The numbers on the screen remained a cruel, unmoving testament to his inadequacy: "F-Class Hunter. No Change." The official’s polite, practiced condolences were a dull drone against the ringing in his ears, a sound less of the room and more of his own failure echoing in the cavern of his skull.
Kim Hyu-Gi stood before the sterile console, the Awakened Stone, now inert and dull, resting on the worn counter beside him. Its once vibrant glow, a beacon of hope, had long since faded, a direct mirror to the light that had just extinguished within him. He had held it, clutched it with a desperate intensity, feeling its cool weight, believing it would be his salvation, his answer to Kang Hwok’s sacrifice. Yet, here he was, precisely as he had been before: F-Class, unremarkable, powerless.
"We’re truly sorry, Mr. Kim," the Association staff member, a young man with a tired smile, began again. "While the stone showed an incredibly potent energy signature, your body seems... unreceptive to a full rank awakening at this time. It’s not unheard of. Some individuals simply don't resonate with the energy in the traditional way. Your current class remains F."
Unreceptive. The word felt like a brand, searing a new layer of shame onto his already bruised soul. It wasn’t just a disappointment; it was an indictment. He had failed. He had taken Kang Hwok’s desperate gamble, held the symbol of his former bully’s final, selfless act, and still, he was nothing. The faces of his guild members, trapped in that shifting, monstrous Gate, flashed behind his eyes. He had promised Han-Yol he would find a way, but what way was there for an F-Class Hunter? A useless one at that.
He nodded, a jerky, almost imperceptible movement, and mumbled a thanks he didn't feel. His legs felt like lead as he turned to leave the Awakening Chamber, the stark white walls seeming to press in on him. The Hunter Association building, usually bustling with the confident strides of Awakened individuals, now felt like a mausoleum, each echo of his footsteps a testament to his insignificance. He pushed through the heavy doors, the cool Seoul air doing little to dissipate the burning humiliation inside.
He walked aimlessly, the city a blur of indifferent faces and towering concrete. The world moved on, oblivious to the chasm that had opened beneath his feet. He saw a group of C-Class Hunters laughing outside a cafe, their easy camaraderie a painful reminder of his lost guild. The casual power they exuded, the confidence in their abilities—it was a world away from his own reality. He thought of Han-Yol, her furious, tear-streaked face, her fierce slap that had jolted him from his despair. *“Don’t you dare give up, Kim Hyu-Gi! Honor their sacrifice!”* Her words had been a lifeline, and now he felt it slipping through his fingers.
Despair, cold and heavy, began to settle over him once more, threatening to smother the flickering embers of resolve his sister had ignited. He had tried. He had taken the first step. And he had stumbled, fallen flat on his face. What now? Crawl back into his apartment? Pretend the world hadn’t ended for him and eight others? The thought was unbearable.
As he trudged towards a nearby subway station, a strange sensation prickled at the edge of his awareness. It wasn't physical, not a touch or a sound, but an internal shift, like a silent chord struck deep within his mind. It was the same cold, flickering sensation that had stirred after Han-Yol's lecture, but now it felt sharper, more defined, as if a dormant circuit had suddenly sparked to life. His vision blurred for a fraction of a second, not outwardly, but internally, like a brief, impossible static on an inner screen.
Then, without warning, a translucent blue interface shimmered into existence directly before his eyes. It was a projection, impossible for anyone else to see, yet vividly real to him. It hovered just beyond his nose, its ethereal glow casting a faint, unearthly light on his stunned face. He stopped dead in his tracks, nearly bumping into a businessman engrossed in his phone.
[ERROR: F-CLASS HUNTER DETECTED. AWAKENING FAILED. SECONDARY PROTOCOL ENGAGED.]
The text, stark white against the blue, was unnervingly precise, as if spoken directly into his mind. It pulsed once, then shifted.
[ACTIVATING HELL SIMULATION SYSTEM. VERSION 1.0. Welcome, User: Kim Hyu-Gi.]
Hyu-Gi stared, mouth agape, his heart hammering against his ribs. What was this? A prank? Some kind of elaborate, cruel joke from another Hunter? He glanced around, but no one seemed to notice the glowing screen in front of him. The businessman he’d almost hit merely grumbled and continued walking.
[SYSTEM RULES:]
1. HYPER-REALISTIC SIMULATIONS: User will be immersed in simulated environments where all sensory input, including pain, injury, and death, is 100% real.
2. CONSEQUENCES OF DEATH: Death within the simulation is absolute. All progress, experience, and memories gained within that specific simulation will be reset upon death. The User will revive at the beginning of the simulation or a designated checkpoint.
3. TRUE OBJECTIVE: Each simulation has a hidden ‘True Objective’. Fulfilling this objective is the only way to permanently clear the stage and retain all accumulated growth.
4. PERMANENT GROWTH: Upon successful completion of a True Objective, all physical, mental, and spiritual enhancements gained during the simulation will transfer permanently to the User’s real-world body and Hunter rank.
5. NO DECLINE OPTION: The Hell Simulation System is a permanent activation. Refusal to participate will result in system-imposed penalties and continued activation until a True Objective is met.
6. FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION: Until the True Objective is achieved, the User will remain trapped within the simulation, reliving it until success.
The text scrolled, each line a hammer blow to Hyu-Gi's already fractured composure. Sensory input 100% real? Death is absolute? Reset on death? Permanent activation? His mind reeled. This wasn't just a system; it was a prison. A brutal, inescapable one.
"No... no, this can't be real," he whispered, his voice thin and reedy. He tried to wave his hand through the interface, but it remained solid, untouchable yet utterly present. The cold dread that had momentarily dissipated in his surprise now returned tenfold, accompanied by a rising panic.
[INITIATING FIRST SIMULATION: THE ENDLESS BATTLEFIELD. OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE AND OVERCOME.]
The final message flashed, ominous and final. A terrible, sucking sensation gripped him, as if the ground beneath him had turned into a vacuum. The bustling street, the indifferent faces, the harsh reality of his F-Class status—all of it twisted and distorted, blurring into a vortex of light and sound. A primal scream tore from his throat, unheard, as the world around him imploded, then reformed into something entirely new, terrifying, and utterly alien. He was falling, or being pulled, into an unknown abyss. The last thought that pierced through his terror was of Kang Hwok, and the cruel irony: he had escaped one Gate only to be dragged into another, far more insidious one, by a system he couldn’t understand, let alone fight.
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