The lectures at the Academy are unimaginably brutal.
Unlike regular schools, which aim to teach individuals how to function as members of society, this Academy exists to train heroes who can overcome the catastrophic phenomena known as gates.
For the elite students selected to attend, the teachings could not be kind.
They could not be ordinary.
“Today’s lecture, as the title suggests, will cover ‘How to Survive in a Gate,’” said Jung Se-ah.
Not in a classroom, but in a training arena.
Over 30 students, all dressed in their most comfortable attire, stood silently as they gazed up at Jung Se-ah, who was standing on the platform.
“Although it sounds like a grandiose title, there’s really only one thing I’ll teach you in this lecture.”
Si-woo already knew those words.
It was something she had repeated many times since she first began calling herself his mentor: the Hunter’s method of survival.
But this wasn’t about survival in the ordinary sense—not about finding food in the wilderness, conserving energy, or waiting for rescue in a safe spot.
This was about surviving in a place where hope barely existed.
“Gates are otherworldly realms. No matter what you try, communication with the outside world is impossible while you’re inside. On top of that, there will be times when even your common sense won’t apply.”
The clearest example of this was monsters.
These grotesque beings, infused with mana, defied logic simply by existing.
Wielding unique powers and born from engravings that only humans should possess, their very existence was a rejection of reason.
“The way to survive in a gate—or rather, to maximize your chances of survival—is to destroy the wedge that connects their world to ours.”
That wedge was what people called the boss monster.
When the boss monster is killed, the gate collapses.
Theoretically infinite monsters, birthed endlessly within the gate, cease to exist the moment the wedge is broken.
The phenomenon where monsters spill endlessly from an unstable gate into the outside world—gate overflows—also comes to an end.
“Gate clearances are the only observable phenomenon that the outside world can monitor. If the Hunters inside don’t manage to stabilize the gate—”
“People outside will realize it’s still dangerous…?” one student cautiously added.
“Correct. When Hunters enter a gate, the Association assigns observers to monitor the situation. To escape danger, you have to fight for your life and kill the monsters.”
In the end, Hunters must learn how to kill.
And with that, they must also accept the possibility of being killed.
Jung Se-ah drew her sword.
At that moment, the atmosphere was consumed by an oppressive killing intent imbued with mana.
The weight of her presence was far beyond what any newly admitted Academy student could endure.
One by one, the students collapsed to their knees, unable to withstand the formless pressure.
Their reason screamed in terror.
Se-ah didn’t even have to try.
For fledgling Hunters who had never faced the brink of death, the killing intent radiating from her alone was enough to transform into pure, overwhelming pain.
As students gasped for breath, crumpled on the ground, Se-ah turned her attention to those who barely managed to hold their ground.
She smiled faintly and declared in a calm voice:
“Without exaggeration, every student who just fell to their knees has already died.”
It was a shock tactic—harsh but effective.
This level of pressure couldn’t be replicated by the artificial golems used in the entrance exam.
The intent to kill, when fused with mana, transforms into an invisible force.
And the killing intent emanating from a boss monster far surpasses anything imaginable.
It’s enough to crush the fighting spirit of even the most experienced Hunters.
When Se-ah retracted her killing intent, the students who had been paralyzed on the floor gasped for air, their freedom finally restored.
Even those who endured her killing intent showed signs of strain, their breathing uneven.
Among them, only one student remained completely unaffected—her disciple, Si-woo.
Seeing this, Se-ah’s lips curled into a satisfied smile.
“In the end, surviving in a gate requires two key abilities: strength and self-awareness.”
Choosing which gate to tackle is entirely up to the Hunter.
Yet, there’s no shortage of Hunters who overestimate their abilities, enter gates above their level, and fall victim to their arrogance.
“The reason gates are given grades is to improve the survival rate of Hunters.”
This is also why the grading process for Hunters is so rigorous.
Luck can come to anyone, once.
But luck is fleeting—it’s unreliable and never guaranteed to come again.
What people expect from Hunters isn’t a single stroke of luck but consistent and reliable strength.
“The method I’ll teach you today is how to push yourself to your limits at the edge of death and draw out that limit as naturally as breathing.”
To summarize:
“She’s saying she’s going to push us to the brink of death.”
Si-woo, who had already experienced that hell once before, silently offered his condolences to his fellow Academy students who had chosen this lecture.
“Urgh!!”
“Ah, this is so much fun. Si-woo, you keep getting stronger, and as your mentor, I couldn’t be happier.”
Despite his progress, Si-woo was still no more than a fledgling in front of his mentor.
Later that day, at the male dormitory of the Academy.
Si-woo, still feeling like he was on the verge of death, collapsed onto his bed.
He threw his dirt-stained workout clothes into the laundry basket and washed away the grime with warm water.
After changing into his usual sleepwear—a pair of shorts and a t-shirt—he sat in his chair and looked around his room through the reflection in the mirror.
The disorganized state of his room, far from even a semblance of tidiness, made him sigh deeply.
“Even after finishing the move, I haven’t unpacked yet…”
His brain urged him to get up and finish organizing immediately.
With a mountain of tasks already piling up, neglecting to clean up his room would only add to the chaos.
But Si-woo’s body outright rejected the command.
His fatigue-ridden body begged for rest.
“I still need to fully test the abilities from the engraving book Eun-seol gave me, push the techniques Master taught me to the point I can use them in real combat, and after the next lecture, I should probably ask Kitsunezawa about controlling fire…”
Nod… nod…
The accumulated fatigue, slowly built up over time, finally reached its limit and dealt a fatal blow to his consciousness.
Half of his vision disappeared as his eyelids closed, and darkness began to creep in.
‘Just… 15 minutes.’
Just a short nap.
After a quick rest, he’d finish unpacking his room and prepare for tomorrow’s lecture.
Even as his eyes closed, Si-woo managed to set an alarm before crawling under the covers.
The inside of the blanket was surprisingly warm, in stark contrast to the chilly air outside.
‘Did I bring a heated mattress?’
There was no way the blanket alone could generate this kind of heat.
Si-woo only felt the soft embrace of the blanket, but the distinct rigid texture of his usual heated mattress wasn’t there.
The warmth inside the blanket felt like it had been left by someone.
He should have felt uneasy.
The moment he sensed that warmth, Si-woo should have gotten out of bed immediately.
But his exhaustion clouded his reason.
Even if he had noticed the oddity, he lacked the energy to rise from the bed and search for the intruder.
Si-woo’s breathing settled into a steady rhythm.
His body, desperate to recover from accumulated fatigue, ignored the subtle glow that wasn’t conducive to sleep and slipped into REM sleep.
Click!
A button was pressed.
The light from the ceiling disappeared.
As the glow from the overhead lamp vanished, the room was bathed only in soft, radiant moonlight.
Yet, within the room, the only visible presence was Si-woo, the young man with brown hair, resting in his bed.
Magical detection tools and security devices confirmed the same:
There was no intruder in the room.
The only person who had entered was the rightful owner of the space.
Yet, the light was off.
The steady warmth from the floor heating system and the blinking Wi-Fi router confirmed that it wasn’t a power outage.
Time continued to pass.
When the 15 minutes Si-woo had set elapsed, the alarm should have gone off, filling the room with noise and waking him from his sleep.
Tap.
But it didn’t.
Instead, something turned off the alarm.
From nowhere, a pale, delicate hand emerged and silenced the noise.
No sound.
No presence.
It began to move.
Normally, it would have left by now, but this time, it lingered, scanning its surroundings.
It noticed Si-woo’s unpacked belongings and, after a moment of hesitation, revealed itself.
There was no sound of footsteps.
Despite its feet touching the floor, the faint noise or subtle shift in the surface that should have accompanied movement never occurred.
To an observer, it would have seemed like a ghost.
Silver hair, shimmering in the moonlight, swayed as it moved.
It began unpacking Si-woo’s belongings, carefully arranging everything in its proper place.
There was no hesitation in its actions.
From the placement of furniture to the organization of items, its movements were deliberate, as if it already knew where everything belonged.
In no time, the task was completed.
The contents of three boxes were unpacked and neatly arranged.
Satisfied, it nodded to itself before disappearing once more.
Its gaze briefly shifted toward where it belonged, the opposite side of the dormitory, where the women’s dormitory was located, far from Si-woo’s.
Without so much as stirring a breeze, it vanished from Si-woo’s room.
As though nothing had ever been there to begin with.
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