The world was never the same after the first Gate.
It had opened in the middle of Seoul—twenty-three years ago. A rift in space itself, shimmering like shattered glass against the night sky. People screamed, governments scrambled, armies failed. What spilled out of the Gate were creatures no one could classify, horrors of scale and design that science had no words for. Bullets worked—barely. Missiles bought time. But it wasn't enough. Humanity teetered on the edge of extinction.
And then came the Awakened.
Ordinary men and women began manifesting powers. Fire, lightning, telekinesis, regeneration, summoning—an entire lexicon of abilities bloomed overnight, bound to the mysterious energy that scientists dubbed mana. Awakened became humanity's defenders, warriors against the unknown, and humanity's newest aristocracy. They weren't just people—they were assets. Nations rose and fell depending on the number of Awakened they produced.
Korea, Japan, and China led the way. Their guilds, academies, and governments were powerhouses, exporting Hunters the way others exported oil or steel. Europe had its nobles, descended from old bloodlines that seemed predisposed to Awakening.
And America?
America was falling behind.
The country had raw numbers but no heritage, no deep mana traditions, no unifying guild system. Its Awakened were strong, but scattered. And compared to Asia's titans, the United States looked like a second-rate competitor.
Which was why people barely made headlines.
Han Mercer didn't look like much of an Awakened, and he certainly didn't act like one. Sitting cross-legged on the college lawn in Los Angeles, sipping from a condensation-slick plastic cup of soda, he looked more like a guy who had rolled out of bed five minutes before class. Loose blue jacket, messy hair, earbuds in one ear only.
The thing was, he actually had rolled out of bed five minutes before class.
"Han, you're spacing out again."
Han tilted his head lazily toward the voice. It was Maria, one of his classmates from chemistry. She had fire abilities—literally. Little embers flickered across her palm as she gestured, a nervous tic she didn't even notice anymore.
"You've got lab in, like, three minutes," she said.
Han took another sip of soda. "Three minutes is basically three hours if you bend your perception of time enough."
Maria rolled her eyes. "You're gonna fail at life, you know that?"
He smirked. Already failing Foward, he thought, but didn't bother saying it aloud. Instead, he drained the rest of his cup, crumpled it with a casual squeeze, and tossed it into the recycling bin fifteen feet away. It landed perfectly with a hollow thunk.
"Skillshot," he said under his breath.
Maria's embers flickered brighter. "Seriously though. For someone with powers, you're awfully… chill about everything."
Han shrugged. Technically, she wasn't wrong. He was Awakened, by the government's definition. He had undergone the tests, registered, and been categorized: F-Rank.
The lowest of the low.
What he had wasn't even called magic. In fact, the Association hadn't known what to call it at all. He couldn't conjure fire, shape ice, or wield lightning. His "mana signature" was basically nonexistent. If anything, machines got scrambled around him when he used his ability.
What he could do, though, was cancel things out.
In a fight during testing, an upperclassman had thrown a fireball his way. Han had instinctively raised a hand, and the fireball had simply—vanished. Not fizzled, not snuffed out—erased.
The evaluators had stared, scribbled notes, and written "F-Rank: Unstable Negation-Type."
Han had shrugged and moved on with his life. He didn't care about guilds, ranks, or fame. He liked science. He liked tinkering with things. He liked being alive. That was enough.
…..
College life was… average. He was majoring in chemical engineering, mostly because physics didn't have enough hands-on labs. His professors thought he had potential; his peers thought he was weird. He didn't join the Awakener clubs, didn't flaunt what little ability he had.
Days blurred together. Classes, labs, cheap cafeteria food, late nights with energy drinks and textbooks. He was content.
Until the day he got called to the principal's office.
The summons came in the middle of his thermodynamics lecture. The professor's voice droned about entropy, students' eyes glazed over, and Han was halfway into a doodle of molecular structures in the margin of his notebook when the classroom door opened.
"Han Mercer?"
He looked up. A campus aide stood in the doorway, holding a slip of paper. "Principal's office. Now."
The class ooh'd. Someone muttered, "What'd you do this time, Mercer?"
Han closed his notebook, shoved it into his backpack, and stood. "Guess I'll find out."
…..
The principal's office was a cramped space stuffed with filing cabinets and stacks of forms. Principal Ramos was a heavyset man with thinning hair and permanent frown lines. He gestured for Han to sit.
To Han's surprise, three other students were already there: Maria with her embers, a guy named Jamal who could harden his skin like steel, and Aria—a transfer student from Europe who could manipulate wind.
Han raised an eyebrow. "Group detention?"
Ramos didn't smile. "Scholarships."
That word cut through the air like a knife.
Han blinked. "Come again?"
The principal steepled his fingers. "You four have been shortlisted for international scholarships. One of the most prestigious academies in the world has extended invitations. Full tuition. Room and board. Travel costs covered."
The room went silent.
Maria's embers sputtered out. "You mean… that academy?"
Ramos nodded. "Yes. The Awakened Academy in Korea's Seoul."
Han felt his chest tighten. Even he knew the name. The Academy was the place. It produced S-Rank Hunters, guild leaders, national heroes. Getting in was next to impossible unless you had a family legacy, raw talent, or a miracle.
And somehow, his name was on the list.
"Hold on," Han said, raising a hand. "Are you sure you didn't, like, misplace some paperwork? I'm F-Rank, remember? F as in Failure."
Ramos adjusted his glasses. "The Academy has their own criteria. They select based on potential, not just current standing. All I know is that your name is on the official scholarship roster."
Aria crossed her arms, lips curling into a smirk. "Well, some of us actually deserve to be there."
Jamal snorted. "And some of us just got lucky."
Han leaned back in his chair. "Luck's a skill too, you know."
"Enough," Ramos said, voice sharp. "This isn't optional. You've all been accepted provisionally. However—" His expression darkened. "The entrance exam will decide whether you stay. The Academy is strict. Brutally so. If you don't meet their standards, you'll be sent back immediately."
Maria swallowed hard. "And if we pass?"
"Then you'll have the chance to hone your abilities, graduate as fully licensed Awakened, and likely be scouted by top guilds worldwide."
Han rubbed the back of his neck. Guilds. Fame. Prestige. It all sounded exhausting. But… a free scholarship? A trip to Korea? Access to one of the most advanced labs and research facilities in the world?
His heart skipped a beat.
It wasn't the fighting that drew him. It was the knowledge.
Maybe, just maybe, he could finally understand what his powers really were.
…..
That night, Han lay on his dorm bed, staring at the ceiling. His roommate was out—probably at some Awakener party—but Han didn't mind the silence.
On his desk sat the scholarship packet. The seal of the Academy gleamed in blue and gold. Inside was a ticket, an itinerary, and an ominous line in bold:
["Entrance Examination: Survival. Location undisclosed. Duration: variable. Prepare accordingly."\
Han chuckled to himself. "Survival, huh? Figures."
He held up his hand, palm open. The air shimmered faintly above it. A tiny distortion, like heat waves rising off asphalt. A speck of something flickered into existence—a mote of annihilation, his so-called F-Rank ability.
He could feel the energy tugging at the world around it, delicate, unstable, yet… alive.
He whispered. "Let's see what Seoul thinks about this."
For the first time in a long while, Han felt something stir in his chest. Not envy. Not fear.
Excitement.