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In the original timeline, the Yeouido Disaster, also known as the Greenskin Wave, could have passed without any casualties.
And even though there weren’t any deaths this time, people didn’t let their guard down.
Many were thankful it ended safely, sure—but no one saw the sight of four different monster races spilling out from a single gate, or a horde of creatures rushing out only hours after its appearance, and thought, “Oh, I guess it’ll always turn out fine from now on.”
Not a single sane person did.
“If I remember right… Korea was the only country with zero casualties, huh? Other nations had it pretty rough.”
That’s why all those so-called ‘national pride’ YouTube channels are going wild right now—but I’ll just ignore that.
Anyway, because of this incident, voices of concern started rising again—people worrying that Black Fog might launch an even more aggressive assault on humanity next time.
Of course, I know that won’t happen. They overextended themselves this round; they’ll need about ten years to recover.
But right now, I’m the only one who knows that.
“Still… it’s better if people stay tense for a while.”
After all, Black Fog isn’t the only threat to humanity.
There are also the Villains—criminals with abilities.
Compared to Black Fog, they’re nothing but pests. But that’s only because our benchmark is “an enemy that nearly wiped out mankind.”
They’re still dangerous.
Especially to ordinary civilians like my mother.
I clenched my fist, remembering how my mother was once kidnapped by villains who coveted my power.
… I could forgive those small-time ones—the ones who just avoid registering with the Association or got labeled “villains” for using their powers in self-defense, never hurting civilians.
But the organized scum who kidnap, massacre, or experiment on people—
those who crossed the line—
they’ll never get forgiveness from me.
Not that I can do much about it yet.
“I know villains are popping up all over the place… but I can’t remember all of them.”
Even though my internal energy circulation from the Harmony Technique improved my brain and memory, I can’t recall things I never memorized in the first place.
The only villain incidents I really remember are the big ones—the kind that dominated the news for days: large-scale terrorist attacks or unsolved serial murders.
And anyway, ever since I prevented the Yeouido Disaster, most of that information is outdated.
Big or small, every action I take will ripple across the world somehow.
Because of me, some awakened person who survived might later stop a villain’s crime.
Or maybe, some villain will hesitate to act—thinking “Korean awakeners are stronger than I thought.”
… Or maybe the opposite happens.
Maybe a villain plans even more carefully, committing a smarter, deadlier crime just to avoid detection.
Who knows.
I can’t be sure which of those outcomes my choices will bring.
But that’s fine.
I knew this would happen the moment I changed an event as massive as the Yeouido Disaster.
From now on, the future I knew is gone—replaced by something completely different.
“……”
Of course, Yeouido wasn’t the only way I changed history.
Thinking that, I turned my gaze toward the Awakener System messages floating before me.
【Usage fee for skill has been settled.】
【Usage fee for magic <Amplification Circle (Revised)> has been settled.】
【Usage fee for recipe <Healing Potion (Revised)> has been settled.】
One after another, messages poured in—proof that countless people were using the techniques and knowledge I registered in the system’s database.
I didn’t know who was using them, but thanks to that, I received a steady flood of points every single day.
And I already had a rough idea of where I wanted to spend them.
【Enhancing the Awakener System requires approximately 1,000 times the user Han Gun-Woo’s current points.】
【Enhancement cannot be initiated.】
Yeah, I wanted to use them on the system itself.
Strengthening myself wasn’t worth it.
I thought about it—but if I recklessly consumed some elixir or enhancement item, I might throw off the harmony between my body and internal energy. That would only weaken me in the long run.
It’s much safer to let my body develop naturally, letting my inner energy accumulate through steady practice. The quality of my power will rise that way.
“Still… I did kinda want that weapon.”
I sighed.
But for now, the Orc Chieftain’s Sword my doll wielded was good enough.
Before my regression, I’d been swinging around a half-broken, blood-soaked blade that was practically a cursed sword.
Compared to that? This was luxury.
Sure, the Chieftain’s Sword didn’t have any fancy effects beyond its durability…
“… Besides, there’s another sword I really want.”
I’d also considered upgrading my doll—but honestly, I didn’t even want to look at it right now. I’d shelve that idea for later.
So for now, I’d stick to my plan: save up points to upgrade the Awakener System itself.
The problem was, since the system was embedded in every single human, I’d need an astronomical amount.
Even with all these steady payments, it would take years to gather enough.
“Well… there are other ways to earn points.”
But I wasn’t about to sacrifice training time just to grind for them.
It’d work out.
If I kept going like this for a few years, I’d eventually have enough to upgrade the system—somehow.
Though honestly, I had no idea how the upgrade would manifest.
My only guess was that the system would evolve on its own—adapting to give humanity exactly what it needed most.
“Phew… guess that’s everything big coming in the future.”
Ah—
well, there is one thing happening right now.
The doll I used in Yeouido just got itself a nickname.
Just like Lee Ha-Eun would one day be known as Serenity, it made sense that something that flashy would earn a title of its own.
The Artist.
That was the name they gave it.
They said the doll killed monsters so beautifully it was like watching art.
“…Who the hell came up with that name.”
I didn’t like it, but I couldn’t deny it made sense.
From an outsider’s perspective, the way I wiped out the ogres and trolls, the way I painted the battlefield red with a single sweeping strike—it probably did look like a grand performance.
Apparently, another nickname contender had even been The Comedian.
And naturally, debates broke out about how to classify “The Artist.”
One side argued he was a villain, since he never registered with the Association and vanished right after the battle.
The other side claimed the registration law itself was unjust, and that someone who committed no crimes—and even saved lives—should be honored as a hero, not condemned.
So-called “experts” went on TV every day, arguing endlessly about it.
“Funny, really. Doesn’t matter what they call me—villain or hero.
Neither label changes anything.”
I could guess why they kept the argument going, though.
It gave them something to talk about.
“Let’s play Awakeners!”
“Then I’ll be The Artist!”
“No! I’m The Artist!”
After school, while walking home from training to match Mom’s work schedule, I saw a group of kindergarteners playing on the playground.
They were laughing and pretending to fight monsters.
“Good grief…”
“Awakener play” was simple.
They just split roles—Awakeners, monsters, or villains—and acted out mock battles.
Still, seeing so many kids fighting to play as The Artist made me laugh without meaning to.
“Huh? What’s so funny, Gun-Woo?”
“Ah, nothing. I just keep hearing people talk about this ‘Artist’ guy lately.”
Ha-Eun puffed out her cheeks at my vague answer.
“You’re always like that! You laugh by yourself at weird things!”
“Sorry, sorry.”
(Well, to be fair, she wasn’t wrong.)
“Oh, right—Gun-Woo.”
“Yeah?”
“That Artist guy kinda looks like you.”
“…Really?”
“Uh-huh!”
Of course he did.
It was literally my face—just older.
I chuckled, and Ha-Eun suddenly clapped her hands as if she’d solved a mystery.
“I got it! You were laughing ‘cause he looks like you, right? I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, you’re right. You’re really smart, Ha-Eun.”
“Heehee, I knew it!”
I smiled at her bright laugh.
When she first started elementary school, she’d been so shy she couldn’t talk to anyone but me.
She’d grown so much.
Before I knew it, we’d reached our apartment complex. Time to part ways.
“See you tomorrow, Gun-Woo!”
“Yeah, see you.”
I waved back and headed for my place.
Unlocking the front door, I called out as usual.
“I’m home.”
“Gun-Woo, you’re back? Go wash your hands and have some tangerines.”
“Okay.”
I saw Mom tidying up in the kitchen, came out of the bathroom after washing my hands, and set my bag neatly in my room before sitting down in the living room.
“Don’t eat too many. We’re having dinner soon.”
“Got it.”
While peeling a tangerine, I quietly shifted my focus—splitting my attention between my real body and my doll.
“Phew… this can’t go on forever,” I muttered through the doll’s mouth, somewhere far from home.
I’d just found a new dungeon.
Ever since morning, I’d been juggling two tasks at once—pretending to study in class while using my doll to scour the city for gates.
No wonder my head felt like it was going to explode.
