The Worst Awakening
Even after Jae-hoon’s body was carried out, the training hall remained frozen in place. The bloodstained floor patterns had yet to be cleaned, and the protective barrier hung half-lowered, slicing the space in an eerie manner. Inside and outside felt like entirely different worlds. The instructors and staff moved quickly, but their movements carried a clear purpose: containment rather than confusion.
“Clear the spectator stands immediately.”
“Students, move by class. Everyone, this way.”
“Photography and video recording are strictly prohibited. Move quickly!”
The voices were calm—too calm, to the point of feeling unreal. As if they had anticipated a situation like this at least once before.
I stood in the middle of it all, unable to do anything. Someone grabbed my arm.
“Student Han Do-yoon.”
It was an instructor’s hand. Firm, but not rough.
“Come this way. We’re going to separate you for a bit, so follow me.”
Separate. The word echoed slowly in my mind. I couldn’t tell if I nodded or was simply dragged along. What was clear was that my feet had finally been pulled away from the spot where Jae-hoon had fallen.
Only then did the breath catch in my throat.
The corridor outside the training hall was unnaturally bright. The lighting was the same as always, yet it felt painfully sharp. Reality was too vivid.
“Student, wait here for a moment.”
The instructor guided me into a small waiting room attached to the training facility—a surveillance and counseling room. Once the door closed, the noise from outside was cut off all at once. I was seated in a chair. The sensation of sitting registered a moment late.
“How are you feeling right now?”
“Any discomfort?”
“Dizziness?”
“Nausea?”
“Blurred vision or anything like that?”
I hesitated briefly before nodding. All of them applied. He spoke while turning on his tablet.
“I’m going to check a few things now. Just answer honestly with whatever you remember.”
His tone wasn’t comforting. It was the start of an investigation.
“We were told you’re an unawakened. Did you awaken during the spar?”
“Did you use any skills during the match? Or did your mana output suddenly increase?”
“Was the attack intentional from the start, or was it unintentional?”
The questions were short and precise. I tried to open my mouth, then closed it again. My mind was a mess. The line between where the spar had ended and where the accident began had blurred.
“……I don’t know.”
That was all I could say. The instructor stared at me for a moment, then nodded.
“That’s understandable. You might be confused right now. I’ll give you some time to rest.”
But his eyes didn’t say “it’s fine” at all. They were the eyes of someone trying to manage the situation by fitting it into the “normal category.”
Quick footsteps passed outside the door, followed by the sound of a radio.
“Upper-level report complete.”
“They’ve gone up to the principal’s office.”
The moment those words were heard, the instructor’s expression hardened another degree.
“Understood.”
He answered briefly, then looked at me again.
“From now on, this incident will be handled at the school level.”
The statement was crystal clear. This was no longer a simple sparring accident between students.
“You must not contact the outside world for the time being. This doesn’t mean there will be punishment or a final conclusion—it’s for protection until an internal decision is reached. Especially, don’t meet with reporters or post anything strange on SNS. Understood?”
Protection. The word sounded strangely hollow. I couldn’t tell whether I was being protected or isolated.
Just then, a familiar voice came from beyond the door.
“Do-yoon!”
It was Tae-geon. This time, I heard it clearly. His voice was strained through the door.
“Do-yoon’s in there, right?”
“He’s okay, isn’t he?”
The instructor turned his gaze toward the door.
“Students are not allowed access right now. You can meet later.”
“Sir, please—!”
Tae-geon’s voice cracked.
“He was fine until just now, and suddenly this happened—!”
His words trembled at the end. Eun-seo’s voice followed from behind.
“Is Do-yoon really okay? It’s an accident. Why are you locking him up?”
Her voice sounded like she was swallowing tears. I stared at the door. I wanted to open it and step out. I wanted to tell them I was fine. But neither my mouth nor my legs would move. No matter what I said, I couldn’t make this situation “fine.”
The instructor spoke firmly.
“Both of you, stop and move along.”
“This kind of thing is only a bad stimulus for Student Do-yoon right now.”
The footsteps slowly faded away. Only then did I let out a breath. My chest hurt. The fact that someone had died, and the fact that I couldn’t face the people worried about me—both hurt.
The instructor spoke again.
“Student Han Do-yoon. This accident isn’t something that could simply happen due to a ‘skill difference’ between an unawakened and an awakened.”
“There might be an issue with the facility, so it’s not 100% your responsibility.”
At those words, I lifted my head.
“To understand the accident, we’ll be checking the sparring logs, barrier records, and mana output changes. Do you agree?”
He paused for a moment.
“And your condition as well.”
At that moment, a familiar sensation stirred again inside my ears. The status window. I clenched my teeth. Right now—just for now—I didn’t want to face it.
“A decision will come from above soon,” the instructor said. “Until then, you’ll wait here.”
I nodded. There were no other options. Outside, the school was already moving on the question of “how to handle this incident.” How to resolve it mattered more than who was at fault. And I was at the center of it. A position I hadn’t wanted, hadn’t expected, and couldn’t control.
I slowly lowered my head. My fingertips were still trembling. Jae-hoon’s face kept flashing in my mind. And overlapping it—
Awakening conditions have been satisfied.
I now knew for certain that sentence was not a blessing. It was a price. A price far too expensive. And a price that had yet to end.
Even after the training hall was fully secured, the entire school did not immediately return to normal. More than half of that afternoon’s schedule ended in disarray, and some classes were replaced entirely with self-study. Small voices spilled out from various spots in the hallways.
“Hey, did you hear?”
“Someone died during the midterm evaluation spar.”
“That can’t be right. There’s a barrier, isn’t there?”
“I thought so too, but I’m telling you it’s true.”
The rumors changed shape the more they spread.
“I heard it was an accident between two awakened.”
“No, an unawakened beat an awakened.”
“Not just beat them… they say the safety measures were breached and the neck was sliced clean off in one hit.”
“Huh? An unawakened? You should tone down the bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit. SNS is in chaos right now.”
Every time those words came up, people’s expressions shifted subtly. Suspicion. Disbelief. And a strange excitement.
“Then how big was the skill gap?”
“And they weren’t even awakened? That doesn’t make sense.”
“If they hadn’t awakened, they would’ve just taken the hit and that would’ve been the end.”
“That’s exactly why it’s weirder.”
Some laughed it off, while others lowered their voices for no reason.
“Maybe they awakened in the middle?”
At that, the surroundings fell briefly silent. It was a question no one had answered yet.
And the rumor didn’t stop at the first-year area. In the second-year training building, where students were dispersing after finishing practice, conversations passed between them.
“An unawakened.”
One of the second-years spoke in a low voice. A female student nearby happened to overhear and paused to listen.
“Yeah?”
“They say he beat an awakened. Not just beat them—he killed an awakened during a spar.”
“Killed them?”
“Yeah. They say he really died. Don’t know if it was an accident or what, but apparently the barrier was breached and it went straight through.”
At those words, the female student’s eyes narrowed. It wasn’t surprise. It was interest. She quietly listened to the students’ conversation, her expression as if she were organizing the information in her head.
“Then,” the students said, “the basic skill difference is one thing, but it means there’s something special about him.”
“Special, my ass. Does it make sense for an unawakened to kill an awakened with skill? Obviously some facility management screw-up caused the accident.”
“Yeah, that’s probably it.”
The female student quietly looked down at the still-being-secured training hall and the instructors bustling about.
“There’s an interesting guy in the first year,” she murmured to herself. Very quietly. “At this level, it might be worth checking once to see if he’s a rough gem or someone worth using.”
The students had already moved away from her, and she stood still, gazing elsewhere. The name of the unawakened at the center of the incident. A name still only circulating as rumor.
Han Do-yoon.
That name was just beginning to spread throughout the entire academy. Without anyone knowing. And the ripples were only just starting.