Yoren's eyes were blank as he stared at his phone screen, utterly dazed. Ten identical Kings of Advancement lined up in perfect symmetry, their golden brilliance mocking him. His classmates crowded around him, gasping, shouting, filming—some out of awe, others out of sheer disbelief.
But Yoren couldn't hear them.
The vivid images from his dream flooded his mind.
Vina turned around, the strings of her apron dangling behind her. "Yoren, come tie this for me."
Vina set a bowl of steaming noodles in front of him, her smile warm and teasing. "It's ready. Eat up."
Vina raised her glass, golden hair glinting in the dim light. "When we get back to Victoria, I'll cook for everyone. You have to come too, Yoren."
The warmth in her voice. The scent of red wine. The crackling tension between her and Winter. The weight of Indra's hand on his shoulder.
It wasn't just a dream.
A voice snapped him back to reality. "Yoren, let me take a picture! I'm posting this to Tieba."
"Forget pictures! Record a video and upload it to Bilibili," another classmate chimed in.
Zhang Yuan, ever the instigator, clutched his head in mock agony. "My eyes! My poor eyes! Yoren, are you hacking? Ten six-stars in one pull? And they're all Vina? Does she love you that much?"
Yoren forced a chuckle, trying to shake off the dissonance between the real world and the one he had just left behind. "Guess my luck finally turned."
"Turned? Bro, you just ascended to godhood!" Zhang Yuan laughed. "Come on, you've got another ten-pull. Let's see if Miss Wang's got a twin sister waiting for you."
With a resigned sigh, Yoren tapped the [Search Ten Times] button. The crowd held their breath as the black canvas bag landed on the screen. He unzipped it with practiced indifference.
Golden light shot up once again.
Silence.
Then—the unmistakable voice of a certain frostbitten bear.
"Winter, Ursus Student Self-Government…"
Again.
"Winter, Ursus Student Self-Government…"
Again.
"Winter, Ursus…"
Ten. All ten of them. The classroom erupted into chaos.
Zhang Yuan nearly fell out of his chair. "Yoren, did you piss off a bear god or something?"
A short, chubby classmate, Li Pi, who prided himself as the class's luckiest gacha player, suddenly looked pale. "I don't buy it. No way. This is rigged." His voice was shaking. "Yoren, you still have 600 Originite Prime left. Do another pull. If you get another gold, I swear on my life, I'll crush a durian with my ass."
Yoren exhaled. "I don't pick fights, but if fate forces my hand…" He tapped [Single Pull].
The backpack landed. The zipper unfastened.
Golden light flared once more.
Li Pi took a staggering step backward, clutching his rear end in terror.
[Operator Acquired: Zhenli]
The screen displayed the familiar genius, adjusting her monocle. "I'm Zhenli. I'm still a student, but I was recruited because I can use magic… Strange for a student to be standing in a place like this, isn't it?"
Yoren stared at the screen, an amused glint in his eye. "Zhenli, huh? You're here too."
Zhang Yuan strolled over to Li Pi, patting him sympathetically on the shoulder. "So, are you buying the durian, or are we crowdfunding it?"
At this point, the classroom had descended into madness. Students shoved their phones toward Yoren, their eyes glimmering with equal parts desperation and greed.
"King Yoren, please, bless my ten-pull!"
"I'll top up right now if you pull for me!"
"Yoren, help me recruit! I only need one more six-star!"
Zhang Yuan rolled up his notebook like a microphone. "Alright, everyone, form a single-file line! No cutting! Li Pi, back of the line."
Yoren sighed, taking one classmate's phone. It was prepped for a ten-pull, everything set. He hesitated for a moment. Something didn't feel right. He wasn't supposed to be here. Or rather, something in him still wasn't fully back.
"Well, let me just say upfront—no guarantees," Yoren muttered.
The student beamed. "No worries! Just give me half your luck and I'll walk away with four or five six-stars."
"If you say so."
He tapped the screen. The backpack dropped.
The crowd fell silent, eyes locked on the screen.
Ten identical faces stared back at them.
Clos. All ten were Clos.
The student's smile twitched. "Yoren… buddy… did you mispronounce your spell?"
Yoren grimaced. "No spell involved, man. I did warn you."
The student let out a guttural scream, cradling his phone like a fallen comrade, then bolted from the classroom in tears.
The next few students hesitated. Yoren had gone from a divine hand to a cursed blade in a matter of minutes.
Finally, another trembling hand lifted a phone. Xu Huang stepped forward, swallowing hard. "Yoren… I believe in you."
Yoren sighed, accepting the phone. "Alright. Last one."
One pull.
The room fell deathly quiet.
The phone screen flashed.
Ten identical Beagles.
Xu Huang let out a strangled cry, then took off running, screaming down the hallway. "DAMN IT! TEN BEAGLES?! YOREN, I HATE YOU!!!"
Yoren had felt off since the moment he woke up, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what was wrong. It wasn't anything physical—at least, not at first. It was more like an itch at the back of his mind, a sense of disconnect, as if the world around him had lost something vital without him realizing it.
His classmates chattered in groups, some celebrating rare drops in their games, others lamenting their bad luck with gacha pulls. Outside, the midday sun hung high, bathing the city in golden light. It was the world he had known for eighteen years—a world of routine, of safety, of minor frustrations and fleeting joys.
And yet, why did it feel so... hollow?
A thought gnawed at him, persistent and unshakable.
There's something more than this. Something waiting for me.
Noon found Yoren on the rooftop of the school building, staring at the sky with a straw lazily hanging from his lips. A jet carved a perfect contrail through the endless blue. He didn't know why, but he felt like he was supposed to be somewhere else—like he had unfinished business in a place that didn't exist.
"Yoren! There you are, you bastard."
Zhang Yuan clambered onto the rooftop, balancing two grilled sausages wrapped in paper. He flopped down beside Yoren and shoved one toward him. "You looked like you were having an existential crisis or something. Don't tell me you're still high on drawing ten Vinas in a row?"
Yoren didn't respond, still staring at the sky.
Zhang Yuan took a bite of his sausage and kept talking. "I mean, I get it. The King of Advance is strong as hell. You lucked out. But damn, what kind of twisted RNG gives you ten of her in one pull? The way I see it, you've got a whole damn Glasgow Gang in your account now."
"The Glasgow Gang," Yoren murmured, barely audible.
Zhang Yuan kept going. "Yeah, man. Miss Wang's a beast. Her stats are ridiculous. Too bad she's a gang leader. Can you imagine having a wife like that? You'd be at home cooking dinner while she's out there cracking skulls with her hammer."
Yoren finally spoke, his voice distant. "She knows how to cook."
"Huh?" Zhang Yuan blinked, caught off guard. "Where the hell is that written? Did I not unlock enough logs?"
Yoren smiled faintly. "She likes lollipops. And wine. And no matter how dangerous the situation, she never leaves her comrades behind."
Zhang Yuan gave him a wary look. "Dude. That's some deep fanfiction territory you're getting into."
But Yoren wasn't listening. He saw flashes—scenes in his mind, more vivid than any dream. Vina tying her apron, nudging him to help. Vina setting a steaming bowl of noodles in front of him with a rare, genuine smile. Vina, raising her glass, saying, Come to Victoria someday. I'll cook for you.
His fingers clenched against the cold rooftop tiles.
It wasn't just Vina. He could see Winter, standing defiant, bearing the weight of responsibility far beyond her years. Truth, staring blankly at the chaos she'd caused with her endless deductions. Indra, grinning like a predator, slamming her fist into her palm, always eager for a fight.
He could feel it—the weight of the hammer slamming into his skull, the force of Indra's kick sending him flying into a sofa.
His eyes widened.
"Holy shit," he whispered.
Zhang Yuan led him down to the infirmary, still laughing. "Dude, you're really out of it today. That thunderstorm last night must've messed with your head."
The school nurse frowned as she examined him. "There's a sizable swelling on the back of your head," she noted, pressing gently. "It looks like you were hit with something blunt—maybe a metal object."
Yoren stiffened. A hammer. Her hammer.
The nurse continued, oblivious to his growing dread. "And your waist... hmm. This bruise suggests you were struck hard, maybe a kick or—"
"A boot," Yoren said, breathless. "It was a boot."
The nurse looked at him, puzzled. "You remember how this happened?"
Zhang Yuan snorted. "I'm telling you, he probably got up in the middle of the night to practice hula hooping, slipped, and knocked himself out."
Yoren wasn't listening. His heart was pounding. The dream—no, it wasn't a dream. The pain, the memories, the faces—they were all real.
He gripped the edge of the chair so tightly his knuckles turned white from the pressure.
He had been there.
He had lived in Terra.
And now… he was back.
He staggered to his feet, ignoring the nurse's protests, ignoring Zhang Yuan's confused questions.
What the hell happened? Why was he here? Had he been sent back? Was the Glasgow Gang still out there, waiting for him? Was Vina still fighting? Was Winter still leading?
He had to go back.
He had to return to Terra.
"They can all try to stop me...but...I know what was real and...I need to see it again...I can't...I need it..."
But how...could he do it...?