Cheong-un was the world’s greatest training institute, a place boasting state-of-the-art facilities for magic, science, and engineering. It was the name of a massive artificial island located in the East Sea, fully twice the size of Yeouido. Across this vast expanse lived only about 5,000 Yeong-ung cadets, 1,300 of whom were first-years. Just two weeks ago, 2,000 non-combatants had graduated, but now, a new wave of elite cadets from all over the globe had gathered, making the competition fiercer than ever. In some ways, it was a harsh and dreary place to be home for seventeen- to nineteen-year-olds. And starting from their second year, magicians from the National Magic University who chose the Yeong-ung path would transfer in, adding another two to three hundred cadets to the population. Furthermore, there were training instructors, cafeteria staff, janitors, corporate recruiters, government liaisons, maintenance engineers, soldiers dispatched for security, doctors and researchers, convenience store clerks, and more. All told, about 50,000 people resided on Cheong-un. Naturally, the island was a vital hub that drew the eyes of investors worldwide. Given that the world of my novel had been faithfully recreated, Korea was a global power that rivaled the United States. I vaguely recalled listing several reasons for this in my writing, but the most obvious one was simply that I was Korean. In any case, as a member of Cheong-un, Hajin was undeniably an elite. But I had never allocated any part of the story to him. Hajin’s destiny should have been to live a quiet life, far from the main plot. He wouldn’t have the important, burdensome life of a protagonist, but he would have had a comfortable, worry-free existence. …And that was the life I wanted, too. Staring at the classroom door, I sighed. “Suryeon” referred to first-year cadets, while “Cheonji” was the class name. Simply put, I was in Year 1, Class 1. I knew this class. Park Minjun and Park Jihun were both in it. Cliques would form around the two of them, and the classroom would be thrown into chaos by the schemes and plots that mostly originated from Park Minjun and his followers. As a member of this class, I would inevitably be swept up in it all, whether I liked it or not. Taking a steadying breath, I slowly and carefully opened the door. The interior was sleek and white, with not a speck of dust in sight. Three long rows of desks cascaded upwards in tiers. Where should I sit? I scanned the room and found Park Minjun in the farthest seat in the back row. He was leaning back with his eyes closed and hands in his pockets, cutting an imposing figure. Beside him, his childhood friend, Han Jiyul, was chattering away. Neither of them paid me any mind. I found an empty seat at the edge of the middle row and sat down. Like a proper extra, I stared blankly ahead. There was no chalkboard, only a large projection screen for displaying holograms. Looking at it, I couldn’t help but sigh again. After finishing high school and my mandatory military service, I couldn’t believe I was back in a classroom. There was no greater calamity. Cheong-un’s semester began in February. The warmth of the building, a stark contrast to the cold outside, was already making me sleepy. It was 8:00 A.M. Class began at 8:30. Truthfully, I hadn’t expected to be this early. The Portal from Seoul to Cheong-un was fast, but I’d figured I would get lost on the sprawling campus. However, I’d discovered something called the Cheong-un Bus—a shuttle that ran every ten minutes—which hadn’t existed in my original setting. Thinking about it now, it had been a mistake on my part to have the main character walk everywhere on such a huge island. It seemed that now that my novel was a real world, it was fixing my plot holes on its own. …Anyway, I should get some sleep. I didn’t want to think anymore. I closed my eyes and rested my head on the desk. A thunderous shout jolted me awake. When I opened my eyes, an instructor was standing behind the podium. “It’s the first day, so there won’t be any special training, but I trust you all completed your morning exercises. You can never go wrong with training, especially in the morning when mana density is at its peak.” …Oh, right. There was something like that. A training ground that opened from 5:00 to 8:00 A.M. I’d hurriedly stuffed that detail into the story to give the main characters a reason to meet early on. “Now, let’s start with introductions. I’m Park Suhyeok, and I’ll be your instructor for the year.” I vaguely recalled the name. “My ranking points are 3850. My world rank is 9737. By the Association’s classification, that makes me a high-intermediate rank, grade 5 Yeong-ung.” The cadets’ eyes lit up. It was an understandable reaction. Out of roughly two million Heroes in the world, a rank of 9737 meant he was exceptionally skilled. “I believe that’s enough of an introduction for me.” Park Suhyeok seemed pleased by their reactions, the corners of his mouth curling into a grin. “The first day always feels special. Maybe you were too excited or worried to sleep, or maybe you’re just thrilled about the chance to improve yourselves. Heh, maybe you’re just happy to see your crushes again.” A few cadets chuckled, but the instructor’s expression immediately turned stern. “But Cheong-un is not what it once was. I promise you, there will be no time for romance. Here at Cheong-un, you will experience real combat. Get ready to find out just how terrifying the real world can be.” His roguish smile sent a chill down my spine. Combat training. I’d have to participate in that, too. “Next. Cheong-un is objective. The only indicator of your success here will be your grades. The guilds will look at nothing else. Therefore, we will grade you accurately and strictly. If you underperform, you will be held back. Statistically, less than half of Cheong-un’s cadets graduate without repeating a semester. Even then, you can only be held back for a maximum of two years. Any longer than that, and you will be expelled. If you can’t become a Yeong-ung, you’ll end up an agent or a mercenary. I assume that’s not what any of you want.” After thoroughly scaring them, the instructor paused, scanning the students’ faces. “I can already see a few familiar faces.” I could, too. Park Jihun, Park Minjun, Han Jiyul, Park Seoyoon, Yoon Ah-rin, Cheol-min Yeonghan. I could spot those six important characters at a glance. Park Minjun sat with Han Jiyul. Park Jihun and Park Seoyoon, who saw each other as rivals, kept their distance. Princess Yoon Ah-rin sat alone, while Cheol-min Yeonghan sat just behind Park Jihun. “I repeat: at Cheong-un, you will be required to apply everything you’ve learned and hone your skills for real battle. There will be no gentle training here. Remember that.” With that, Park Suhyeok announced, “Now, get ready. What we have scheduled for today won’t take long. Your first task is ‘main weapon selection.’” “Every weapon you can possibly imagine should be here.” A main weapon was exactly what it sounded like. High-ranking Heroes referred to their weapons as ‘treasured weapons,’ while those above [Unique] grade were granted the title of ‘armament.’ But I had no idea what my main weapon was. I knew nothing about Hajin’s past. “Stand in front of the weapon you want. We will supply you with training-grade versions. But don’t look down on them just because they’re for training. Each one has a market price of five million won.” There were weapons of every conceivable kind, far more than I had ever imagined. Sword, spear, saber, dagger, rapier, halberd, greatsword, zweihänder, bow, gun, whip, gauntlet… The one hundred students of Cheonji class moved to stand before their weapon of choice. “Choose carefully. Once you select your main weapon, you cannot change it for at least six months.” The sword and spear were, unsurprisingly, the most popular choices. Park Jihun and Park Minjun stood before a sword and a spear, respectively. Seventy of the one hundred cadets chose either a sword, spear, or saber—the so-called Holy Trinity of weapons. In contrast, Han Jiyul chose a whip, Park Seoyoon chose a bow, and Yoon Ah-rin chose a rapier. I, however, simply stood there in a daze. “Park Hajin, why are you still standing there?” Park Suhyeok asked. My eyes were fixed on the one weapon that no one had given a second glance. It was the weapon of choice in the modern world, one that required no instruction manual and could be used by anyone with a simple click. But in this world, it was the weakest lump of metal, a weapon avoided by every Yeong-ung. It was most likely only here for the sake of completeness. But it was the only choice I had. I couldn’t use any close-range weapons. Even if Hajin possessed some latent talent for one, I wanted no part in brutal, close-quarters combat where blood splattered everywhere. The instructor’s voice dropped, and the other students’ gazes turned to me. Park Minjun and Park Jihun were among them. I hated being the center of attention. I quickly walked forward and grabbed the weapon. The cold weight of metal settled into my palm, and the faint smell of oil and rust tickled my nose. More eyes fell on me. The weapon in my hand was a handgun.

Chapter 3: An Island of Elites