The waiting hall was bigger than it looked from the outside. Steel walls rose high on all sides. White ceiling lights glowed without a single flicker.
The air smelled faintly of metal and the low hum of electricity filled the space. Everything was too clean, too polished, the kind of clean that tried to cover up the blood it was built on.
Nearly two hundred candidates crowded the floor, packed close yet still strangers. Some were sons and daughters of people the world knew–children of presidents, generals, ministers and CEOs.
The daughter of France's president stood near the front, a polished drone hovering at her side.
Not far from her, the tall son of Brazil's defense minister whispered with two bodyguards disguised as candidates. Even the nephew of the United Korean Prime Minister was here, his family crest stitched proudly onto his jacket.
From his corner, Aren leaned against the wall with his hood low. He kept his shoulders bent forward, back against the wall as if trying to make himself smaller.
But his eyes never stopped moving. He watched the guards at the checkpoint, their black armor, the rifles resting against their chests.
They looked more like machines than men and Aren's jaw tightened every time their helmets turned his way.
He hated how nervous he looked. His hands stayed buried in his pockets, fists clenched hard enough to hurt but it was the only way to keep them from shaking.
Anyone glancing at him would have seen just another boy trying not to fall apart. But if they looked closer, they would see the stubborn set of his mouth, the way he refused to look away from the great doors at the front.
The Eclipse.
The massive circle of steel pulsed faintly with a dark glow like something breathing on the other side. Aren felt it pulling at him already, a weight pressing against his chest. It was supposed to be a place where lives were either remade or erased.
For Aren, it was simpler. If he failed, his sister would die. If he lived, maybe she wouldn't die.
That was all he needed to keep standing there, no matter how much his body told him to run.
The first time Aren had heard the word Eclipse was three years ago, when he was fourteen. It was the day the sky over Busan split open.
At first, people thought it was a strange storm. Then the Mouth appeared, a massive hole in the air with edges that burned like molten glass. From it came creatures no one had ever seen before.
The news called them Ravagers.
The army fought them in the streets of Busan. Tanks rolled through Haeundae. Helicopters circled above Jagalchi Market. Artillery hit the coastline again and again. But the monsters kept coming.
Three days later, Busan was gone.
The Mouth stayed open over the ruins. It still hangs there in 2042, spitting out more creatures every few days.
The land between Busan, Daegu and Gyeongju is now called the Dead Zone. No civilians go there. Only Hunters enter.
When the Mouth appeared, governments around the world built Walls. Seoul built the largest one in Korea, wrapping around the old central districts. Tokyo, Beijing, New York, London and Dubai followed.
They used reinforced steel, energy shields, and watchtowers armed with heavy weapons.
But the walls were never built for everyone. They were built for the rich, for the powerful, for the families with money and names worth protecting.
Inside the Walls, life looks almost normal. Streets are clean. Stores are full. Children walk to schools with armed escorts. Hospitals have working equipment. Lights never go out.
The people there live under strict rules but they never worry about food or shelter.
Outside the Walls is another world.
The rest of the population lives in safety zones. These are smaller fortified areas on the outer edges of cities, surrounded by concrete barriers and guarded watchposts. They keep out the bigger monsters most of the time. But they cannot keep out people.
After the army pulled back to protect the Walls, the safety zones became wild. Incheon, Pohang and parts of Ulsan are known for open gang control. The Black Fangs run the southern ports, smuggling stolen weapons and monster parts.
The Iron Chain controls trade routes between Seoul and Daejeon, demanding "tolls" from every truck.
The black market is everywhere. If you have money, you can buy anything–food, weapons, stolen IDs, even humans.
Crime is constant. People get robbed in daylight. Protection rackets take what little families have. Rations are sold for triple their worth in the alleys behind markets.
If someone goes missing, no one asks questions.
Three years ago, people thought the monsters were the worst thing in the world. They were wrong.
Humans were worse.
Aren knew this. He had seen men stab each other over a sack of rice in his district. He had seen gangs take medicine from a child because they could sell it for more than a family could ever pay.
In places like this, you either found power or you lived under someone else's boot.
"Listen up!" a guard's voice cut through the noise, dragging him back to the present. He was tall, black armor covering him from head to toe.
"You'll be called in groups of twenty. Once your group is called, you'll line up and head to the gates."
A few candidates shifted uneasily. The new ones always did.
Hunters. Aren knew the word carried weight. Every child in the safety zones grew up on the same stories. They weren't just soldiers. The Eclipse had given them something more. Awakening. Powers called Dominions that broke human limits.
But the truth was far less kind. Not all Dominions were equal. Some Hunters awakened gifts that could split mountains, while others came out with nothing but a spark.
Aren knew all this. Deep down, he hoped the Eclipse would give him something greater.
"Group One!" the guard called.
Names rang out, echoing through the hall.
"Alain Duval, son of the French Chancellor. Reina García, daughter of the Madrid Prime Minister. Tobias Weller, heir of America's Defense Council. Min-ji Park, nephew of United Korean president. Omar Al-Farouqi, son of the Dubai Royal Council."
Their armor gleamed. Their boots shone. Their families had flown them across oceans to Seoul, to stand before the very first Eclipse gate that had ever appeared.
Three years ago, when the Mouth opened above Busan, the Eclipse followed soon after in Seoul.
A circle of steel and shadow carved itself into the riverfront, pulsing like a living wound. At first no one understood it. Armies surrounded it. Scientists ran endless tests. World leaders held emergency meetings, trying to decide what it was.
The first people who went inside were soldiers, researchers and convicts promised freedom. Most never returned. But the few who did emerged changed. They carried powers beyond reason, abilities no human had ever wielded before.
That was the birth of the Hunters.
It only took days for the truth to spread. The Eclipse was a gateway.
That discovery changed everything. In the days that followed, the governments of the world gathered in Seoul.
Agreements were signed, borders crossed and for the first time since the Ravagers appeared, nations worked together. They built the Hunter Association headquarters directly over the Eclipse gate, declaring it the heart of a new future.
From there, names were called, Trials taken and new Hunters chosen.
Since then, people had come from every nation, royalty, ministers' children, billionaire heirs, even the sons of warlords.
All risked their lives for the same reason: the chance to awaken a Dominion strong enough to shape the future.
Now, like all those before them, the shining heirs stepped forward into the light.
The gates slid open with a grinding roar. Dark energy rippled across the surface, like a storm trapped behind glass. One by one, they vanished inside. The doors closed. Silence fell.
"Group Two!"
Rougher faces this time. Cheaper armor, patched clothes, weapons scavenged from black markets. Children of no one. They disappeared too, leaving only more silence behind.
Aren's eyes lifted to the big screen above the checkpoint. It showed life inside the Walls: wide streets, green parks, families laughing. Food piled high in shops. Sunlight pouring down.
He clenched his fists. That was not his world. His world was corpses in alleys, gunshots at night, gangs dragging medicine from children's hands.
"Group Three!" the guard shouted.
Still not his name. He had time. Not much, but some. Enough to think about his sister. Enough to remember what waited if he failed.
Soon, the gates would open for him.
And once he stepped through, there would be no way back.