◈ 1. Hidden Piece
“AAAHHH!!”
I couldn’t believe such a loud scream came from my own throat.
It was raw, guttural, and full of desperation.
To summarize the situation: I was currently trapped inside a dungeon in the game.
Initially, my plan was simple—find the hidden treasure called the ‘Hidden Piece’ stashed in here and make a clean escape.
But…
“Why isn’t it working?! Why the hell is the emergency escape item malfunctioning all of a sudden?!”
The escape item that was supposed to teleport me out of the dungeon was completely useless.
And of all times, it had to be in this Legend-grade Dungeon, a difficulty level beyond even A or S grade.
To put it simply, it was an L-grade dungeon—clearing it the ‘proper’ way by defeating the boss monster was practically impossible.
That left me with one other option: let my character die and accept the ‘Clear Failure’.
But there was a massive problem with that plan.
The virtual augmented reality RPG game I was currently logged into, “Call of the Ruined World”, or as it’s better known, ‘CRW’ 1(The romanization of the Korean title abbreviates to “MyeolSeBu” (멸세부). In English, the acronym ‘CRW’ was created for fluency, but it is not a direct romanization. Instead, it reflects the English-translated name’s initials.) , had a notoriously unfair and merciless system.
For example, if a player’s character dies while fighting monsters in a dungeon, most games would impose a minor penalty, like losing some experience points or gold.
But not <CRW>.
If you died in a high-level dungeon like this one, the penalties went far beyond that.
You’d not only lose experience points and gold but also every single item stored in your personal inventory.
That’s right—everything would disappear.
Those precious items I had painstakingly collected and stored would disintegrate into nothing more than data fragments.
…And I was about to experience that firsthand.
“AAAHHH!!”
I screamed again, squeezing out every ounce of frustration, and reflected bitterly.
“My rare items… worth at least 500 million won if I sold them… I have to sacrifice them to get out of here? I’d been saving them so carefully, waiting for the market price to go up!”
This wasn’t an exaggeration.
Given how insanely popular this game was, items from <CRW> often sold for hundreds of millions of won.
The game company even actively encouraged players to trade items for real money.
They claimed they wanted to create a lifelike economy system within the game world where cash transactions could flow freely.
I was one of those hyenas who smelled money and jumped into the game to profit from item trading.
With a good nose for opportunity, I had managed to amass nearly 500 million won’s worth of assets.
And until today, I’d never made such a catastrophic mistake.
But this time, I let my guard down.
Since I had an emergency escape item in my inventory, I thought it was safe to carry my rare items without first storing them in the bank.
I’d planned to escape the dungeon before dying and losing everything.
But who would have guessed the escape item would suddenly stop working due to a system bug?
For the record, the <CRW> admins have a strict policy: once an item disappears due to any issue—system errors included—they will never restore it, no matter how much you complain.
“…Tch. Get it together. It’s not like death is the only way out. If I can just defeat the final boss, I can clear this dungeon.”
If I played flawlessly—really, truly flawlessly—there was still a slim chance I could make it out alive.
The problem was that the final boss was stronger than all the other monsters in the dungeon combined. Still, I forced myself to push those thoughts aside.
I wasn’t even in the boss room yet—if I let fear take over now, I wouldn’t stand a chance.
Luckily—or unluckily—my mental resilience, honed from clawing my way up from the bottom, helped me regain my focus.
“First, let’s grab the loot from the hunt.”
To enter the boss room, you must defeat the gatekeeper monster guarding the entrance. I had already taken down the gatekeeper here—the Fallen Holy Knight Commander.
But in my despair over the broken escape item, I’d completely forgotten to pick up the loot dropped when the monster died.
Ding.
The moment I picked up the item—a weapon resembling an old sword—a notification sound chimed, and a transparent holographic ‘Item Information Window’ appeared before my eyes.
[Item Acquired]
- Fallen Holy Knight Commander’s Ancient Sword (??? Rank)
A thousand-year-old sword wielded by the Fallen Holy Knight Commander to protect his master.
It still retains traces of the goddess’s blessing.
Perhaps a skilled blacksmith could restore it to reveal its true potential?
There was no gold or experience gained from defeating the monster.
The only thing left behind was the ‘Fallen Holy Knight Commander’s Ancient Sword’.
“What the hell? Why is the reward so lousy?”
It was rare for a reward to be this meagre after defeating an A-rank monster.
Something felt off.
Even a quick inspection of the sword revealed it was in terrible condition.
The blade was completely dulled, and the handle was worn and frayed.
At the tip of the grip, faint letters were etched in English—Rosie? Lucy? It looked like a name, but the letters were so eroded they were nearly unreadable.
It seemed to be the kind of item that would reveal its true stats or abilities only after being repaired by a blacksmith NPC who specialized in restoring old items.
“If I repair it, it should at least be a B-rank item. It did drop from an A-rank monster, after all.”
I consoled myself with this thought as I carefully stored the sword in my inventory.
That’s when it happened.
【Kan… Rasht…】
“…!”
The gatekeeper monster I was certain I had defeated suddenly muttered something.
Without hesitation, I pulled out the old sword I’d just picked up and drove it into the creature’s heart.
【Ka… Shuhht…】
With those final words, the monster’s body finally disintegrated into ash.
“…What the hell was that?”
Normally, monsters drop their loot after they’ve been killed.
So, when the creature dropped an item, I had assumed it was truly dead.
A monster dropping an item before it’s even dead?
That was unheard of.
Unless… the creature somehow had a will of its own and deliberately dropped the item.
But that’s impossible—it’s just a game.
“The emergency escape item doesn’t work, monsters are dropping heirlooms before dying, and now a supposedly dead monster comes back to life to whisper some cryptic last words… This dungeon is a complete mess.”
Grumbling a few more complaints, I pulled a recovery potion out of my inventory.
Sure, the dungeon was a disaster, but I still had to take down the final boss.
And to do that, I needed to restore my health, which had been chipped away in the earlier battles.
“But what was it trying to say just now?”
As the potion slid down my throat, I replayed the monster’s final words in my mind.
It said something like ‘Ka… Shuhht…’ But I had no idea what it meant.
The monsters in <CRW> always spoke in a strange, otherworldly language that was so irregular it was impossible to decipher.
Still, judging from the earlier situation, I could roughly guess the meaning.
What else would a dying monster say to the one who killed it? It was obvious.
‘Go to hell…’ or something along those lines.
Why did it whisper such a curse so wistfully? I’d probably never know, no matter how long I dwelled on it.
There was no point wasting time on such meaningless thoughts.
I decided to move on and step into the boss room instead.
My health was fully restored from the potion anyway.
Creak.
The rusty hinges groaned as the door to the final boss room swung open.
Through the crack, a chilling air spilled out, more vivid than anything one might expect from a virtual reality game.
Along with it, a warning message echoed in my ears:
※ WARNING ※
It has been 8 hours since you logged into ‘Call of the Ruined World’.
Prolonged use of the game capsule can lead to serious physical harm and, in extreme cases, death.
This message automatically played whenever someone stayed inside a gaming capsule for too long.
According to government regulations, any gameplay session exceeding eight hours triggered such dire-sounding warnings.
After all, there had been cases of people starving to death while locked inside their game capsules, completely consumed by the game.
As always, I ignored the warning and pressed on into the boss room.
Logging out when I was on the verge of defeating the boss?
That was out of the question.
[You have entered the boss room, ‘The Upper Cathedral Sanctuary’, in the L-rank dungeon, Lucidmiller Cathedral.]
Step. Step.
I strode through the ruined sanctuary.
A long, ash-grey carpet stretched across the center of the chapel, flanked on either side by rows of statues lining the walls.
The faces of the statues were unfamiliar.
In keeping with the lore, the world of <CRW> was not Earth but some other ruined realm.
These statues likely represented guardian deities of that world—ones I would never recognize.
“There it is.”
My gaze locked onto a pure white coffin placed at the far end of the sanctuary.
It seemed obvious that the boss monster lay asleep inside.
I envisioned the scene: the coffin lid creaking open, the slumbering boss monster rising unsteadily to its feet—a classic dramatic entrance.
“……”
I stood silently, waiting for the boss monster to appear.
Determined to defeat it and clear the dungeon, I strengthened my resolve.
I waited. And waited some more.
“……”
Still, the boss monster didn’t stir.
I tried everything—throwing a rock at the coffin, hurling spells, and every other trick I could think of.
Nothing worked.
“Could this be another system error…?”
I swallowed my frustration and, left with no other choice, approached the coffin myself.
Carefully, I pried the lid open.
“Ah.”
Typically, when players encounter a boss monster in <CRW>, their first reaction is something along the lines of ‘Argh!’ ‘What the—?!’ or even ‘Ugh!’
But just now, I uttered a simple ‘Ah’.
The meaning behind that single syllable was straightforward:
“Is this… really a monster?”
Unlike the other monsters, which were walking vomit-inducers, this one was… handsome.
Too handsome, in fact, to call him a monster without feeling apologetic.
His radiant blonde hair and elegantly sculpted facial features made him the kind of man who would turn heads just by passing by.
With a face like that, why bother being a monster?
He could have been an idol, a model, or even an actor, raking in money by the boatload.
…At that thought, I cut myself off from these pointless musings and pulled up the monster’s info window.
[Fallen Pope]
- A wicked pope who betrayed his god after succumbing to the temptation of demons a thousand years ago.
- Chosen as an apostle of the divine and entrusted with great responsibilities and matching power, yet he merely stood by and watched as the world fell into ruin.
- Ignored the suffering of all creation.
- Ultimately, everything he cherished turned to ashes, and he entered a deep slumber, awaiting the goddess’s mercy.
- Will not awaken unless attacked first.
A vague recollection of the game’s lore flickered through my mind.
When the apocalypse struck, the last surviving deity of this world supposedly poured all of her remaining strength into creating one final apostle to save it.
But for some reason, that apostle did nothing.
He simply stood by and watched as everything crumbled.
Even in the official lore compendium published by the game developers, this villain was only mentioned in passing, a single cryptic line that left everyone speculating about his true identity.
This guy might actually be that apostle.
If so, he was definitely an intriguing monster, but I had more pressing matters to focus on right now.
“As long as he isn’t attacked, he won’t wake up…”
I swallowed dryly.
Then, I glanced again at the object I’d been eyeing for a while.
“So, this treasure chest… taking it won’t cause any issues, right?”
After casting a wary glance at the Fallen Pope, I carefully pried the treasure chest from his grip.
Even in his sleep, he had been clutching it tightly.
Judging by the ornate gold and jewel-encrusted frame, it wasn’t going to be filled with chewed-up gum.
Whatever was inside had to be something valuable.
I hastily opened the chest, and inside…
[The Last Mercy of the Goddess – Ring (L)]
- Imbued with the goddess’s final mercy for her fallen servant.
- Grants the ability to return to the past and undo mistakes.
- Usable up to 3 times.
The Ring of the Goddess’s Mercy.
It could actually send its user back in time.
As soon as I read the description, I knew exactly what this was.
“This is it! This is the hidden piece!”
Rumour had it there was a hidden treasure—a hidden piece—somewhere in this dungeon.
It definitely wasn’t that old, worn-out sword I picked up earlier, so this had to be it.
The item description alone was far more elaborate and impressive than anything else I’d seen.
Convinced, I examined the ring’s appearance in more detail.
At first glance, it seemed plain, like white platinum.
But when I looked closely, I could see golden streaks coursing through its interior-like veins.
Marvelling at its peculiar design, I realized something else.
“Could it be that the dungeon escape item stopped working because of this?”
It seemed highly likely that this hidden piece was an item designed to ‘rewind the character’s time to a point before entering the dungeon’.
The information window clearly labelled it as a time-reversal item.
Technically, it was described as an item that could ‘turn back time’, but how could a mere game item actually rewind time in the real world?
Its actual functionality was probably limited to resetting the character to its pre-dungeon state.
Since it allowed the player to leave the dungeon by essentially undoing their entry, the item’s effect was similar to that of a dungeon escape tool.
“If the game developers intentionally blocked the dungeon escape item… that would make sense. They must’ve been guiding me to use this hidden piece, which functions similarly, to leave the dungeon instead.”
I could guess the reason behind this setup.
It was likely a way to propel me into the next scenario they had prepared.
If I wore this ring, maybe the goddess or a divine beast of this world would appear and say something like:
“You seem to be in trouble, brave hero. I shall rewind time for you and guide you out of the dungeon. But in return, I ask one favor of you.”
With a quest tied to the next chapter of the story.
That was when I made my decision.
“Alright. I won’t sell this—I’ll use it myself.”
Sure, selling it could earn a massive fortune.
But using it might lead to something even greater.
Considering how the developers had gone to the trouble of blocking ordinary dungeon escape items to set this up, this was no ordinary scenario.
Surely, there would be something far more incredible awaiting—greater items, more challenging dungeons, and rewards of wealth and fame.
There was no need to think any further.
I quickly slipped the ring onto my finger.
[Hidden Piece “Ring of the Goddess’ Mercy” has fully bonded with you!]
[Hidden Piece “Ring of the Goddess’ Mercy” rejoices at its reunion with its new owner!]
[Hidden Piece “Ring of the Goddess’ Mercy” activates its special skill, ‘Rewind’ for one use!]
Before I could even process what was happening, a series of strange messages appeared, followed by the hidden piece glowing so brightly that it hurt my eyes.
But that wasn’t the end of it.
Even stranger messages came after that.
[Your time rewinds to 1,000 years ago!]
[Your soul inhabits the body of the Fallen Pope, ‘Nikellus van Lucidmiller’, from the cathedral!]
[You inherit the skills of the Fallen Pope, ‘Nikellus van Lucidmiller’!]
[You inherit the karmic burden of the Fallen Pope, ‘Nikellus van Lucidmiller’!]
Rewind to 1,000 years ago?
Inherit the skills and karma of the boss monster?
Confusion washed over me, and just as I started to question it, my vision went black.
That was the last thing I remembered before my death.
Following that, as the warning message had stated, I died from ‘serious bodily harm’ due to prolonged use of the game capsule — in other words, a ‘heart attack’.
