In this world, a gun was still a brutally effective weapon. But that was only for ordinary soldiers, those who couldn’t wield mana. Rather than traditional lead, the firearms here used ‘magic bullets’—projectiles containing compressed mana potent enough to kill a grade-8 monster of low-intermediate rank. For comparison, the standard training saber, valued at five million won, could only handle low-rank monsters. On its own merits, the gun was the superior weapon. And yet, Heroes and mercenaries who could command magic power never chose them. The reason was simple: magic power couldn’t be channeled into a firearm. No matter how strong the user, the weapon itself had a hard ceiling, a clear limit to its potential. When choosing a main weapon, the most important consideration was its origin. In short, a weapon’s grade was determined by the grandeur of its origin. Guns, for example, were divided into three simple grades: mass-produced, custom-made, or masterpiece. Swords, on the other hand, had a far more storied classification: artifact, armament, treasured, mythical, legendary. This was because myths and legends were manifest in this world. The sword was a weapon with a long and profound history. It was only natural that so many of them, born from myth and legend, would exist. The Chilseong-geom, the demon blade Sa-ingeom, the magic sword Yongcheon-geom, the holy sword Jingum, the king’s sword Samindo… In this world, countless legendary blades lay waiting to be discovered in ‘Dungeons’ and ‘Towers’. Each was a priceless treasure, but they would only yield their power to those truly proficient with a sword. Consequently, aspiring Heroes always chose the more ancient weapons. Even if their personal growth stagnated, a high-grade weapon could help them shatter their limits. Park Suhyeok called my name again before activating his smartwatch. For some reason, I could see the information that should have been shielded by the privacy system. It was my own profile: Cadet Park Hajin. “Weren’t you a swordsman?” Just as I’d written him, Park Hajin was a thoroughly unremarkable swordsman. “I’ve decided to change my weapon.” “After making it all the way to Cheong-un?” Park Suhyeok’s expression soured, but he nodded, a slight frown creasing his brow. “That’s fine. At Cheong-un, cadets make their own choices. The instructors won’t interfere. But that also means the responsibility is yours alone.” He moved on, but the murmuring among the other students didn’t stop. The whispers should have been too faint to hear, yet they reached my ears with perfect clarity. This, I guessed, was Park Hajin’s Gift. What a useless ability. “A gun? Is he insane?” “If he wanted to be a mercenary, why even come to Cheong-un?” Before enrolling, all cadets were given the chance to try every kind of weapon, the better to find one that suited their Gift. But you didn’t need a Gift to use a gun. All you had to do was point and pull the trigger. “You can easily change the main weapon you’ve chosen today,” Park Suhyeok announced, his gaze sweeping over the crowd and lingering on me. “And regardless of your choice, you will all undergo the same training and tests. That means any weakness in your weapon is a weakness you will have to overcome yourself.” I get it, damn it. It’s not like I had a choice! The other cadets here had been attending military academies since they were seven or eight. They had a decade of practice in cutting, slicing, breaking, and shooting. I, on the other hand, hadn’t inherited Park Hajin’s muscle memory, and back in my own world, I was no swordsman. I wasn’t even athletic. My only realistic option was a long-ranged weapon—a bow or a gun. And thanks to my mandatory military service back in Korea, at least I knew my way around a firearm. “We will now assign your rooms. Your personal belongings will be delivered there shortly. Afterward, you are free. Classes will begin in four days, on Monday.” Park Suhyeok’s final glance in my direction was tinged with something like pity. And with that, the main weapon selection concluded. “Yo, gunner. You for real?” “I don’t get it. Are you just trying to get attention? I’ve never heard of anyone choosing a gun at Cheong-un.” On the way to the dormitories, a group of guys fell into step beside me, their words dripping with sarcasm. I simply ignored them. When their provocations failed to get a rise out of me, they snickered and moved on, their attention shifting, as teenage boys’ so often does, to the female students. Even I found my gaze drifting in their direction. Park Seoyoon, Yoon Ah-rin, and Han Jiyul. In person, their beauty far surpassed the descriptions I’d written. As I observed them from the corner of my eye, our group arrived at the dorms. “These are the dormitories for the first years.” Six extravagant skyscrapers towered before me. According to Park Suhyeok, each building was a hundred floors high, with five rooms to a floor. Rooms were assigned based on rank, but even the lowest-ranked cadet received a private room. The penthouses were reserved for the top three male and female cadets. Only Park Jihun had given his up, claiming it was too big for one person. “Men to the right, women to the left. Your room keys will be stored on the smartwatches you are about to receive.” While Park Suhyeok was explaining, the other first-year classes began to arrive. If I remembered correctly, the ten classes were Cheonji, Suyong, Jihye, Myeongcheol, Suyang, Myeongye, Deok, Ujeong, Jamjae, and Segye. Maybe I should try to find some of the other major characters. A few of them were supposed to be antagonists… “Hajin. Park Hajin!” Park Suhyeok was calling me. I had only been distracted for a moment, but his eyes narrowed, sharp as a hawk’s. His fierce gaze froze me in place. Seemingly disappointed by my reaction, he closed his eyes and sighed. “…Your smartwatch. Come and get it.” My legs trembled so badly I nearly stumbled. I could hear the other students laughing behind me. You dare laugh at your creator? A flash of anger rose in me, but I magnanimously chose to forgive them. With no way to actually get back at them, forgiveness was my only real option. The room assigned to me was larger than Park Hajin’s old apartment and came fully furnished with a couch, bed, rice cooker, TV, computer, and even a few magical appliances. “…I still can’t get used to this.” Slumping onto the comfortable couch, I let my thoughts wander. The weight of the handgun in my palm felt unreal. Thinking about it now, if I was going to choose a gun, maybe it would have been smarter to just leave Cheong-un. My brief status as a cadet at the Hwarang Akademi should have been enough to ensure I’d never starve. But my problems went deeper than that. Why was I brought to this world? How could I get back? To find the answers, I felt I needed to stay close to the main storyline. …Though with only a gun, I doubted I could get very close. Should I try firing it, just to see its power? That sounded like a good idea. I sprang up from the couch, aimed the handgun at the wall, and closed my left eye. Just as my finger tightened on the trigger… An electronic voice buzzed from beyond the door. —Rank. 934. Park. Park. Dong. Take. Your. Luggage. A delivery robot. I tossed the gun onto the couch, opened the door, and found a fairly large box sitting on the floor. It seemed Park Hajin had shipped his belongings ahead of time. I hauled the box inside. [Hwarang Akademi Rank 1543, Yeong-ung Military Akademi Rank 934 Park Hajin. Personal Belongings.] Rank 934… perfectly, painfully average. With a smirk, I tore off the packing tape. There was only a single item inside the large box. But I knew what it was. This wasn’t Park Hajin’s. It was mine. It was from my previous life… though calling it a ‘previous’ life still felt strange. In any case, this was the laptop I had used back on Earth to write my novel.

Chapter 4: Where Legends Become Steel