RG 129

As I sat there, the fake quietly stared at my hands before speaking. “I can guess what you’re trying to do. You’re right—the being you’re referring to still hasn’t grown enough to be called the true Calamity.”

“Then…”

“But I can’t grant that request.”

“What? Why not?”

“It’s not so much that I won’t—it’s that I can’t. There are two reasons why.” As my expression twisted, the fake calmly continued explaining, “First reason: there’s a limit to how many times I can send a living being from the current timeline into a past one. It’s only possible twice in total—and one of those was already used.”

“…You’re telling me it can only be done twice?”

“Of course. Did you think you could go back and forth as much as you wanted?”

“…”

“That ‘trial version’ last time was an unavoidable step to get your understanding and cooperation. The remaining one is meant as a reward—if you manage to stop the Calamity here. I can’t just let you use it up now.” The fake curled his lips into a smile. “Well, if you’re willing to give up your reward, I won’t stop you… but I guarantee you’ll regret it.”

I couldn’t bring myself to say no. It felt like a needle twisting in my chest.

Meeting the Calamity to gain information… or choosing the chance to die alongside my people. Obviously, I had to choose the latter.

“Second reason: it’s too dangerous. You know as well as I do—the Calamity is a being beyond human limits. He could kill you in the blink of an eye.”

In other words, even if I did meet him, I’d likely be dead before I could get any information. Watching him from afar wasn’t an option either. He would surely possess senses far sharper than someone like me, just an S-class.

I understood now why the fake had refused so firmly. But knowing didn’t make it any less frustrating. I couldn’t help but sigh. I was about to ask for something else, but the fake spoke up before I could.

“There is another way.”

“…!”

I had thought both problems he mentioned were impossible to solve and that I’d have to give up entirely. But now he was saying there’s another way?

I straightened up quickly and asked, “What is it? Is it for real?”

“Before that, let’s clarify why you want to meet the Calamity from the previous timeline. From what I gather, you’re looking for information about what he’s like once he’s awakened, right?”

“Yeah.” I wanted to see the Great Calamity’s status. I needed to understand what changed between the current Cha Sahyeon and the Cha Sahyeon who had fully progressed the seed to 100%.

The fake nodded, as if confirming a theory he’d already considered. “Sending you to the past might be difficult. But if your goal is simply to meet the Calamity—then I could just create one for you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean I’ll create a temporary Calamity. A replica, essentially. I’ll recreate his powers as accurately as possible, but leave out his will. If I copied his mind, he’d go berserk and kill you.”

My mouth fell open at the absurdity of his words. It wasn’t just shocking—it was completely ridiculous. He was going to copy the Great Calamity? Was this bastard out of his mind? No—was that even possible in the first place?

‘…He wouldn’t be saying it so confidently if it wasn’t.’

There’s no way he’d joke around in a situation like this. Even so, it was a proposal that was almost impossible to believe.

“If that was possible, why didn’t you just copy the Great Calamity earlier and have it fight instead?”

“A replica is only a replica. The one I’ll make for you will fall short in many ways compared to the original. Power like that can’t just be recreated in an instant.”

“…”

“What I’m offering is to show it to you if you still think even a replica is worth seeing. What you can actually gain from it—I can’t say.”

“So this is the only option?”

At my question, the fake calmly closed his eyes. His slightly furrowed brows made it seem like he was sensing something I couldn’t see. He eventually opened his eyes again and gave a short reply, “Yes.”

The decision was now mine. I didn’t agree right away—I went over our conversation in my head.

‘Even if nothing else, considering those two reasons he gave, using the “trial version” again would be a poor decision.’

The Great Calamity being overwhelmingly dangerous was one issue—but the fact that only one trip back remained was a much bigger problem.

Losing that reward… yeah, it would hurt, but that was my personal issue.

The bigger question was: would it really be the right call to waste that one final chance just to maybe get information about the Calamity? I might find a better use for it down the line.

Even if the world before regression is falling apart in places, it still holds more accumulated experience than this one. If you think of it that way, it’s kind of like a senior timeline.

When someone is unsure how to move forward, they can look back at the path someone else already walked. I could use it to study the past and find a better path—or even as a cautionary example.

‘And if I really have no other use for it, I’ll just claim the reward myself.’

That would be ideal… but utopia is never a realistic goal.

What I wanted was to protect the time I gained through regression—no matter the cost. And if that meant offering up anything I had, so be it.

After organizing my thoughts, I looked at the face identical to Song Ji-un’s and spoke. “Make it as close as possible to the Calamity from the previous timeline.”

“So you also agree to pay the price?”

“I don’t care.” If I was afraid of that, I wouldn’t have come this far.

When I replied indifferently, the fake chuckled and stood up. Then, he reached out his hand toward me.

“Wait—what are you doing?”

The memory of the “trial version” flashed in my mind, and I leaned back instinctively—only for the bastard to grab my shoulder without warning. “Stay still. I’m going to create a temporary space and summon the replica there.”

“And you’re throwing me into that space?”

“Wouldn’t that be better than tearing a hole in reality?”

Fair point. Even with only 62% of the seed progress, Cha Sahyeon’s presence as an L-class was overwhelming. Bringing a full 100% replica of the Great Calamity into reality might cause some catastrophic event.

“It’s not just the Calamity I’ll be replicating. I’ll recreate the environment too—the entire space will be a copy. And like I said before, it won’t have a will, so it won’t attack you.”

“Got it.”

“The space will only last for five minutes. Once those five minutes are up, the space will collapse and your consciousness will return here.” He tapped me lightly on the forehead with his fingertip. My upper body tipped backward helplessly. “Go. I hope you get what you’re looking for.”

The couch I had been sitting on vanished, and everything in my field of vision was swallowed by darkness. It was like sinking into water—my body fell endlessly into the void, and all my senses began to fade.

***

Tap, crackle.

The sound of something burning reached my ears, followed by the sting of thick smoke in my nose. I felt coarse dirt beneath my trembling hand.

No wonder everything looked dark—at some point, my eyes had closed. As awareness slowly sharpened, I cautiously opened them and saw a gray sky above, streaked with black smoke swaying gently in the air.

The air was hot and heavy. Suppressing a groan, I pushed myself upright—and gasped when I saw the dark silhouette standing in front of me.

“Hrk…!”

As soon as I realized what I was looking at, a wave of frigid, razor-sharp energy washed over me like a tidal wave. The scorching heat from moments ago vanished completely, replaced by an overwhelming cold that seemed to freeze me to my core.

My limbs felt stiff, like they were frozen solid from frostbite. My breath caught in my throat from sheer fear, unable to go in or out properly.

‘Stay calm. Come on, get a grip.’

I fought to regain my composure, mentally lashing myself for slipping toward panic. The fake had only given me five minutes. I didn’t want to waste that precious time trembling like an idiot.

I deliberately slowed my breathing, trying to ease the tension. Thankfully, the thunderous sound of my heartbeat in my ears began to fade, and the chaotic blur in my vision gradually settled. I forced myself to endure the crushing pressure on my shoulders and the blade-like killing intent that sliced through the air, focusing on the figure in front of me.

The man standing against the backdrop of a ruined wasteland wore a face I knew all too well. In a hoarse voice, I whispered his name, “…Cha Sahyeon.”

He was looking down at me, his head tilted just slightly, but it didn’t feel like our eyes had met. His face, too, was expressionless—utterly devoid of emotion, like a doll.

Strangely, that emotionless face made it clear: this replica and the Cha Sahyeon I had known were no longer the same person.