I was seven years old when I saw the end of the world.
One moment I was playing with building blocks in my room, constructing a tiny fortress with careful precision. The next, I stood in ruins that had once been Seoul, forty years in the future.
The sky writhed with portals — hundreds of them, maybe thousands — pulsing like infected wounds against gray clouds. The Han River ran black with something that wasn't water. In the distance, Namsan Tower had been reduced to twisted metal, and the air reeked of sulfur and death.
But what made me scream wasn't the destroyed city. It was the bodies.
Students in Prometheus Academy uniforms lay scattered across broken concrete. The prestigious golden phoenix emblems on their jackets were splattered with blood. Some still clutched their weapons. Others had died running.
Above them, floating in the air like a broken doll, was Principal Choi Min-jun — the Lightning Emperor, Korea's rank 3 hunter. His eyes were gone. His famous spear lay shattered beneath him.
A creature that shouldn't exist, something between liquid and shadow with too many teeth, was feeding on his corpse.
"Remember this," a voice whispered, though no one was there. It seemed to come from the ruins themselves. "Remember, and change it."
The thing that had been eating Principal Choi turned toward me. It had no eyes, but I felt it see me. It smiled with three mouths.
"The guild master comes too late," it spoke in harmonics that made my seven-year-old bones ache. "The bonds are already broken."
Then I was seven again, screaming on my bedroom floor while my mother held me and my father called for an ambulance.
The doctors found nothing wrong. Brain scans, blood tests, psychological evaluations — all normal. But I kept insisting: the world would end in forty years. Portals would multiply. Humanity would fall.
My parents took me to twelve different specialists. My elementary school suggested I needed "alternative education." Other kids started calling me Prophet, Doomsday, Crazy Chen.
By middle school, I'd learned to shut up about the vision. But I never stopped preparing.
I studied everything: portal theory, monster anatomy, hunter tactics, guild management, resource distribution, team composition. If the world thought I was crazy, fine. I'd be crazy with perfect test scores.
Which is how I — Liu Chen, F-rank, lowest practical evaluation in Prometheus Academy's fifty-year history — ended up walking through the academy's main gates on the first day of school.
"ID," the security guard demanded, though his scanner had already confirmed my identity. He frowned at his screen. "F-rank? You sure you're in the right place, kid?"
"Scholarship," I said quietly, holding up my acceptance letter.
He squinted at it, then at me, then back at his screen. "Perfect written score, F-rank practical..." He whistled low. "How the hell does that even happen?"
I didn't answer. Behind me, a Mercedes with guild plates pulled up, and he waved me through to deal with actually important students.
The main campus of Prometheus Academy sprawled before me like a small city. Glass buildings that touched clouds. Training fields where students casually demonstrated power I'd never have. Holographic displays showing top student rankings — updating in real-time as people sparred.
And everywhere, the whispers followed me.
"Is that him? The F-rank?"
"My dad said he cheated on the written exam. Has to be."
"Nobody scores perfect on theory. It's impossible."
"Wait, isn't he that crazy kid? The one who used to scream about visions?"
"Oh shit, Prophet Boy? They let him in?"
I kept my head down, following the campus map on my phone toward the assignment boards. A crowd had already gathered, students checking their class placements on the massive holographic display.
"Class 1-A! Yes!" someone shouted.
"2-B isn't bad. My brother was 2-B."
"Fuck, 5-D? My parents are going to kill me."
I found my name at the very bottom of the list.
Liu Chen - Class 7-F - Building C-7 (Old Maintenance Wing)
The conversations around me stopped. Then someone laughed.
"They put him in the Graveyard!"
"Holy shit, 7-F still exists? I thought they shut it down."
"That's where they put students they can't legally reject. My senior said no one's ever made it to second year from there."
"Perfect. The crazy F-rank in the dead-end class."
I memorized the building number and walked away from the crowd. Behind me, the laughter continued.
Finding Building C-7 required leaving the main campus entirely. The path deteriorated with each step: pristine marble to clean concrete to cracked asphalt to weeds growing through broken stone.
The maintenance wing looked condemned. Half the windows were boarded up. A sign reading "SCHEDULED FOR DEMOLITION" had been crossed out and replaced with "CLASSROOM 7-F" in what looked like permanent marker.
The door squealed when I pushed it open.
The classroom might have been nice once. Twenty desks arranged in neat rows, though only eight were occupied. The walls showed water damage and patches of black mold. One fluorescent light flickered overhead — the rest were dead. Someone had written "ABANDON HOPE" on the blackboard, and underneath it, equations from last semester that no one had bothered to erase.
My future classmates didn't look up when I entered.
Closest to the door, a girl slept with her head on her desk, long black hair covering her face entirely. She didn't stir despite the door's squeal. Even sleeping, there was something oddly graceful about her posture.
By the window, a guy had completely disassembled what looked like a training sword. Components lay organized across three desks as he muttered about "inefficient mana conductivity" and "amateur enchantment work." His fingers moved with the precision of a master craftsman, though his uniform marked him as a first-year like me.
A delinquent-looking student sat in the back row, feet up on his desk. Bleached hair, uniform jacket open, looking like he'd stepped out of a manhwa about high school gangsters. Except he was reading "Advanced Dungeon Theory, 5th Edition" with intense focus.
Near the front, a foreign girl struggled with a Korean textbook. Blonde hair, pale skin that seemed to glow in the dim light, and a medical bracelet on her wrist — the kind they gave portal disaster survivors for trauma monitoring. She mouthed words silently, sounding them out. When she tucked her hair behind her ear, I noticed her fingers were long and elegant.
In the middle row sat a girl with short, sporty red hair doing push-ups between the desks. She didn't even look winded, counting under her breath, "497... 498... 499..." Her uniform jacket was tied around her waist, showing toned arms.
The last three occupied desks held two twins — a boy and girl who looked identical except for their hair length — sitting on opposite sides of the room, pointedly not looking at each other. The sister had her hair in elegant braids, while the brother's was cut short and messy. And in the very back corner, almost hidden in shadows, sat another girl reading what looked like a grimoire, her purple-dyed hair covering one eye.
I took the only desk with working light above it, third row center. "Um, hello. I'm Liu Chen—"
No one responded. The sleeping girl kept sleeping. The craftsman kept crafting. The delinquent turned a page.
The foreign girl glanced up briefly, ocean-blue eyes meeting mine for a second before returning to her textbook. The athletic girl hit 500 push-ups and switched to sit-ups without acknowledging my existence.
Right. The Graveyard Class. Where dreams went to die.
I'd just pulled out my textbooks — all bought used, some held together with tape — when the door slammed open.
"Is this it? Is this the famous 7-F?"
Four students entered like they owned the place. Prometheus Academy uniforms, but theirs were different — custom-tailored, with golden trim that wasn't standard issue. The leader's jacket had "Han Jae-sung" embroidered on it, along with a guild symbol I recognized: Titan Guild, his father's company.
"Holy shit, it's worse than I imagined," one of his followers laughed. "It actually smells like failure."
The athletic girl finally stopped exercising, wiping sweat from her forehead as she watched them.
Jae-sung's eyes found me immediately. "You! You're the F-rank with the perfect written score!"
I said nothing.
He pulled out his phone, scrolling. "Liu Chen. Perfect marks in Theory, History, Strategy, Portal Mathematics, and Management. Lowest practical score ever recorded." He looked up, grinning. "Did daddy write you a check? Or did you steal the answer key?"
"Neither," I said quietly.
"Bullshit. Nobody scores perfect. The theory exam is designed to be impossible." He walked closer, his B-rank pressure making the air feel heavy. "Especially not some F-rank trash."
That's when he noticed my books. Used, old, held together with tape and hope.
"Oh wait, I get it now. You're not a cheater. You're a charity case! They let you in to fill quotas!" He picked up my Portal Mathematics textbook — the spine cracked from how many times I'd read it. "Look at this shit. Can't even afford real books."
He opened his energy drink, took a sip, then poured the rest onto my textbooks. The liquid soaked through pages I'd annotated for three years.
"Oops."
The sleeping girl still hadn't woken up. But I heard the athletic girl crack her knuckles.
The delinquent in the back stood. "You're in the wrong building."
Jae-sung turned, amused. "Am I? And what's dropout trash going to do about it?"
The delinquent stepped forward. He was bigger than Jae-sung, but that meant nothing in a world of ranks. "Leave. Now."
"Or what?" Jae-sung's friends flanked him. All B-rank. The power difference was laughable. "You'll fail at me? You're all here because you're worthless. The F-rank who thinks he's smart. The narcoleptic. The dropout. The broken toys and charity cases."
His eyes lingered on the girls. "Though I have to say, the scenery isn't all bad. Maybe I should visit more often."
The twin sister's face darkened. The purple-haired girl looked up from her grimoire for the first time.
"Enjoy your last year here. None of you will make it to second year. Hell, I bet half of you are gone by midterms."
The delinquent's fists clenched, but he didn't move. Couldn't. We all knew what happened when F-ranks fought B-ranks.
Jae-sung laughed. "That's what I thought. Come on, guys. The zoo visit's over."
They left, their laughter echoing down the empty hallway.
The delinquent sat back down without a word. The craftsman never stopped working. The foreign girl had hidden her face behind her textbook.
I quietly pulled tissues from my bag and started dabbing at my soaked books.
The sleeping girl suddenly spoke, not lifting her head: "Did I miss anything important?"
"No," I said, watching energy drink seep through three years of notes. "Nothing important."
The athletic girl walked over, grabbed some tissues, and started helping me. "Choi Yura," she said simply. "Those assholes do that again, I'm breaking faces, rank difference or not."
"Thanks," I managed, surprised by the help.
She shrugged. "I hate bullies."
The day crawled by without a teacher ever showing up. At 3 PM, an automated bell dismissed us. Everyone left immediately — practically running from the classroom like it was cursed.
I stayed.
My books would dry better spread out, and it wasn't like anyone would steal them. Besides, I'd waited eleven years to enter Prometheus Academy. Even if it was the worst class in the worst building, I wasn't leaving until I had to.
The afternoon sun slanted through broken windows as I cleaned. Organizing desks, erasing the depressing message on the board, trying to make the room less... dead.
Behind a broken picture frame, I found an old class photo. "Class 7-F - 2020" written on the back.
I recognized one face immediately. Park Jin-ho, now an A-rank hunter running solo raids. He'd been in this room. He'd sat in these broken desks. He'd been written off as worthless.
And he'd made it out.
"Someone escaped the graveyard," I whispered.
That's when it happened.
The air in the room shifted. Reality held its breath. Text appeared in my vision — not floating in the air, but written directly onto my consciousness.
[Conditions Met: Heart of a True Guild Master Confirmed]
[You seek strength not for glory, but for others]
[Guild Harem System Initiating...]
My legs gave out. I grabbed a desk as more text flooded my vision.
[Scanning... F-Rank body detected][Scanning... Perfect theoretical knowledge detected][Scanning... Eight potential guild members in proximity]
[WARNING: Your vision was TRUE][Time until catastrophe: 14,610 days, 3 hours, 27 minutes]
[The future can be changed through the bonds you forge]
[Initializing Guild Master Interface...]
The status window that opened wasn't like the ones I'd studied. It was... different.
[Guild Master: Liu Chen][Rank: F (Evolvable)][Guild Level: 0][Guild Members: 0/50]
[Stats:]
Strength: 3Agility: 4Intelligence: 45Charisma: 12Luck: 7
[Unique System: Harem Guild Resonance]
The Guild Harem System operates on emotional and intimate bonds. The deeper your relationship with guild members, the more power you share.
[Bond Types:]
Intimate Bond (Female Members): 100% stat share, skill sharing, unique combination abilities Romance Bond (Female Members): 50% stat share, moderate skill sharing Friend Bond (Female Members): 25% stat share, basic skill sharing Brotherhood Bond (Male Members): 20% stat share maximum Ally Bond (Male Members): 10% stat share maximum
[Special Ability: Emotional Resonance]
Feel the emotions of bonded guild members Detect potential guild members' hidden nature Bonds grow stronger through shared experiences, trust, and intimacy
[Warning: This system rewards genuine relationships. Deception or manipulation will cause bond breaks and permanent penalties]
[Current Potential Members Detected:]
5 Female (High Resonance Potential)3 Male (Standard Resonance Potential)
[First Quest: The First Bond]
Form your first guild bond with any classmate Reward: Basic Appraisal Skill, 10 Stat Points Time limit: 7 days Bonus: If first bond is female with Romance potential or higher: Unique Skill unlock
I stared at the interface. The system was completely shameless about what it wanted me to do. But it also demanded genuine connections, not fake relationships.
[System Message: The females in Class 7-F each hide extraordinary potential. The sleeping beauty fears her own power. The foreign survivor carries unique portal abilities. The athlete pushes beyond human limits. The twin seeks what her brother rejects. The occultist reads what others cannot see.]
[The males also possess value, though the resonance differs. The craftsman can forge legendary weapons. The delinquent carries tactical genius. The twin brother holds the key to his sister's full power.]
[Build your guild wisely. Every bond matters, but some bonds will save the world.]
[14,610 days remain.]
Footsteps in the hallway. I quickly stood, the interface vanishing.
The foreign girl — the portal survivor — stood in the doorway. Her eyes were red from crying, making the blue even more striking.
"You... you stayed?" Her Korean was heavily accented but clear.
"Yeah. Cleaning up."
She held up a crumpled paper. "Every club rejected me. They say portal survivors are cursed. Bad luck." A bitter laugh. "Maybe they're right. Everyone who gets close to me..."
She trailed off, then looked at the cleaned blackboard, the organized desks, my books still drying.
"Why do you care? This place is dead."
I thought about the vision. About the timer ticking down. About the system message still echoing in my mind. But more than that, I looked at her — really looked. Not just a potential guild member or a way to get stronger, but a girl who'd survived something horrible and was still trying.
"I'm starting a study group," I said. "Want to join?"
She stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "Study group? Here? For what?"
"To prove them wrong. To show that Class 7-F isn't a graveyard." I met her eyes. "To survive together."
"You're crazy." She shook her head. "They call you Prophet, yes? The boy who sees the future?"
"They do."
"And you see a future where we matter?"
"I see a future where we're the only ones who matter."
She laughed — actually laughed. Not bitter this time, but genuinely amused. "You really are crazy. The prophet of Prometheus."
She stepped closer, and I could smell something like winter pine — probably from whatever region she'd survived in. "I'm Anya. Anya Volkov. From Russia."
"Liu Chen. From here."
A notification appeared in my peripheral vision:
[Potential Bond Detected: Anya Volkov][Type: Female - Romance Potential Available][Hidden Trait: Portal Survivor - Unique Evolution Path][Current Resonance: 15%][Initiate Bond? Y/N]
I mentally selected Yes.
[Bond Initiated: Anya Volkov][Current Level: Acquaintance][Stat Share: 5%][+2 Agility gained from Anya's stats][Continue building trust to deepen bond]
I felt it immediately — a tiny thread connecting us. Not mind reading or anything invasive, but a faint sense of her emotions. Loneliness, hope, and surprisingly, attraction? She thought I was cute in a helpless puppy sort of way.
"Study group," she said slowly, like testing the words. "Okay. But when we fail, I reserve right to say 'told you so.'"
"Deal."
She smiled — the first real smile I'd seen from anyone in Class 7-F. "Tomorrow then. I bring Russian tea. You clearly need energy more than that horrible energy drink."
We worked together as the sun set, two rejects in a condemned building, preparing for a future only I could see. But now I understood the system's real message. It wasn't just about collecting girls or growing stronger.
It was about saving them before they broke. And letting them save me in return.
14,609 days, 22 hours, 15 minutes remaining.
The first thread of my guild was in place.