The slums of Seoul smelled like rust and despair. Park Jihoon, twenty years old and skinny as a stray, shoved his hands into his threadbare jacket and trudged through the crowded streets. Cracked pavement crunched under his worn shoes. Neon signs flickered above, their buzz drowned out by vendors hawking fake dungeon relics and kids shouting as they dodged stray dogs. In the distance, a siren wailed, a reminder of the dungeons that could split open any moment, spilling monsters into their lives. Jihoon's stomach twisted. Today was the Awakening Ceremony, his one shot to change everything.
His mother's coughs echoed in his mind, each one weaker than the last. Medicine cost more than he could scrape from black-market jobs, and the slums didn't exactly hand out charity. If he awakened a strong power, he could join a guild, earn enough to save her. If not, he'd be stuck here, watching her fade. Jihoon swallowed hard, pushing the thought away. He had to believe today would be different.
Ahead, the ceremony warehouse loomed, a rusted hulk of a building with cracked walls and a sagging roof. Jihoon spotted Jin Seoyoon leaning against a lamppost, her short black hair tucked under a cap, her fingers dancing over a cracked tablet. She was his oldest friend, the one person who never gave up on him, even when he gave up on himself. She wasn't here to awaken; she had no interest in awakening a power, but she'd come anyway—typical Seoyoon.
"Yo, Jihoon, you look like you're walking to your funeral," she called, her voice sharp with that familiar sarcasm. Her eyes flicked up, softening for a split second. "Nervous?"
He forced a grin, though his heart was pounding. "What, me? Nah. Just another day in paradise."
She snorted, pocketing her tablet. It pinged, and a nearby vending machine spat out a soda. Jihoon raised an eyebrow. "Hacking vending machines now?"
"Gotta stay sharp," she said, tossing him the can. "Besides, you need the sugar. You're shaking like a leaf."
He caught it, the cold metal grounding him. "Thanks, Seoyoon. For, you know, being here."
She shrugged, but her hand brushed his arm, a quiet promise. "Don't get sappy on me. Go get your fancy power, hero."
Inside the warehouse, the air was thick with sweat and tension. Hundreds of slum kids packed the space, shoulder to shoulder, their murmurs a low hum. The Awakening Orb sat on a rickety stage, a glowing blue sphere the size of a basketball, pulsing like a heartbeat. Government officials in crisp uniforms lounged nearby, their eyes scanning the crowd with bored contempt. Jihoon's jaw tightened. In the rich districts, ceremonies happened in gleaming arenas with cheering crowds. Here, they got a dump and officials who'd rather be anywhere else.
A bulky teen, Hwan, shoved past Jihoon, smirking. "Outta the way, skinny. Some of us got real powers to awaken." Jihoon bit his tongue, ignoring the snickers from Hwan's crew. He'd dealt with guys like Hwan his whole life. Didn't make it sting any less.
The ceremony dragged on. One by one, kids touched the orb, some sparking with fire or wind, others getting nothing. Hwan stepped up, and the orb flared red. The display above it flashed: Rank: C, Ability: Fire Manipulation. The crowd cheered, and an official clapped Hwan's shoulder, muttering about guild potential. Hwan grinned, tossing a mock salute at Jihoon. "Try not to cry when you get nothing, slum rat."
Jihoon's fists clenched, but he kept his head down. Seoyoon, standing at the edge of the crowd, rolled her eyes. "Ignore that idiot," she mouthed. He nodded, but doubt gnawed at him. What if he was powerless? What if he failed his mom?
"Park Jihoon!" an official barked.
His heart lurched. He stepped forward, the crowd's eyes boring into him. The orb hummed under his palms, warm and alive. A jolt shot through him, like static crawling under his skin. His vision sharpened, and a faint blue outline shimmered around his body, like a second skin. In his mind, a gauge flickered to life, labeled Ability Potential: 100%. The orb's display lit up.
Name: Park Jihoon
Rank: F
Ability: Hitbox Control
Laughter erupted. Hwan's voice cut through. "Hitbox Control? What's that, dodging like a coward?" The crowd roared, some mimicking dodging motions. An official snorted, scribbling on a clipboard. "First time I've seen that one. Useless. Next!"
Jihoon's face burned. He stepped back, head low, the laughter clawing at him. Useless. The word sank into his bones. His chest tightened, and his mother's frail face flashed in his mind. He'd failed her. All those nights promising he'd make things better, and this was it? A power nobody understood, ranked at the bottom of the barrel. The crowd's jeers blurred into a dull roar, each laugh a knife twisting deeper. He wanted to run, to disappear into the slums and never come back.
Seoyoon's hand grabbed his wrist, her grip firm. "Come on," she muttered, pulling him through the crowd. Her voice was low, but there was an edge to it, like she was daring anyone to say something. Nobody did. Not with her glaring like that. Jihoon let her drag him toward the exit, his feet heavy, his mind stuck on that word—useless.
Outside, the air hit him like a slap, thick with the stench of oil and garbage. The slums stretched out around them, a maze of crumbling shanties and flickering lights. Seoyoon let go of his wrist, turning to face him. Her cap was tilted back now, her dark eyes searching his. "You okay?" she asked, softer than usual.
He forced a shrug, his voice barely above a whisper. "F-Rank, Seoyoon. It's over. I got nothing."
"Nothing?" She scoffed, crossing her arms. "You felt something when you touched that orb, didn't you? I saw your face. You weren't just standing there."
He hesitated. She was right. That blue outline, the gauge in his head—it was real. But what did it matter if the world saw it as a joke? "They said it's useless," he mumbled. "First time they've seen it. Probably means it's garbage."
"Screw what they say," she snapped, stepping closer. "Those suits don't know you. They don't know us. You're not done, Jihoon. Not even close."
Her words sparked something, a tiny flicker of hope, but before he could reply, the ground shook. A low, guttural roar echoed through the streets, vibrating in his chest. Screams erupted from nearby, and sirens blared, sharp and urgent. Jihoon's stomach dropped. He knew that sound. Every slum kid did.
"Dungeon break," Seoyoon whispered, her eyes wide. She grabbed her tablet, fingers flying over the screen, but there was no time to hack anything.
The warehouse doors burst open behind them, kids spilling out in a panic. A shadow loomed at the end of the street, a beast charging through the smog. It was massive, a wolf-like creature with metal claws glinting under the neon lights, its red eyes glowing like coals. Its hide was a patchwork of flesh and steel, and its growl rattled the air. A D-Rank dungeon beast, way too strong for the slums. Jihoon's legs froze, his breath catching.
The beast's eyes locked on Seoyoon, who was still fumbling with her tablet. It lunged, claws slashing toward her. Jihoon's heart stopped. He didn't think, just moved, shoving her out of the way. "Seoyoon!" he shouted, his voice raw. Please, don't let me die, he thought, bracing for the pain.
The claw swiped through him like he wasn't even there. He stumbled, landing hard beside Seoyoon, his jacket torn but his skin untouched. His heart pounded, a mix of fear and disbelief. What just happened?
Seoyoon stared at him, sprawled on the ground, her mouth open. "Jihoon, you… you're okay?"
Before he could answer, a blast of force slammed into the beast, knocking it back. A broad-shouldered man with a scarred face stood between them and the creature, his hands glowing faintly with residual energy. Choi Kwangsoo, the ex-hunter who haunted the slums. His jacket was torn, his limp obvious, but his stance was steady. He held a cracked metal pipe, now dented from the impact. The beast roared, staggering, but Kwangsoo didn't flinch.
"Get out of here!" he growled, his voice rough but commanding. "Now!"
Jihoon scrambled to his feet, grabbing Seoyoon's hand. Her tablet clattered to the ground, but she didn't stop to pick it up. The slums were chaos—screams, fires, more roars in the distance, but he was alive. Seoyoon was alive. And that power, the one they called useless, had saved him.
He pulled her down an alley, her hand tight in his, as another roar shook the air behind them.