The Awakening Center was a sterile monolith of glass and steel, a sharp contrast to the rotting concrete Joo-won called home. Thousands of twenty-year-olds stood in line, their faces a mixture of nauseating hope and paralyzing fear.
Government drones hovered overhead, scanning reticles flashing red as they cataloged the "National Human Resources." That's all they were now—resources.
"Next! Han Joo-won!"
Joo-won stepped into the testing chamber. In the center sat the Mana Resonance Sphere, a massive orb of swirling cerulean energy. Beside it stood a bored-looking official in a crisp blue suit, holding a tablet.
"Place your hand on the sphere," the official droned. "Don't resist the flow. It will determine your aptitude, your rank, and your future service mandate."
Joo-won didn't hesitate. He pressed his palm against the cold glass.
The Evaluation
For a moment, his vision went white. A searing heat surged through his veins, like molten lead being poured into his marrow. It wasn't the "warm embrace" the propaganda pamphlets described. It was invasive. It felt like a thief rummaging through his soul.
Then, the sphere dimmed. It didn't turn gold. It didn't turn vibrant purple. It turned a murky, sickly shade of greyish-green.
The official sighed, tapping his tablet. "Rank D. Support-type. Class: Master of Curses and Disease."
A few other testers in the room snickered. "A plague-bringer?" one whispered. "What use is that? He'll probably rot himself before he clears a single floor." "Rank D... just another government leech," another muttered.
The official looked at Joo-won with a flicker of pity. "It's a difficult class, Han Joo-won. Most monsters have high physical resistance to disease, and in a party, you're more likely to infect your allies than the enemy. You'll be assigned to the 'Public Health Defense' squad—mostly cleaning up low-level dungeon waste."
"I see," Joo-won said. His voice was flat, devoid of the crushing disappointment the official expected.
"Take your ID and move to the exit. You'll receive your first dungeon assignment via the government app tomorrow."
The Hidden Truth
Joo-won walked out of the center, his hand buried in his pocket. He wasn't looking at the plastic ID card. He was looking at the translucent blue windows that only he could see—windows that had appeared the moment he touched the sphere.
[Status Window]
Name: Han Joo-won
Level: 1
Class: Master of Curses and Disease (Rank D)
Title: None
Mana: 100/100
[Unique Passive Skill: Absolute Infliction]
Rank: Irregular (Non-measurable)
Effect: Your status ailments ignore the target's level, rank, and resistance.
Note: In a world of rules, you are the exception. If you decree they are sick, they are sick. If you decree they die, they rot.
Joo-won stopped at a park bench, watching a group of newly awakened "Warriors" celebrating their C-Rank status nearby. They were shouting about fame and joining the top guilds.
They think they're the protagonists, Joo-won thought, a cold smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth.
He opened his skill tree. His first active skill was unlocked.
[Active Skill: Festering Touch (Level 1)]
Cost: 10 Mana
Effect: Causes a localized infection. Normally reduces enemy health by 1% per minute.
Absolute Modifier: The infection cannot be cured by any magic below S-Rank and will ignore all biological immunity.
"One percent per minute," Joo-won calculated. "In a hundred minutes, anything dies. Whether it's a D-Rank goblin or a World-Boss. As long as I can survive the wait, the profit is mine."
The First Calculation
He pulled up his government app. A notification was already waiting.
[Mandatory Assignment] Location: Guro-gu Sub-Station Dungeon (Rank D) Role: Debuffer / Support Party: Assigned to "Team 4" (5 members) Reward: 50,000 Won stipend.
Joo-won deleted the "Team 4" notification. He knew the law: if you didn't show up for a team assignment, you forfeited your stipend. But if you cleared a dungeon solo, you kept 100% of the loot—provided the government didn't find out you were "over-performing."
"50,000 Won for a day's work with a team?" He spat on the ground. "A single mid-grade mana stone from a floor boss is worth ten times that."
He turned away from the shelter and headed toward the black-market equipment shops in the back alleys. He didn't need a sword. He didn't need armor. He needed a mask and a way to disappear.
In a world that only valued the "strong," being a "weak" D-Rank was the perfect camouflage.