The alarm on Michael's cracked phone buzzed at 6:03 a.m. He slapped it silent, rolled off the sagging mattress, and stared at the ceiling of his foster home's attic. A single water stain shaped like a goblin's face stared back. Fitting. It had been there since he moved in five years ago, after the Gate incident that took his parents. Some days, he wondered if the stain was a omen, a reminder that monsters weren't just in dungeons—they lurked in the quiet corners of life too.
"Mike! Bus in twenty!" Mrs. Park's voice floated up the stairs, warm with the smell of kimchi fried rice. She always packed him an extra egg. The only person who did. He could hear her humming an old K-pop tune downstairs, the kind that played on the radio before the Gates turned the world upside down. Mrs. Park wasn't his real mom, but she was the closest thing he had left. She ran a tiny diner near the warded district, scraping by on tips from low-rank Hunters who stopped in for cheap noodles after raids.
He shuffled to the cracked mirror propped against the wall. Same reflection every morning: 5'6", 220 lbs, acne like a topographical map across his cheeks, greasy bangs plastered to his forehead from the humid Neo-Seoul air. His uniform shirt strained at the buttons, the fabric pulling tight over his belly; the tie looked like a noose around his thick neck. He adjusted his thick glasses, which always slid down his sweaty nose, and sighed deeply. Why bother fixing his hair? No one noticed anyway. Or if they did, it was only to laugh.
Downstairs, the kitchen was a cozy chaos of pots and steam. Mrs. Park turned from the stove, her apron dusted with flour. "Eat fast, kiddo," she said, sliding a steel lunchbox across the scarred wooden counter. She was tiny, with gray-streaked hair tied back in a bun, and she smelled like sesame oil and home. "And chin up. Today's just another day. Who knows? Maybe you'll awaken in class."
Michael forced a smile as he scooped up a spoonful of rice. "Yeah, maybe." He didn't believe it. Three failed tests already. In a world where kids his age were slinging fireballs or summoning shields, he was still just… him. Weak. Ugly. Alone. But Mrs. Park's optimism was like a ward against the darkness—he clung to it, even if it felt flimsy.
Another day of being invisible. Or worse—visible for all the wrong reasons. He grabbed his backpack, heavy with untouched Hunter Theory textbooks, and headed out into the fog-shrouded streets.
Neo-Seoul's morning fog clung to the skyscrapers like ghostly cotton, muting the neon billboards that advertised "Essence Stones: Unlock Your True Power!" Aether Academy loomed ahead on the horizon: a cluster of sleek glass towers laced with glowing blue wards that pulsed faintly against potential Gate breaches. Banners flapped in the breeze with slogans like "Awaken Your Future!" and "From E-Rank to Hero—It Starts Here!" Michael slipped through the crowded gates with the throng of students, keeping his head down to avoid eye contact. The air buzzed with chatter—kids bragging about their latest dungeon sim scores or showing off new mana tattoos.
"Yo, Fatty Mike!" Jax Carter's voice cut through the chatter like a fire spell igniting dry tinder. The B-rank fire mage leaned against a concrete pillar, arms crossed over his broad chest, his aura flickering with orange flames that danced harmlessly along his sleeves. His posse—three other C-ranks with smug grins—snickered behind him. "Heard you're doing the sim again today. Try not to cry this time, yeah? Last week was embarrassing."
Michael's cheeks burned hotter than Jax's flames. He clutched his backpack strap tighter, knuckles whitening, and kept walking, pretending not to hear. But inside, his stomach twisted into knots. Why did Jax always pick on him? Was it the extra weight? The failed awakenings? Or just because he was an easy target in a school full of budding heroes?
In homeroom, Ms. Kwon was already at the smartboard, her stylus sketching a detailed diagram of a Red Gate's inner structure—swirling vortices and monster spawn points labeled in neat handwriting. She was in her mid-thirties, with sharp eyes behind rimless glasses and a no-nonsense aura that could quell even Jax's fire. "Morning, class. Pop quiz on mana resonance. Michael—front row, please. You missed last week's review session."
Thirty pairs of eyes swiveled toward him like spotlights. He trudged forward, his chair creaking loudly under his weight as he sat. The sound echoed in the quiet room, drawing a few stifled giggles. Lila Han sat two seats over, her B-rank wind aura rustling the pages of her notebook as she doodled swirling patterns that looked like mini-tornadoes. She glanced up—briefly, her dark eyes meeting his for a split second—then looked away, cheeks tinting pink. Michael's stomach twisted again, this time with a mix of longing and embarrassment. Lila was everything he wasn't: graceful, powerful, popular. What would she think if she knew he dreamed about talking to her?
"Question one," Ms. Kwon said, tapping the board. "What's the safest way to extract essence stones from a D-rank dungeon without triggering a mana backlash?"
Hands shot up around the room like eager spells. Michael stared at his blank digital sheet, the cursor blinking mockingly. He knew the answer—use a mana-sealed container to stabilize the energy flow—but his tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth. Public speaking? In front of everyone? No way.
"Anyone?" Ms. Kwon's eyes landed on him, encouraging but firm. "Michael? You've got this."
"Uh… container?" he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the hum of the room's air wards.
"Mana-sealed container," Jax corrected loudly from the back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Even I know that, tubby. Come on, it's basic stuff."
Laughter rippled through the class like a wave. Michael sank lower in his seat, wishing he could disappear into the floor. Ms. Kwon sighed, shooting Jax a warning glance. "Correct, Michael. Just speak up next time. Confidence is half the battle in Hunter training."
The quiz dragged on, each question a reminder of how far behind he was. By the end, his sheet was half-filled with hesitant answers, while others like Lila flew through it with ease.
The cafeteria smelled of spicy tteokbokki and the faint, acrid tang of mana-burnt ozone from students practicing low-level spells between bites. Michael claimed his usual corner table, far from the central clusters where the high-ranks held court. He opened Mrs. Park's lunchbox: steaming rice, tangy kimchi, and a perfect fried egg with a smiley face drawn in soy sauce. His chest ached with gratitude—he didn't deserve her kindness.
Across the room, Lila laughed with her friends, her wind aura sending napkins fluttering playfully. Sera Yoon, the A-rank healer and rising idol trainee, was visiting from the senior wing, signing autographs on glowing mana pads. Jax flexed beside them, showing off a new fire rune etched on his wrist that pulsed with heat. "Check this out—boosts my flames by 20%," he boasted, earning oohs and aahs. Michael poked at his egg with a plastic fork, the yolk breaking like his fragile hopes. If I awakened tomorrow… would they even notice? Would anyone see me as more than the fat kid who couldn't even pass a sim?
A sudden shadow fell over his table. Min-ji, the class gossip queen with her ever-present phone and C-rank illusion abilities, plopped down uninvited. Her hair was dyed a trendy blue, matching the academy's ward colors. "Heard you're doing the sim again after lunch. Wanna bet you last thirty seconds? I'll spot you twenty credits if you make it to a minute."
He shrugged, keeping his eyes on his food. "Leave me alone, Min-ji."
"Touchy much?" She smirked, but her eyes flicked curiously to his lunchbox. "Your mom's food looks good, though. Homemade beats cafeteria slop any day."
"Foster mom," he corrected quietly, not looking up.
Min-ji's smirk faltered for a moment, something like pity flashing in her eyes. "Oh. Sorry. Didn't know." She stood awkwardly, phone buzzing in her hand. "Well… good luck with the sim, I guess." She left as quickly as she came, weaving back to her group with exaggerated nonchalance.
The simulation chamber hummed with the low thrum of holographic runes embedded in the walls. It was a vast room, like a high-tech arena, with observation stands for the class. Mr. Hale, the grizzled D-rank instructor with a scar running down his cheek from a real Gate mishap, scratched at it absently. "Alright, Park. Basic goblin sim. Survive five minutes. Don't die dramatically—wastes the projectors."
Michael stepped into the glowing circle at the center, his heart pounding like a war drum. The world around him shifted in a blur of light: suddenly, he was in a damp cave, water dripping from stalactites, the air thick with mold. A goblin snarled from the shadows, its green skin glistening, yellow eyes fixed on him.
"Go!" Mr. Hale's voice boomed from outside the sim.
Michael gripped the training baton they'd given him—a flimsy stick compared to real weapons. He lasted exactly 42 seconds. The goblin lunged faster than he could react, tackling him to the cave floor, its phantom claws raking across his chest in simulated agony. The class's laughter echoed through the holograms as the sim dissolved, leaving him sprawled on the cold chamber floor. Holographic blood faded from his uniform.
"Pathetic," Jax called from the stands, his voice amplified by a casual fire echo spell. "Even the NPC felt bad for you, Mike. It practically let you hit it once."
Michael lay there for a moment, his real eyes stinging with unshed tears. Why couldn't he be like them? Why was he always the failure?
The final bell rang, signaling the end of classes. Michael lingered in the empty homeroom, packing his bag slowly to avoid the rush. Most students had club activities—Hunter Training for the awakened, Mana Control workshops, Guild Prep seminars where they networked with scouts. He had nothing but the long bus ride home and another evening of studying alone.
He was halfway to the main exit, lost in thought, when the alarm screamed through the speakers—a piercing wail that made his blood run cold.
"Code Blue! Unregistered Gate detected—east wing! All non-Hunters evacuate immediately! Awakened students, report to assembly points!"
Panic erupted like a burst Gate. Students surged toward the main doors in a chaotic wave, auras flaring as they pushed and shoved. Michael got caught in the tide, elbowed and spun until he was separated from the crowd. Disoriented, he stumbled down a side corridor—empty, dimly lit by emergency strips.
Then he saw it.
A Blue Gate, swirling in the air like liquid sapphire, no bigger than a doorway. No containment wards around it. No Hunters rushing in. Just him, alone, with the low, guttural growl emanating from within.
The goblin stepped out. Real this time—not a hologram. Four feet of wiry muscle, green skin taut over bones, yellow claws clutching a dripping rusted dagger. Its eyes locked on Michael, hunger twisting its fanged mouth into a grin.
"Help!" Michael's voice echoed down the empty hall as he backed away, heart slamming against his ribs. He turned into a dead-end storage room, slamming the door behind him—but the goblin kicked it open with a splintering crash, wood flying like shrapnel.
It lunged, dagger flashing. Michael threw a mop bucket in desperation; water sloshed across the floor uselessly. The blade caught his forearm—real blood welled up, hot and sticky, pain lancing through him like fire.
He scrambled behind a stack of crates, breath coming in ragged gasps. "Somebody—please—!"
The goblin vaulted over the crates effortlessly, its eyes glowing with feral glee. Michael grabbed a broken broom handle from the corner, swinging it wildly. It blocked the blow easily, laughing in guttural clicks that sent chills down his spine.
"Stay back!" His voice cracked into a desperate scream.
The dagger rose for the finishing blow, glinting in the dim light.
Then—silence. A cold, metallic voice echoed in his skull, clear as a system alert.
[System Activation Protocol: Player Detected. Accept? Y/N]
Michael's mouth moved before his brain could process the impossibility. "YES!"
Blue fire exploded across his vision, panels of light overlaying reality like a glitch in the matrix.
[System Initialized. Welcome, Michael Park. Rank: E-. Stats: STR 5 | AGI 3 | VIT 4 | INT 7 | MANA 1]
The goblin's dagger froze mid-air, inches from his throat. Michael felt it—power, thin but undeniably real, threading through his veins like electric threads. His belly tightened; layers of fat shifted subtly, melting like wax under heat. His glasses fogged for a second, then cleared—his eyesight sharpening without them.
[Daily Quest: Survive the Encounter. Reward: +1 All Stats | Skill: Basic Strike]
"Get—AWAY FROM ME!" Michael roared, his voice no longer cracking but booming with newfound depth.
He rolled to the side—faster than he'd ever moved—and thrust the broom handle forward with all his might. CRACK. It punched clean through the goblin's shoulder, drawing a spray of green ichor.
[Damage Dealt: 18. Exp +15]
The creature howled in rage, staggering back. Michael caught his reflection in a cracked mirror propped against the wall: acne scars fading before his eyes, jawline emerging sharper, his brown eyes burning with intensity.
He struck again—[Basic Strike activated]—a faint blue glow enveloping the wood like an aura. The goblin's head snapped back violently, more blood spraying across the crates.
[Critical Hit! Exp +60]
The Gate behind the monster flickered wildly, unstable. The goblin collapsed to its knees, then dissolved into swirling black motes that surged forward, absorbing into Michael's chest like inhaled smoke.
[Quest Complete. +1 STR | +1 AGI | +1 VIT | +1 INT | +1 MANA]
[Level Up! You are now Level 2.]
The Gate snapped shut with a thunderous crack, like breaking bones echoing in the confined space.
Michael dropped to his knees, panting heavily. His uniform hung looser on his frame, the fabric no longer straining. Blood dripped from his slashed arm, but the wound was already closing—skin knitting together in a faint glow, faster than any natural healing. He touched his face tentatively: defined cheekbones, a stronger jaw. The start of something extraordinary.
Footsteps thundered closer, voices shouting.
"Michael?!" Ms. Kwon burst through the shattered doorway, her mana blades glowing ethereal blue in her hands. "Talk to me! Are you hurt?"
Lila skidded to a stop behind her, wind aura swirling around her like a protective vortex. Her eyes widened in shock—first at the bloodstains and debris, then at him, really seeing him for perhaps the first time.
"You…" Lila whispered, her voice breathless. "You closed a Gate? Alone? How…?"
Michael stood slowly, his legs shaky but infused with new strength. For the first time in his life, his voice didn't waver—it rang clear and steady.
"I think… I just awakened."
[New Quest: Return to Class. Reward: Social Integration +10]
He stepped past the shattered door into the hallway. Gathering students gawked from a safe distance, whispers spreading like wildfire. Jax's mouth hung open in disbelief, his fire aura flickering uncertainly. Min-ji's phone slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor as she stared.
Michael didn't look back. For once, the world was looking at him.