Twenty years ago, the first dungeon tore open in the middle of a city. From its depths came monsters humanity had never seen before—creatures that shrugged off bulletsu, burned through tanks, and ripped apart everything in their path. Millions died before the military was able to stop it with weapons, sacrificing entire divisions just to close a single gate.
But it wasn't the end. More dungeons appeared. First in cities, then in villages, then even in the middle of oceans and deserts. The world realized this wasn't a disaster. It was the new reality.
But these dungeons did not only bring death they also brought power. Strange energies seeped into the world, and some humans awakened abilities never seen before. Fire that could melt steel, shadows that swallowed light, strength that could crush mountains. These humans were called Hunters.
Hunters became humanity's shield. From that day on, they carried the burden of entering dungeons, slaying the monsters within, and preventing the world from collapsing once more.
Over the years, humanity learned that not all Hunters were the same. Some awakened with elemental powers—fire that scorched the sky, water that drowned armies, earth that raised walls, wind that sliced like blades, or lightning that struck faster than sight. These were called Magic Hunters.
Within them were rarer branches: Healers who could mend flesh and bone, Summoners who commanded beasts stronger than armies, and Barrier Makers who shielded allies from destruction. They were revered, desired by every guild and nation.
Then there were those without elements—Hunters whose powers leaned on raw strength, speed, or resilience. Assassins, Tanks, and Bruisers. They fought with their bodies rather than spells. Among them, only the few who climbed to A-rank or higher were noticed. The rest? Forgotten, ignored, treated as expendable pawns.
Among the countless who dreamed of becoming one of them… stood a boy named Min-ho.
Black hair, black eyes, and clothes as plain as his presence. He wasn't surrounded by friends, nor backed by a guild. No one even looked twice at him. In a world that worshipped strength, he was just another face in the crowd. Another candidate about to be measured, judged, and forgotten.
And in a world where power defined worth, a boy named Min-ho was about to discover exactly where he stood.
The examination hall buzzed with excitement. Dozens of candidates lined up, each waiting for their turn to place their hand on the crystal-like machine at the center. Its glowing surface pulsed faintly, as if alive, ready to measure their worth.
Min-ho stood among them, silent, his black eyes fixed on the floor. His heart pounded louder with every step closer to the machine. He had no friends cheering for him, no guild representatives waiting with contracts. Still… a part of him hoped.
What if I get something rare? What if just maybe I'm different?
His turn arrived.
With a deep breath, Min-ho placed his hand on the cold surface. Light surged up, crawling through the crystal, colors shifting rapidly red, blue, green, gold. The crowd murmured, craning their necks to see. For a moment, Min-ho's pulse raced with excitement.
Then the light dimmed.
On the machine's display appeared two words:
(Rank: D)
(Class: Assassin)
The hall fell silent for a heartbeat, then the whispers started.
"D-rank…"
"Another useless assassin."
"Figures. Without elements, they're trash unless they're A-rank or higher."
The guild scouts, who had been watching closely, lost interest instantly. Their eyes shifted away as if Min-ho had ceased to exist. He withdrew his hand, his fingers trembling slightly, his chest hollow.
No applause. No cheers. Nothing.
Just as he turned to leave, a voice called out.
"Hey."
A girl, may be his age or a little older, stood there. Her guild emblem was unfamiliar small, clearly one of the lesser ones. She gave him a polite smile, though her eyes didn't shine with admiration, only practicality.
"You're an Assassin, right? D-rank. We could use someone like you."
Min-ho blinked, surprised. "For… what?"
"Not for fighting," she admitted quickly. "Our guild needs back carriers and item collectors. You'd be safe, most of the time. Just carry loot and supplies while the real fighters handle the dungeons."
Her words cut deeper than the whispers. He wasn't being invited as a Hunter. He was being invited as baggage.
Min-ho's lips tightened. He looked at the girl for a moment, then shook his head.
"…No. Thanks, but no."
Her smile faded a little, but she only shrugged before turning to the next candidate. To her, it didn't matter. To Min-ho, it meant everything. He walked out of the hall, the whispers still echoing in his ears.
When he reached home, the air felt lighter. The small apartment smelled faintly of herbs and warm food. His mother was waiting, her face lighting up the moment she saw him.
"So? How did it go?" she asked eagerly.
Min-ho hesitated, his throat dry. "…D-rank. Assassin."
There was a pause. For a second, he expected disappointment—maybe even pity. Instead, she smiled, reaching out to brush his messy black hair from his forehead.
"That's wonderful, Min-ho. You're a Hunter now. That's more than most people can say. Rank doesn't matter. What matters is that you came back safe, and that you'll keep trying."
Her warmth should have comforted him, but deep inside, the weight didn't lift.
Later that night, he lay on his bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. His mother's words replayed in his mind, yet they clashed with the voices from the exam hall.
D-rank… another useless assassin… back carrier… baggage…
His hand clenched into a fist against his chest.
I'm weak. Too weak. And in this world, weakness is the same as being invisible.
The thought burned, sharp and heavy, as sleep refused to come.
That night, the city outside buzzed with life—neon signs glowing, hunters celebrating their new ranks, guilds securing their rising stars.
But inside a small, dimly lit room, a boy lay in silence.
Min-ho's black eyes traced the cracks in the ceiling as the words from earlier stabbed into him again and again.
D-rank. Assassin. Useless.
His mother's gentle voice tried to fight those thoughts, but they were louder, heavier.
He turned on his side, pulling the blanket over himself, but sleep never came.
Because deep down, Min-ho already knew…
In this world, weakness wasn't just shame it was a death sentence. And right now, Min-ho was already marked.
Extra Content – Min-ho
• Age: 19
• Family: Lives with his single mom (43).
• Friends: Almost none, keeps to himself.
• Past: Bullied a lot when he was younger, which made him quiet and withdrawn.