As human civilization advanced, people often said that the forms of happiness became more diverse. But the kinds of happiness most people desired could generally be divided into three categories.

First, winning the lottery.
Second, winning the pension lottery.
And third...

“What’s that? It stinks.”

In response to that question, a student sitting in the classroom, sipping herbal medicine through a straw, answered casually.

“No idea. My mom made me take it.”
“Why are you taking herbal medicine when the college entrance exam is over?”
“For the Awakened Ability Test. I heard someone took this and got a C-rank.”
“What? Are you serious? Didn’t you get scammed? If it’s real, let me have a sip.”
“Get lost.”

That’s right. On top of the lottery, one more dream had been added to the hopes of every Korean citizen—the Awakened Ability Test, conducted as soon as they turned 20.

Commonly referred to as the Ability Test.

If you received a C-rank or higher in this test, you would be certified as eligible to work as a hunter.

“But if you qualify, are you really going to become a hunter? Isn’t it too dangerous?”
“What are you talking about? If I qualify, I have to do it. Have you seen how much S-rank hunters earn? Even winning the lottery twice couldn’t compare.”
“Yeah, but that’s only if you get an S-rank. What if you end up with a mediocre C-rank? You’d just be cannon fodder, and if you get into an accident during mandatory service, what then?”
“Still, they earn better than regular people. It’s a shot at a new life.”

The classroom was filled with meaningless, noisy chatter, as expected on the day after the college entrance exam. I let their conversations wash over me and stared out the window alone.

After finishing my shift at the convenience store last night, I was honestly exhausted. But with the Ability Test scheduled right afterward, I couldn’t even afford to take a nap.

‘I just want this to be over so I can get some sleep.’

Honestly, I was skeptical about the existence of the Ability Test itself.

Everyone treated it like a lottery, but if someone was capable of scoring C-rank or higher, their abilities would’ve already manifested in daily life.

In modern South Korea, minors were protected by law and couldn’t use mana detectors or connect to the system to act as hunters until they turned 20. However, talent always revealed itself early—like how big trees start as noticeable saplings.

Kids with any amount of talent usually showed signs.

Even without trying, they’d feel the flow of mana and accidentally set fires that burned down houses, or they’d overpower their peers in fights with strength far beyond normal. Cases like those were so common that they no longer made the news.

In other words, if someone hadn’t experienced anything like that before now, they were likely just ordinary people—probably F-rank.

F-rank meant they completely lacked the ability to sense mana circuits, which made it nearly impossible to discover anything new through the Ability Test.

Most people were only taking the test because it felt like buying a lottery ticket after the college entrance exam.

Frankly, I didn’t get it.

Why would anyone want to become a hunter in today’s South Korea?

‘Sure, about 20 years ago, living as an ordinary person might’ve been hard...’

When the system first emerged and gates opened worldwide, things were chaotic. Back then, dangers were poorly managed, and survival wasn’t guaranteed.

But things had changed.

Nowadays, most gates were properly regulated, making it perfectly safe to live as an ordinary citizen.

In fact, becoming a half-baked hunter meant enduring 39 months of mandatory service—risking your life just to close gates. Sure, the pay was decent, but was it worth the risk?

Besides the money, what else was there? Honor for protecting the public? Pride?

Who in this day and age risked their life for things like that?

Definitely not me.

I just wanted to live a normal life—ace the college entrance exam, get into a decent university, find a stable job at a company, and collect a paycheck every month.

“Hey. Hey! Jung Da-on.”

Lost in my thoughts, I heard someone call my name.

The guy sitting in the empty seat in front of me was grinning like he was about to start some trouble.

“You must’ve scored well on the exam. You look like the type.”

We’d been in the same class for a year, but we weren’t particularly close. I just gave him a vague nod.

“It came out about the same as my practice tests.”
“Wow, lucky you. That means you probably met the early admission requirements. You’re basically set for college, right?”
“...”

When I didn’t respond to his obvious remark, the guy’s face immediately twisted. He must’ve thought I was ignoring him.

“Special admission programs sure are nice, huh? You and I had about the same grades, but damn… Looks like I’m stuck retaking the exam.”

That so-called “special admission” he mentioned was short for the Social Consideration Admission Program. In my case, it specifically referred to the Orphaned Youth Category.

Anyone could see just how ridiculous his words were.

‘Why the hell is he taking his anger out on me for screwing up his own exam?’

I was annoyed, but I knew perfectly well why he had decided to pick a fight with me.

In this capitalist society, where affording a single study guide could be a struggle, a girl in my position was naturally seen as pitiful—and an easy target to vent frustrations on.

Now that I thought about it, he probably applied to the same university as me… and must’ve bombed the test.

“Man, I’m so jealous. You basically have a free pass to college.”

I pressed my fingers against my temples, trying to ease the irritation.

‘Should I help you qualify for the same program? You pathetic piece of trash…’

I was dying to snap back with that line, but I bit my tongue, forcing myself to swallow the bubbling anger.

‘Calm down. I’m not letting some loser like this ruin my entire day.’

I had plans after the Ability Test. My older brother had even taken half a day off from his new job so we could have dinner together. If I let this idiot get to me and something messed up our plans, it’d be a disaster. Not to mention, I’d have to endure endless nagging later.

“What’s this? You’re not crying, are you?”
“Who the hell is crying, you litt—”
“What?”
“……”

I almost lost control and let my temper flare, so I just stood up instead.

The heat bubbling inside me was a clear warning—I needed to get out of there before I really lost it.

“Hey! I’m not done talking yet—where do you think you’re going?”

I heard him yelling behind me, but I didn’t bother looking back.

—Bang!

After stepping out of the classroom, I kicked the wall.

Thud!

Damn this country and its forced communal living.

Even after kicking the wall, my anger didn’t subside. All I did was hurt my own foot.

The untrained body of a normal person like me really wasn’t worth much. Weak and unimpressive in every way—I couldn’t find a single thing about myself that I liked.

But this was the last time I had to hold myself back.

In South Korea, the Ability Test was mandatory only once—right before becoming a legal adult.

If no significant talent was detected today, it would be safe to say I’d never have to deal with the system or anything related to hunters ever again.

After all, I’d spent the past 19 years trying to live as a normal person.

I just had to endure today.

Dragging my sore foot, I headed toward the auditorium. Half of my class was already lined up, undergoing the Ability Test.

This process—measuring every minor’s potential abilities in one go—might’ve been a violation of human rights, but it sure was efficient.

With 150 students in our school, maybe 10 of them would score the minimum qualification of C-rank required to be a hunter. At most, there might be 20.

The examiner—most likely a C-rank hunter—looked exhausted, flipping through stacks of papers while scanning the line of students.

He didn’t seem particularly enthusiastic about the process.

And why would he be? Any promising A- or B-rank candidates would’ve already stood out and been scouted long before this test.

As far as I knew, there wasn’t anyone in my school with noteworthy talent anyway.

The line moved quickly, and before I knew it, it was my turn.

The examiner skimmed through my file and spoke indifferently.

“Place your hand on the machine for fingerprint scanning.”

The fingerprint identification system, which foreigners often criticized as an invasion of privacy, was now being used for Ability Tests as well.

This country sure had a thing for efficiency—though, admittedly, it was convenient.

I cautiously placed my hand on the scanning device.

-Recognizing Subject.

Subject Name: Jung Da-on
Age: 19

-Scanning Mana Circuit.

So far, it was exactly as expected.

As the letters appeared on the screen, an unpleasant sensation flowed through my veins from my hand.

Since mana flows through the bloodstream, it was unavoidable to feel discomfort during the mana circuit scan. Still, I couldn’t help but grimace for a moment.

It would be over quickly, so I just had to endure it.

-Processing Scan.
-Detecting Mana Circuit.
-Please wait a moment.

The examiner yawned, clearly unable to bear the dull process any longer.

It must have been exhausting to examine over a hundred students who were unlikely to have any notable talent.

And I was exhausted too.

As soon as this Ability Test was over, I planned to leave the school without even going back to the classroom.

With this, my tiresome academic life—more specifically, the forced group activities—would finally end.

Just thinking about it being over made it easier to tolerate this brief boredom.

“……”
“……”

Of course, just because school life was over didn’t mean my expenses would disappear.

I’d still need to keep working part-time jobs.

There was plenty of time before the semester started, so working more shifts would help me save up for living expenses.

I couldn’t keep relying on my brother forever, no matter how much he told me not to worry.

-Processing Scan.

…But why was it taking so long?

“Huh? Is there an error with the machine? Student, take your hand off for a moment and try again—”

The examiner stood up just as it happened.

-Beep!
-Measurement Error Detected.
-No Mana Circuit Found.

“Ah.”

The examiner let out a short laugh.

I stared at the screen calmly.

I had done enough research to know that this kind of result was possible.

If someone’s body completely lacked a mana circuit, the machine would simply show an error.

It wasn’t very common.

Even most ordinary people had some trace of talent, however faint.

Getting an error like this was essentially the same as being branded as completely talentless.

In a society where becoming a high-ranking hunter was seen as hitting the jackpot, this would probably be devastating for most people.

Feigning slight disappointment, I prepared to remove my hand.

“This is it, right?”

“Ah, wait a second. Could you leave your hand there just a little longer?”

…But then something unexpected happened.

-Attempting to Reconnect to System for Detailed Ability Analysis.

“...What?”

-Please wait while connecting to the system.

“Oh, this is actually a new update. It’s designed to prevent the machine from missing hidden talents. It connects to the system on-site for a more detailed scan…”

What kind of nonsense is that?!

As the examiner explained absentmindedly, the faint energy that had been lingering around my hand suddenly surged through my entire body—bursting out like bubbles popping.

It happened so quickly that I had no time to react.

-Connecting to System.
-User: Jung Da-on (Temporary).

“Wait—!”

-Scan Complete.

Beep!

A loud, shrill sound echoed from the machine, followed by text appearing on the screen.

-Congratulations!
-Potential Ability Grade: S-Rank.
-Examiner, please proceed with registration for this user.

“...Huh?”

The examiner let out a dumbfounded sound.

If I’d had even a shred of composure left, I would’ve clamped his mouth shut.

But before I could, the examiner collapsed backward.

Crash!

"W-what...? S, S-rank...?!"

The examiner's voice echoed throughout the spacious auditorium.

S-rank… S-rank… S-rank…

Aside from his voice, a deathly silence filled the room.

For the first time, I realized that teenagers could actually stay quiet for this long.

But it didn’t last.

“S-rank?!”
“T-this is insane.”

The auditorium erupted into chaos.

“S-rank? Did Jung Da-on just get an S-rank?”
“Jung Da-on? Isn’t she the top student in our school?”
“Is this real? Did she just hit the jackpot?”
“Wait, but Jung Da-on’s always been so ordinary. How did she get an S-rank?”
“Yeah, she’s so frail she skips gym class all the time. How is this possible?”
“Did she cheat somehow?”
“How do you cheat the system?”
“Hey, record this. This is definitely making the news.”

“……”

While hearing the sound of phones recording and the endless murmurs of disbelief, I clutched my head.

Now wasn’t the time to worry about the noise from those clueless kids.

Because after being forcefully connected to the system, glowing text that only I could see had appeared in my vision.

And it was written in bright red letters.

-The system has detected the ‘Destroyer of Worlds.’
-This server has not met the conditions for the emergence of the ‘Destroyer of Worlds.’
-The ‘Destroyer of Worlds’ will be excluded.

Fuck. I’m screwed.