The Seoul Awakening Assessment Center was quiet in the way crowded places always were—filled with people trying too hard not to look nervous.
Rows of metal chairs stretched across the wide hall, each occupied by an eighteen-year-old who had spent most of their life waiting for today. Some sat stiffly, backs straight and eyes forward, as if posture alone could influence the system. Others leaned back with forced nonchalance, arms crossed, pretending this was just another bureaucratic formality.
It wasn't.
Everyone knew it wasn't.
Han Joon-seok sat near the edge of the hall, hands resting loosely on his knees, gaze unfocused but alert.
He wasn't nervous.
Not because he expected anything special—but because nervousness didn't change outcomes.
Awakening wasn't a test you could study for.Luck didn't apply either.
The system either answered—or it didn't.
So instead of worrying, Joon-seok did what he had always done best.
He observed.
A boy three seats ahead kept rolling his shoulders every few seconds. Not stretching—resetting. Someone who had already imagined dungeon combat a few too many times. A girl across the aisle rubbed her thumb against her sleeve in a repetitive motion, grounding herself whenever the evaluation room door opened.
Near the back, a tall kid laughed a little too loudly at his friend's jokes.
Forced confidence. Defensive behavior.
Joon-seok filed it all away without thinking too hard about it. Patterns were comforting. Predictable.
"Next group! Numbers 214 to 230!"
The announcement echoed through the hall.
A ripple of movement passed through the crowd as the selected candidates stood. Joon-seok rose with them, slipping into line without hurry.
As soon as he took his first step forward, he felt it.
Attention.
Not from the other candidates. From somewhere higher.
Guild scouts sat scattered along the walls, tablets in hand, eyes sharp despite their casual posture. Security hunters stood near the ceiling cameras, positioned too carefully to be mere guards. Association staff watched everything with professional boredom that fooled no one.
And then there was her.
Han Se-rin leaned against the far wall.
She wore simple civilian clothes—black jacket, dark pants, combat boots—but the space around her felt heavier than the rest of the room. She wasn't releasing pressure. She didn't need to.
Being S-rank did that on its own.
Most people avoided looking at her directly, either out of instinct or fear. Some pretended not to notice her at all, which was somehow worse.
Joon-seok met her eyes anyway.
She raised an eyebrow, expression neutral.
You ready?
He gave a small nod.
That was all they needed.
The evaluation room was circular and sterile, dominated by a translucent crystal floating at its center. Pale system light rippled across its surface like disturbed water, reflecting faintly on the polished floor.
Three evaluators stood nearby, expressions professional and detached. A technician monitored a terminal off to the side, fingers already hovering above the controls.
"Name," one of the evaluators said without looking up.
"Han Joon-seok."
The evaluator paused.
His fingers hovered over the tablet for a moment before he glanced up, eyes sharper now.
"…Relation to Hunter Han Se-rin?"
"Brother."
The room's atmosphere shifted—not dramatically, but enough to be noticeable. Routine interest turned into mild curiosity.
"Step forward," the evaluator said. "Place your hand on the crystal."
Joon-seok complied.
The moment his palm touched the surface, cold spread through his arm, sharp and invasive. It wasn't painful, but it was thorough—like being scanned layer by layer.
He kept his breathing steady.
System Synchronization Complete
Awakening Confirmed
Symbols flared briefly within the crystal, then rearranged themselves.
Ability Type: Support
One evaluator relaxed almost imperceptibly.
Support-type awakenings were common. Necessary, even. But rarely remarkable.
Primary Skill Identified
Growth Acceleration (Low Tier)
The crystal's glow dimmed.
The technician frowned slightly as he scrolled through the details. "Growth-type… increases the growth rate of others. No self-application. No combat enhancement."
There was a short pause.
Not shock.Just uncertainty.
"That's uncommon," the first evaluator said carefully.
The second evaluator looked directly at Joon-seok. "This skill does not improve your combat performance."
"Yes."
"It will not directly increase your rank."
"I understand."
"It is most effective on individuals who have not yet reached their potential."
Joon-seok nodded. "Correct."
Expectation drained from the room.
The evaluators had seen this before—growth-type skills that worked well in theory but stalled out once real limits appeared.
"Classification," the first evaluator said, typing. "E-rank support. Non-combatant."
A soft chime echoed through the room.
Rank Assigned: E
That was it.
No surge of power.No dramatic announcement.
Joon-seok bowed politely and stepped back, catching his reflection in the fading glow of the crystal.
Calm eyes.Neutral expression.
Good.
Whispers followed him as he exited the room.
"That's her brother?""E-rank?""A growth skill?""That's… disappointing."
Joon-seok returned to his seat, unfazed.
A few seconds later, the air shifted.
Han Se-rin approached.
Conversations died instantly, like someone had flipped a switch.
She stopped in front of him, hands in her jacket pockets.
"Well?" she asked.
"E-rank."
She clicked her tongue softly. "Low."
"I noticed."
She studied him for a moment. "Skill?"
"Growth Acceleration."
Her expression changed—not alarm, not excitement. Just analysis.
"…That explains it," she said.
"Explains what?"
"Why they didn't care." She leaned against the wall beside him. "Growth-type skills are useful early on. Rookies. People with unstable foundations. Late awakeners."
She shrugged.
"At higher ranks, growth slows because of caps. Saturation. System limits. No shortcut fixes that."
"So it won't do much," Joon-seok said.
"For top-rankers?" She nodded. "Not really."
She paused, then added, "But it's safe."
"Safe?"
"You won't be pushed into dungeons. No one will expect miracles from you." She glanced around the hall. "That matters."
A faint smile crossed his face. "You sound relieved."
"I am." She tapped his forehead lightly. "I'd rather have an E-rank brother than a dead one."
Nearby, a guild scout stared openly, looking between the siblings like he was reassessing several life choices.
Joon-seok lowered his voice. "You're drawing attention."
"I always do," Se-rin replied flatly. "Ignore it."
They headed for the exit together.
Outside, Seoul stretched beneath a gray sky. Traffic hummed in the distance, normal life continuing as if dungeon gates weren't scattered across the city. Far away, one such gate shimmered faintly between buildings, stabilized and monitored.
Se-rin stopped walking.
"From now on," she said, "don't use your skill without permission."
"That strict?"
"Growth skills can mess people up if misused," she replied. "Especially rookies."
He nodded. "Understood."
"We'll find you something stable," she added. "Support roles. Logistics. You'll be fine."
She sounded confident.
Joon-seok didn't argue.
But as they walked away, her words lingered in his mind.
Growth slows because of limits.
That was true.
But limits weren't walls.
They were definitions.
And definitions could be incomplete.
For now, the world had decided his value.
E-rank.Low-tier.Non-combatant.
Joon-seok accepted that.
He just wasn't convinced it was the whole picture.