The first gate opened over Seoul ten years ago. The sky split apart, and monsters rained down like a divine punishment.
The city survived—but it never truly healed.
Now, walls wrapped around Seoul like armor. Skyscrapers, once symbols of business and ambition, had been transformed into watchtowers and bastions. Beyond them, the gates still opened at random, spilling chaos into the world.
And the only ones who could stop it were the Awakened.
Inside the city's heart stood the Awakened Academy, a vast training ground for humanity's last line of defense. Its blend of traditional Korean courtyards and high-tech facilities gave it an otherworldly feel—half temple, half military base.
Among the incoming recruits was Kang Minho, an eighteen-year-old with sharp eyes and a quiet fire burning in his chest. A small duffle bag hung from his shoulder. He was ranked F—the bottom tier—but he had come here with a purpose.
He paused at the academy gates, exhaling slowly.
"This is it," he whispered. "No turning back."
Inside, a registrar scanned his ID and handed him an information packet. "Classroom 3A," she said. "Orientation begins immediately. Good luck, Minho."
He thanked her with a nod and began navigating the academy's maze-like halls. Around him, other new recruits bragged about elemental magic, monster kills, and family legacies. Minho stayed silent.
He didn't know what his ability was.
He only knew one thing: the scanner at the local bureau had glitched when it tried to read him.
Some had looked at him with concern. Others with fear.
Classroom 3A was nearly full when he arrived. He took a seat in the back and waited.
A few minutes later, the instructor entered—tall, broad-shouldered, with a scar running down the side of his neck. He had the kind of presence that silenced a room instantly.
"I am Instructor Kim Seokjin," he said. "Over the next few months, you will be broken, rebuilt, and reshaped into weapons. Some of you won't make it. That's the reality of our world."
His eyes scanned the room, cold and calculating.
"You are here because you have potential. But potential means nothing unless you survive long enough to prove it."
Suddenly, he stopped.
His gaze locked on Minho.
"You," Seokjin said. "What's your name?"
Minho stood slowly. "Kang Minho."
The instructor stared for a moment too long. Then he smiled—but it wasn't a kind smile.
"Interesting," he muttered. "Let's see how long your spark lasts."