The morning started like it always did, with rain tapping the windows of the academy gym, too light to soak the ground but loud enough to grate on Han Seojin's nerves. Each droplet pinged against the glass like a tiny, insistent reminder of the world moving on without him. He slouched against the back wall, hoodie pulled up to shield his face, hands buried in his pockets. His earbuds dangled in his ears, silent, just props to keep people from talking to him. The gym buzzed with anticipation, a chaotic hum of voices and nervous laughter that filled the air like static.
Today was Bonding Day.
A national holiday, practically a religion. The one day every high schooler dreamed about, more than graduation, more than their first kiss. You stepped up to the Bestia Crystal, touched it, and walked away with your first contracted monster, your ticket to a real life. The system preached it like gospel: Bond, and you are someone. Fail, and you are nothing. Seojin's stomach twisted at the thought, a familiar knot of dread and defiance.
[Initiating First Bonding Ceremony.]
[Welcome to the BestiaCore.]
The robotic voice of the system echoed through the gym, projected from the glowing panel above the crystal. Seojin had heard it before. Four times, to be exact. Four failures. Four years of standing in this same sweaty, over-lit gym, watching others claim their futures while he walked away empty-handed. The youth program allowed four attempts before they cut you off. This was his last.
"Okay, Class A3, line up," Instructor Seo barked, his voice sharp over the chatter. "IDs ready, BestiaCore visible, let's move. And don't forget to smile for the cameras if you pull something above C-rank. Guilds love a good photo op."
The students scrambled into a line, their energy infectious, their sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. Some bounced on their toes, others clutched their BestiaCores, small, wrist-mounted devices that glowed faintly, waiting to sync with a monster's essence. Seojin stayed put, his own Core dull and lifeless under his sleeve, its screen as blank as his hope.
The first girl, Jin Heeyeon, stepped forward. Her pale pink hair caught the overhead lights, shimmering like candy floss, and her perfect skin flushed with nerves. She flashed a shaky smile, the kind that screamed she'd practiced it in the mirror. Her fingers, trembling slightly, pressed against the Bestia Crystal, a towering shard of translucent blue that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Light erupted in soft, rippling waves, bathing the gym in an ethereal glow. A shape coalesced in the air, shimmering and indistinct at first, then solidifying into a white wolf spirit. Its fur gleamed like fresh snow, and its eyes, bright as sapphires, fixed on Heeyeon. The wolf padded forward, silent and graceful, circling her once before sitting at her feet. It nudged her hand with its muzzle, and when she didn't pull away, it licked her fingers gently, like a dog greeting its owner.
Heeyeon's eyes welled up, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Oh my god," she whispered, voice breaking as the wolf wagged its bushy tail, its movements almost playful.
"Impressive," a guild scout muttered from the back, his voice low but carrying in the sudden hush. He scribbled something on his tablet. "She's got a spiritual beast. Wolf spirit's a rare starter. Blue Moon'll snap her up before lunch."
"Bet she'll get offers from Crescent Guild too," another scout replied, leaning back in his folding chair. "She's gonna be a B-rank, minimum."
The gym exploded into applause, a wave of cheers and whistles. Phones flashed as classmates snapped pictures, their voices overlapping in a frenzy of excitement. Heeyeon covered her face, laughing through her sobs, her joy raw and unguarded. Instructor Seo stepped forward, pinning a silver badge to her lapel, its surface etched with the academy's crest. "Congratulations," he said, his tone warm but rehearsed. "You're officially bonded."
Seojin didn't clap. He didn't move. His hands stayed jammed in his pockets, his jaw tight. He didn't hate Heeyeon, she seemed nice enough, always nodding politely when they passed in the halls. But her victory, her wolf, was a reminder of everything he'd never have. He watched, one eye on the wolf as it nuzzled her side, the other fixed on the scuffed gym floor, where a faint crack snaked through the varnish.
One by one, his classmates stepped up. A boy with glasses summoned a scaled ferret, its body glinting like polished armor. A girl with braids got a flame-beaked hawk, its screech echoing as sparks trailed from its wings. Another summoned a two-tailed cat made of glass, its form refracting light into rainbows across the walls. Even the weaker bonds, F-rank critters like a moss-covered turtle or a sparrow with too many eyes, were met with cheers. Because even an F-rank meant the system saw you. It meant you were someone.
"Han Seojin."
His name sliced through the noise, sharp and final, like a guillotine. The gym fell silent, the air heavy with curiosity and pity. Even the scouts looked up, their expressions a mix of boredom and vague interest, like they were watching a predictable tragedy unfold.
Seojin stood, his movements slow, deliberate. He didn't say a word. Just walked, one foot in front of the other, his sneakers silent against the floor. The weight of every eye in the room pressed against him, but he kept his head down, his hoodie shielding his face. He'd done this before. He knew the drill.
He stepped into the summoning circle, a ring of faintly glowing runes etched into the floor. The Bestia Crystal loomed before him, its surface smooth and cold, reflecting his distorted silhouette. He felt small under its gaze, like a bug pinned to a board.
The technician, a wiry man with glasses perched on his nose, cleared his throat. "Please place your hand on the crystal and focus," he said, his voice clipped, professional.
Seojin reached out, his fingers steady despite the churning in his gut. The crystal was cool under his palm, its pulse faint but steady, like a distant drum. He closed his eyes, not because he believed it would help, but because he couldn't stand the thought of seeing nothing happen again.
The crystal pulsed once, a faint thrum against his skin. Then it flickered, a brief spark of light that died as quickly as it came. Then… nothing. Just silence, heavy and suffocating.
The technician frowned, tapping buttons on his console. He leaned closer, squinting at the readouts. "Try again," he said, his voice softer now, almost apologetic.
Seojin pressed his hand harder against the crystal, willing something, anything, to happen. His BestiaCore buzzed faintly on his wrist, but the screen stayed dark. No light. No hum. No monster.
The screen above the platform flickered to life, its display public for all to see. The words burned into Seojin's vision:
[No bond formed.]
[Compatibility: 0.00%]
A cough echoed from the back of the gym. Someone whispered, "Still cursed, huh?" The words weren't cruel, just matter-of-fact, like they were stating the weather.
Instructor Seo sighed, his shoulders sagging. He looked at Seojin with tired eyes, like he wanted to say something kind but couldn't find the words. "Thank you for trying, Seojin," he said finally. "You may step back."
Seojin stepped off the platform, his movements mechanical. Nobody looked at him directly, but he felt their glances, quick, pitying flicks of attention that stung worse than stares. He walked back to his spot by the wall, grabbed his bag, and slipped out the side door. No one stopped him. No one ever did.
The cafeteria was a riot of noise, not cruel, just alive. Laughter bounced off the tiled walls, mixed with excited yells and the occasional shriek when someone's bonded monster did something unexpected. A two-headed lizard skittered across a table, chasing a meatball until it tumbled into a kid's hoodie, eliciting a chorus of laughs. A scaled hyena pup sat by its owner's feet, tail thumping like a metronome, its eyes bright with loyalty.
"Bro, mine unlocked a tracking ability this morning," a kid with spiky hair bragged, leaning back with his feet propped on an empty chair. "It's only D-rank, but I'm getting quest notifications now. It's real."
Another kid, hunched over his BestiaCore, didn't look up. "You think that's cool? My cat evolved last night. She talks now. Full sentences."
"No way. I thought that was a myth."
"Nope. Creepy as hell. She asked me to kill a rat in the dorm, then called me 'her little blade.' I'm half-convinced she's plotting to eat me in my sleep."
The table erupted in laughter, their voices blending into the cafeteria's chaotic symphony. Seojin sat alone at a table by the vending machines, the hum of their motors a low drone in his ears. His tray held a mound of rice, a slab of mystery meat that smelled vaguely of soy, and a bottle of lukewarm peach soda, its label peeling at the edges. The tray was cracked, a jagged line running through its center. His chopsticks were disposable, uneven, with a splinter that pricked his thumb every time he gripped them too hard.
He ate slowly, methodically, ignoring the conversation at the next table over. "He's just cursed," a girl said, not bothering to whisper. "You know, bad karma or something."
"That's what my mom said," her friend replied, stirring her soup. "His family had some accident, right? Maybe he's, like, marked or whatever."
"Still shows up every time, though. That's persistence, I guess."
"More like desperation."
Seojin didn't react. He chewed, the rice tasteless in his mouth, and stared at the soda bottle's faded logo. The words slid off him, familiar as the rain. He'd heard them before, in whispers, in glances, in the way teachers hesitated before calling his name.
A shadow fell across his tray, blocking the fluorescent light. Mr. Lim, his dungeon tactics teacher, stood there, his half-bald head gleaming under the lights, the faint scent of burnt coffee clinging to his jacket. He set a paper on the table, its edges crisp. "Seojin," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Graded your latest theory module. Clean work. Impressive, honestly."
Seojin blinked, caught off guard. "Thanks," he mumbled, glancing at the paper. A 95, marked in red ink, with neat checkmarks beside each answer.
"You get it better than most," Mr. Lim went on, scratching the back of his neck. "The way you analyze rift patterns, monster behaviors… If you ever get a bond, you'll make a solid support unit. Maybe even a strategist."
Seojin looked up, a faint smile tugging at his lips, more reflex than feeling. "If the gods ever decide they like me, I'll let you know."
Mr. Lim winced, like he'd walked into a verbal trap of his own making. "Keep working," he said, his tone softer. "Sometimes late bloomers…" He trailed off, the words hanging unfinished, and walked away, his footsteps heavy on the tiled floor.
Seojin stared at the graded paper. The 95 stared back, meaningless. It didn't matter how well he understood dungeon theory or rift mechanics. Without a bond, he was just a ghost in the system, drifting through a world that didn't want him.
He finished his meal in silence, the chatter of the cafeteria fading into a dull hum.
The rain had stopped by the time Seojin left the academy, but the sky stayed gray, heavy with clouds that couldn't decide whether to weep or hold back. He avoided the main street, cutting through the alley behind the academy instead. It was narrow, littered with cigarette butts and crumpled energy drink cans, but it was quiet. Fewer people. Fewer eyes. His phone, dead in his pocket, weighed heavy against his thigh. His bag, slung over one shoulder, held the crumpled theory paper and his silent BestiaCore, a useless piece of tech that had never once spoken to him the way it did for others.
He didn't head home. There was no one waiting there anyway. His mom was at the hospital, pulling double shifts to keep the lights on. His sister stayed locked in her room, lost in her own world of music and sketchbooks. His dad… his dad was a memory, his voice fading like an old recording, leaving only the echo of a laugh Seojin couldn't quite place. Going home now meant a cold apartment, the click of a stove, and a hallway that creaked with every step, amplifying the emptiness.
So he wandered, his sneakers scuffing against the cracked pavement. The city was changing, construction zones sprawling like scars across the district. The council was expanding containment barriers again, pushing residential walls outward to cage the growing number of rifts. Magisteel pylons, etched with faintly glowing sigils, rose from the ground every few blocks, their hum a low pulse in the air. Survey drones buzzed overhead, their red lights blinking like distant stars. Signs were everywhere, bolted to fences and taped to walls.
WARNING: UNSTABLE BREACH SITE. ACCESS FOR LICENSED PERSONNEL ONLY.
Nobody really watched these places. Rifts this far out were low-priority, unstable but harmless until they fully formed. Seojin ducked under the yellow tape, not because he was reckless, but because it was a shortcut. He just wanted to move through the world unseen, like a shadow slipping between cracks.
The ground was uneven, gravel crunching under his feet, loose and unsteady. He kept his head down, hands in his pockets, the hum of generators growing louder as he neared the rift core. It sat in a temporary scaffold, a lattice of glowing sigil pylons that pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat struggling to stabilize. He didn't look at it. Didn't need to. He'd studied rifts enough in class to know what they looked like, how they worked.
He didn't see the breach point.
One step, and the earth vanished. The ground collapsed, not with a crack but with a soft, sickening give, like stepping into quicksand. His body dropped, air ripping past his ears in a deafening roar. The world blurred into a tunnel of gray and blue, his stomach lurching as he fell. No time to scream. No time to brace.
The impact wasn't as brutal as he expected. The floor caught him, hard but not bone-shattering, its surface smooth and strangely warm, pulsing faintly like something alive. Pain flared in his shoulder where he landed, a dull throb radiating down his arm. His back ached, and something warm dripped from his elbow, staining his sleeve red. He groaned, pushing himself up, his palms pressing against the stone. The air was thick, heavy with dust that swirled in slow, lazy spirals, like silt suspended in water. The silence was wrong, too complete, too heavy, unbroken by the hum of the city above.
He glanced at his BestiaCore. The screen flickered with static, a mess of garbled lines and symbols. No signal. No dungeon classification. No automated alerts or warnings. Just… nothing. This wasn't a normal dungeon rift. The system should've been screaming at him, location data, threat level, evacuation protocols. Instead, it was silent, like it didn't even know this place existed.
Seojin pulled himself to his feet, his legs shaky but holding. The chamber was wide, maybe twenty meters across, its walls carved from obsidian-veined stone that gleamed faintly in the dim light. Strange markings looped across the ceiling and floor, angular symbols that didn't match any script he'd studied, though they reminded him of runes from old textbooks, Nordic, maybe, or something older. They pulsed faintly, a rhythm that matched the floor's subtle thrum.
At the far end of the chamber stood a statue. Not just a statue, a wolf. Massive, towering five meters tall, its body bound by thick, rusted chains that wrapped around its legs, neck, and torso. Its jaws were parted in a frozen snarl, teeth sharp enough to make Seojin's skin prickle. The eyes were closed, carved with such precision that every eyelash seemed to shimmer. The fur, though stone, looked like it could ripple in the wind, each strand etched with impossible detail.
Seojin stared, his breath catching. There was no plaque, no display, no portal back to the surface. Just the wolf and the dark, heavy air that pressed against his chest. He stepped closer, his sneakers silent on the pulsing floor. He didn't know why. Curiosity, maybe, or something deeper, something that tugged at his gut like a hook. The air around the statue grew heavier with each step, charged like the moment before a storm, prickling his skin and making his hair stand on end.
He stopped beneath the wolf's jaw, its fang looming above him, smooth and cold and sharp. He reached up, his hand trembling, not sure what he was doing but unable to stop. His fingers brushed the fang, its surface like polished ice. It pricked his skin, just a nick, just enough to sting. A single drop of blood welled up, red against his fingertip, and fell.
The fang drank it.
The world stopped. The chains snapped, not all at once but one by one, each link breaking with a scream of tortured metal. Dust and sparks erupted from the wolf's limbs, swirling like a storm. The chamber shuddered, the floor trembling under Seojin's feet. The symbols on the walls flared to life, glowing a sickly red that pulsed in time with his racing heart.
He stumbled back, his breath hitching, as the statue's eyes opened. They weren't eyes, they were voids, endless and black, pulling at him like gravity. A voice filled the chamber, not from a mouth but from everywhere, a presence that pressed against his mind and became sound the moment it touched his ears.
"Who dares to bind me?"
The voice was deep, rough, etched into the air like a blade carving stone. Seojin's knees buckled, and he fell, his palms slamming against the floor. His chest constricted, like a tidal wave had crashed over him, holding him under with crushing pressure.
"You are not him," the voice continued, colder now, "yet you reek of his power."
The statue moved. Not all of it, just the head, turning with a grinding sound that made Seojin's teeth ache. It looked at him, its void-eyes boring into his soul. The chains finished breaking, dust swirling as the wolf's body shifted. Stone became sinew, fur, flesh, the transformation violent and jagged, like reality was fighting to reject it. The wolf stood, towering, its fur a storm of black and silver, its presence a weight that made the air feel thin.
It roared, the sound not just in Seojin's ears but inside his skull, his bones, his blood. He covered his ears, but it didn't help. The sound was everywhere, shaking him to his core.
"I will not return to that prison!" the wolf bellowed, its voice a mix of rage and something older, something wounded. "I will not be tricked again! You wear the shell of prey, but I see his power in your core!"
The wolf lunged, its massive body a blur of motion. Seojin reacted on instinct, not thought. He screamed, not out loud, but from somewhere deep, a command that tore through him like fire.
"Submit!"
His BestiaCore flashed, its screen blazing with light for the first time in his life. The air warped, the runes on the walls flaring brighter. An unseen force slammed into the wolf, freezing it mid-air, its limbs locked as if caught in invisible chains. Its body trembled, muscles straining against the binding, its eyes wide with shock.
"Impossible," it snarled, its voice a low rumble. "A command… from prey?"
A pause. Then a chuckle, low and dangerous, laced with amusement. "You have the power of those keepers. Clever little whelp."
The light in Seojin's Core grew brighter, its screen flickering to life. Words appeared, stark and impossible:
[You have formed a contract with: FENRIR, THE DEVOURER OF WORLDS.]
[Role: Bringer of the Apocalypse]
[New Quest Added.]
The chamber dimmed, the symbols on the walls fading to a dull glow. Fenrir sat, its massive form still towering over Seojin, its gaze locked on him with an intensity that made his skin crawl.
"You are not Odin," the wolf said, its voice calmer now, but no less dangerous. "This is not Asgard."
"Then what is this world, child?" it asked, tilting its head, its eyes glinting like twin voids. "Where have you brought me?"
Seojin didn't have an answer. His heart pounded, his hands shook, and his mind reeled, struggling to process what had just happened. The weight of the wolf's presence pressed against him, its question hanging in the air like a blade.
Fenrir's eyes glowed in the dark, unblinking, waiting.