — shaping and merging them seamlessly at my touch.
Once the form was complete, I infused it with my blood and inner energy, just as before.
Then, I whispered the final command.
“Empathy.”
Magic flared—and the link was forged.
I watched the doll lying silently before me.
‘If it still doesn’t move… then I won’t be able to stop the Yeouido disaster.’
The date was drawing near.
Just three days left.
“…Please… work.”
I poured every bit of will I had into that prayer.
And then—
The doll’s fingers twitched.
Its eyelids fluttered open.
Slowly… it sat up, moving with awkward, unfamiliar motions.
Then, in a faint, almost nostalgic voice, it spoke:
“…This feeling… it’s familiar.”
It was my own voice—echoing through the doll.
‘Success…’
A smile crept across my face.
I had done it.
A perfect vessel that could move in my stead.
Three days remained until the disaster.
And I would be ready.
