Special Training (1)
In every nation, colossal towers had risen from the earth. More than fifty years had passed since these massive structures became part of the world, and now everyone accepted them as ordinary. Yet when they first appeared, the planet had been consumed by chaos and terror. Their shapes varied slightly from country to country, but every one of them defied human engineering—structures beyond anything our technology could explain.
The first to swarm them were the scientists. Renowned physicists, astronomers, engineers, architects, and countless researchers. The brightest minds on Earth gathered to analyze the unknown phenomenon. The conclusion was always the same.
“Our current knowledge cannot explain this.”
Even the material of the towers remained a mystery. Microscopes revealed nothing. Attempts to take samples failed because no tool could scratch their surface. Radiation, electromagnetic waves, even sound waves and neutrons were absorbed or reflected. Every attempt to enter the towers also ended in failure. The world’s armies were mobilized, deploying explosives, high-powered lasers, drills—every method imaginable—but the towers didn’t even tremble. It wasn’t even clear if doors existed. No one could figure out how to get inside. The final verdict was that human technology could not even approach them.
The scientific community fell into shock. Attempts to measure the towers’ height? All failed. Satellites, drones, rockets—nothing worked. The summits stretched endlessly upward. The towers themselves denied common sense. Because they could no longer be explained by “science,” religious leaders claimed they were signs from God, while conspiracy theorists insisted they were traces of alien civilization. Some called them warnings to humanity. Others praised them as divine gifts. Yet no theory revealed their true nature.
What floor did they reach? Why had they appeared? Who built them? For what purpose? Anyone standing before a tower inevitably asked the same questions.
The answers came from the Awakened—those who received skills from the System. Only they could enter the towers. They all said the same thing.
“Inside the tower is an entirely different world.”
“We must carry out the missions the tower gives us.”
The Awakened had experienced the impossible. They could spit fire from their hands and soar through the sky. No one could dismiss their claims as lies.
And then there were the Gates.
Sudden cracks in the air from which unidentified monsters poured forth. These creatures clearly did not belong to Earth. They shared no evolutionary lineage or ecological connection with any terrestrial life. Biologists studying them had no choice but to completely reject the existing framework of evolutionary trees. The monsters possessed physical structures and abilities that transcended Earth’s physical laws. Some flew through the atmosphere without wings. Others could freely recombine their own matter to attack. Their appearances defied any earthly logic—lumpy flesh, bizarre colors, even structures that felt modern or mechanical.
The Awakened’s claim that “another world exists inside the tower” gained credibility. They swore the monsters coming out of the Gates were the same ones they had seen inside the tower.
“Those are the bastards we saw in there. But… why are they coming outside?”
The reason was simple. If the Awakened did not climb the tower, the monsters would pour out through the Gates. The same thing happened if they failed to clear it. The lower the level of the hunters, the higher the chance that monsters would spill out. So what would happen if no one climbed the tower at all?
Surprisingly, there was a precedent.
The tower in North Korea stood near the Amnok River, soaring at the northernmost tip of the Korean peninsula. When it first appeared, Kim Jong-un had declared it “a gift from the gods” and strictly forbade access.
“The tower is a sacred relic that must receive the worship of all the world. Anyone who defiles it will be executed for blasphemy.”
Martial law was declared permanently. Even Awakened who tried to approach the tower’s entrance were arrested or executed on the spot. At the national level, they were simply eradicated. Kim Jong-un’s policy of worshipping the tower as a holy symbol never wavered, no matter how much the world protested.
In the end, the tower was left untouched with no one to climb it.
“That pig with the fat neck?”
“Fuck. That bastard is why so many Gates keep appearing.”
The entire world cursed North Korea for its stubborn silence. Yet they remained unmoved. The result?
The tower collapsed, and enormous monsters poured out. Beasts with giant wings that covered the sky, colossal creatures that crushed everything beneath mountain-like bodies, grotesque lifeforms made of horns and blades. North Korea’s military had no way to stop the catastrophe. In the end, the entire country became a land where humans could not live. The monsters that burst forth with the tower’s collapse had turned North Korea into a demon realm.
From this, the world learned the truth: if the tower is not climbed, it collapses, and the monsters inside come flooding out.
For that reason, climbing the tower became a matter of national priority. The towers declared there was no choice. If you did not climb, you could not survive. And so every country began strategically nurturing Awakened. They needed as many talented individuals as possible—people who would become the frontline warriors carrying out the tower’s missions and blocking the threat of the Gates.
Thus, the Hunter Academy was created. A cradle for heroes.
The difference between a licensed hunter and an unlicensed one in this world is enormous. Unlicensed hunters fight only for themselves. They sneak up and down the tower, using the skills and equipment they obtain for personal gain. Licensed hunters are different. They receive state support and systematic training. They are the elite who have passed through the national system and received official recognition.
The line dividing licensed and unlicensed hunters is simple: whether or not you graduated from the Academy.
Some people ask, “The Academy? Do I really have to go? I got an S-rank skill. I’m just going to rush straight into the tower, monopolize the rewards, and buy a Han River view apartment.”
Of course, if you can attend the Academy, you should. Skill? Level? Powerful hunter equipment? A hunter’s strength isn’t decided by those things alone. Relying only on skills and gear means you won’t be able to handle the tower’s higher floors. Your growth ceiling will be too low. The higher you climb, the more absurdly difficult the tower becomes. In the end, the human being themselves must become stronger.
Skills can be used with a single click thanks to the System’s assistance, but once you understand the underlying principles, using the ability without the skill isn’t impossible. Take Fireball, for example.
The scientists who first encountered the skill were so shocked they nearly fainted.
“This is a supernatural phenomenon.”
They analyzed hunters using the Fireball skill and were horrified. None of the three basic elements of combustion—oxygen, combustible material, or ignition source—were present.
“This makes no sense. How can you produce flames of this intensity without the three elements of combustion?”
“Thermodynamics. Every law of thermodynamics is being completely denied. Aaaargh!”
One researcher tore up his own thesis and screamed.
“The total amount of energy inside a closed system isn’t conserved after all?”
The collapse of the law of conservation of energy. Inside a closed system, a massive flame had suddenly appeared. The fundamental assumption that thermodynamic energy remains constant had been utterly destroyed.
“This hunter is distorting the method of heat transfer. But I can’t figure out the principle at all!”
The flame’s core temperature reached a staggering 2,000 degrees Celsius, yet the amount of heat conducted to the surrounding air was abnormally low. The flame’s range was narrow and consistent, maintained as if the fire were isolated in space.
“The heat isn’t spreading… There isn’t even a chemical combustion process. How is this possible?”
None of the carbon, carbon dioxide, or residual matter typical of normal combustion reactions appeared. In other words, the flame was being generated in a pure energy state without any material foundation.
“If this isn’t chemical oxidation, then what exactly is that flame made of? Is this… magic?”
The scientists witnessed a power that belonged in myth and were forced to completely reject the framework of existing science. That was why they hungered for it. They wanted to understand this phenomenon, this skill. They refused to simply define it with the vague word “magic.”
Because their efforts were not in vain, the Academy of today could exist.
“So the System has a function like this too.”
A hospital? When I opened my eyes, I found myself in an unfamiliar place, but I could tell with a glance that my safety was guaranteed. This was the Academy—one of the safest locations in South Korea. So I felt completely at ease.
I calmly browsed the system function called HunterNet. Walking around with my eyes open could put a serious strain on me, but system messages were visible even with my eyes closed.
“Everyone’s only talking about me.”
World Boss subjugation complete system message. Only a single epithet listed on the clear roster.
Fuck. What the hell is that epithet? Did a new national-power-level hunter just appear in South Korea?
The epithet Grim Reaper was quickly becoming legendary. It was honestly embarrassing. Still, thanks to it I was able to gather quite a bit of information.
‘…I’d better keep the fact that I’m the Grim Reaper hidden if possible.’
People were showing way too much interest. There was no way I could handle that kind of attention. Until recently I had been a visually impaired shut-in, after all.
“More importantly, where’s Hahyang-i?”
At that moment, the sensation of something licking me made my eyes snap open involuntarily.
Lick. Lick.
The first time I was truly seeing properly. For a second I forgot everything else and only Hahyang-i filled my vision.
“…Wow.”
Hahyang-i’s fur sparkled as if catching the light. The white curves flowing down her back and the smooth flow of her soft coat were so flawless I couldn’t look away. So this was what white really looked like. This was why people called her Hahyang-i.
‘I think I finally understand what cuteness is.’
If you gathered all the cuteness in the world and squished it together, the result would be Hahyang-i.
Then, a mysterious voice rang out from within Hahyang-i’s body.
The mood was instantly ruined.
“What exactly did you do to Hahyang-i?”
Was that the truth?
My eyes had seen through him. It was the unshakeable truth. As expected of a former World Boss, he seemed to have noticed what I was doing.
“Hmph. You’re a World Boss, aren’t you? If you were defeated, you should have stayed dead quietly. Why are you parasitizing someone else’s dog?”
A subtle pride flowed from the end of his words. Yet rather than being annoying, his attitude somehow felt strangely convincing. Besides, I could see with my own eyes that he wasn’t deceiving me.
Once I confirmed it was safe, I closed my eyes again. Keeping them open for too long hurt.
“More importantly, why am I here?”
“They hurt, so I don’t want to open them.”
“Me? At the Academy?”
I almost opened my eyes in shock. Me, attending the Academy? I had never even dreamed of it.
Honestly, leveling up was necessary if I wanted to properly control my eyes. When I killed the World Boss and my level rose from 1 to 10, I had felt a sense of liberation for the first time. It had been truly amazing. The pain coming from my eyes had decreased, even if only by a tiny amount—like a single pine nut.
To level up, I had to climb the tower. That was common sense everyone in this world knew. And normally, only licensed hunters who had graduated from the Academy climbed the tower. That was the standard procedure.
The dismissive tone irritated me. My epithet was Grim Reaper, you know. I couldn’t hold back and opened my eyes. The stinging pain returned immediately.
“Ugh…”
I squinted and closed them again.
“Train me?”
I asked without thinking. The words felt so foreign. I could sense excitement in his voice, as if he were looking forward to what was to come. Like the thrill a warrior feels before battle. Or perhaps the feeling of a master who had found a disciple.