Duo Leveling LITRPG | Post Apocalyptic | SYSTEM-Chapter 190 - 243+244 - A World on Pause

Jhin let out a quiet breath.

"Hmph…"

The dungeon rollback—intended to prevent the moon's crash—had succeeded.

They had timed the death of Saun to coincide with the dungeon break.

It had worked.

[A bug has occurred.]

Just like before, system messages overlapped, and everything around him froze.

He was now completely isolated inside the dungeon.

Rollback would soon begin.

And yet…

"Something feels off."

Beside him, Aurora gave a crooked smile.

"What? This is normal."

"…No one's moving."

"Exactly. Which means it's normal."

Jhin looked at the knights in the courtyard, caught mid-duel.

Their swords were locked in an elegant clash, sparks frozen mid-air like glass sculptures.

Aurora poked one of them in the cheek.

"The dungeon's stopped functioning. All systems frozen. That's why."

"…And that's normal?"

"Yeah. Because this is a dungeon."

Jhin turned his gaze to the palace halls. From servants to soldiers, every NPC was frozen—as if in a paused cutscene.

Aurora explained further.

"They're part of the dungeon. If the dungeon crashes, they go with it."

It was actually simple.

Jhin was not bound to the dungeon, so he could move.

The NPCs, being core elements of its function, had halted the moment the system bug occurred.

He looked around the deathly still world, where even the wind had stopped.

A word floated to mind:

"Euthanasia."

He'd been worried about the rollback.

Afraid of having to watch the NPCs panic and vanish, stripped away like data under a cursor.

No exits. No explanation. Just deletion.

He wasn't eager to witness that.

But now?

"Everything froze at the same time the dungeon crashed…"

There would be no screaming. No resistance.

Just quiet.

In that sense, it was almost… merciful.

Still—

"…It's not as comforting as I thought."

"Pretty, it's not."

These were people who had lived in defiance of the vampires.

Dwarves swinging their hammers.

Scrappers mocking the garbage heap.

Defective blacksmiths struggling in despair.

They cried, laughed, raged, and hoped.

He hadn't even spent a full week here—

Yet everything he experienced felt real.

And now it's gone, just because of a bug…

One world, collapsed.

Just like that.

Silently. Pointlessly. Without anyone knowing.

Even if the world would eventually be restored after rollback…

The way it ended didn't sit right.

It didn't feel good—knowing people's lives could be rewritten like this.

Jhin clicked his tongue.

"…Not like I have time to pity others."

The world had stopped.

And he was the only one still moving.

He made his way to the highest point of the castle.

From there, he tried to gauge where the dungeon's boundaries might be.

"Big, huh?"

Well, it was a C-rank dungeon.

Compared to the Bey Tower dungeon that had barely swallowed the surrounding area, this was on another scale entirely.

Though, that one was ruined during the dungeonification process. Maybe it never got to expand properly…

Maybe that's also why a break hadn't happened sooner.

Higher-grade dungeons were larger by default.

That also made them harder to break.

Even planting a Dungeon Core Flower wouldn't trigger a break easily.

Not that it matters now. I don't have one anyway.

The trick he'd used to escape Bey World? No longer an option.

Aurora, her eyes wide like a mantis shrimp, asked,

"…Wait, weren't you planning to die here?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. I thought you were sacrificing yourself, going down with the dungeon."

Jhin gave a sharp grin.

"Seriously?"

He couldn't leave Millie behind.

He couldn't trust Tempah to kill the boss precisely on time.

And Lutz's damage output wasn't reliable.

Which meant—

Jhin was the only one who could do it.

But even so—

He had no intention of dying here.

"I'm getting out."

"…You mean that."

"Of course. You think I'd go down with a dungeon?"

One of the reasons he volunteered to stay was this:

If anyone had the best shot at escaping, it was him.

Even if it's a type of dungeon I've never seen before… it's still a dungeon. Still a game.

"There has to be a way out. I just haven't found it yet."

He had time.

The larger the dungeon, the longer the rollback process would take.

Jhin stared into the far-off black void of the system's restricted zone.

"If there's a strategy… I'll find it."

He hadn't given up.

Since then, he had tried many things.

"This doesn't work either."

"Nope, not that one."

"…Hm. Not this, either."

He'd made Camriel's office his home base, combing every inch of the place for clues.

No luck.

Today was Day 12.

Not a single meaningful breakthrough.

Just one, faint possibility.

"There has to be a hole somewhere… just wide enough for one person to squeeze through.

This game's not perfect."

But now…

Backspace was falling.

One keystroke at a time.

He saw the black tide approaching the capital.

Time was nearly up.

"Seriously… is there no way? Aurora. If you know anything, now's the time."

"Nope. Told you—I don't remember much."

"You said you were a hacker in your past life."

"And I was. But all those memories? Pretty much erased. I only vaguely remember… 'Yeah, maybe I was?'"

One thing he'd learned during all this—

Aurora's past.

"I don't even know how I became the Relic of Truth. That was hundreds of years ago."

She claimed she'd once been a Corelandsn named Aurora, a well-known white-hat hacker in her time.

It sounded absurd.

But with how long she'd lived, it was impossib

Jhin let out a low murmur.

"Hmm…"

The rollback of the dungeon to stop the moon's crash.

The original plan—to kill Saun at the precise moment the dungeon break occurred—had succeeded.

[A bug has occurred.]

Just like before, the overlapping system messages, the process of being completely isolated inside the dungeon—it was all the same.

He could tell rollback would begin soon.

But—

"…Something's not right."

Aurora gave a bitter laugh beside him.

"What? This is perfectly normal."

"...No one's moving."

"Exactly. That's what makes it normal."

Jhin was watching the knights in the upper courtyard, frozen in the middle of a sparring match.

The moment where they lunged at one another with swords drawn—

Even the sparks that burst when the blades met were petrified in midair, stuck as if pinned into space.

Aurora poked one of the knights on the cheek and spoke nonchalantly.

"Once a bug occurs, the dungeon's functions completely halt. That's why."

"…And that's normal?"

"Yeah. This is a dungeon, remember?"

Jhin looked around the royal palace. From servants to knights, everyone moving about the castle was locked in place like a paused video.

Aurora added an explanation.

"They're all entities tied to the dungeon. If the dungeon stops functioning, they collapse with it."

It was a simple problem when you thought about it.

He wasn't bound to the dungeon—so he could still move.

But the others, being bound to it, had silently ground to a halt.

Jhin looked around at the still world where not even the wind blew, and exhaled.

A word rose in his mind.

Euthanasia.

He'd worried about this part of the rollback process.

Being forced to watch the panic unfold, exposed as NPCs and data were deleted before his eyes—like Backspace, Shift, and Cut all used together on a living scene.

To see helpless lives wiped away in a closed dungeon—it wasn't something he wanted to witness.

But now that the dungeon was isolated… and everything connected to it had simply stopped…

At least he wouldn't have to watch them vanish in agony.

In that sense, it was a good thing.

But—

"…It's still not much comfort."

"It's not beautiful, is it?"

These were people who had lived desperately in a kingdom fighting back against vampires.

The dwarves who swung their hammers daily.

The ones who mocked the scrapyard.

The defective blacksmiths who suffered inside it.

They had cried, laughed, gotten angry, and despaired.

He hadn't even spent a full week here, and yet everything he had experienced felt undeniably real.

All it took was a bug.

Just a single flaw—and the whole world collapsed.

So easily. So quietly. Without anyone knowing.

Even if the world would rebuild after initialization,

to see a life—an entire world—erased like this…

It didn't feel good.

Jhin clicked his tongue.

"…Now's not the time to worry about others."

A world where everything had stopped.

He, alone, was the only player left moving.

Jhin climbed to the highest point of the palace.

He wanted to check: just how far did the dungeon extend?

"It's big, huh?"

Of course—it was a C-rank dungeon.

If he thought back to the Lizardman's Well, the scale of the dungeon had to be massive.

Totally different from Bey Tower, which had only consumed its immediate area.

Well, that place had been damaged during the dungeonification process. Maybe it never got the chance to expand.

Maybe that's why a dungeon break didn't occur easily there either.

In truth, the higher the dungeon rank, the bigger it became, and the harder it was to trigger a dungeon break—even if you planted dungeon cores.

Not that it mattered anymore. I don't have any more dungeon flowers anyway.

The trick he'd used to escape from Bey World—the Dungeon Break exploit—wasn't available now.

Aurora blinked her big, shrimp-like eyes and asked,

"…Weren't you giving up?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. I thought you stayed to die with the dungeon, like a noble sacrifice or something."

Jhin grinned.

"As if."

He couldn't leave Millie behind.

He couldn't trust Tempah to kill Saun on time.

Lutz's damage output wasn't reliable either.

So it had to be him. That was obvious.

But as he'd said before—he had no intention of sacrificing himself.

"I'm going to get out of here."

"…You're serious."

"Of course I am. You really think I'd die here?"

One reason he'd chosen to remain—

Who had the highest chance of escaping this place?

Himself.

Even though it was a form of dungeon he'd never experienced before—

it was still just a dungeon.

Still a game.

"I just haven't found the way out yet."

He had time.

The larger the dungeon, the longer the rollback process.

Jhin stared at the black, system-restricted zone far in the distance.

"All I need is a strategy."

He wasn't giving up.

He tried everything he could think of.

"…Nope. That's not it."

"This won't work either."

"…Hmm. Not that."

He'd practically made Camriel's office his own room by now.

For 12 days, he'd racked his brain, trying to find a way out.

But still, nothing. Not even one meaningful result.

He had one, faint clue—just one thread.

"There's gotta be a gap somewhere.

Enough of a crack for at least one person to slip through.

This game's not perfectly airtight…"

The problem was—

Before he could find that crack, the Backspace rain had already reached the capital.

He could now see the black tide approaching.

Time was nearly up.

"Is there really no other way? Aurora, if you know anything—say it. It's not too late."

"I told you—I don't know!"

"You said you were a hacker in your past life."

"I was! But I lost all those memories, remember? All I have left is a fuzzy 'I think I was.'"

He had learned one surprising thing:

Aurora's past.

"I don't even remember how I became the Relic of Truth. It was hundreds of years ago."

She said she used to be a Corelandsn named Aurora—and that she'd once been a well-known white hat hacker.

It sounded crazy.

But counting all the time she'd existed, she had to be several centuries old.