Morning came quietly, the way it always did.
The alarm buzzed at 6:30, sharp and unforgiving.
Lee Haneul groaned, rolled over, and smacked it with the kind of violence reserved for Mondays and midterms.
The clock went silent, leaving only the faint hum of his fan and the dull thump of his heartbeat.
He lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling. Another day. Another class. Another round of pretending to listen.
The world, for all its noise, had never really changed for him.
He wasn't special. He wasn't a genius or a prodigy. Just a second-year high school student with average grades, a quiet voice, and a talent for being overlooked.
He got up, brushed his teeth, threw on his uniform, and left the house.
His mother had already gone to work early shift at the hospital. His father had left years ago, but that was fine. The silence at breakfast was something he'd grown used to.
The streets were wet from last night's rain.
Puddles reflected the gray sky above, and the air smelled faintly of asphalt and instant coffee.
A few students walked ahead of him, laughing about something trivial the latest drama, a viral clip, an upcoming exam.
Haneul slipped his hands into his pockets and kept walking.
At school, life moved on in predictable rhythms.
The chatter of classmates, the squeak of shoes on polished floors, the teacher's monotone voice echoing over the sound of scribbling pens.
He sat by the window, his head propped on one hand, watching the sky instead of the board.
Clouds drifted lazily past, heavy and swollen, hiding the sun like a secret.
He thought about the future sometimes — college, work, the endless routine that stretched ahead like a tunnel.
There was no grand dream waiting for him, no destiny calling his name.
Just days like this, quiet and colorless.
"Hey, Haneul," his friend Jisoo called from behind him, poking his shoulder with a pen. "You alive? You've been staring out there for ten minutes."
He blinked. "Just thinking."
"About what? Lunch?"
"Maybe."
Jisoo laughed. "Classic. You think too much, man. That's why you look like a philosopher every time I see you."
Haneul smiled faintly, not bothering to respond.
Thinking was all he had. Talking rarely changed anything.
Lunch came and went.
Afternoon classes blurred together, and soon enough, the final bell rang.
Students rushed for the doors, eager for freedom.
Haneul lingered, as usual, packing his bag slowly. He preferred walking home when the hallways were empty.
The sky outside had darkened strangely not with rain, but with something heavier.
The light seemed dimmer, the air thicker.
A faint vibration trembled through the floor.
He paused, frowning. "An earthquake?"
But it wasn't that.
The vibration wasn't from below — it came from above.
A low, thrumming hum, like a heartbeat pulsing through the clouds.
The chatter outside turned into shouts.
Students ran to the windows, pointing.
"Haneul, look at that!" someone yelled.
He turned.
The sky was breaking.
A massive fissure split the heavens open, glowing with blue and violet light.
The clouds twisted, folding into the rift like they were being devoured.
Electricity danced across the air, crackling through every corner of the city.
Screams echoed from the courtyard.
Phones dropped. The intercom went dead.
Every instinct in Haneul's body screamed at him to run but to where?
The air grew heavy, pressing down on his lungs.
His vision flickered white, then blue.
A strange wind swept through the halls, carrying whispers that didn't belong in this world.
Chosen… one thousand shall witness…
The words weren't heard they were felt, vibrating in his skull.
Haneul clutched his head, stumbling back. His bag hit the floor with a dull thud.
And then, silence.
Everything stopped.
Time itself seemed to freeze the wind, the dust, even the light.
Then came the pull.
A force like gravity and lightning wrapped around him, dragging him upward.
The classroom shattered like glass, fragments of space curling inward.
The last thing he saw was his reflection in the window eyes wide, mouth open, swallowed by blue fire.
When he woke, the world was no longer the same.
The ceiling was gone.
The air was different rich with the scent of soil and something alive.
He blinked, pushing himself up.
He was lying in a vast forest, under a sky the color of twilight.
Around him were bodies hundreds of them, dressed in the same uniforms, sprawled across the ground. Some groaned, others screamed. A few just stared blankly at the sky.
Trees towered like giants. Strange light floated between the branches.
The ground pulsed faintly, like it was breathing.
"What… is this?" Haneul whispered.
And then, a voice thundered from above.
"Welcome, mortals."
A being of light appeared in the sky vast, formless, and yet painfully clear.
It hovered with the grace of a god, its eyes burning with ancient flame.
"You have been chosen by the gods as participants of Zone Twenty-Three."
The crowd erupted panic, questions, disbelief.
"What's happening?"
"Where are we?"
"Is this a dream?"
The being ignored their cries.
"Each zone consists of one thousand souls. You will live, fight, and die for the amusement of the divine."
Its words fell like stones.
The crowd grew louder, some begging, some cursing.
Haneul just stared upward, silent, his heartbeat strangely calm.
"A system shall guide you," the being continued. "You will find it before you. It will measure your worth."
A light shimmered before his eyes a transparent window filled with strange symbols.
Name: Lee Haneul
Level: 1
Stats: Strength (0), Agility (0), Magic (0), Endurance (0), Intelligence (0)
Unallocated Points: 50
"Distribute your points as you wish," said the being. "Survive one month, and two gates will appear one leading home, one to the next world."
A murmur spread through the crowd.
Some cried. Others began arguing over what to do.
Haneul stared at the screen.
Fifty points.
A blank slate.
An impossible choice.
People around him began allocating — their bodies glowing as strength filled their limbs.
He hesitated. Not out of fear, but thought.
If this really was a test… then what was the safest bet?
He exhaled slowly, then whispered, "Magic."
One point. Then two. Then all fifty.
The light wrapped around him, soft and warm and when it faded, he felt… nothing.
No surge of power. No rush of strength.
Only stillness.
Then the Guardian smiled.
"The trial begins."
And the forest screamed.