Han Sera almost didn't go.
She stood outside her dorm room at 10:47 PM, practice sword in hand, debating whether this was the stupidest decision she'd ever made. Meeting a mysterious janitor in an abandoned building at midnight? This was literally how horror movies started.
But the alternative was continuing to train alone, improving at a snail's pace while everyone else left her behind. And in twenty-nine days, she'd enter that C-Rank dungeon her instructor kept assuring them was "perfectly safe."
Safe. Right. Like her F-Rank evaluation had been "accurate."
She'd done her research after finding that anonymous email. Three years ago, Class F student Park Min-jun died in the academy's supervised C-Rank dungeon training. Official report said equipment malfunction. Unofficial rumors said the instructors panicked when unexpected monsters spawned and the students were left exposed.
Park Min-jun had been E-Rank. Stronger than her.
He'd died anyway.
*The janitor knew about that*, she thought. *How does a janitor know classified information about student deaths?*
Only one way to find out.
Sera checked her phone: 10:51 PM. She pulled on a dark hoodie and slipped out of the dorm, keeping to the shadows. The academy's security was focused on keeping threats out, not students in. She made it to the old storage building without incident.
The structure loomed ahead, abandoned for years after the new facilities were built. Windows dark. Door slightly ajar.
Every instinct screamed this was a trap.
But something deeper—maybe desperation, maybe intuition—told her to trust the strange janitor who'd already helped her more than any official instructor.
She pushed the door open.
Inside, the building was dusty and empty except for old equipment and stacked chairs. Moonlight streamed through broken windows, creating shadows that seemed to move.
"You came."
Sera spun around. The janitor—Kim Soo-hyun—stood in the corner, somehow invisible until he spoke. He wasn't wearing his uniform. Just plain dark clothes. And the way he stood... different. Not the hunched posture of a tired janitor. Straight. Alert. Dangerous.
"I came," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Now tell me what this is really about."
"Combat training. Real combat training. Not the watered-down garbage they teach F-Rank students." He stepped into the moonlight. "Twenty-nine days until the dungeon practical. You've improved, but not enough. At your current level, you have maybe thirty percent chance of surviving if things go wrong."
"The instructors said—"
"The instructors are wrong. They're teaching you to pass evaluations, not survive combat. There's a difference." His eyes were hard. "I can teach you the difference. But it won't be pleasant. It won't be safe. And if you tell anyone about these sessions, I disappear and you're on your own."
Sera gripped her practice sword tighter. "Why are you doing this? Really?"
For a moment, something flickered across his face. Old pain. Deep regret.
"Because I've watched talented people die due to inadequate training," he said quietly. "And I'm tired of watching. So I'm offering you a choice. Go back to your dorm, continue your regular training, and hope thirty percent odds work in your favor. Or stay here, train with me, and actually have a chance."
"And if I stay, what exactly will you teach me?"
"Everything your instructors won't. Real combat. Survival techniques. How to kill efficiently." He paused. "How to not die stupidly."
The bluntness should have scared her. Instead, it was oddly reassuring. No false promises. No coddling. Just brutal honesty.
"Okay," Sera said. "I'm in."
"Good. Then drop that toy." He pointed at her practice sword. "Real training requires real weapons."
He walked to a covered tarp in the corner and pulled it back, revealing an arsenal of actual combat weapons. Swords, spears, daggers—all looked well-maintained and disturbingly sharp.
"Where did you get these?" Sera asked, eyes wide.
"Janitors have access to confiscated equipment storage. Sometimes things go missing. Accounting errors." He selected a standard hunter's blade—shorter and lighter than her practice sword—and tossed it to her.
She caught it awkwardly, nearly dropping it. The weight was different. The balance was different. This was a real weapon designed to kill real monsters.
"First lesson," Soo-hyun said, picking up a blade for himself. "Forget everything you learned about 'proper form' and 'academy technique.' In real combat, there's no such thing as improper technique. There's only what works and what gets you killed."
He moved into a relaxed stance—nothing like the rigid poses her instructors taught. "Attack me."
"What?"
"Attack me. Full force. Try to actually hit me."
Sera hesitated. "I could hurt you."
"No," he said simply. "You couldn't. Now attack before I change my mind about training you."
Stung by the dismissive tone, Sera lunged forward with a basic thrust—textbook form, exactly like her instructor taught.
Soo-hyun didn't even move his feet. Just shifted his weight slightly, and her blade passed harmlessly by his shoulder. His own blade came to rest gently against her throat.
"Dead," he said. "Again."
She reset, tried a different angle. Same result. His blade touched her ribs.
"Dead. Again."
Eight attempts. Eight effortless counters.
Sera stepped back, breathing hard more from frustration than exertion. "How are you doing that?"
"Because you telegraph every move. Your shoulders tense before you strike. Your eyes focus on your target point. Your footwork follows a predictable pattern." He lowered his blade. "You're executing techniques correctly, but you're not thinking like a fighter. You're thinking like a student trying to pass a test."
"Then how should I think?"
"Like you're trying to kill me." He raised his blade again. "Not practice killing. Not simulated killing. Actual killing. Stop pulling your strikes. Stop hesitating. Stop thinking about form and start thinking about results."
"But my instructors said—"
"Your instructors have never been in real combat. I have." The certainty in his voice left no room for argument. "Now stop wasting time and try to kill me."
Something in Sera snapped. All the frustration of being ranked F. All the fear of the coming dungeon. All the desperate determination to prove everyone wrong.
She attacked.
Not a textbook thrust. A wild slash aimed at his chest, followed immediately by a kick toward his knee. No form. No elegance. Just aggressive intent.
Soo-hyun blocked both, but this time he actually had to move. His blade met hers with a sharp clang.
"Better!" he called out. "Again!"
She kept attacking, abandoning technique for instinct. She wasn't trying to demonstrate proper form. She was trying to hit him, by any means necessary.
And slowly, impossibly, she started getting closer.
Not hitting him—he was still too skilled for that. But closer. Her blade passed within inches instead of feet. She forced him to actually defend instead of casually deflecting.
After five minutes of intense exchanges, Soo-hyun raised his hand. "Stop."
Sera lowered her blade, gasping for air. Her arms burned. Sweat soaked her shirt.
"That," Soo-hyun said, not even breathing hard, "was your first real combat. How did it feel?"
"Terrifying," she admitted. "Nothing like practice."
"Because practice is safe. Combat isn't. The sooner you internalize that, the better your chances." He walked to a stack of old mats and dragged them into the center of the room. "Now comes the hard part."
"That wasn't the hard part?"
"That was the warm-up. Now I teach you how to actually fight." He arranged the mats into a makeshift sparring area. "I'm going to attack you. Not to kill, but hard enough that you'll feel it tomorrow. Your job is to survive for thirty seconds. If you go down, we reset and try again. We repeat this until you last thirty seconds or until 1 AM. Whichever comes first."
Sera checked her phone: 11:34 PM.
That gave them almost ninety minutes.
"And if I can't last thirty seconds in that time?"
"Then you're not ready, and we'll try again tomorrow night." His expression was stern but not unkind. "But something tells me you won't quit that easily. Ready?"
No. She wasn't ready. But she nodded anyway.
Soo-hyun's attack came like lightning.
One moment he was standing three meters away. The next, his blade was driving toward her midsection. Sera barely managed to raise her sword in time, the impact sending shockwaves up her arms.
He didn't relent. Strike after strike, each one controlled but powerful. He wasn't trying to hurt her, but he wasn't holding back much either.
Sera lasted eight seconds before his blade tapped her shoulder—a killing blow if this were real.
"Reset. Again."
They reset. She lasted eleven seconds.
"Again."
Fifteen seconds.
"Again."
Twelve seconds. She was getting tired, losing focus.
"Again."
Twenty seconds. She was learning to read his patterns, anticipate his strikes.
"Again."
Twenty-three seconds.
"Again."
By 12:47 AM, Sera's arms felt like lead. Bruises were forming where his blade had tapped her "kills." She'd lost count of how many attempts she'd made.
But she was improving. Each round, she survived a little longer. Her movements became more instinctive, less thoughtful. Her blade found angles she hadn't known existed.
"Final attempt," Soo-hyun said, checking his watch. "Give me everything you have left."
Sera raised her blade with trembling arms. One more try.
Soo-hyun attacked, and this time she didn't just defend. She remembered what he'd said—stop thinking like a student, start thinking like a fighter.
When his blade came high, she didn't just block—she deflected and countered low. When he feinted left, she didn't follow the feint—she anticipated the real strike from the right.
Twenty seconds.
Twenty-five.
Her lungs burned. Her vision blurred with sweat.
Twenty-eight.
She could see the pattern now. See the rhythm of his attacks. See the opening—
Twenty-nine.
She dropped low, under his horizontal slash, and thrust upward toward his chest. Not a strong strike—she had no strength left—but accurate. Committed.
His blade stopped an inch from her temple.
Her blade stopped an inch from his heart.
"Thirty seconds," he said quietly. "Well done."
Sera collapsed to her knees, gasping for air. Her entire body screamed in protest. But she'd done it.
Thirty seconds.
It didn't sound like much. But it felt like climbing a mountain.
Soo-hyun extended a hand and pulled her to her feet. "You survived. That's the most important skill a hunter can learn—how to survive when everything goes wrong. Tomorrow night, we work on technique refinement. For now, go back to your dorm. Ice your bruises. Get some sleep."
"Wait," Sera managed between breaths. "Who are you? Really?"
He met her eyes, and for just a moment, she saw something ancient in his gaze. Something that had seen countless battles and survived them all.
"I'm someone who knows what's coming," he said softly. "And I'm trying to make sure you're ready when it arrives. That's all you need to know."
"The other F-Rank students—"
"One student at a time. I can't save everyone. But I can save you. If you're willing to trust me."
Sera thought about the last two hours. The brutal training. The honest assessment. The genuine effort to make her better.
"I trust you," she said.
"Good. Then same time tomorrow night. Bring water and pain medication. You'll need both." He started covering the weapons with the tarp again. "And Sera? Don't tell anyone about this. Not your friends. Not your roommate. No one. The moment word gets out, this ends."
"I understand."
"Go. You need six hours of sleep minimum."
Sera gathered her things and headed for the door. She paused at the threshold and looked back.
"Janitor Kim?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For believing I could do this."
He didn't respond, just nodded once. But in that nod, Sera saw acknowledgment. Respect, even.
She left the abandoned building and made her way back to the dorms, every muscle aching. Tomorrow she'd wake up covered in bruises. She'd have to hide them from her roommate. Make excuses for why she was moving stiffly.
But she'd survived thirty seconds against someone who fought like a true hunter.
And tomorrow night, she'd go back and learn to survive longer.
For the first time since her F-Rank evaluation, Han Sera felt something dangerous.
Hope.
---
**[QUEST UPDATE]**
**[Han Sera - Combat Rating: D- → D]**
**[Survival Probability in Gate Break: 34% → 47%]**
**[Training Effectiveness: Exceptional]**
**[Note: Student shows natural combat instincts when properly challenged]**
**[Days Remaining: 28]**
Soo-hyun watched from the window until Sera's figure disappeared into the night. Then he allowed himself a small smile.
She'd done better than he'd expected. Twenty years ago, Kang Minho would have dismissed F-Rank students as lost causes. But twenty years of experience had taught him something crucial:
Rank measured current ability, not future potential.
And Han Sera's potential was far higher than any System evaluation suggested.
His phone buzzed. A message from Director Choi:
*"Kim, need you to clean the administration building tomorrow morning. VIP inspection coming. 6 AM sharp."*
Soo-hyun replied with a simple confirmation, then pocketed his phone.
VIP inspection. Probably guild representatives or government officials checking on the academy's standards. They came periodically, looked at Class A and B students, ignored everyone else, and left satisfied that their investment was worthwhile.
They never looked at Class F.
Which was exactly how he wanted it.
He gathered his things and locked up the abandoned building. Tomorrow night, he'd push Sera harder. Test her footwork. Introduce mana-enhanced strikes.
She had twenty-eight days to become strong enough to survive.
He'd forged warriors in less time before.
But never from an F-Rank starting point.
*Challenge accepted*, he thought, and disappeared into the Seoul night like the invisible janitor he was supposed to be.
Just another night at Seoul Hunter Academy.
Where legends were supposedly born.
But where real legends were being forged in secret, one midnight lesson at a time.