Awakening Perks and Gearing Up for the Apocalypse
On my way to the Academy admin office, women's weird stares drilled into me from every direction. I'd rushed out of the house without a second thought, but now my killer new looks were clashing hard with my trash-tier outfit—total fashion terrorism.
Fuck.
My stretched-out arms and legs made my sleeves and pants a joke, so I just rolled them up roughly and strutted on like it was nothing. Fashion's all about the face, right? I owned it. And sure enough, once they saw my confident vibe, the stares turned all cute and intrigued.
But my legs? They were booking it like they had a mind of their own, totally betraying my smug attitude. Nothing screams pathetic like a grown-ass man waddling around in baby clothes.
Can I claim supplies for a 2nd Awakening reason? Money's tight as hell.
Cadet uniforms mixed with Gate materials punched way above their weight—insane defense and self-repair for roughhousing trainees, plus a bonus cleaning effect. No wonder everyone close to cadets jacked their uniforms or training gear. Every random day-laborer uncle in a cadet uniform I passed on the street...
Lost in dumb thoughts and sweating my bank balance, I somehow arrived at the admin office. My legs must've pulled overtime.
Vacation vibes kept the place chill, so I cut straight across to the desk with the 2nd Awakening Handler nameplate and plopped down.
"Ah, hello! How can I help you, Cadet?"
"Finished my 2nd Awakening today. Here to register."
"Got it! Cadet ID, please, and just hang tight."
The clerk flushed red and moved with over-the-top efficiency. I couldn't help but puff my shoulders a bit. Still awkward as fuck, but after days of subtle groping from those mansion housewives in the Apocalypse world, I was kinda adapting.
Handed over my squid-faced old cadet ID, did the fingerprint scan. The clerk froze staring at it, then called the duty instructor.
Definitely just verification, not fraud check.
Tension spiked as the instructor shuffled in, fiddling with the sword hilt on his belt.
"24th class cadet Kang San?"
"Yes, sir. That's me."
I leaned into it hard, and his sour glare softened. Probably figured a tight-ass military-type cadet wouldn't pull shady shit.
He skimmed the docs from the clerk, checked the photo, and flinched hard.
"Usually we'd verify the skill, but... no need here. Fill out the explanation on the form and submit it at the counter."
Lucky break—these mix-ups happened all the time, apparently. No suspicion, thanks to biometric locks and national oversight.
I swallowed a groan as he patted my shoulder and wandered off.
Something's fucked up... really fucking fucked... shit.
Too chicken to clap back. Fuck.
Chest tight with bullshit injustice, but whatever. At least it wrapped without extra hassle. I sighed, grabbed the forms from the counter clerk, filled 'em out, and turned them in.
"Okay... With your 2nd Awakening, your maintenance stipend bumps to 2 million won. Plus a 10-million-won starter grant. Same account?"
"Yeah, please."
Kicking the attachment sofa led to a 2nd Awakening? Taxpayer cash tasted sweet. If I snag guild or association sponsorship here, it'd be billions easy... with some strings, sure.
"Anything else?"
She angled her name tag phone number just right. Perks of power and looks—total upgrade from before. I flashed a sly grin.
"As you can see, my build changed a bit. Can I get a full reissue of gear?"
She twitched at "a bit," but nah, imagination. Body's been wasting away lately.
"Yes! Policy update for bulked-up cadets."
I jotted my character stats from the floating window and submitted.
"Deliver to dorms, please."
"Sure thing. Good work."
Ding-a-ling. Out the door, stare-game round two. I kept the swagger, ditched the admin building, and headed to the Academy's commercial district.
Biggest reason to return IRL? Securing weapons. Food and basics were stocked; now I needed reach.
Superior physique doesn't mean safe.
+++
Lucky for me, the Academy grounds linked up everywhere, so I hit the armory no sweat. Quiet like the office—vacation perks. Approached the owner chilling at the counter.
"Hey, boss. Mind showing some short spears and recurve bows?"
"Hm? Come on in. Standard full-metal spear, right?"
"Yeah. And about 30 arrows."
Weapons for Gate-slaying 2nd Awakening hunters—aka Hunters—used mana-exposed materials. Perfect for Apocalypse mid-to-late game, no wear.
Spear for me, recurve for Ritka.
Story-wise, she was an archer girl—hand it over slyly, boost her survival. Imagining a hot babe drawing a bow... drool city.
"Total 4.6 mil, but 4.5 for you. Gloves and quiver freebies."
Fuck...
He packed the bow bag and spear tube. Service scored, no real loss. Shaky hands gripped my phone as he swiped without mercy.
Not even rare mithril—just basic training gear—and half my fresh grant vanished.
Grab valuables next trip back.
Spear for zombie skull-smashing or throws to break even; bow was girlfriend gift, off-limits. No impulse buy, nope. Owner handed back my phone. Bank app screamed.
Asshole.
"Thanks."
"Yeah. Enjoy break."
Ding-a-ling behind me, streets darkening. No stares now—I hummed homeward.
Shaking over millions now, but with my skills, peak was mine. Pumped myself up, dumped gear at home, crashed on bed.
Game story: Heroine and player just started dating. Stole his spot? Time to claim her my way. Silver lining: same family name. "Family" excuse to stick close.
Practice spear in training room tomorrow before diving.
Thoughts swirling, sleep hit.
+++
Whoosh! Thwack! Thwack!
Spear in right hand whipped fierce, snapped direction, thrust. Sweat beaded as I locked on holograms, targets shifting fast. Time slowed; left hand snagged thrusting spear tip, swept near target to shreds.
One left. Rode left-hand spin, hurled—
Boom!
Blast pierced far target, slammed wall. Program ended as spear rolled back.
Scooped it, inventoried, wiped sweat. Caught breath forever. Showered in training room facilities, changed, left Academy.
Spear throws and handling? Solid now.
No need to grind weapons more. Never planned to be some normie gear monkey. Zombies forced it now, but Hunters swapped weapons per Gate or spec—waste of cash and time.
Spend to earn, spend to live—ant hell.
Some Hunters overpowered gear limits, sure. But fancy weapons broken? All chum.
Pictured my future self shattering foes' pricey shit, grinned satisfied. Grabbed hearty grub nearby, headed home.
Thrilling prep for the trip. Story kicks off, meet heroine soon? Mirror showed stud in slim suit smirking.
First impressions matter. Heh.
Needed clear character concept before her. Player's bro, salaryman cover. Heh.