It was really cruel of the academy to make the worst ranked first years go first. Not for the first years, but for the prospective second years.
At first, their scores brought about giggles among the kids watching. They thought they could do better than that. But then, one by one, the prospective second years began to pale.
The first year class at National had about 150 students in the hunter department. There were more in the non-hunting classes, but those students weren't here. All the children who had come to attempt the second year entrance exam thought that they were the top 1%, since they’d never known anyone stronger. But they were now watching, in real time, the top 150 hunters their age in action. And they were starting to realize just how low in the ladder their strength was.
BOOM.
A huge melee fighter hit the target dead center with his fist, sending a shockwave across the stage. It looked like an impressive strike. Yet he was ranked only #81—almost exactly halfway.
The score board hanging above their heads slowly calculated.
It registered 1,131 points.
Just barely passing.
“Yeah!!”
The huge student yelled out in relief and went down the stage.
Most of the first years were passing, though they weren’t getting much more than 1,000. 1,200 was the rough benchmark for a C-rank hunter’s strength. For them to have already gotten that close was astonishing in comparison to any other person their age. But at the academy, it was the expectation.
The prospective students began to gulp in anxiety. They could see the power behind the first years’ hits. If their own skills couldn't match up, then…
That would be the end of the road for them at this school. There was no such thing as a third year entrance exam.
The rank #45 finally passed the C-rank barrier. 1,230. The first years cheered as the girl, spear in hand, gave a shout of victory and came down the steps. C-rank strength at age 16 was already miraculous. And they had 44 more students to go.
The prospective second years held their breaths. Seeing how slowly the numbers had climbed before, there was no way that any of the students could break the B-rank barrier of 4,000 points. It was too far away. But the moment the exam got to the top 50 students, their scores began to skyrocket.
“Holy shit…”
“1,800, all of a sudden?”
Another melee fighter descended the steps, rubbing his knuckles. #25.
BOOM.
“No way, she broke 2,000!”
A girl with a bow shot the target dead center, setting another milestone. #13.
The prospective second years were getting restless.
“Fuck, so this is the standard of National.”
“Why are these people even at school? Just go to a guild already…”
“I bet Sunghyun will break 3,000.”
Suho watched the first years go carefully. They were really giving it their all—trying to prove what they’d gained in the last year. And as Yuna finally ascended the platform, a hush fell over the nervous examinees.
Like Sunghyun, she was famous among the students. Not just because she was #2, but because she was rich. Her family had dabbled in several hunter-related businesses with great success. And she was the first of them to take the path of a real hunter.
“Giant’s Might,” she mumbled.
A red glow enveloped her body and the spear she was holding. A strengthening buff. Her wealth was really showing. Normally, people were only restricted to the skills their body naturally awakened. Even with skill books, if you weren’t compatible, then you couldn’t learn them—and skill books were far too expensive to just buy and gamble to see if it would work. But she had reportedly purchased all the magic skill books on the market—literally millions* down the drain.
She took a deep breath, and a second, cold white light rose from around her body. Aura. It was smooth but a bit frayed on the edges. Like crystals of ice.
“Critical Strike.”
She shot forward so quickly that most people lost sight of her.
BANG.
The tip of her spear buried itself directly into the center of the target, sending a huge wave of energy over the spectators. A gust of wind so strong it knocked fliers and business cards out of people’s laps followed a split second later. Suho managed to hold onto his.
She drew the weapon out as the air settled. The target returned to normal, unscathed. The numbers above them began to fluctuate.
The score stopped at 3,776.
“Holy shit!”
Shouts of admiration and surprise came from both the first years and the prospective students. Before this, #3 had scored 2,880.
“She’s almost B-rank, that’s insane!”
Suho clapped politely, then began organizing his pile of business cards that had been blown into a disarray. That hit, it had probably been around the same strength as that Jihyo woman from the Bureau? No, Jihyo was still stronger. He didn't know much about ranks or such things, but he had a feeling.
Yuna was impressive. But he kept putting his cards in order as she took her second strike.
3,699. A lower score. She had hesitated a little before hitting the target—thought too much.
She gritted her teeth and tried again. Suho still didn't look up. The first try had been enough proof of her strength.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Another wave of exclamations went over the crowd as her spear hit the target. He held onto his cards as the same rough wind gusted over them.
He glanced over at the final score.
3,749. Again, lower than her first attempt. Although the crowd cheered, she clicked her tongue and turned away from the testing device.
Suho watched her go. Grandpa Kim’s grandson was like that. He was six years old and hated losing at games. But the more frustrated he got the worse he played.
A hubbub had arisen after Yuna’s turn, the students getting excited at the crazy score. For a second, nobody noticed that Sunghyun had stood up. Once they did, their murmurs completely disappeared.
The #1 was going up the stage.
From the outside, he didn't look like he’d be the strongest. He was tall, but he wasn’t the tallest. He was muscular, but he wasn't huge. And his face was soft, handsome, not hardened. If anything, it would've made more sense to see him on Music Bank**.
But his presence had been proven to the country already. Throughout his entire first year, he had always been #1—even without a fancy repertoire of skills like Yuna. He had come from a tiny state-run orphanage and forged his way to the top by force.
He picked up a basic sword and stepped towards the target. The crowd seemed to collectively hold their breath.
.
.
.
BANG.
They hadn't even realized he’d hit it until the sound came over them.
The wind followed. Suho clutched his cards tightly to his chest as his hair was blown into disarray.
Sunghyun stepped back and looked to the scoreboard. The numbers sped upwards, tension rising in the stadium.
4,101.
“Holy fuck!”
“He broke 4,000!”
Shouts and cheers of surprise rose across both sections.
“B-rank, B-rank!”
“Release the article, he really did it!”
Had a journalist snuck in at some point?
Disregarding the noise around him, Sunghyun stepped back and charged again.
BANG.
The target was physically pushed back this time. It slowly creaked back into position as the score calculated.
4,152.
Another wave of exclamations rose to a din.
Sunghyun stepped back, ignoring them, and took his third turn.
BANG!
He watched the scoreboard’s number go up and up.
4,233.
“Aaand that’s our #1 for you!” the announcer shouted into the mic. “That’s a first year RECORD!”
The cheering just wouldn't die down. Sunghyun smiled dryly and returned to his seat.
Suho watched him go. He was more like Grandpa Kim’s granddaughter. She was much more level-headed than her older brother, despite being only five. But she made that same face even if she won because she always thought she could do better.
Suho let out a short sigh. It had only been a couple days, but he missed the village already.
“Now then, it’s time for our new students to show their mettle!” the announcer continued.
Both cheering and sounds of anxiety rose from the kids seated. Their turn had finally come, good or not.
“Let’s get the final section of your entrance exam started!”
⊕
There were a lot of prospective students, and they wasted time doing useless things up on the podium in the hopes that it would help their score. As a result, the test dragged on far longer than the first years’ exam. In fact, many of the first years had already left—not interested in how a bunch of strangers did. Sunghyun stuck around to watch though, as did Yuna.
Most of the examinees failed. It was to be expected. They were strong for their age, but this was the National Academy. The standards they had to live up to were higher than anyplace else.
Some did get close. There were quite a few in the 900 range, and although they didn't pass immediately, they had hope for making it through the waitlist. Unlike first year students, where 900 was considered failure with no exceptions, the prospective students had a chance. A 900 with no training meant they had potential to grow, so they descended the steps satisfied enough.
Another examinee went up to the stage.
Click.
… Huh?
For the first time, people were roused a bit from their boredom.
He was the first to choose a gun out of all of the other students.
Although they still had their use, guns were only really used by low-level hunters. Because unlike an arrow, the hunter didn't have direct contact with the bullet, so they couldn't adjust the strength of the projectile using aura.
People began whispering about it around Suho. They doubted this kid could do much, considering his best bet was apparently a gun. But he watched carefully. Because he recognized the person who was up there.
It was the cat-eyed boy from before—the one he’d seen briefly over the crowd. He’d taken a huge sniper rifle from the weapon rack, the gun almost taller than he was.
In a split second, without an ounce of hesitation, he turned towards the target and fired while still standing.
BANG.
The sound was explosive. The bullet hit dead center. The student wasn’t even phased by the recoil, despite the shockwave that emanated out of the weapon after the shot. Suho sat forward in his seat, intrigued.
Actually, out of all the weapons available on the academy’s rack, the only one he’d really used before were the guns. Regulations on civilians acquiring them had loosened in Korea after monsters showed up. So Suho used them regularly to hunt in the mountains, and he knew how they felt in his hands. The fact that that student didn't even flinch…
He watched the score tick upward.
880.
Murmurs of confusion rose from around the students. Some had given all they had and scored lower. But with a gun, this thin kid had nearly hit 900?
The boy stared at the number for a second, then nodded to himself as if it was within the expected range.
He reloaded, took aim, and pulled the trigger again.
BANG!
“Woah!”
Some of the examinees had to hold onto the armrests of their seats in surprise as the shockwave hit them, sending loose items flying through the air. The power behind this shot was completely different. They knew what real strength felt like, now that they had seen the first years go once. And this time, the hit woke up even the most tired of the students waiting for the long day to end.
The scoreboard blinked as it reached its final number.
1,621.
The first shot had just been testing the waters.
Before the crowd could even voice its shock and confusion, he pulled the trigger again.
BANG!
One more time, they held onto their belongings as the shockwave blew over them.
And as they watched the numbers flicker again—
1,704.
Voices seemed to burst out from everywhere. He was the first prospective student to get a fully passing grade, but more than that it was an unprecedented score for a newcomer. With strength like that, he’d basically put himself in the top 30 in the class already—without having ever attended.
“He did that with a gun?!”
“Fuck, should I use a gun too? Are they rigged?”
“He’s gotta have some special skill… I’m jealous.”
He calmly set the rifle back onto the weapon rack, unperturbed by the din.
“What’s his name? Somebody get me his name! We need to put him in the article NOW!”
“I’ve got it, it’s on the transcript when they called him up! He’s—”
Kim Kitae. Suho knew it already—he’d been paying attention to everyone who went up to take their turn. And as he turned to descend the stairs, he looked through the crowd and his eyes stopped on Suho again.
Their gazes locked for a moment.
And then he just nodded like before. A slight movement. But to someone with sharp eyes, it was purposeful.
Suho paused, but eventually nodded back.
Kitae looked away and headed down the stairs.