“…This is insane.”
The silence stretched long, and the reaction was short. That single muttered phrase from one student perfectly summed up everything Haru had just done.
It made no sense. How could someone react that quickly in a situation they were experiencing for the first time at just eighteen?
The question surged up, and Sihyeon was once again shocked. As soon as the test began, the only ones who had used their skills were himself and Haru. In that sense, you could say they were somewhat similar—but the level was completely different. A basic barrier and tearing apart an Irregular couldn’t even be compared on the same scale.
The barrier Sihyeon had deployed was an extremely basic Healer skill. Even then, despite having planned to use it before the test began, all he could manage was a small, thin shield just enough to protect himself. But Haru…
It was hard to even tell if he was using a skill at all. He was just charging in and ripping them apart with a blade—should that even be called a skill, or was it just pure physical ability?
“Kiiieeek—!”
His thoughts were cut off as the other Wormmen screeched. When one let out a roar, the others followed. One alone hadn’t been much—but together, it felt like the entire field was shaking.
The noise tore at his ears. Just the volume alone felt enough to knock someone unconscious.
Then—
Fweeeet—
A whistle rang out as the screeching subsided.
“Wow, your partner’s seriously cool! Did you pick him knowing he’d be like that?”
Haeun’s voice. Turning his head, Sihyeon saw him waving casually, even in this situation, winking as if nothing was wrong.
“Kiiik—!”
Before he could respond, the Wormmen began moving in earnest. Fortunately, they didn’t seem to act as a coordinated group—each one headed in its own direction.
It was a relief that all twenty-nine remaining Wormmen didn’t swarm Haru at once. But that didn’t make it any better that one of them was approaching Sihyeon.
His blue eyes fixed on the barrier.
The barrier would hold for now—but there was no way to know how long it would last. This was his first time both using it and taking an attack. He didn’t even have the smallest scrap of reliable information.
Sihyeon glanced at the Wormman’s head. Of course, there was no red HP bar floating above it. There was no way to quantify how much damage his attacks would do, or how many hits it would take to kill one.
This wasn’t a game.
And in this surreal situation where things felt like a game, that fact made reality hit even harder.
He didn’t have the talent to instantly utilize abilities he had just gained to fight Irregulars. The only thing he could do was think more rationally and stay calmer than the others.
Most Awakened used a special energy unique to them—mana—to activate skills, and each skill consumed a certain amount of it. He had learned that in theory during engraving, but actually experiencing it was different. He couldn’t tell how much mana he had used.
This wasn’t a game. He couldn’t see his mana pool, nor how much each ability consumed.
Feeling his lack of experience keenly, Sihyeon finally understood the true purpose of this placement test.
Everyone here was in the same situation as him. They had to adapt to unfamiliar abilities and respond to a sudden, dangerous scenario. Most people would struggle just to stand still.
But—
“Kiiieeek—!”
Haru, who was fighting two Wormmen at once on his own, was different.
A laugh—half disbelief, half mockery—escaped Sihyeon’s lips. This really was the perfect setup to evaluate innate talent and instinct. It drove home once again that this was a military training school.
And that it was completely insane.
Step.
Lost in thought, Sihyeon didn’t notice how close the Wormman had gotten until it opened its mouth.
“Kueeek!”
As it roared, a saliva-like substance splattered against his barrier. A surge of disgust hit him. He considered casting another barrier, but without knowing how much mana it consumed, recklessly using his abilities felt risky.
When he first cast it, he had felt something leave his body—but he couldn’t gauge how much.
And now, the Wormman was right in front of him.
There was no more time to think.
“Kiiik!”
The Wormman raised its brown arm.
Bang!
Its sharp claw slammed into the barrier.
Crack.
A fracture spread across Sihyeon’s shield.
What garbage durability.
Biting his lip, Sihyeon gripped the pink staff tighter. His mind raced at an overwhelming speed. Could he stack barriers? What if casting another replaced the current one? What if it attacked in that split second? What options did he even have?
Thoughts flashed through his head so fast it felt like his brain was overheating. His lips were crushed between his teeth.
Fine. If it’s come to this—
All or nothing. There’s no way they’d actually let me die.
The teachers were watching. If it got dangerous, they would intervene. Clinging to that as his only reassurance, Sihyeon tightened his grip on the staff.
Just as he was about to cast another barrier—
Bang!
—Crack!
The Wormman struck again.
The transparent barrier shattered into pieces.
“Kiiieeek!”
The Wormman screeched in triumph.
And then—
Slice.
Its head was severed.
“…….”
Sihyeon froze, blinking at the scene in front of him. The decapitated Wormman twitched violently, its severed head writhing on the ground as it let out a grotesque cry.
“Kkueeek!”
Only then did Sihyeon realize how close he had been to dying. His body swayed as his legs gave out.
But before he could fall, someone caught him.
“Are you okay?”
A calm voice, completely out of place in the chaos.
Sihyeon looked up—and met platinum-colored eyes. His breath, which he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, came rushing out as he gasped.
Drip, drip.
Black blood fell from the tip of Yoo Seowoo’s blade.
Even if Sihyeon had been careless, cutting down a Wormman in a single strike—
Seowoo smiled gently, his eyes curving.
It was a smile Sihyeon had seen many times. One he had always tried to avoid. Yet now, in this surreal situation, it strangely brought him a sense of stability.
That realization irritated him.
Should he say thank you?
As he hesitated, the Wormman’s body—still writhing despite losing its head—tilted toward Seowoo. Seeing it as an attack, Sihyeon’s eyes widened, but Seowoo simply lifted his foot and kicked it down.
Thud!
The massive body collapsed.
It was dead.
A primal fear gripped Sihyeon, making his body tremble. As he frowned at the discomfort, Seowoo grabbed his arm.
The warmth was reassuring.
But even more than that—it was uncomfortable.
“You have to be careful.”
His soft voice brushed against Sihyeon’s ear. Sihyeon tried to pull his arm away, but Seowoo’s grip didn’t loosen.
“Let go.”
Sihyeon’s gaze turned cold.
“I’ll protect you.”
“…No thanks.”
He was grateful for the help—but he had no desire to be held onto. Still, feeling somewhat indebted, he didn’t immediately push him away. Instead, he slowly tried to remove Seowoo’s hand.
Seeing Sihyeon’s hand overlap his, Seowoo’s eyes softened before he willingly let go.
“You can just close your eyes and hide behind me.”
“Stop talking nonsense.”
Did he think he was a three-year-old? Even after being snapped at, Seowoo just smiled.
Even after being insulted… what kind of taste is that?
Shaking his head, Sihyeon stepped aside and looked toward Haru.
Haru, who had finished off his first target, was now surrounded—not by two, but more than five Wormmen.
Sihyeon tried to Copy one of Haru’s skills—but felt nothing. He had thought he could at least Copy something related to Assassination, but there was nothing. Either his proficiency was lacking—
Or…
Haru was fighting purely with physical ability.
Realizing that, Sihyeon felt a chill run down his spine as he wrapped his arms around himself.
Despite being an Assassin, Haru was rampaging through the Wormmen with just two daggers. Two at a time. It took time to finish them off, but he inflicted countless wounds.
It was absurd.
And then—
Two of the Wormmen he had been overwhelming suddenly spread their wings.
“…How are you supposed to fight that?”
Their large wings flapped a few times, and then they lifted into the air.
So they could fly.
“Haru hyung….”
A sense of dread crept in as Sihyeon stared at him. From what he’d seen, Haru could leap briefly into the air—but sustained aerial combat was impossible.
Of course, even that much was already incredible.
Fighting five Wormmen at once without a single serious injury was already beyond human. But true monsters—Irregulars—were on another level.
The flying Wormmen looked down at Haru.
The sound of their wings beating filled the air. Veins stood out on the back of Haru’s hand.
Three on the ground. Two in the air. Even for Haru, this was bad.
Gripping his staff, Sihyeon prepared to step in, planning to cast a barrier and support him—
But then, another figure leapt into the fray.
Lee Hamin.
