The Hell Hound Examination
“You must listen carefully to my words if you want to survive.”
Lee Na-young spoke in a gentle tone. This exam was an evaluation of combat ability—a dangerously real test where applicants would face monsters one-on-one. Even for deliverymen, a single moment of carelessness could mean death, so the examiners had designed the trial to mirror actual combat conditions.
“As I mentioned earlier, we’ll be using weakened Hell Hounds,” she said, gesturing toward the cage beside her. The creature inside was much smaller than a full-grown Hell Hound.
“This one is a pup. It may be small, but its aggression is every bit as fierce as its mother’s.”
The Hell Hound pup glared at them with its characteristic burning eyes. The bloodlust in its gaze left no doubt that it was a true beast, ready to tear anything apart.
“Of course, for your safety, I can stop the exam at any time if I judge it necessary.” Lee Na-young opened her palm, revealing a small, flickering flame that danced above her skin. The applicants watched the fire with wide-eyed curiosity.
“Fire magic,” Yeon Cheong thought. He wasn’t particularly surprised—he had seen her ability many times during his days as a janitor.
If she hadn’t died, she would’ve been capable of using eighth-tier magic without issue.
Magic was divided into ten tiers. Though the exact mechanics remained unclear, every tier possessed overwhelming power comparable to artifacts. The tenth tier, the highest, was said to rival the power of the gods themselves. Lee Na-young had once wielded seventh-tier magic, meaning she could draw upon roughly seventy percent of an artifact’s strength. Even among those who could use magic, advancing past the fifth tier through training alone was extremely difficult. Her death would have been a massive loss to the Tower’s overall strength.
“If you require my help during the exam…” she continued firmly, “you’ll be disqualified.”
The weakened Hell Hound pup wasn’t an overwhelmingly difficult opponent. In almost every aspect, the applicants held the advantage—especially since they had been given weapons. The real problem was the simple fact that it was a monster.
“Half-hearted resolve won’t let you stand against a monster.”
This exam wasn’t just testing fighting skill. It was measuring whether they possessed the determination to face monsters at all. Without that resolve, applicants might freeze, beg for their lives, or collapse in terror. And once a person began to show weakness, there was no limit to how far that weakness could spread.
“Then let’s begin the examination.”
Some time later, a sharp whoosh echoed through the arena as Lee Na-young’s flame shot into the pit. The Hell Hound pup inside thrashed in agony before collapsing into a pile of ash.
“Come out. You’re disqualified,” she said, her voice cold and decisive as she pulled the applicant from the pit.
“Damn it…” the man muttered, his face twisted in frustration.
Lee Na-young looked down at him without pity. “You lack the qualifications. I warned you—if you shrink back against a monster like that, we can’t trust you to watch a deliveryman’s back.”
Her words were undeniably true. Deliverymen risked their lives to bring back food and supplies from the ruined world outside. They were among the most vital people in the Tower, one of the reasons humanity inside still survived. The role demanded absolute resolve. A single mistake could wipe out an entire delivery team. That was why the selection process for apprentice deliverymen was so rigorous. If someone froze the moment they spotted a monster, the entire formation could collapse.
“Next… Yeon Cheong?”
Lee Na-young scratched her head as she looked at him, a hint of worry in her eyes. The boy’s small frame seemed to trouble her.
“He’s still so young.”
“I’m over ten, even if I don’t look it,” Yeon Cheong replied.
She knelt to meet his gaze. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
“Yes.”
Yeon Cheong felt a strange sense of déjà vu. He remembered this exact moment from before his regression—someone had once knelt to check on him during the deliveryman exam. So it was Senior Na-young back then.
She had no way of knowing that the small boy standing before her would one day become a janitor like herself. Perhaps that was why she kept a closer eye on him and spoke to him more than the others. She had never mentioned that she used to be an examiner, probably out of consideration. For Yeon Cheong, the deliveryman exam had never been a pleasant memory. It was tied to his final moments with Jin Hong and the horrific events that followed—memories that still haunted his dreams. Maybe that was why she had hidden the truth from him.
“Be careful. If it gets too dangerous, shout right away.”
She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Yeon Cheong steadied his resolve and descended into the pit.
Thud. Thud.
The circular pit was five meters deep and roughly ten meters across. It was a little cramped for the Hell Hound to move freely, but for Yeon Cheong, the space felt just right.
“Starting now!”
At Lee Na-young’s signal, a heavy iron gate slammed down into the pit. The Hell Hound inside flipped over with a low growl. The deliverymen watching from above chuckled.
“It’s properly pissed off! Release it!”
A gunshot rang out. Bang! The lock shattered, and the Hell Hound burst through the gate, its eyes blazing red.
“Don’t tense up! If you freeze, you’re dead!” Lee Na-young called out, her voice carrying an unmistakable note of encouragement.
Bryce frowned. “You’re being way too obvious. Planning to raise him and eat him later?”
“Senior Bryce, why don’t you wipe the dirt off your head first? Your hair’s already turning yellow.”
“Is it?” Bryce dampened a cloth and vigorously scrubbed his scalp. Once the sand had been wiped away and his hair regained its shine, he nodded in satisfaction.
“Still, he’s putting up a better fight than I expected. I like it.”
“Me too.”
Bryce and Lee Na-young both watched Yeon Cheong with approval. Unlike the other applicants who had been overwhelmed by fear, the boy moved lightly and confidently, dodging the monster’s attacks and turning its aggression against it. His movements were sharp and economical.
He’s been training properly.
His body felt light thanks to consistent conditioning, but Yeon Cheong knew his limits. A child’s frame couldn’t withstand a direct hit from even a pup. He had to fight carefully.
Let’s use its weakness.
Hell Hounds had excellent senses of smell but poor eyesight. He would have to exploit that.
“First, erase my scent.”
Yeon Cheong rolled across the sandy floor, coating himself in dust to mask his smell. The deliverymen above misinterpreted the action.
“He must be struggling. Why hasn’t he called it off yet?”
Lee Na-young, however, understood immediately. She watched as he continued rolling, blending his scent with the sand. When the Hell Hound still tracked him unerringly, Yeon Cheong’s brow furrowed.
“Still some scent left… or maybe…”
He quickly tore off a piece of his shirt with his knife and prepared to throw it. The Hell Hound lunged. Yeon Cheong dodged with a sharp sidestep, hurled the torn fabric in the opposite direction, and held his breath.
The monster hesitated, confused by the sudden split in scents. Seizing the opening, Yeon Cheong crept behind it like a snake and drove his knife into the back of its skull with all his strength.
Thud!
The blade sank deep. The Hell Hound convulsed once before collapsing, foam bubbling at its mouth. Yeon Cheong confirmed it was dead, then smiled faintly.
“I killed it!”
The deliverymen stared in shock. His timing, judgment, and technique had been flawless—nothing like the brute-force approaches of the others. It looked like a demonstration from a veteran.
Lee Na-young’s eyes narrowed further. “There are no footprints.”
She had expected to see tracks in the sand where Yeon Cheong had approached the monster from behind. There were none.
“He moved so carefully that he didn’t leave a single footprint?”
It didn’t make sense. She wondered if she had missed something.
“Cheong! I was worried, but you fought really well!” Jin Hong shouted from above, eyes sparkling with surprise.
Yeon Cheong climbed out of the pit and scratched his cheek. “It wasn’t that big a deal. You could do it too.”
Honestly, Jin Hong hadn’t been worried. With her rare-grade sword, she could probably cut the monster down in one swing. Still, fighting a Hell Hound again after so long felt strangely nostalgic.
Before he could savor the feeling, however, he sensed numerous presences rushing toward the training facility.
Just as I thought.
This was why he had pushed his body to its limits during the fight—why he had warmed up every muscle. The Hell Hounds kept in the training facility were about to break loose.