The world of awakeners had always been cruel to those without a gift.
Traits were everything. They determined who would rise as heroes, who would crawl as beggars, and who would vanish unnoticed in the shadows of the great ones. When the gates began to appear decades ago, spewing monsters and treasures beyond imagination, humanity's survival hinged on these special individuals. Some were born with traits that granted immense strength, others with unmatched magic, speed, or healing.
But Ryumin Kang had none.
At twenty years old, he was a traitless awakener—a joke in a world where strength defined worth. The Awakener Association labeled him "low-potential" after his awakening test, the crystal sphere remaining dim and lifeless in his palm. His classmates had laughed. His instructors sighed. His distant relatives, who once had hope, abandoned him entirely.
Only his little brother, Jinhyuk Kang, still looked at him with bright, trusting eyes.
Seoul's streets thrummed with energy that afternoon. Billboards shimmered with holograms of hunters endorsing gear, corporations, even soda. Names of S-rankers were whispered with reverence, and the five from Korea were nothing short of living legends.
Suho Park, the swordmaster whose blade split mountains.
Lee Yuri, the half-elf magician whose mana storms leveled dungeons.
Doojun, the immovable S-rank tank.
Choi Jong, the indomitable warrior.
And Seo Yujin, the healer known as "Saint of Light."
Ryumin walked past a crowd gathered around a massive screen showing footage of Lee Yuri incinerating a wyvern with a wave of her staff. The people roared in admiration. His brother, only fourteen, tugged on his sleeve.
"Hyung, if only you had a trait like hers… everyone would know your name."
Ryumin forced a smile. "Yeah. If only."
In truth, he had long accepted his place. He trained his body, studied strategies, and joined low-ranked guilds when he could, but no party wanted a traitless liability. They kicked him out before he could even prove himself. His life had shrunk into a routine of odd jobs, cooking instant ramen for Jinhyuk, and watching from the sidelines as others seized glory.
But that day, fate shattered the monotony.
The warning sirens echoed through the streets, shrill and piercing. People screamed, scattering like ants. A gate had appeared in the middle of Guro District, shimmering like a wound in the sky.
Hunters rushed toward it. Association vehicles screeched to a halt, men in black uniforms shouting for civilians to evacuate. Gates were supposed to be contained before they opened fully, but this one had already gone wild.
Ryumin's heart dropped. He grabbed Jinhyuk's hand. "Let's go home, now!"
But before they could run, the ground quaked. The gate pulsed violently, and a shockwave erupted outward, swallowing everything in its radius.
Light. Deafening roars. The sensation of being torn apart.
And then—nothing.
When Ryumin opened his eyes, he was lying on cold, gray soil beneath a blood-red sky. The air was thick, metallic, stinging his lungs with every breath. His ears rang, but faintly he could hear monstrous shrieks in the distance, like wolves crossed with dragons.
"Jinhyuk!" he shouted, scrambling up. His brother was nowhere in sight. Only jagged black rocks and an endless, alien wasteland stretched around him.
Panic gripped his chest. He ran, screaming his brother's name, but the land remained silent except for the echoes of beasts. His legs trembled, his throat raw. He was alone.
"What is this place…?"
It was not Earth. That much was clear. The sky itself seemed hostile, the very air oppressive.
Then, a shadow fell over him.
Ryumin turned—and froze.
A creature, taller than a house, loomed before him. Its body was a mass of molten stone and charred flesh, magma oozing from cracks along its arms. Its eyes blazed like twin furnaces, fixing on him with predatory hunger.
A monster. A real one.
On Earth, hunters fought monsters daily, but Ryumin had never faced anything stronger than a stray goblin in a supervised training raid. This thing radiated power far beyond what any low-rank party could handle.
His body screamed at him to flee. But where? The wasteland stretched endlessly, and the beast's steps shook the ground.
"Damn it… I don't even have a trait." His voice cracked, bitter with despair.
The monster raised its claw, flames swirling around its arm. Ryumin closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable end.
And then—something shattered inside him.
Time stopped.
At least, that's what it felt like. The world slowed, the air vibrating with a resonance he had never known. His heart thundered, but with it came a rush of clarity, as if invisible chains had been broken.
A voice echoed in his skull.
[You have been chosen.]
[Soul synchronization complete.]
[Unlocking sealed records…]
Agony lanced through his mind. Flashes of memories not his own poured into him—wars between gods, civilizations rising and crumbling, battles waged with powers that defied comprehension. He saw himself—not as Ryumin, the loser—but as a figure cloaked in darkness, standing above kneeling armies, wielding dominion over life and death.
[The Unrivaled One has awoken.]
He gasped, clutching his chest. His veins burned with raw energy. The despair that had weighed him down for years evaporated, replaced by something ancient, overwhelming.
The monster roared again, slashing down at him.
Instinct guided him. He raised his hand—and the earth itself obeyed. Black spikes erupted from the ground, impaling the creature mid-strike. Its roar turned to a gurgle of shock as the spikes twisted, shredding its molten body apart.
In seconds, the beast collapsed into fragments of ash.
Ryumin stared, breathless, his hands trembling. The air smelled of sulfur and blood.
"…What… what did I just do?"
The voice returned, calm and absolute.
[You have reclaimed but a fragment of your true power. Your return has only begun. Thirty thousand years of slumber cannot be undone in a moment.]
Ryumin staggered back, his mind reeling. Thirty thousand years? True power? None of it made sense. He was just a traitless awakener. Just a nobody.
And yet, the ashes of a monster strong enough to obliterate entire hunting parties told a different story.
His lips curved into a shaky, incredulous smile. For the first time in years, hope stirred in his chest. Not the fragile kind born of wishful dreams, but a raw, intoxicating certainty.
The world that had scorned him—the world where traits decided everything—had no idea what had just returned.
Far away, back on Earth, reports of the gate anomaly poured into the Association. Investigators combed through wreckage, searching for survivors. Ryumin Kang was listed as missing, presumed dead.
Jinhyuk Kang waited for his brother, eyes red from crying, whispering prayers into the silence.
And in a realm beyond reach, Ryumin clenched his fists as ancient power simmered within.
He had been cast aside, forgotten, left behind. But now…
Now, the unrivaled one had returned.