I sat on the edge of the plush circular bed, panting like prey that had escaped the jaws of a cosmic predator at the last moment. Cold drops of sweat mixed with the sticky blood that had bled from my eyes and nose, falling onto the silk sheets and leaving dark stains that resembled holes in the reality I had struggled so hard to secure.

The nightmare... or rather, the "cosmic vision" I had just experienced, was not merely a disturbance in sleep. It was an assault on the core of my consciousness. It left cracks in my soul that no silk, no luxury, nor the fortified walls of this "penthouse" could mend. I felt a slight tremor in my limbs—not fear, but the shock of a nervous system subjected to pressure beyond human capacity.

"Take care of her... do not let her die..."

Those words were not fleeting sounds, but nails hammered into my skull like the bells of a cursed church ringing in an abandoned city. That black throne, and that aura which crushed my pride and forced me to kneel and writhe in the mud of helplessness within the dream world... all of it was a clear message. It was obvious that my escape from "Elysium" and my manipulation of the paths of fate did not sever the threads of the game as I had imagined—it simply moved me to another board, wider and far more terrifying, with unseen players manipulating galaxies as if they were dice.

I wiped my face with a towel soaked in freezing cold water and took a deep breath, trying to regain control over my collapsing nervous system. I had to separate cosmic horror from practical reality. As a Joker, emotion is the first enemy, and panic is the opening that allows the opponent to strike.

"Alright... let’s see what I’ve gained from all this hell and that biological gamble," I muttered in a rough voice, focusing my attention into the depths of my spacetime awareness, where the link between me and that cursed "system" that follows me like a black shadow resides.

"System," I uttered coldly.

Suddenly, before my eyes, the air in the quiet room split open, and a semi-transparent holographic interface appeared, flickering with a dark blue light leaning toward black, as if it absorbed the light around me. It was the familiar interface that had accompanied me since the beginning of my rebellion against the script, but this time it felt heavier. I scanned the list of skills, searching for the price my body had paid for surviving the trials of the "biological abyss."

The screen flickered, and new letters began to form slowly, as if being carved into the air:

[ System Notification ]

A new skill has been unlocked based on a unique achievement: (Surviving the Biological Abyss).

Acquired Skill: [ Mark of the Void ].

Rank: A.

My heart stopped for a moment. Rank A? Only?

I continued reading, sparks flying from my eyes:

Description: Allows the host to place an "invisible mark" — a spacetime coordinate — on any location or physical surface touched with a bare hand. Once the mark is placed, the host can activate the skill to return — instant teleportation — to the same point from anywhere in the world, within a limited duration of up to (24 hours).

Additional Feature: The host may take only one person along during teleportation, provided there is direct physical contact.

Note: The skill is (evolvable based on usage).

I stared at the screen for long seconds. I read the description once, then twice, then a third time. I felt my blood boiling in my veins.

My face froze in an expression blending shock and disgust, then... my long-suppressed anger erupted.

"Damn this useless, worthless system!" I roared at the top of my lungs, slamming my hand with all my strength onto the marble table beside me. The luxurious marble, worth thousands of credits, shattered into fragments under a fist charged with frustration and hatred.

"Everything... all that blood... all those twisted plans that drained my mind! Manipulating Valisera, selling Alpha Squad to death, standing before the executioner in ’Elysium’ and defying the laws of nature... and in the end I get this pathetic skill?! What the hell! Only Rank A?! I expected a skill of mass destruction! I expected something that tears Transcendents apart or grants me absolute power! Not a coward’s escape skill like frightened rats!"

I was panting from rage, my red eyes glowing in the darkness of the room. It felt as if the system was mocking me, treating me like some novice alley thief who needed shortcuts to escape the police. I had killed masters, challenged systems, and survived certain death—and now the system rewards me with a "mark" to run away?

But... after minutes of silent boiling, my breathing slowly calmed. The coldness that defines the Joker began to return. I reread the description with the eyes of a strategic analyst, free from the arrogance of a protagonist seeking brute force.

"Instant teleportation... to any point I touch..." I whispered, narrowing my eyes as I imagined the possibilities. "No need for a visible path, no reliance on conventional movement. It’s a breach of space itself."

My mind began weaving terrifying scenarios. I imagined placing a secret mark inside a fortified enemy guild room, then entering the heart of their base, executing the assassination, and the moment alarms blared and hundreds surrounded me... I vanish in an instant, returning to my room while sipping wine. I imagined touching the back of an arrogant enemy, then activating the skill and dragging him with me into the mouth of a volcano, or to the depths of the ocean, then returning alone in a blink.

"Well... it’s not entirely useless," I withdrew my insult bitterly, a twisted, dark smile forming on my lips. "It’s a cunning skill... and absolutely terrifying in the hands of someone like me. The ability to appear and disappear like an absolute ghost. And it’s evolvable... damn, it seems the system insists on making me a villain who manipulates shadows rather than a warrior who faces the light. And it’s right about that."

I closed the system screen with a sharp motion of my hand, as if expelling the thought of weakness from my mind. Now, there was a more urgent problem than arranging skills or raging at the system. There was that cursed promise... or rather, that cosmic command I had no choice but to obey.

"The girl."

I had no idea about her name, her origin, or even why a great entity would tremble because of her. All I knew was that she was that little rat, with black hair like a crow’s nest, and those black eyes that held a gaze far deeper than her apparent age. She lived in the filthiest place in this world: the lower sector of Zirathion.

I dressed quickly as if preparing for battle. My heavy black coat, and my soundless tactical boots. I looked at my reflection in the mirror; there was no trace of the amateur youth anymore. There stood a man carrying the burden of cosmic secrets no one else could comprehend.

"If that cosmic entity trembles and suffers for her... then I’d better find her before she dies from some disease or a thief’s knife in those filthy streets. Her death might mean the destruction of the world... or worse, it might mean the destruction of my plan to survive."