Kim Man-su was an instructor responsible for training new recruits at the Seonjook Mercenary Corps. However, neither he nor any other instructor thought of him as a "real" instructor.

It was only natural—he had been the deputy commander of the mercenary corps until just a week ago. Who would take him seriously in this new role?

He didn’t become an instructor because he wanted to train new recruits or impart knowledge. Instead, he was here due to a disciplinary action. After beating up a councilman’s son, and then the journalist who filmed the incident, he was demoted from his position.

It was a simple story: he became an instructor as a form of punishment. To placate the councilman who came yelling to the mercenary base, the commander personally stripped him of his rank and reassigned him.

But everyone in the corps knew that the demotion was merely ceremonial. After all, what kind of mercenary company uses someone with superhuman abilities as an instructor?

Kim Man-su understood this as well, so he endured his dull days without complaint. Day in and day out, it was the same—today, yesterday, and likely tomorrow.

He stepped out of his office to avoid the gazes of his subordinates, then lit a cigarette by a window overlooking the outside. The weather in Kaesong was as unremarkable as ever—neither particularly good nor bad.

In the distance, the dimensional gate continuously bustled with people and cargo coming and going. Occasionally, he spotted fools hoping to join the corps, but most couldn’t endure the admission tests and fled with their tails between their legs.

Now and then, a capable one would pass and walk through the corridors with the instructors. Yet, none of them ever met his standards.

‘Mercenary recruitment really is lacking these days. Look at the sorry state of the new recruits...’

While idly contemplating, he noticed someone peculiar—a young man in a crisp, casual suit, likely picked out by a girlfriend, dragging a large suitcase.

Kim Man-su initially dismissed him as a reporter who had wandered in or a junior civil servant. But then the young man began walking directly toward the Seonjook building.

‘…Could he be here for the test?’

Narrowing his eyes, he examined the young man more closely. Enhanced with mana, his vision made the figure clearer.

‘What a pretty-boy face.’

The young man looked rather handsome, with golden eyes—likely colored contact lenses. He seemed more suited to be an idol than a mercenary.

Age-wise, he looked to be somewhere between a boy and a young man, though it was hard to pinpoint his exact age.

‘Actually, he might not be too bad.’

The more Kim Man-su observed, the more he appreciated the air around him. The man’s steady steps reminded him of a sharpened blade, and the tension in his stance suggested he could throw a punch at any moment.

Not just some pretty face, then. He had clearly undergone some serious training.

‘A superhuman aspirant… maybe he failed the academy admissions?’

“Superhuman aspirant” was a term for those who had trained since childhood with potions, aiming to become superhumans. Most came from wealthy families who could afford the potions, but sometimes poorer families gambled on their children with these expensive concoctions.

Of course, if simply consuming potions could make one a superhuman, then fostering superhumans wouldn’t need to be a national endeavor.

Only a few aspirants could sense mana, and fewer still could wield it to become true superhumans. Some applied to superhuman academies to increase their chances, but such places were strictly for those on the brink of becoming superhuman.

Every year, young hopefuls faced harsh realities and broken dreams as they failed to make the cut.

For the wealthy, the potion expenses might just be an investment in health. But for poorer families, the failed aspirants often ended up at mercenary corps to pay off their potion debts, sometimes abandoning their education altogether.

‘Looks like I’ll have to handle this entrance test myself.’

Having finished his cigarette down to the last stub, he headed downstairs. Sure enough, the young man was standing in the lobby, conversing with an employee.

“Hey, Park Young-soo.”

“Yes, Deputy... I mean, Mr. Kim. What is it?”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not the deputy anymore. Anyway, see that guy over there?”

He pointed to the young man with the suitcase and caught another instructor passing by.

“I’m handling that guy’s entrance test myself.”

“You? You want to do it personally?”

“Yeah, he gives off a vibe I like.”

“…I don’t sense anything special about him, though.”

Kim Man-su glared at him, and Park Young-soo reluctantly approached the lobby counter to speak with the staff. After a brief exchange, the young man showed some paperwork, then the instructor returned empty-handed.

“What? Why’d you come back so soon?”

“He said he’s not here for the entrance test.”

“What? Is he applying for an office position, then?”

“No, apparently he’s already accepted. He has an acceptance letter.”

Kim Man-su’s brow furrowed. An acceptance letter?

“Since when do we issue those?”

“…About ten years ago, sir.”

“….”

Park Young-soo sighed, scribbled something down on a piece of paper, and handed it to Kim Man-su.

“They’re assigning him to Squad 3 for specialization training, and then he’s off to the field.”

“Squad 3? They’re sending a rookie straight to Manchuria?”

“His application must’ve been impressive. If you like him, why not go see for yourself?”

With that, Park Young-soo walked away. Kim Man-su glanced at the note.

“Name, Cheon Yeomyeong. Specialization: good at everything?”

This guy must be nuts. Kim Man-su chuckled and crumpled the paper.

 

After confirming his acceptance letter, the lobby staff led Yeomyeong down into the basement. It was more of a bunker than a basement, with thick iron doors and a descent into a deep underground level.

As he continued, a faint scent of blood wafted through the air—different from the scent of human blood.

Yeomyeong scrunched his nose, focusing his mana-enhanced senses. Although he couldn’t identify the blood's source, he detected hints of oil and gunpowder in the background.

‘It’s not just blood, then.’

The deeper he followed the employee, the stronger the smell grew. Finally, they reached their destination, and the scent made sense.

‘…A monster?’

They arrived at a concrete area resembling a parking garage, where a massive creature was chained up in the center.

The creature looked like a wolf, yet not quite. It had two heads and six legs.

“Who’s… Ah, damn it. Don’t tell me this is the rookie.”

A man with a large scar across his face, polishing a massive sword, turned to look at Yeomyeong and the employee.

His intimidating presence felt almost predatory.

The employee handed him some paperwork, and the man glanced over it before raising an eyebrow.

“Hell, you really are the rookie. Only a day left till deployment, and they’re sending you… Tch, fine.”

As he spoke, the employee bowed and left, leaving the two men and the monster alone in the bunker.

The only sounds were the employee’s retreating footsteps and the monster’s ragged breathing.

Once they were alone, the scarred man approached with his sword.

“Name’s Man Seok-cheol. Don’t bother remembering it. We won’t be meeting again after today.”

“I’m Cheon Yeomyeong.”

“Cheon Yeomyeong, eh? You’ve got an interesting ‘specialization’ listed. Is it cockiness, or confidence?”

Yeomyeong remembered the skill Seti had written down in his application:

Good at everything.

To others, it might seem like sheer arrogance. Was this Seti’s way of pranking him? He doubted it. Knowing her, she probably meant it sincerely.

Choosing to trust her judgment, he met Man Seok-cheol’s eyes with a confident smile.

“It’s confidence.”

“Hmm. Young and cocky, huh? Not bad.”

Man Seok-cheol’s tone was hard to read as he handed Yeomyeong the massive sword—a blade better suited to butchering tuna.

Once Yeomyeong took the sword, Man Seok-cheol gestured toward the monster.

“Cheon Yeomyeong, you see that creature?”

“Yes, I see it.”

“We captured that thing from the Manchurian rift. It took some effort to bring it back alive. Why do you think we bothered?”

“…For experiments?”

“Close, but wrong. It’s not for experiments—it’s for a test.”

“…A test?”

What kind of test involved a dying monster? Yeomyeong tilted his head, and Man Seok-cheol smirked.

“What do you think is the most important thing for capturing monsters?”

“Weapons?”

“Sure, weapons matter. You could shred a monster like that with one clip from an automatic rifle… but no. That’s not the answer.”

After a pause, he looked Yeomyeong in the eye.

“To catch monsters, humans are more important than weapons. No matter how powerful the weapon, it’s useless if you freeze up.”

Is that so? Yeomyeong pondered this, his expression questioning.

“You don’t seem convinced. I’m guessing you’ll pass with flying colors.”

“What exactly is this test?”

“A fear test.”

Taking a step back, Man Seok-cheol retrieved a small button from his pocket, its presence exuding a sense of foreboding.

Click. The moment he pressed the button, the chains restraining the monster slackened.

-Grrr...

The wolf-like creature’s six eyes gleamed as it locked onto Yeomyeong.

Now free, the beast crouched low, ready to pounce. Man Seok-cheol’s gaze grew icy.

“There are still chains on its neck, so don’t get too scared. As long as you don’t take a single step from that spot—”

Before he could finish, Yeomyeong moved first, launching himself toward the monster.