“The end-of-month assignnt was supposed to be announced today, but it’s been pushed back by a day.”
During horoom, our teacher gave the update.
“But don’t worry—since the announcent is delayed, the deadline will be extended accordingly.”
“Why was it delayed?” a student asked.
“There was a scheduling issue with dungeon access. I think they’re adjusting the lineup.”
That, of course, was a lie.
The delay had nothing to do with dungeon schedules. It was caused by sothing entirely external.
And the one responsible for that external factor… was none other than what had happened earlier this afternoon.
Cheongwang and his crew are probably about to find out what it’s like to fall into hell.
It felt like justice. Still, I couldn’t completely suppress a flicker of pity in my chest.
If I had chosen a different path, maybe those guys would’ve had a brighter future.
But what could I do?
If I had to choose between iling and Cheongwang, the answer was obvious.
Late that evening, after all the Hunter trainees had returned to their dorms, the lights were still on in the first-floor conference room of Gwangcheon Academy’s main building.
Inside were Principal Lim Seongyeon, Vice Principal Choi Moonsu, Class A horoom teacher Kim Sangsik, and first-year combat instructor Jwa Miye.
Across from the seated faculty stood three students—Ma Jaesik, Wolff, and Jin Cheongwang.
Their faces were frozen stiff.
The reason was the hologram footage playing before them.
On screen, Wolff’s Bull Rush, Jaesik’s Seismic Step, and Cheongwang’s Lightning Form were all seen targeting a single person: Nam Yein.
“At this mont...”
Jwa Miye paused the video.
Yein was shown collapsing after Jaesik’s Seismic Step.
“We can clearly see that Nam Yein’s shield was nearly depleted. Then, in the very next mont—”
She resud the footage and froze it again.
Cheongwang, now glowing gold, was descending toward Yein with his attack.
“Jin Cheongwang initiated a power-enhanced assault.”
She played that segnt slowly.
As Cheongwang’s attack landed, the screen burst into blinding light—
Then faded to show a crater in the dirt, Jaesik and Wolff looking down at it, and Yein lying further away.
“It appears Nam Yein evaded using a movent skill. Had he been even a second slower, it would’ve been fatal. That concludes the drone-recorded footage.”
“Understood. Ma Jaesik, Wolff Kiram, Jin Cheongwang.”
Principal Lim called the nas of the students.
All three flinched and raised their heads.
“If you were complete novices, I might believe you didn’t understand the extent of your powers. But you’ve each undergone three dungeon training sessions. That’s more than enough ti to grasp your own capabilities.”
Her voice was cold.
“The three of you attacked with intent to kill. That is absolutely unacceptable. As of today, you are expelled from Gwangcheon Academy.”
Their faces went pale—including Cheongwang’s.
“I... I can’t accept that,” Cheongwang said, voice trembling.
“We didn’t break any rules. The mock battle allows attacks as long as the shield isn’t gone—doesn’t it?”
Teacher Kim Sangsik bit his lip.
“You call that a defense?” he muttered.
As expected, Principal Lim’s expression sharpened.
“That rule exists to prevent fatal attacks among Hunter trainees. It’s not a free pass for murder. If you wanted to make excuses, you’d have been better off lying and saying you didn’t see the shield flickering. Of course, as Awakened ones, there’s no way you could’ve missed it.”
She turned her head away from them.
“Your expulsion is final and will not be overturned. Teacher Kim Sangsik.”
“...Yes.”
“I leave the rest to you.”
With that, the principal walked out.
Vice Principal Choi and Instructor Jwa hesitated, glancing at Kim Sangsik, then quietly exited as well.
Now, only four remained.
Kim Sangsik took a deep breath and finally spoke.
“I believe people must live in roles suited to their abilities for society to function properly.”
He stood and walked over to the three.
“The power of a Hunter exists to fight monsters. What you three did today—was attempted murder. It proves you don’t have the judgnt to wield that power. Which ans you don’t deserve to be Hunters.”
Cheongwang clenched his fists.
“But the strength you possess—that talent needed to slay monsters—is real. In the right educational environnt, you might’ve blood. I’m sorry we couldn’t provide that.”
Kim Sangsik sighed again.
“Go back to your dorms and pack your things. Co to the faculty office in the morning to complete your withdrawal.”
He stood silently, watching them.
And so, Cheongwang’s group left the room without another word.
“Is there really no way out of this?” Wolff muttered, scowling.
“If we tell Lord Kai… maybe he can cover for us,” Jaesik said hesitantly.
Cheongwang’s expression darkened.
“Idiot. You think this was the principal’s decision alone?”
He glared at Jaesik.
“Then who…?”
“It was Kai. He’s the one who abandoned us. If he hadn’t, Jwa Miye wouldn’t have submitted the drone footage.”
Cheongwang spoke through clenched teeth.
Until now, Gwangcheon had always been lenient with them—offering protections, blind eyes, favors.
All because of Forward, Gwangcheon’s managing foundation, and Kai, one of its executives.
But today, Kai’s influence had been nowhere to be seen.
That fact alone made their situation clear.
“What if... maybe he hasn’t heard yet?” Wolff asked, grasping at straws.
“Let go of that fantasy.”
Cheongwang’s voice was flat.
“If he has heard, that’s even worse. Then there’s no reason for him to back us up.”
“Why not??”
Jaesik looked genuinely confused.
Cheongwang furrowed his brow and didn’t answer.
Because he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
That now, having failed to eliminate Chen iling’s rival, they were worthless.
“Damn it. This is insane.” Wolff scratched his head angrily.
“If we’re expelled, we can’t even get a Hunter license. No training ans no dungeon access, and without that, we can’t earn tuition for another academy.”
“And if Lord Kai really has dumped us… then we won’t even get the paynt he promised, right?”
Jaesik’s words made Cheongwang grit his teeth.
In a single day, they had fallen from the human world… back into hell.
All three were children of refugees—born into poverty and violence.
Their hos had been on the fringes of civilization, far from the reach of society’s rebirth after the Human-Demon War.
Law enforcent was a fantasy.
A full al a day was a luxury.
In that world, strength ruled, and the first thing children learned wasn’t reading—it was lying.
And in that world, the three of them had awakened.
The three of them had survived by using their enhanced bodies and abilities for robbery, or running errands for gangs.
Even as Awakened, becoming Hunter trainees had been nothing more than a pipe dream.
Just the admission fee for a Hunter academy exceeded 100 million won, and tuition alone was over 50 million per sester.
Even the notoriously awful Gwangcheon Academy required 20 million up front.
In a life where even hope was a luxury, the three had focused solely on surviving.
Then, last winter—
They were caught by Seoul’s security forces while on a job—one that promised a spot in a gang if they succeeded.
Only later did they learn what they had actually been carrying inside the cooler: the organs of a child.
Though they were nothing more than couriers with no direct involvent, all three were sent to a juvenile detention facility specifically for Awakened.
There, they found themselves among dozens of others in similar circumstances. Fights broke out daily.
Within days, Cheongwang, Jaesik, and Wolff had asserted themselves as the top dogs.
They hadn’t been born with silver spoons, but they had one thing—talent for fighting.
Then, about a month later, they were released. Soone had posted bail for them.
That person had told them:
“My daughter will be enrolling in a Hunter academy soon. I want you to make sure nothing disrupts her ti there. Do that, and I’ll get you enrolled too. You’ll be paid as well.”
There was no reason to say no.
Even if it was Gwangcheon Academy, they’d still be on the path to becoming Hunters—and they’d be paid for it.
They accepted imdiately.
That’s how the three of them went from societal rejects to Hunter hopefuls.
The first ti they stepped into the city, they were stunned.
There were no corpses on the street, no insects crawling around, no rotting stench or sll of booze in the air.
The streetlights were bright, the buildings were pristine.
With the “allowance” given to them by Kai, they bought food first.
The taste shocked them—but more than that, the fact that food bought in the city didn’t contain spoiled or rotten ingredients was another surprise altogether.
Then there were the clothes, the toiletries, the hologram displays, the internet—even the people they rode the bus with.
It was all a world apart from where they’d co from.
Jaesik had said it felt like they’d climbed from hell into heaven.
Wolff and Cheongwang had agreed.
But now, barely a month later, they’d lost it all.
“…Yeah. We’ve been discarded again. Just pieces you can throw away whenever,” Cheongwang muttered.
“Jaesik, Wolff.”
“Huh?”
“You think of sothing?”
The two turned to face him.
“I did,” Cheongwang said.
He wasn’t going back to hell.
He couldn’t—not after tasting what it felt like to live like a real human being.
The next day.
News spread quickly in our class: the three Class A students had been expelled for excessive violence.
“No way. I didn’t think they’d actually get expelled for that.”
“Yeah. I an, the shield was still up, right?”
“They didn’t even care when they sent us into dungeons with no backup—why now?”
“Isn’t it weird that the instructor who supervised it isn’t getting punished, but the students are?”
“Classic Gwangcheon.”
“But think about it. Jung Jooil was kicked out too, and now Jin Cheongwang’s crew? Maybe the school’s actually changing.”
That last remark stuck with —sharp, like it pierced straight into my mind.
I rembered the day Principal Lim Seongyeon had personally rewarded with points.
No... the side scenarios are still following the ga’s progression.
The expulsion of Cheongwang’s group was a known event in the ga.
It was orchestrated by Kai—iling’s father—to quietly remove a now-useless set of tools who also happened to know too much about his dealings with the school.
The claim of “protecting student safety” was nothing but a cover.
This was Forward’s influence at work.
“Good morning, everyone~”
Just then, our horoom teacher walked in, arms full of papers.
“End-of-month assignnts are finally here! I’ll call your nas—co get yours.”
The room went quiet in an instant.
A few minutes later, everyone was holding their own assignnt sheet.
Here’s what mine said:
[First-Year March End-of-Month Assignnt]
1-B Class, Nam Yein
So the assignnt would take place not in a private dungeon, but in the public-access Magitech Vault.
“And the teacher in charge of dungeon training has sothing personal to deal with, so there won’t be any dungeon classes this week either. Rember—afternoon classes will end at 3 p.m. for the next three days, just for your assignnts. Good luck!”
With that, the teacher wrapped up the morning briefing and left the room.
As soon as she disappeared, students started moving into their usual cliques.
“Y-Yein! Where are you assigned?”
Lumina spun around and asked in a rush.
“Magitech Vault.”
“Ah…”
A hint of disappointnt appeared on her face.
“I got Seawater Cavern... I’m supposed to retrieve the spines of a Giant Hozer.”
She didn’t seem worried—just a little bumd.
Cooperation was forbidden anyway, so she’d probably just wanted to head out with .
“If the school doesn’t take the spines you collect, sell them to .”
I smiled.
But she shook her head.
“I’ll give them to you for free.”
“Then I won’t say no.”
At Level 15, Lumina wouldn’t have any trouble completing her assignnt.
I, on the other hand, had to be cautious.
During the Imoogi and the Dragon side scenario, no matter where the assignnt took place, an event would be waiting.
So it’s finally ti to et her in person.
The face of a girl with twin tails popped into my mind.
Just as the teacher said, today’s afternoon class was only one training subject.
After that, I headed straight to the faculty office.
I needed my dungeon access permit and a recording drone.
Lumina had said she’d go tomorrow.
When I arrived on the first floor, a crowd had already ford.
End-of-month assignnts weren’t exclusive to first-years, so it was pretty packed.
I chose the leftmost line, where the other first-years were queued up.
“This button starts the drone’s recording. Press it the mont you enter the dungeon, and again after you leave to stop recording.”
“Got it.”
I nodded, took the permit and the baseball-sized drone into my hand.
I wonder if the event will trigger no matter what ti I enter…
Now that this was reality, I wasn’t sure if the ga’s forced triggers would still apply.
But wondering wouldn’t get an answer.
I’ll just head over. If it doesn’t trigger right away, I’ll wait.
I slipped the drone and permit into my inventory and left campus.
(End of Chapter)
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