The sharp clap of wooden swords echoed across the empty dojo.
Tak. Tak. Tak.
Sweat rolled down Han Jiwoo's temple as he held his stance — knees bent, feet rooted, the bamboo blade gripped tight in both hands. Each swing cut through the morning air with clean precision.
"Focus your breath, Jiwoo," his instructor said, voice steady, calm. "Speed without rhythm is wasted."
Jiwoo exhaled, centering himself. He raised his sword again, swung. A sharp hiss of air followed, and the coach nodded once.
"Good. That's enough for today."
Jiwoo lowered his weapon, breathing hard. Around him, other students laughed and chatted as they packed up. Their voices blurred into the hum of cicadas outside.
"Heading to the Association now?" the coach asked as Jiwoo wiped sweat from his face.
"Yeah."
"Big day, huh? Don't overthink it. Awakening's a lottery. Just keep your head steady."
Jiwoo gave a small smile. "I'll try."
The coach clapped him on the shoulder.
"No matter what your rank becomes, you're still our best kendo player, remember that."
***
Outside, sunlight spilled through the open doors, hot and bright. Jiwoo stepped out, slinging his kendo bag over his shoulder. The air smelled faintly of summer rain and asphalt.
The city was awake — car horns, chatter, the low buzz of power lines overhead. Academy enrollment banners fluttered above a bus stop. Jiwoo barely glanced at it as he walked, the noise of the street fading behind his thoughts.
Today was the National Awakening.
Every year, thousands of seventeen-year-olds took the Hero Association's test, hoping the crystal would light for them. Some became heroes. Most went home unchanged.
Jiwoo walked with the crowd toward the towering Association building — an old fortress remade with glass and mana steel. The faint hum of runes underfoot tingled against his skin.
Inside, the hall was alive with noise. Students lined up, clutching ID cards and forms, whispering nervously. Parents watched from the waiting area — some hopeful, some afraid.
A few meters away, Jiwoo noticed a woman crying quietly as her son hugged her.
He caught fragments of her words
"D-Rank… that's still good, sweetie. You'll find a place. "
The boy smiled weakly. Jiwoo looked away.
His turn came sooner than expected.
"Candidate forty-two," a staff member called. "Han Jiwoo, please proceed to Resonance Chamber Six."
He swallowed hard and followed.
The room was circular, walls etched with luminous runes. A crystalline orb hovered in the center — the Resonance Stone, pulsing faint blue.
"Place your hand on the crystal," said the examiner, a tired-looking man in a white coat. "Focus your mana. Don't resist the flow. Breathe naturally."
Jiwoo nodded, stepping closer. The air felt colder here — thin, heavy with static.
He pressed his palm to the stone.It was warm.
At first, nothing happened.
The examiner sighed, jotting something down.
"Seriously? Not even a flicker? Maybe I'm just mana-deficient."
Then, suddenly, light flared inside the orb.
The glow brightened from pale blue to white… then deepened into violet streaked with black.
The examiner finally looked up, frowning.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"Sir, the readings—" a technician began.
The examiner frowned. "Stabilize the regulator."
But the hum turned into a roar.
The floor vibrated. Runes along the chamber walls ignited in cascading light. The Resonance Stone cracked — thin fractures spiderwebbing through its core.
"What the hell?!"
"Mana overload!"
"Shut it down!"
"I can't! The containment circle's collapsing!"
Jiwoo gasped as the air grew thick, burning through his lungs.
The violet light seared his vision. A soundless pressure built behind his eyes — like something vast and ancient was trying to move through him.
"What's happening to me?"
The orb shattered.
A blinding wave of energy erupted outward — a storm of color and force that devoured the room. The reinforced glass of the observation window splintered, alarms screaming.
Students outside shrieked as the shockwave rattled the hallway.
Then, silence.
The light collapsed inward, swallowed whole by Jiwoo's chest.
He fell to his knees, coughing, one hand pressed against the scorched floor.
The room smelled of ozone and dust. The crystal was gone — only fragments of golden ash drifted in the air.
The examiner's voice trembled.
"Resonance… complete?"
Technicians rushed to the console. Data flashed and froze:
[Resonance Result]
Primary Attribute: Combat Class
Secondary Attribute: Unknown
Mana Output: Error
Classification: E-Rank
Notes: Unstable. Dual-Core anomaly detected.
"E-rank?" someone whispered.
"That explosion… for an E?"
"Unbelievable."
Outside, the whispers turned into laughter and pity.
"After that mess, he's just E?"
"Guess explosion is not an art for him."
"Poor guy… he probably got penalized after breaking the crystal"
Outside, the city burned in sunlight.
Other candidates posed for photos, their rank badges gleaming. Some cried with joy. Others called friends, already discussing hero academies.
Jiwoo walked past them quietly, bag slung over his shoulder. His steps felt heavy.
"E-Rank. Dual attribute. Unknown power. What a joke."
Every glance stung — pity from some, mockery from others.
"He's the one who caused the explosion, right?"
"Figures. Waste of a spectacle."
He tried to ignore them. But their voices followed him down the marble steps, clinging like a shadow.
He exhaled sharply, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Maybe the crystal wasn't the only thing that broke."
***
By the time he reached his apartment, exhaustion drowned everything else.
He collapsed onto his bed without turning on the lights.
The ceiling blurred. "E Rank and Unknown huh... Wonder what's that Unknown thing."
A half-laugh, half-groan escaped him.
"All that effort for pity Rank."
Sleep dragged him under before he realized his eyes had closed.
He hadn't eaten. The rank card lay on his desk — dull gray, almost mocking.
His phone buzzed. He hesitated, then answered.
"Jiwoo!" his mother's voice came through, warm and worried.
"How did it go?"
He swallowed. "…I awakened."
A pause. "That's wonderful! What rank?"
He hesitated. "…E."
There was silence on the line, broken only by the faint hum of static.
"Oh, Jiwoo…"
Her tone softened.
"That's still something, sweetheart. E is a start. You can train, maybe climb later—"
He cut her off gently. "There's more."
"What do you mean?"
"They said I have a dual attribute. Combat class… and something unknown."
His mother's voice dropped lower, serious now. "Unknown? Did they say what that means?"
He shook his head, even though she couldn't see him. "They said the data was unstable. That's all."
A quiet sigh. "I see." She tried to sound light, but the worry slipped through.
"Don't let it bother you too much, alright? Just rest tonight."
He nodded faintly. "Okay."
"Jiwoo?"
"Yeah?"
"We're proud of you. No matter what rank they say you are."
His throat tightened. "…Thanks, Mom."
The line clicked softly as the call ended.
Jiwoo sat there for a long time, the hum of the city filling the silence.He looked at his hand — faint golden lines flickered under the skin for a heartbeat, then vanished.
He lay back, eyes on the ceiling.
Sleep came slow, heavy, uneasy.
***
Half a world away, in a secluded research lab governed by the Hero Association, an unsettling discovery was about to unravel. Han Jiwoo's parents curious to learn the truth behind his awakening—a secondary attribute with unknown type.
As they requested a copy of his data from the Seoul Hero Association, the tension in the room thickened. Dr. Han Mirae turned from her glowing monitor, her eyes locking onto Seojin's.
Above them, the Association's database flickered to life—Resonance Record #42: Han Jiwoo.
"The request just came through," Mirae murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Here's the resonance data."
On the screen, twin mana wavelengths shimmered, entwining in a breathtaking yet terrifying pattern. Mirae's expression shifted to one of grave concern.
"Seojin… this energy signature—it matches the Monarch of Oblivion's core."
Seojin's heart raced. "That's impossible. The core was destroyed years ago… after he was born."
"Or perhaps it was never truly destroyed," Mirae replied softly, her gaze locked on the flowing data.
"Look at the flow rate. It's stabilized—completely integrated."
"You're saying…?"
"I think it became his power" she whispered, awe mixing with fear.
"Not a mere fragment or possession—this is fully his."
Silence fell between them, punctuated only by the steady hum of mana stabilizers.
The weight of their discovery hung heavily in the air.
"Still," Seojin said, breaking the silence, "if that's true, we can't ignore this. Contact Kain. We need to ensure Jiwoo gets into his academy. We'll monitor him closely."
"And if the energy resurfaces?" Mirae's eyes remained glued to the glowing spirals, uncertainty etched on her face.
"Then let's hope he's strong enough to control it… before anyone else notices."