Chapter 40: Make an Offer

The day after we entered the training center, the instructors fired the opening shot of a brutal training regimen. Within the first week, the Northern Continent’s User Academy proved that its vicious reputation was deserved. Of the 130 entrants, seventeen—more than ten percent—gave up and withdrew. Curiously, fifteen of them came from the close-combat or ranged-combat categories.

As I had mentioned before, the Northern Continent was governed by Users from the Republic of Korea. One thing distinguished Korea from the countries overseeing the other continents: mandatory military service. Consequently, adult male Users who were reservists or had other military backgrounds were not uncommon.

Perhaps for that reason, the Northern Continent's User Academy, the first of its kind on any continent, strongly reflected the atmosphere of the military. Beyond the training itself, they often suppressed the Users' freedom, controlling even basic necessities like food, clothing, and shelter during daily routines.

If the training were simply "hard," one could somehow endure it with sheer grit. But what truly wore the new Users down was the content of the training itself. The regimen was so intense it made actual military guerrilla training look like child's play. Most of the qualified Users couldn't handle it, vomiting on the first day and showing signs of giving up.

The highlight of it all, however, was undoubtedly the special weekend training. The Hall Plain's calendar follows the same system as Earth's. The Saturday and Sunday training that came every seven days was the true reason new Users left the academy. It was also why the vast majority of those who left were combat-type Users.

This training involved Users fighting each other one-on-one.

Mage-class and Priest-class Users were excluded, of course. A mage’s basic method was to draw out Magic Power, manifest it in reality, and strike with it. At first, however, merely drawing it out was difficult, much less controlling it, and there was also an enormous body of knowledge to learn—so much that even thirteen full weeks would scarcely cover the fundamentals. Priest-class Users were exempt for similar reasons and because they possessed few offensive ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spells, focusing mainly on healing and combat support.

It would be a grave mistake to think this was just some polite sparring. They were handed weapons with cold, sharp edges, and the rule was to inflict more than a certain amount of damage on their opponent. Of course, vital areas like the head and heart were covered with sturdy protective gear, but other parts were left completely exposed for the fight.

Naturally, every precaution was taken before each match. Renowned Users served as instructors and remained ready to stop an accidental lethal blow, while experienced Priest-class Users stood by at all times.

Even so, this mock combat was not a training method that was easy to accept. No, it was beyond difficult to accept; most Users cursed it out, calling it insane. Despite this, I held this training in high regard, because it addressed the one thing I had been worried about for Ahn Hyun's party since the Rite of Passage.

In the Hall Plain, no one knows when, where, or what might happen. Once you travel a certain distance outside a city, no place can be considered safe. You could fall into a trap or be attacked by monsters or Vagabonds. If this was true for areas under User influence, it goes without saying what the unexplored regions would be like.

Such situations demand split-second judgment and reflexes from Users. How quickly one reacted could mean the difference between life and death. In that moment, holding a sword and hesitating, thinking, "I can't stab a person," or "How can I stab someone?" would lead to a very frustrating end. In that sense, it was a crucial training process to get their bodies accustomed to stabbing, being stabbed, and getting injured.

The only concern for me was that I absolutely could not get injured during these mock battles. In other words, I had to win every single fight. It was impossible for novice Users to pierce my durability.

I defeated weaker opponents without issue, but I felt it was a bit of a burden to defeat stronger opponents in the same manner. For example, when I fought Woo Jungmin, I fought him to a draw by focusing entirely on defense, then seized a momentary opening to land a counter and claim victory.

With things as they were, gaining some fame was inevitable. It wasn't anything grand, as I was still just a new User. The instructors and other Users around me would just comment that the new batch of Users was high-level, and that Kim Soohyun was particularly outstanding or useful. This was within my acceptable range, so I went along with it.

There was a saying: an awl hidden in a sack would eventually reveal itself. In other words, a person of outstanding ability and talent would naturally stand out. At first, old habits and compulsions had made me think I needed to conceal myself completely.

“If you keep this up, you'll just act the same way in the same situation again. And there's a chance things will repeat themselves just like they are now.”

“User ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Kim Soohyun. You can't do anything alone.”

Acting the same way. Being unable to accomplish anything alone. Kim Hanbyul’s and Seraph’s words had shaken me deeply. This time, I did not want to lose Yoohyun-hyung or Han Soyoung. I wanted to step openly into the light and help them. This time, I wanted us to reach a happy ending together instead of another tragic one.

In the Hall Plain, strength can be measured by how many comrades you have who you can trust to watch your back. History, and my own experience, proved it. Even the User who was peerless under heaven and dominated an era eventually crumbled before the power of an allied force. To gather such comrades, then, one needs a certain degree of ability and fame.

I realized my thinking had changed slightly from the beginning. And now that I had entered the Hall Plain, I was willing to do what was necessary. The moment I made up my mind, my actions began to change.

No matter how tough the training, I participated passionately without a single complaint. I obediently complied with even the stricter controls imposed by the instructors and maintained a polite attitude. As these actions combined with my excellent training performance, I soon saw instructors looking at me with favorable eyes. (As an aside, the instructor initially in charge of my dorm had, by now, become my personal cigarette shuttle.)

As word about User Kim Soohyun began to spread, my relationships with the surrounding Users naturally improved. The number of Users who wanted to be my friend or build a good relationship with me gradually increased. I wasn't trying to stand out all at once, but was slowly climbing the ladder one step at a time, showing room for growth. In crude terms, I was advertising myself as "a guy with potential."

Humans are animals that adapt to their environment. While the time it takes may vary from person to person, the fact of adaptation itself is significant. The survival rate between a User who has adapted and one who has not is that much different.

In the second, third, and fourth weeks, there were still a number of people dropping out. But as we progressed through the fifth, sixth, and seventh weeks, the number dwindled, and by the eighth week, not a single person left. This meant the remaining Users were the cream of the crop, sifted through a sieve.

Of course, just because they remained didn't guarantee their survival, nor did leaving mean they would surely die. The Hall Plain was far too full of variables to judge life and death based solely on the User Academy. It was simply a matter of probability and possibility.

It was so significant that if you looked up the entry requirements for clans after graduation, you would find one common item: whether or not you graduated from the User Academy. I even heard that some clans on other continents give bonus points if you graduated from the Northern Continent's User Academy.

The ones who left would probably beat the ground in regret over the four stat points they failed to receive if they were still alive after two years.

Ahn Hyun's party overcame my initial worries as if to prove me wrong. Not a single one of them, not even Sol, had dropped out, and they were all completing the training course. It seemed their experience of the forced march after leaving the trap-point city had helped them to some extent.

Contrary to my expectation that Ahn Hyun would become a swordsman since he handled a sword, he chose the spear as his main weapon. When I asked his class, he said he had, unsurprisingly, chosen Spearman. With his considerable base physical stats, excluding magic power, he would have looked good with any weapon, but I still felt a slight sense of disappointment.

Back in the clearing when Sol was in danger, he had thrown a sword and cut off one of the Deadman's arms. Since then, I had held his sense for the sword in high regard. If he had chosen the same path as me, a swordsman, I could have been of great help to him in achieving Sword Master, but since he said ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he was more interested in the spear, there was nothing I could do.

Still, I was curious, so I asked him why he chose Spearman. His answer was a spectacle.

“I thought you were dead, Hyung, so I couldn’t think straight. Honestly, those angels were pissing me off. I kept asking whether you were alive, but they dodged the question and tried to make me do User Settings and other weird stuff. One of them told me to become a swordsman, so I told them to get lost. I said I’d use a spear out of spite.”

Ahn Sol, who had been listening beside him, added that her brother had initially dug in his heels and insisted on becoming a mage. She giggled, saying it was the first time she had ever seen an angel look so flustered. Their nonchalant explanation made me sigh inwardly.

Ahn Sol matched my expectations. As I had thought, she chose Priestess. According to Ahn Hyun, setting his own initial class had taken a long time, while Ahn Sol needed less than a quarter as long. Since she disliked handling weapons and hated hurting others, Priestess suited her perfectly.

Lee Yoojung chose daggers, the same type of weapon she had used during the Rite of Passage. Unusually, she selected a pair of daggers wielded in both hands rather than a single one. When I asked her class, she proudly told me she had chosen Mercenary.

With every stat, including Magic Power, evenly balanced, Lee Yoojung would likely perform above average in any close-combat class. I would probably have recommended Assassin, but Mercenary, which allowed her to use many kinds of weapons, also seemed like a good choice.

Now that the new Users' information was unlocked and accessible to them, it was common at the academy for people to ask about each other's stats. I gathered my party and repeatedly warned them never to tell anyone, including the instructors, the detailed information about their stats or abilities.

I warned Sol in particular, two, three times over. She didn't even know why I was doing it, but she just giggled happily. I could definitely feel a subtle shift in how the party treated me after we encountered the boss monster.

One person, however, seemed to be moving farther away from us. As I gradually made a name for myself at the academy, Ahn Hyun, Ahn Sol, and Lee Yoojung showed an unmistakable pride in me. Since they acted that way despite not being the ones earning the praise, it proved that the three no longer regarded me as an outsider. Kim Hanbyul was the exception.

Kim Hanbyul was gradually distancing herself from me and the rest of the party. When we first gathered after training began, I asked her what class she had chosen. Her reply was immediate and cold.

“Oppa, you just told another User not to reveal their information.”

I said not to reveal detailed information. Who said anything about hiding your class? That would come out eventually anyway. I gave an awkward smile, but I could not help feeling a little hurt. Perhaps sensing it, she quietly added that she had received a mage-type class. I only nodded. I could have checked with Third Eye, but deliberately chose not to activate it; her placement in the Magic-Talent category had already given me a general idea.

Kim Hanbyul often missed our gatherings. It was true that mages had a lot to study, memorize, and practice, but it was similar for other classes. We only met once a week for an hour or two at most, and I often heard from Sol that she found it difficult to even make it to that.

“Oppa, just don't worry about someone like her. She's in a different dorm from me and Sol, and we barely talk. Just let her do whatever the hell she wants. And honestly, Kim Hanbyul… I never liked her from the start.”

“That's a bit harsh. Still…”

“What do you mean, 'still'? I heard a rumor that someone saw her talking to that one guy. You know, the User who was explaining things to us when we first left the inn. That male User. That traitorous bitch.”

I smiled bitterly as Lee Yoojung called Kim Hanbyul a traitor. The premonition I had felt at the beginning seemed to be becoming reality. Honestly, receiving an ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠offer from the Golden Lion Clan was nothing to condemn. By the eighth week, I had secretly received offers from more than five clans myself, naturally including the Golden Lion Clan.

Still, her behavior of distancing herself from us was definitely concerning. She occasionally attended our meetings, but she rarely opened her mouth. Only once did she speak to me first, asking what I planned to do after graduation. I dismissed the question by saying I was still thinking about it.

From that day onward, I was able to view Kim Hanbyul separately from Han Soyoung, and I decided not to agonize over her any longer. I wanted her with us, but if she chose not to follow, I would let her go. I would not hold on to those who left, and anyone who came would be accepted only after thorough scrutiny. I intended to build a small elite group; I had no use for numbers alone.

There was such a thing as a human connection—a bond formed between people. I believed those bonds were not merely accidents of fate, but something people could forge for themselves. That was why I believed in them. I was living proof, having experienced the tremendous strength such bonds could produce.

I decided to let my connection with Kim Hanbyul take its natural course. If our paths remained connected, we would meet again; if not, I would let her go. I was capable of forging many more bonds, and only a fool would cling to one that remained uncertain.

Once I removed Han Soyoung’s shadow from Kim Hanbyul, I began to see rationally what had previously escaped me. Even from a cold calculation, recruiting Users already proven during my first run was more advantageous than gambling solely on Kim Hanbyul’s potential. New Users with comparable promise might be rare, but some surely existed somewhere.