The Armory That Shook the Waiting Room
Before the students could even settle down, Professor Ma Jin-tae cleared his throat on the podium and spoke again.
"I'll give you a little more detail about the simulation-exclusive weapons here."
As he spoke, he subtly extended a hand toward the assistant waiting below the podium. It was a silent gesture—an intense signal sent with nothing but his eyes. Bring one of the weapons over. But the assistant, frozen stiff, simply stood there blinking, completely oblivious.
Professor Ma's outstretched hand grew awkward, and his brow twisted into a savage frown.
"...It seems the assistants aren't too eager to share with you lot."
When Professor Ma growled out the barbed joke, the assistant finally snapped to attention with a startled "Hik!" and scurried off to the armory. He returned at a frantic run with an ordinary-looking longsword and politely placed it in the professor's hand.
"Ugh, you useless slug."
Professor Ma let out a heavy sigh, seized the assistant by the scruff of his neck with one massive hand, and shook him back and forth like a rag doll. While the assistant flailed like a paper puppet with his soul half-departed, the professor continued his explanation as if nothing had happened.
"The regular weapons you've been using are incompatible with the simulation system. The system cannot read the weapon's trajectory or impact data."
Professor Ma released the assistant's neck and gave the longsword in his hand a light swing.
Whoosh—!
It was only a casual flick, yet the sharp cutting sound sliced through the entire waiting room.
"That said, we can't evaluate your true abilities with flimsy plastic toys that have zero real combat feel. So Gaon poured an enormous budget into this and took special care. The moment you grip one of those exclusive weapons over there, it instantly analyzes your mana and perfectly replicates the exact weight and mana conductivity of a real weapon. The degree of freedom is extremely high, so weapon-related interference during your simulation evaluation will be minimal."
After finishing his explanation, Professor Ma set the weapon down with a clack and swept his gaze across the crowd.
"That's all. Raise your hands if you have questions."
The moment his words landed, hands shot up all over the room. Most came from students who used unconventional, non-mainstream weapons rather than swords or spears, and their questions were urgent.
"Professor! Can weapons with irregular trajectories like nunchucks or butterfly swords be perfectly replicated too?"
"When throwing daggers, will the hang time and retrieval judgment match real combat?!"
"Bowstring tension adjustment and mana infusion on special arrowheads as well...!"
The flood of questions was relentless. Yet Gaon Academy's technology was more than enough to dispel every concern. Looking thoroughly annoyed, Professor Ma nodded and gave firm answers to nearly all of them: "No problem," "It's all implemented," and "Worry about your own skills instead."
Relief washed over the faces of the non-mainstream weapon majors.
"No more questions? Then we'll proceed with the group draw..."
Just as he was about to wrap up the Q&A and move on, I finished the rapid calculations running through my head and quietly raised my hand high from a corner of the waiting room.
"I have a question."
At my call, Professor Ma's piercing stare and the eyes of all 199 fellow students snapped toward me at once. Facing the barrage of gazes head-on, I voiced the question that had been burning in my mind since earlier.
"Professor. You said earlier that it doesn't matter how many weapons we bring... Does that mean there truly won't be any system errors even if we take an unlimited number of weapons into the simulation room?"
It was an extremely polite and serious question. Yet the moment I finished speaking, stifled laughter erupted throughout the waiting room.
"Pfft...! What the hell is that question?"
"What would you even do with unlimited weapons? You've only got two hands. Does he think he's Thousand-Armed Avalokitesvara?"
"Isn't that the all-Rank-2 guy from before? No confidence in his skills, so he's trying to stack gear instead."
"Heh, weapon-peddler meta?"
Blatant mockery and whispers filled the hall. Not everyone laughed, of course. The top shield-bearer Hwang Seong-jae and a few perceptive Rank 1 aces merely frowned slightly, watching me with serious eyes that seemed to ask, What's that guy scheming with a question like that?
Regardless of their reactions, I waited only for the answer that would come from Professor Ma Jin-tae's lips.
Professor Ma stared at me for a long moment, then stroked his chin with an expression like he was observing a curious animal.
"Don't underestimate Gaon's system. As long as they're compatible exclusive weapons, whether you carry ten or strap twenty to your body, there won't be any system errors, but..."
He tilted his head, genuinely unable to comprehend.
"Why would you?"
That single remark turned the waiting room into another sea of giggles. It was common sense—even a slime fragment rotting on the roadside knew—that loading yourself down with weapons would only drain your stamina and dull your movements.
But I let my classmates' mockery wash over me and cheered inwardly.
Perfect. So there are no system restrictions.
Dismissing the noisy commotion in the waiting room, Professor Ma immediately began the group draw. The method was a classic lottery: pulling numbered slips from an opaque box.
"Thirty-eight means..."
The moment I confirmed the number and opened my mouth, Han Seol-ah continued without pause.
"It's the last slot."
Her voice held not a trace of uncertainty. Meanwhile, the rest of our team—Yoon Jung-woo and Song A-rin—wore ambiguous expressions, unsure whether being last was good or bad.
But Han Seol-ah's cold eyes gleamed with unshakable confidence.
"Order doesn't matter. Just follow me properly."
The words could have sounded arrogant, even conceited, yet none of us could refute them. After all, they came from Han Seol-ah—the swordsmanship genius who had drawn media attention even before enrollment and claimed the top spot in basic swordsmanship by an overwhelming margin.
Yeah. When the top student offers to carry the whole team, you just get on the bus and stay quiet.
Once the draws were finished, Professor Ma called out groups one through four in sequence.
"Groups 1 through 4, head to the right armory and take your time selecting weapons. Once you've chosen, wait one by one in front of the four iron doors at the front. Groups 5 through 8, as soon as Group 1 enters, move immediately to the armory and begin weapon maintenance. From now on, when the group ahead of you enters, the next group should head to the armory in advance and wait."
It was efficient, clean control. Yet the eyes of those left in the waiting room weren't on the first four groups heading to the armory. Those groups lacked a top student and were composed mostly of ordinary Rank 2 and 3 students.
All attention was fixed on Group 5 in the second wave. And for good reason—among the forty groups in the entire first-year, Group 5 was the absurd dream team that alone boasted three Rank 1s.
My gaze naturally drifted toward where Group 5 had gathered.
Kim Tae-jin, ranked fourth in tactics and magic engineering, was lifting a magic sniper rifle with a serious expression, peering through the lens and practicing his aim. Beside him, Chae Su-yeon—ranked eighth in basic swordsmanship—held a heavy greatsword in both hands while tying her long hair up tightly with a cord so it wouldn't interfere with combat. And Lee Dong-gyu, ranked eighth in special weapons, stood with his arms crossed in a relaxed pose, his belt and inner pockets bristling with gleaming hidden weapons.
They also had a Rank 2 spearman wielding a massive crescent blade and the Rank 3 single-support mage Han Seol-ah had considered recruiting until the very end. Simply having three Rank 1 aces was enough to make the combination dazzling enough to draw every expectation in the waiting room.
While I observed them, the first four groups finished their weapon maintenance and entered their respective simulation rooms.
Bang—!
The heavy iron doors slammed shut, and a strange silence fell over the waiting room. Those left behind either sat on the floor to wait or gathered in small groups to speculate about the difficulty and sketch out strategies, each passing the time in their own way.
But the peaceful lull didn't last long.
Beep—! Beep beep—!
"...Huh?"
There was no time to be shocked. One minute later, the boards for Groups 2 and 4 also flashed the same glaring red [Annihilation] alert.
All four groups had been wiped out before they could last even fifteen minutes.
Hiss—
The steel doors opened, and the students of the first wave who stumbled out looked utterly wretched. The virtual pain seemed to have fed back directly into their minds. Some collapsed with weak legs and dry-heaved on the floor; others trembled with unfocused eyes.
The waiting room erupted into murmurs at once. Even so, the atmosphere had not yet plunged into total despair.
"Those groups didn't have any top students... Maybe the difficulty was just high?"
"Yeah, it's the first mock battle. Everyone probably panicked."
No one was ready to accept failure. It was only a faint anxiety mixed with doubt.
As if to soothe that unease, the second group—Group 5—strode confidently toward the iron doors.
"Annihilated in fifteen minutes? Let's clear it in fifteen and come right back."
Kim Tae-jin slung his magic sniper rifle over his shoulder and declared with absolute confidence as he entered the simulation room. The students in the waiting room watched his back with hopeful anticipation, certain that that group would definitely succeed.
That expectation was shattered in a mere nine minutes.
Beep beep beep—!!
"...No way."
A spine-chilling silence blanketed the entire waiting room. A record even shorter than the first wave that had lasted nearly fifteen minutes. The strongest dealer lineup with three Rank 1s being annihilated in just nine minutes planted overwhelming terror and shock in the hearts of every student left behind.
****
Meanwhile, in the monitoring room of the control sector that overlooked the simulation rooms.
Beyond the large observation window, Gaon Academy professors stood with arms crossed as if attending an annual event on the first day of every second semester. They had come to witness the abilities of the newly enrolled first-year elites with their own eyes.
Baek Cheol-min, head professor of the swordsmanship department, stroked his beard and spoke toward the monitor.
"Jin-tae. Isn't this difficulty a bit too brutal? Pulling something like that out for the very first evaluation?"
The associate professor from the combat magic department, standing beside him with folded arms, agreed.
"Professor Baek is right. That boss... it's the Metamorph Behemoth, correct? You said it's data recreated from a monster that actually existed. Its shell was notoriously vicious—even active Vanguards struggled to find a proper strategy. I doubt even third-years with real combat experience could push the success rate past fifty percent."
All the professors' worried gazes turned to Professor Ma Jin-tae at once.
But Ma simply took a calm sip of coffee and twisted his lips into a smirk.
"These first-years have been praised to the skies by the media as the greatest geniuses in history even before enrollment. Their noses have grown so high they've become nothing but arrogant. When you actually crack them open, there's no substance inside. These kids who think real combat is a game need to taste something truly spicy before they'll grow."
At Professor Ma's decisive answer, the first-year tactics instructor standing behind the monitoring staff cautiously spoke up.
"What Professor Ma says isn't wrong, but... still, the tradition for the first mock battle is to set the success rate at least at forty... no, thirty percent, if only to motivate the students."
"Does tradition put food on the table?"
Professor Ma shot back coldly.
"How many times have we watched students cling to tradition only to have their necks torn off by monsters in real combat? If they've put on Gaon's name tag, they should smash through a wall like this on their own."
The moment Professor Ma cut his words short, the central monitor began replaying Group 5's miserable battle log.
On screen, the team leader had landed a perfect headshot between the brows with a sniper rifle from the rear. Yet with a grotesque sound, the Behemoth's outer shell hardened like steel and deflected the bullet. While the Rank 1 greatsword and hidden weapons failed to leave even a scratch on the monster that had gained immunity to physical strikes, swarms of trash mobs poured in from every direction. They tore into the broken formation's auxiliary mage and sniper, and the entire party was annihilated in a bloody mist in just nine minutes.
Inside the control room, the professors' tongue-clicking and bitter laughter never ceased.
"Tsk tsk tsk. They relied on nothing but firepower and spammed skills mindlessly, only to get sliced apart before ten minutes were up."
"I knew it. So what if there are three Rank 1s? Their combination is garbage."
The professors from other years chuckled as they watched Group 5's tragic battle log on the monitor.
At the center, Professor Ma Jin-tae stood with arms crossed, his face steeped in disappointment and contempt.
"Professor, here is the annihilation data for Group 5. The boss's Adaptive Skin became completely immune to physical strikes and penetration, shifting into a hardened state. The party's total damage output froze at 120."
At the assistant's report, Professor Ma snorted.
"An obvious outcome. The so-called Rank 1 in tactics was the leader yet never even tried to build the party's foundation."
Professor Ma's sharp finger pointed at the greatsword specialist sobbing on the ground in the monitor.
"Sniper, greatsword, hidden weapons, crescent blade. They're all dealers. When a monster of insane mass charges in, there's not a single main tanker to draw aggro and hold formation. So the moment the Behemoth roared, the front line collapsed, and the sniper and auxiliary mage in the rear became chunks of meat first."
Professor Ma took a sip of his now-cold coffee.
"On top of that, every weapon attribute was purely physical strike or penetration. So what if you landed a headshot with the magic sniper rifle? That single shot made the monster adapt to physical immunity. With no area-of-effect firepower to clear the incoming swarm of trash mobs at once, they could only get pummeled like sandbags."
Professor Ma's eyes flashed like a predator's.
"Fools drunk on talent who understand neither balance nor improvisation. Nine minutes is far too generous for arrogant brats like them."
After delivering his cold rebuke, Professor Ma looked down once more through the coated glass at the students trembling in fear in the waiting room.
"I wonder if even one team will succeed this year."
Ma Jin-tae's chilling murmur settled heavily throughout the monitoring room.