Now that he had officially received Hunter Trainee clearance, the gates to the Awakened Division of the Academy had finally opened to him.
Not literal gates. There were none. But in meaning and status, it was a door to a new world.
It was no longer just about wearing a uniform and taking classes.
This was an entirely different curriculum, tailored for those who could manipulate mana and survive the deadly world of dungeon breaks, monster raids, and real Hunter missions.
However, before he could attend any formal training sessions, there remained one final preliminary step.
Not overseen by a teacher. Not by an instructor.
But by someone designated by the Academy as the Path Registrar.
A neutral figure.
Someone who belonged to no department, answered to no faction, and held no bias.
Their role was simple yet vital: to document, verify, and finalize each trainee's chosen specialization. They offered no opinions. No guidance. Only the formal registration, a contract of intent that would define how a trainee would grow from that moment onward.
The trainee would choose their Path, a direction of skill and development that aligned with their awakened potential and determined how they would serve as a Hunter.
There were several core paths available, each tied to a real-world combat archetype:
Swordsmanship Division — For those who pursued close-combat mastery using mana-infused weapons and martial arts.
Mage Division — Focused on elemental, arcane, summoning, and control-based spellcasting.
Marksman Path — Long-range specialists who used firearms or bows, enhanced by mana precision.
Shieldbearer Path — Defenders who relied on heavy protection, mana shields, and frontline endurance.
Enchanter or Support Division — Focused on healing, buffs, barriers, and mana reinforcement for allies.
Assassin or Shadow Path — Masters of stealth and critical strikes, manipulating mana to cloak and vanish.
And then there were the rare outliers, Unaligned trainees who attempted to forge hybrid paths without department backing.
But such choices came with risk.
And without support, they usually ended in failure.
Taegyun stood silently before the Registrar's desk.
The man behind it looked to be in his early forties, dressed in a plain black suit. No insignia. No flair. Just a calm, unreadable presence.
"Your name?" the Registrar asked.
"Taegyun Park."
The man nodded, tapping into the panel in front of him.
"Trainee Taegyun Park. Place your Awakened License on the scanner device for three seconds."
He gestured to a small rectangular device embedded in the desk.
Taegyun complied, placing his license onto the pad. A faint chime rang out.
"You may now state your Path of choice."
Taegyun's fingers curled slightly at his side. He had thought about this since the very beginning. And truthfully, he had no real choice.
Choosing any path outside of Swordsmanship would invite suspicion. He could not afford that, not when he had no access to mana and was already under silent scrutiny for being an Awakened.
"Swordsmanship," he said at last, firmly.
The panel blinked. The chime rang again. His name and chosen path were etched into the glowing registry on the screen before the Registrar.
"Confirmed," the man said with no inflection. "You are now aligned with the Swordsmanship Division."
He tapped a few more keys.
"Your division insignia, class schedule, and resource access will activate within forty-eight hours. Do you have any secondary queries? Optional testing for weapon compatibility? Mana affinity analysis? Orientation tour?"
Taegyun shook his head. "No. That's all."
"Then proceed. Your new path begins now."
There was no ceremony. No applause. No flashy welcome.
Just quiet finality.
He had taken a step forward into something far larger than himself.
***
The halls of the Awakened Division were brightly lit, polished and sleek, yet still held the scent of sweat and steel.
Taegyun walked with measured steps, passing several offices, rooms, and students in combat gear.
Eventually, he reached the door marked:
Swordsmanship Division — Second Year Trainees
This was it.
This was the classroom, or more accurately, the space, where he would be spending the next two years.
He stood there for a moment.
Took a breath.
Something he always did before entering new territory.
Then, without hesitation, he turned the handle and stepped inside.
The scene he walked into was... not what he had expected.
The room, more like a training hall than a classroom, was a complete mess.
Scattered debris.
Broken training dummies.
Cracked swords.
Splintered floors.
Shattered equipment.
Chipped pillars.
It looked less like a training room and more like the aftermath of a battlefield.
Taegyun blinked.
"Is this normal or something?"
In the center of the hall stood a raised stage, more of a miniature arena than a traditional platform.
And there she was.
The same golden-blonde girl he had bumped into two days ago. The one with the absurd skirt malfunction and full-black goggles.
Except this time, she looked entirely different.
Poised. Composed. Elegant.
She wore her uniform perfectly, almost too perfectly, like a noblewoman dressed for court rather than combat training. Her presence radiated confidence, and those same sleek black goggles still shielded her eyes, adding a deliberate air of mystery.
Damn… for a second, I almost thought she was someone else entirely, Taegyun thought. Must've been something with her skirt that day. Probably tore or something.
The girl was locked in a duel with a tall, well-built male student. One of the upper ranks, from the look of him.
But despite the size difference, it was clear who held the advantage.
Her footwork was smooth and precise. Her balance, flawless. The way she moved—it was like watching a performance sharpened through relentless training.
Taegyun stood among the onlookers, eyes fixed on the fight.
In one swift movement, the girl bent low, her legs stretching like coiled springs before she surged forward in a sudden blur. Her sword stayed perfectly aligned, steady and merciless.
The tall guy's eyes widened. He brought up his sword to block the attack in desperation.
But the sound of metal snapping rang out across the room.
The upper half of his blade was severed cleanly, soaring through the air.
Without pause, the girl stepped in and kicked him square in the chest. Her posture never faltered. She remained composed as the boy was launched backward off the arena stage, landing with a heavy thud right beside Taegyun.
It all happened in a flash. He barely registered the movements, only the result.
The guy groaned in pain and embarrassment.
Taegyun blinked.
He was stunned.
This girl… she's even more powerful than I thought.
But he felt no fear.
Not like before.
Not like two days ago, when her mere presence had made the hair on his neck stand.
This time, there was nothing. No cold sweats. No trembling. Just calm. Stillness.
His lips drew into a thin line.
'This is crazy. This Awakening of mine—it's changed me. My thoughts. My soul.'
His gaze drifted around the large training hall.
Hunter Trainees stood in clusters. Some chatted. Some trained. Some watched the fight.
All of them were stronger than him.
Far stronger.
And yet… no fear.
Before his Awakening, he would have kept his head low, avoided eye contact, tried not to exist at all. Those same seniors from the Non-Awakened Division used to mock him, humiliate him, shove dirty work onto him whenever they pleased. And the Awakened Division was no damn saint either—bullying them just because they were ordinary humans.
And he had taken it all.
Without resistance.
Without power.
Just quiet submission.
His fists clenched at his side.
He remembered every moment—every time he was made to feel less than nothing.
Then… a thought flickered across his mind like a darkness:
'I wonder how they'd scream if I used my Darkness Manipulation on them…'
He recalled how the black flame had devoured his grandfather's finger, leaving behind a dry, lifeless husk of charred flesh.
That scene replayed in his head.
Only this time… it wasn't his grandfather.
It was all of them.
The Hunter Trainees.
Standing around the hall, proud and smug—one by one, consumed by darkness, their skin cracking and charring until nothing remained but burned husks of what once were arrogant little elites.
Taegyun flinched.
A sharp inhale.
He blinked—and the vision shattered.
Reality returned.
The illusion faded like smoke on the wind.
He stood frozen, jaw slightly clenched, heart pounding in eerie silence.
Taegyun brought a trembling hand to his forehead, a chill creeping through his veins.
'N-No… why would a thought like that even cross my mind? Burn them alive? What the hell is wrong with me? I am not a murderer!'
His jaw tightened.
He clenched his fists, teeth grinding slightly as a shiver ran through his spine.
Was this… the negative side of his powers?
'I'm afraid… if I don't control this… I'll become a monster.'
The thought clawed at him, refusing to fade. The image of his grandfather's charred finger and the the bodies of all the Hunter Trainees, dry and brittle like ash, flashed in his mind.
He swallowed hard.
Just then, a firm hand landed on his shoulder, snapping him out of his downward spiral.
Taegyun blinked and turned.
A bearded man stood before him, eyes narrowed in a frown. He looked to be in his late forties, dressed in standard instructor robes with a training sword sheathed at his hip. A stern aura clung to him like armor.
"Is there something wrong?" the man asked, his voice gruff. "I've been calling you several times. You didn't respond."
Taegyun's mind caught up with reality. He quickly glanced behind the instructor—and sure enough, every Hunter Trainee in the hall had turned their heads toward him. Even the girl with the black goggles was staring, her expression unreadable behind the dark lenses.
But it only lasted a moment. As if on cue, everyone returned to their own business—practicing techniques, chatting, sparring.
The panic that had gripped him a second ago dissolved as fast as it came.
Taegyun straightened and gave a calm, even response. "No, sir. I'm fine."
He said it flatly, face emotionless.
The instructor studied him for a beat longer before nodding. "I don't believe I've seen you before. Are you a new Hunter Trainee?"
"Yes, sir," Taegyun replied without hesitation. "I just awakened… yesterday."
That made the instructor's eyes widen slightly.
"You awakened just yesterday and already got your license?" he asked, raising a brow.
Taegyun nodded, eyes steady. "Yes, sir."
A short pause followed. The man seemed to be weighing something in his head, like he wanted to pry further but decided against it.
"I assume you've already selected Swordsmanship as your Path?"
"I have."
The instructor folded his arms across his chest. "What's your name?"
"Taegyun Park."
The instructor gave a brief nod. "I'm Morris. You can call me Instructor Morris. I'll be teaching you everything there is to know about swordsmanship over the next two years. My job is to turn you into a fully Awakened combatant—capable, sharp, and field-ready."
He turned and motioned with his hand. "For now…"
A nearby student approached at his signal.
The trainee had a lean build, almost fragile in appearance, with short black hair and deep, jet-black eyes. His steps were quiet but composed.
Instructor Morris gestured between them. "Taegyun, this is Thien. He's been training under the Swordsmanship Division since last year. He'll handle your fundamentals."
Then he turned to Thien. "This kid's new. Teach him the basics. Make sure he doesn't cut his own foot off."
With that, Instructor Morris walked off, making his way back toward the black-goggled girl near the arena.
Taegyun looked at the boy in front of him.
Thien was… petite.
More petite than even Taegyun himself. But unlike Taegyun's soft and narrow frame that could pass for slender, Thien's features bordered on androgynous. Small shoulders, smooth skin, delicate jawline—he almost looked too pretty to be in a sword class.
Still, there was something sharp about him. Neutral. Like a blade sheathed but not forgotten.
Taegyun stepped forward and extended his hand.
"Hi, I'm Taegyun Park," he said politely. "A new Hunter Trainee. I'll be in your care from today."
Thien glanced at his hand.
He didn't shake it.
Instead, he gave a curt nod and said a single word, "Thien."
Then he turned on his heel and began walking.
"Follow me," he said, voice low and flat.
Taegyun blinked. 'Man of few words, huh?'
He sighed quietly, pushed the lingering discomfort away, and followed.