Brave’s head snapped toward the nearest console. The alert wasn’t coming from the city. It was coming from outside the Fortress. The security cameras flickered, and a lone figure appeared at the Fortress gates.
A man. Frail. Slender. Wrapped in a pristine white straitjacket—though it hung loosely, the straps unfastened, like the restraints were merely for show. His bald head gleamed under the floodlights. A thin, unsettling grin stretched across his face. Round, dark shades obscured his eyes, but somehow, they still carried an expression—one that seemed to mock everything around him. He didn’t break in. He didn’t sneak past security. He simply walked to the front gate of the most fortified prison on Earth… and stood there. Waiting. Watching. His grin widened, like he could see right through the cameras. And then—he spoke. “Hello, Blackout Fortress.” His voice carried through the speakers, smooth, taunting—as if this was nothing more than a casual conversation. “You all seem tense.”
The floodlights around Blackout Fortress bathed the figure in stark white. He stood there, motionless, his hands still bound in the loose straitjacket, his expression one of mock amusement. He hadn’t moved. He hadn’t made a single attempt to breach the Fortress. Yet somehow, the entire SOF felt invaded.
Brave’s expression darkened as he stared at the monitors. His fingers flexed, resisting the urge to crush the nearest console. "Get me a perimeter scan," he ordered sharply. "I want to know if this lunatic brought company."
A security officer typed furiously into the system. "Sir, we already ran it. He’s alone."
Brave’s jaw tightened. That made it worse. A single man, a murderer, a monster had just walked up to the world’s most impenetrable prison like he was visiting an old friend.
Khem’s voice cut through the tension. “Let’s go meet him.”
Within minutes, the core SOF team had assembled at the main gate. The massive steel doors remained shut, the reinforced barriers towering over them. Khem, Weird, Senshi, Samui, and Shining stood just behind the front line of heavily armed officers—every rifle locked on the smiling man outside.
Yornyang stood perfectly still. Not nervous. Not cautious. Just...waiting. The man known as Salab tilted his head slightly, his round dark shades reflecting the Fortress lights. Then, in a slow, deliberate motion, he took a single step forward. Weapons cocked. Fingers hovered over triggers.
Brave’s voice cut through the courtyard, rolling across the stone walls of Blackout Fortress.
"DO NOT MOVE."
The command should have ended the confrontation immediately.
The SOF officers remained locked in place—some in mid-step, some mid-breath. Frozen. Their bodies refused to disobey. Except for one.
Yornyang took a step forward. Then another.
The SOF team didn't realize what had just happened. Brave did. His voice was an absolute law—one that Yornyang just broke. Brave’s fingers curled into a fist. He didn’t show frustration, but his mind sharpened like a blade. "That’s impossible."
Yornyang tilted his head, still grinning. His movements were deliberate, as if savoring each step forward. "Impossible?" he mused, rocking on his heels. "No, no, no—I think you got it backwards." He spread his arms wide, as if inviting the entire fortress to witness the absurdity of his existence. Then, with mock reverence, he tapped his own chest. "You say stop, I go." Brave’s jaw tightened. Yornyang raised his foot—and slammed it down. The ground beneath him rippled. The solid stone of the courtyard became water for half a second, distorting the reflections of floodlights. It didn’t break apart. It didn’t shatter. It simply ceased to be solid. Then, as suddenly as it had changed, it returned to stone.
Weird blinked. "The hell…?"
Shining adjusted his shades, eyes narrowing. "That wasn’t an illusion."
Yornyang laughed. "Ohhh, so you’re finally getting it." He took another step forward, arms outstretched. "Your power? Your precious little voice?" He tapped his temple. "It told me to stop." He grinned. "So, naturally—I had to move."
The air was sharp with tension. The SOF officers remained motionless, their hands gripping weapons that would do nothing.
Brave’s mind worked fast. His power was absolute. It wasn’t being resisted. It was being reversed. That meant… A direct command was useless. He needed precision. A command Yornyang couldn’t simply flip. Brave exhaled slowly. Then, with absolute clarity, he spoke: "Do not move forward."
The weight of the command rippled outward, pressing against reality itself.
The officers watched, silent, waiting.
Yornyang’s grin stretched wider. He tilted his head. Then— He took a step forward. And then another. The command failed. Yornyang let out a mock gasp. "Oh dear." He placed a hand on his chest. "Looks like I moved forward."
Brave’s expression didn’t change. But inside—he processed everything instantly. Even indirect phrasing was inverting. That meant Yornyang’s power wasn’t just reversing words—it was reversing intent.
Yornyang tapped his chin, still mocking him. "Okay, okay, maybe I see what you’re going for now. You thought, ‘If he flips the effect of my words, I’ll trick him into stopping himself.’" His grin stretched unnaturally wide. "But see, I don’t think that way." He stepped forward again, slowly. "You tell me not to move forward? I’ll move anyway." "You tell me to freeze? I’ll walk faster." "You tell me to stop breathing? I’ll breathe even deeper." Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he lifted his hand—placing it over his own heart. His voice dropped into something softer. "But what if you said…" His smile never wavered.
"Die."
The word hung in the air. The SOF officers tensed. Brave’s eyes didn’t flicker. For a single second, the entire world felt like it was holding its breath.
Then— Yornyang laughed. Loud. Long. Unhinged. "Oh, Brave! Commander!" He wiped a tear from his eye. "Are you actually thinking about it?" Brave said nothing. Yornyang grinned, his eyes gleaming beneath the shades. "Go on. Say it. Command me to die." He spread his arms wide. "Let’s see what happens."
The SOF officers remained frozen. Brave’s jaw tightened—but only slightly. He already knew the answer. If he said "Die." Yornyang would live harder. His body would become stronger, more vital—his power would make sure of it.
Yornyang chuckled. "C’mon, boss. You’re supposed to be the smart one. Surely, you’ve figured it out by now." He took another step forward, his shoes tapping against the cold stone. "I’m untouchable."
A flicker of amusement flashed across Weird’s face. "Ohh," he murmured. "You’re one of those guys."
Yornyang’s head snapped to him, intrigued. "One of what guys?"
Weird smirked. "A guy who doesn’t actually have control of his own power."
The grin on Yornyang’s face didn’t move. But something shifted. It was only a fraction of a second—but Brave saw it. A flicker. A sliver of recognition. Weird was right. Yornyang didn’t control his power. He relied on it. Which meant—
Brave’s mind processed at lightning speed. His orders were being flipped. No—his very intent was being rewritten. Yornyang wasn’t resisting orders. He was twisting them into their opposite. Then—Brave saw it. A flicker in Yornyang’s grin. Not defiance. Not amusement. Hesitation. This wasn’t just a power. This was a crutch. And crutches can be broken. Brave’s lips parted. His next words were not a command, but a test. "Move."
The word landed like a stone dropping into still water. The SOF officers didn’t breathe.
Yornyang froze. His smile remained, but something behind it twitched. For the first time, he didn’t move immediately. He was thinking.
Brave noticed. This was the moment. "Move." Brave repeated, his voice steady.
Yornyang tilted his head, his grin stretched unnaturally wide. Then— He took a step forward.
The officers' fingers tightened around their weapons.
Yornyang chuckled. "I see what you’re doing." He placed a hand on his chin, mockingly thoughtful. "You’re trying to see if I’ll do the opposite. If I’ll stay still instead." His smile sharpened. "But see, that’s boring." He took another step.
Brave’s eyes narrowed. Yornyang wasn’t reversing it. He was ignoring it. Brave’s mind processed instantly. His power was absolute. It couldn’t be resisted. Yornyang had reversed every other command. But now, instead of doing the opposite, he was… choosing to move. That meant— Yornyang’s power wasn’t passive. He had control over what he reversed. He wasn’t some mindless force of contradiction. He was choosing what to twist.
Yornyang saw the understanding flash across Brave’s face. And for the first time—he laughed, genuinely amused. "Ahhh, there it is," he murmured. "That moment when someone figures it out." He lifted a hand and pointed directly at Brave. "You’re fun."
Brave said nothing. His mind was already racing toward the next step. He had tested the waters. Now he needed a command that forced Yornyang into a position he couldn't manipulate. Something he couldn’t reverse. Something he couldn’t ignore.
The SOF officers were watching. Waiting. Would Brave outthink him? Would Yornyang let it happen? Or was there another layer to his chaos?
Brave’s gaze sharpened. Direct orders wouldn’t work. Yornyang didn’t simply reverse commands—he chose what to affect. That meant Brave’s next move had to be an order that forced Yornyang to react—without an obvious way out. His voice was calm. "Accept reality as it is."
For the first time, Yornyang didn’t react immediately. His grin faltered—only slightly, but enough. The air stilled. The subtle shifts in reality—the weight changing, the heat in the air bending, the unnatural distortions—halted. Not because Yornyang stopped using his power… But because the act of reversing reality now required him to acknowledge it first. And that meant playing by reality’s rules. But Yornyang was not one to let someone take control. After a moment of silence—he laughed. A deep, almost delighted chuckle. "Oh, that’s clever. But you see…" His fingers twitched—just slightly. "I don’t like reality." Then—he escalated.
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Yornyang’s laughter didn’t stop. It grew. It rippled through the air, unnatural and mocking, as if Brave had told the funniest joke in the world. And then—he took a step forward. The world shifted. The concrete beneath his foot didn’t crack—it rippled like water. His movements felt wrong, like reality itself was rejecting the way his body existed. "You really thought you got me, huh?" Yornyang grinned, tilting his head. "Come on, Commander." His next step made no sound. "Reality doesn’t control me. I rewrite it." The courtyard warped. The sky flickered, as if day and night couldn’t decide who ruled. The air turned thick, making it suddenly harder to breathe. Shining’s light dimmed instead of glowing. Samui’s hand clenched around her remote—only for it to power on… then shut off… then power on again. Khem’s weight fluctuated. One second he was heavy, the next he felt light enough to drift. It was worse than before. Because this wasn’t just inversion. Yornyang was unraveling the very concept of cause and effect. This wasn’t just Yornyang playing along anymore. This was him declaring war.
The SOF officers watching from the perimeter tensed, their weapons aimed. None fired. Not yet. Brave exhaled slowly. His mind processed the battlefield, calculating. The first test had been a success—he had forced Yornyang into a reaction. Now it was time for the real fight. The moment Brave’s command failed, the air changed. The weight of something unnatural settled over the courtyard. The wind didn’t stir. The light didn’t flicker. It was as if existence itself was holding its breath.
Yornyang stood there, a contradiction given form. His mouth twisted into a smirk, but his eyes gleamed with something unreadable. He tilted his head, watching Brave with something between amusement and pity. “So,” he murmured, stretching his fingers, “your big scary voice doesn’t work on me.” Then, he moved. Not toward them. Around them. His shadow stretched unnaturally, as if reality itself was recoiling from his presence. He took a single step forward— And the entire courtyard turned upside down.
Shining reacted first. He flared blinding, searing light, flooding every crevice, every shadow, every inch of space around them.
The effect was immediate. Yornyang’s reversal twisted the light into darkness. The courtyard was swallowed in a void. No light. No outlines. No sense of up or down. Just absolute, crushing black.
“Damn it—!” Shining staggered, his own light betraying him.
Senshi didn’t hesitate. He leapt forward, launching a devastating straight punch, aiming for Yornyang’s chest. If nothing else, a pure, direct strike was something that couldn’t be reversed— He was wrong. Senshi’s fist connected—but instead of impact, his own force yanked him forward, pulling him violently off balance. His own strength had reversed. Senshi stumbled, unable to correct himself.
Yornyang simply tilted his head. “Oh,” he hummed, “you’re strong. But not very smart.”
Samui triggered the security lockdown. With a sharp flick of her fingers, she activated the emergency containment system—reinforced walls began to seal off the exits, trapping Yornyang inside— Or at least, they were supposed to. Instead— The walls slammed shut around SOF. The team was split apart. “What the hell?!” Weird snapped, catching himself as the barriers locked. “He just flipped the damn walls on us!”
Yornyang laughed, slow and mocking.
Weird gritted his teeth. This was getting ridiculous. But his power was different. Unlike the others, he didn’t attack. He reacted. He just needed Yornyang to turn his power against them first— Then, he’d send it right back. But before Weird could make his move—Khem attacked. No hesitation. No wasted movement. He was already closing the distance. His hand shot forward, fingers inches from Yornyang’s throat. If he could touch him—just once—this fight was over.
Yornyang smiled. And the floor beneath Khem vanished. Not collapsed. Not broken. Gone.
Khem didn’t even have time to react before he dropped straight through—falling into the level below.
Brave’s teeth clenched. His commands weren’t working. His people were falling apart. Think. Think. Yornyang’s power wasn’t strength. It wasn’t speed. It wasn’t an illusion. It was reversal. Pure, absolute inversion. A direct attack wouldn’t work. A direct order wouldn’t work. Then—he had to issue a command that Yornyang couldn’t twist. His voice was sharp. Absolute. “You will listen to me.”
Silence.
Yornyang’s eyes flickered. And then—he grinned. “Ohhh,” he chuckled, his tone almost appreciative. “Now that’s clever.” He stopped walking. But he didn’t look away.
Brave held his gaze. It was subtle. Barely noticeable. But Yornyang had obeyed. Brave had forced him to acknowledge the command because even if he wanted to reverse it, he had to listen first. And that was the first crack in the armor.
The SOF team moved. The moment Yornyang stalled, they struck.
Senshi adjusted instantly, correcting his balance mid-air, his instincts sharper than before. His body twisted, momentum shifting as he launched into a downward strike—this time adjusting for the reversal, forcing the impact to land regardless of how Yornyang tried to invert it.
Weird reacted next, tracking the disturbance in reality, waiting for the precise moment Yornyang manipulated something—so he could Reflect it.
Shining steadied himself, no longer trying to fight Yornyang’s void directly, but instead shaping his light differently, manipulating the reflections around them to break through the inverted darkness.
Samui’s fingers flew over her control panel, analyzing Yornyang’s pattern of distortions—she wasn’t just locking down the exits anymore. She was reconfiguring the battlefield.
But Khem had already returned. He didn’t crawl out of the collapsed floor. He launched. His boots slammed against the ground the second he resurfaced, his momentum turning into a relentless forward sprint. Straight for Yornyang.
Yornyang noticed. His smirk twitched wider. “Ah—”
Khem struck. It was a fraction of a second.
But Yornyang was fast. He twisted at the last possible moment, inverting the weight of his own body, making himself impossibly light.
Khem’s fingers grazed his sleeve—just barely missing contact. But Khem didn’t stop. He pivoted sharply, predicting Yornyang’s counter-motion. And then—he struck again. This time— He didn’t miss. A single fingertip brushed against Yornyang’s wrist.
And that was all it took.
Yornyang’s entire body locked. His mouth was frozen mid-smirk. His breath—stopped. For a long, tense moment, no one moved. Then—Khem exhaled sharply. His fingers reinforced the stasis. “…It’s over.”
Senshi rolled his shoulders. “Finally.”
Weird let out a slow whistle. “Damn, Khem. You don’t miss twice, huh?”
Samui checked the security panel. “Confirmed. He’s locked down.”
Silence. Then—Yornyang spoke. He shouldn’t have been able to. His throat didn’t move. His expression didn’t shift. But his voice— Crisp. Amused. Mocking. “…You think I didn’t plan for this?”
The temperature dropped. The air thickened. The light itself shuddered. And then— Reality shattered.
The moment Yornyang spoke—Khem knew. This was a trap. A deception so precise, so calculated, that it had fooled even his stasis touch. Yornyang had never actually been frozen. The illusion was flawless—his posture, his breath, the very stillness of his form. He had reversed the perception of being caught, making his own stillness an illusion while remaining fully mobile within the frozen moment. And now, they were all too close.
Yornyang moved. No motion. No preparation. No anticipation. One second he was frozen—the next, he was already behind Khem. His fingers brushed against Khem’s shoulder.
Invert.
Khem’s balance reversed—his own momentum betraying him, flinging him forward into empty air. He had no footing. His own bodyweight twisted against itself, and he barely had time to register the shift before— CRASH. Khem hit the reinforced barricade at full force. The impact shook the entire structure, cracks splintering outward from where he landed.
Yornyang didn’t stop. In the same fluid motion, he flicked his wrist—and the concept of force itself inverted. The SOF team was yanked forward by an unseen pull, their own defensive stances turning against them.
Senshi braced himself first, adjusting his balance. His muscles locked, preventing him from being thrown off like Khem. Instead, he channeled the reversal, letting it feed into his next motion. He moved with it not against it. And he attacked. “RYU!” A dragon of flame erupted from his palm, spiraling straight for Yornyang — Only for it to become ice mid-flight. Senshi’s attack was flipped on itself, the raging fire twisting into a spear of frost. Yornyang twirled between the frozen embers, laughing. “You guys really love doing the same thing twice, huh?”
Shining was next. He didn’t fire a concentrated beam. He didn’t try to burn through the darkness. He lit up the entire courtyard. Every surface turned into a blinding mirror. Shadows ceased to exist. There was nowhere for Yornyang to distort perception. For the first time, the battlefield was absolute. No tricks. No inversions. No angles. Just light. Yornyang grimaced. “Tch.”
Samui saw her opening. She tapped the control panel three times. And the remaining security barriers collapsed inward— Trapping Yornyang in a steel-reinforced lockdown.
The moment the doors slammed shut—the world realigned. Yornyang was still laughing. His voice echoed through the containment walls, through the entire SOF facility. “You really think this changes anything?” His words were mocking. “You can lock me up. You can throw me in a cell. But the second I walk out—” His eyes flashed. “I will be free.” Yornyang’s words settled into the walls of the containment chamber, echoing long after his mouth had closed. A promise. A fact.
The SOF officers didn’t lower their weapons. Their breaths remained steady, disciplined, but something had changed. This wasn’t victory. The man inside the containment unit should have been trapped. Locked behind reinforced steel walls, under maximum security. He should have looked like a prisoner. Instead, Yornyang sat there with a smirk, his wrists still loosely bound in the white straitjacket, his dark shades reflecting the overhead lights. Relaxed. Amused. Like he had allowed this to happen. Khem’s knuckles tightened as he held his stance. He had felt it. His stasis touch should have worked—should have kept Yornyang frozen in time. But it didn’t. Because Yornyang had never truly been caught.
Brave exhaled slowly, his sharp gaze locked onto the prisoner through the observation window. He had seen every kind of criminal. Every kind of anomaly. But Yornyang … Yornyang wasn’t like anything they had encountered before. “Lock down the room,” Brave ordered, voice crisp. “Increase security parameters. Triple the failsafe layers.”
Samui’s fingers flew over the control panel. “Already reinforcing. Power-nullifying measures are at full capacity.”
“Good,” Brave replied. His eyes flickered to the monitors, scanning every security feed available. No fluctuations. No energy anomalies. No strange interference.
No signs of escape. Then why did it feel like he had already won? A quiet chuckle drifted from the containment cell. Yornyang tilted his head slightly, as if he could hear every single word being spoken. As if he was waiting.
Brave’s jaw tightened. “Watch him. No one lets their guard down.”
The officers barely acknowledged the command. Because none of them had their guard down in the first place. The tension thickened. And then— The lights flickered. A split-second blackout. Barely noticeable. A blink. But it was wrong. Not the kind of flicker that came from a power surge. Not the kind that came from a system failure. It was deliberate. The air itself shifted. And Yornyang was already gone. No breach. No shattered walls. No distortions. Just— Gone. The containment unit was still sealed shut. The cameras were still running. The sensors hadn’t detected any movement. And yet— The room was empty.
Khem’s muscles coiled. Senshi’s fists clenched. Samui’s hands hovered over the controls, already running diagnostics. Nothing. Not even a sign of how he did it.
Brave’s voice was steel. “Find him. Now.”
Samui adjusted her scanner, its interface flickering as it analyzed the residual traces in the air. Her device was designed to detect even the faintest disturbances—heat signatures, movement echoes—anything that left a presence. Her eyes narrowed as she examined the readings, searching for anything that might have gone unnoticed. She saw nothing.
Not a trace. Not a flicker of where Yornyang had been, or where he had gone. Because he hadn’t moved. He had rewritten his own presence. A low beep from the console. Samui’s brow furrowed as the automated security logs flashed across the screen. Her voice was calm, but sharp. “No exit detected.”
Weird let out a slow breath. “So he just decided he wasn’t in there anymore?”
Shining grimaced. “Sounds about right.”
Silence.
Then— The intercom crackled to life. And Yornyang’s voice whispered through the speakers. Smooth. Amused. Too close. “Miss me?”
The SOF officers moved instantly, scanning the room, checking every possible breach point. No breach. No interference. Just his voice. Drifting from the intercom, echoing from everywhere and nowhere at once. Yornyang was already inside their systems.
“Lock it down,” Brave commanded.
Samui’s fingers flew over the controls. “I am locking it down.”
Brave didn’t waste time asking how Yornyang was still talking. He knew. This wasn’t hacking. This wasn’t infiltration. Yornyang had never been contained to begin with. The static on the screens shifted. A silhouette formed within the flickering distortion. Not a video feed. Not an image. Just him. His shades gleamed from the static. His smirk remained. “Wow,” Yornyang chuckled. “That was fun.”
The SOF officers didn’t speak. They listened. Because they didn’t have a choice.
“You guys are sharp,” he continued. “Really. I mean, locking me up? Good stuff.” He tilted his head. “But tell me something…” The static flickered. His grin widened. “…Did you ever stop to think about why I let you catch me?” The room stilled. Because they had. The entire time, they had felt it. The unease. The imbalance. The feeling that no matter what they did—they weren’t in control. Yornyang let out a soft laugh. “Well. Let’s fix that, shall we?” The static vanished. And then— The alarms blared. Not just from the containment chamber. Not just from the intercom. From Blackout Fortress itself. Every monitor displayed the same alert.
PRISONER ESCAPED.
NO DETECTION OF MOVEMENT.
NO SIGNS OF EXIT.
REALITY CHECK FAILED.
The SOF officers stood frozen. The impossible had just happened. Not an infiltration. Not a breakout. An undoing. Brave exhaled, slow and sharp. His jaw clenched. This wasn’t over. Because Yornyang’s voice still echoed in his mind.
I will be free.
And now, he was. Silence hung in the air. Yornyang was gone.
Now here's the illustration.