Mana Aptitude Re-Examination
Seongun Academy's grand auditorium was packed with stifling heat from early morning. It was the day of the annual Nationwide Awakener Aptitude Re-Examination. For some, this was a chance at life-changing reversal; for dropouts like me, it was a cruel confirmation of defeat.
I yawned indifferently, trailing behind Seol-ha. I never imagined I'd set foot in this auditorium again—the place where I'd fled six years ago after getting that 0.1% rating. Ever since yesterday's dungeon, when I'd erased that beast's neck, my body felt strangely languid. Like a massive gear dormant inside me had started grinding against its will.
"Jae-hyun, nervous? Look at your sweaty hands... It's fine, just do it like always."
Seol-ha grabbed my hand tight, her eyes full of worry. Truth be told, the sweat wasn't from nerves—it was exhaustion from hauling loads since dawn. And that Ancient Tome vibrating subtly in my pocket kept disrupting my heartbeat.
"Nah. If 0.1% jumps to 1%, that's a miracle. Hope the machine doesn't break."
Seol-ha put on a stern face at my joke, but the stares around us were ice-cold. Amid students in crisp academy uniforms, I stuck out like a sore thumb in my knee-ripped jeans and faded T-shirt.
"Hey, old man over there. Load carriers exit through the back door, yeah? This is for awakeners getting tested."
I turned at the sneering voice. A young man in a sharp suit, blond hair slicked back, glared down at me with arrogant eyes. Lee Jin-woo, top entrant at Seongun Academy and heir to the Seongjin Group conglomerate.
"Jin-woo, Jae-hyun's my childhood friend. Watch your mouth."
"Oh, your childhood friend? The legendary 0.1% incompetence? Haha, back for re-testing after six years? Peak time-waster. Old man, at your age, F-rank? Just quit and do manual labor. That's patriotism."
Lee Jin-woo patted my shoulder mockingly. In the military, I'd have floored him, but I just shrugged. At 23, picking fights with a 20-year-old punk was too tiring.
"When do you discharge? Enlist first, then talk smack, kid."
"What did you say, you bastard...!"
Next: Seongun Academy Advanced Research Department, student Lee Jin-woo's re-examination.
"Seol-ha, I'll show you my talent up close. Nothing like that loser."
Lee Jin-woo shot me a glare and ascended the stage. Seol-ha glanced back anxiously, but calmed seeing my composed face.
At the stage center stood the latest mana measurement device, newly introduced. Costing billions of won, it gleamed like a massive crystal orb.
Lee Jin-woo sneered at me once more before placing his hand on the sensor.
Woooong—.
Beep-boop.
The number flashed, and Lee Jin-woo laughed derisively at me as he descended. I shook my head in disbelief, then the next was called.
Next: Seongun Academy Advanced Research Department, Baek Seol-ha, please come up.
Seol-ha calmly took the stage and looked at me. I nodded with a subtle smile of encouragement.
She smiled faintly, took a breath, and placed her hand on the sensor.
Woooong—.
The air around the sensor glowed blue and vibrated. The screen numbers skyrocketed wildly.
The auditorium buzzed. 89%—nearing 90%, qualifying as an S-rank reserve hunter under national protection. Scout reps from corporations whipped out notebooks, jotting furiously.
"As expected of Baek Seol-ha... incredible!"
Seol-ha sighed in relief and descended. Then, finally, my name.
Next... Do Jae-hyun. Re-examination requested.
The hall fell silent, like ice water poured over it. Do Jae-hyun—the legend of 0.1% from six years ago—rumors had spread.
No human with any mana sense dipped below 1%.
"Hey, Do Jae-hyun! Be careful not to break the machine! It might shut down from embarrassment measuring 0.1%!"
Lee Jin-woo's mockery drew laughs from the students. I walked onstage indifferently. Thousands of eyes bored into my back. Normally, I'd want to crawl into a hole, but strangely, I felt calm. The Ancient Tome in my pocket pulsed hot in sync with my heart.
Just touch it lightly and get off. Repair bill would bankrupt me.
I cautiously placed my hand on the sensor.
Ziiing—.
Nothing at first. A red scan swept my palm. Then, the screen displayed the result.
"Puhahaha!"
The hall erupted in laughter. Lee Jin-woo rolled on the floor, tears streaming.
"Dude! Six years in the army just digging? Not even a decimal change? 0.1%! Trash really can't be recycled!"
"Jae-hyun..."
Seol-ha paled. But something felt off. The screen said 0.1%, yet an unpleasant vibration hummed from the machine where my palm touched—like cramming a massive storm into a tiny bottle.
That's when it hit. A voice from the Ancient Tome echoed in my mind.
Oppa, don't disturb my deep slumber with such a pathetic tool, okay?
Unique Magic Space forcibly interferes with external environment.
What? Hey, wait!
My hand stuck like a magnet. Suddenly, the entire auditorium's air rushed toward me. Not mana bursting out—it was the space itself compressing into my palm.
Whiiiine—!
Kwaaaa—!
The sensor's light shifted from blue to violet, then pitch black. The screen's 0.1% flickered wildly, spinning too fast for eyes to track.
10% ...... 50% ...... 90% ...... 99.9% ...... !!!
The chandelier swayed overhead; spiderweb cracks spidered across windows.
"Wh-what?! Can't breathe!"
"The space around the sensor... space is warping!"
Scouts deployed barriers instinctively, but they crumpled like crushed cans.
I screamed internally. Crazy, this thing costs billions! It can't break! I got no money!
But gears inside shrieked like they were misaligning. The mana waves from the machine wailed.
And finally—
Boom—!
A deafening explosion shattered the billion-won device spectacularly. Shrapnel flew; every window in the hall exploded outward.
Through the smoke, the charred screen blinked—not numbers, but red warnings.
Measurement Range Exceeded
System Read Failure: Impossible Value
Silence fell. Only the tinkling of shattered glass hitting the floor echoed loudly.
I stared blankly at my scorched palm. The jeering students, sneering Lee Jin-woo—all frozen, mouths agape.
"...Uh, do I have to pay for this?"
I was genuinely scared. Today's 150,000-won wage wouldn't cover even a scratch—the repair would run into billions.
No one answered. Lee Jin-woo collapsed, trembling. Scouts bolted up, dialing frantically.
"Director! Get to the academy NOW! Yes, range exceeded! Machine couldn't handle it! Not 0.1%! That was a disguise!"
"White Night Guild? Prep an exclusive contract immediately! We'll cover repairs! Secure him at all costs!"
From below, Seol-ha stared—shock mixed with inexplicable relief. No way... it was fine six years ago, why now...
I swallowed my frustration and descended. But in the corner of my vision, visible only to me, the Ancient Tome's system window updated.
Comprehension of Space has risen.
Skill: Space Refraction unlocked.
Mana Aptitude: 100.1%
It hit me. All those 0.1% readings weren't because I was weak—the machines lacked hundreds-place digits.
"Jae-hyun... you, you're really..."
Seol-ha clutched my sleeve with trembling hands. I shrugged nonchalantly, dodging the feverish stares.
"See? Told you it'd break. No money. Tell 'em I can't pay."
I bolted from the stunned crowd. But behind me, dozens of scouts charged like starving wolves.
The life I thought was that of an F-rank hauler—and this world's common sense—flipped entirely in that instant.