Jin didn't return to the gate the next day, not because he lacked the ability to continue or because he felt any hesitation after what had happened, but because there was no reason to push forward blindly when the system itself already defined the rhythm of progression, and that rhythm, once understood, was far more valuable than reckless consistency. An E-rank boss required a full day to respawn, and there was no benefit in forcing himself back into the same space before it reset properly, because anything he did there now would only yield reduced results, and reduced results were nothing more than wasted effort.
So he rested.
Not completely idle, not careless, but deliberate in his decision to step back for a single day, allowing both his body and the gate itself to reset into a state where the next entry would matter again. He remained inside the school grounds for most of that time, moving through the familiar environment without drawing attention, blending into the normal flow of students who had no idea what had happened just beyond the boundaries of what they were allowed to access.
The restriction itself was clear.
Students below Level 5 were not permitted to challenge external gates under city authority, and the reasoning behind that rule didn't need explanation once someone had seen even a single deeper zone. Low-level awakened lacked both the stats and the skill to handle unpredictable encounters, and letting them roam freely outside controlled environments would only increase casualty rates. The school gates existed for a reason—they were contained, monitored, and scaled to ensure that students could grow without being overwhelmed.
Jin already understood that.
"Level 5."
That was the threshold.
At Level 5, the system would unlock more than just raw progression. Job-related skills would become available, opening a new layer of combat potential that went beyond basic stats, and two additional attributes—Perception and Dexterity—would emerge, refining how a person interacted with both their surroundings and their own movements. It wasn't just an increase in power, it was a shift in how that power could be used.
That was when real growth began.
Until then—
Everything was preparation.
Jin walked through the school corridors slowly, his posture relaxed, his expression neutral, not forcing anything, not drawing attention, and yet despite that, something in the atmosphere had already begun to change. It wasn't loud. It wasn't obvious. But it was there.
Whispers.
Small groups of students speaking in lower tones than usual, conversations that stopped the moment someone unfamiliar passed by, then resumed again once distance returned, the kind of behavior that only appeared when something unusual had happened but no one had clear answers yet.
"…heard it was solo…"
"…no way a student could do that…"
"…must be someone else…"
Jin didn't stop.
Didn't react.
But he listened.
The topic was obvious.
The boss.
The goblin warlord.
News of it had spread faster than expected, but that wasn't surprising. A boss being cleared inside a school gate wasn't unheard of, but it was rare, especially when it happened without a team, without witnesses, without anything that could clearly explain how it had been done.
Most students had already come to a conclusion.
"It has to be a graduate."
"Probably a new instructor."
"That's the only thing that makes sense."
Jin heard variations of that idea more than once as he passed through different areas, and each time it was repeated, it carried the same tone—not certainty, but comfort. They needed an explanation that fit within their expectations, something that didn't disrupt the structure they understood, and assuming it was someone already above them made it easier to accept.
He didn't correct them.
There was no reason to.
Let them think what they wanted.
It changed nothing.
The conversations shifted as he moved further, the topic branching into something more familiar, something every student here was aware of even before awakening.
The state examination.
Every year, across all states of the country, awakened students who reached Level 5 were given the opportunity to participate in a centralized test held in the capital of their respective state, a large-scale evaluation that brought together participants from every awakened school within that region. It wasn't just a test—it was a stage.
"There are forty-seven states."
"Forty-seven competitions."
"Top ten from each state get rewards."
The structure was simple, but the scale made it significant. Each state held its own competition, meaning there were forty-seven separate events happening across the country, each one gathering the strongest newly awakened individuals within that region. For most students, reaching Level 5 alone was already a challenge, and because experience gained from monsters was shared equally among team members when they fought together, progression was slower than it appeared at first glance.
That was why most students took time.
Time to grind.
Time to grow.
Time to qualify.
Jin understood that clearly.
"Shared EXP… slows everything."
It wasn't a flaw.
It was balance.
And because of that, reaching Level 5 wasn't common.
Not early.
Not easily.
But for those who did—
The rewards were worth it.
From tenth place to first, the difference in rewards increased significantly, ranging from consumable items that permanently boosted stats to equipment that could define future growth paths, and for some, that single competition was enough to change their trajectory entirely.
Jin didn't need to think about it deeply.
He had already decided.
"I'll participate."
Two months.
"I'll graduate in two months." In just two months the final year of the school will be finished and those who reached level 5 would be allowed to graduate. Those who don't will have to still grind as repeating students until they reach level 5.
That was the time left.
More than enough.
His pace was already ahead.
The whispers around him didn't stop, but they began to mix with something else as he moved closer to the central area of the school, something heavier, something that didn't belong to normal student conversations.
Posters.
They were placed along the walls, some newer than others, some already worn slightly at the edges, but all carrying the same purpose.
Missing students.
Faces.
Names.
Details.
Jin's gaze passed over them briefly, not stopping on any one for too long, but registering the pattern as a whole. This wasn't one or two cases.
Missing students.
Jin's steps didn't stop.
Didn't slow.
But his gaze moved across them as he passed, not lingering too long on any single one, just enough to take in the faces, the names, the small details written beneath them, and in that brief moment, recognition settled in without hesitation, without confusion.
He knew them.
Not well.
Not personally.
But enough.
Enough to remember the way they had stood, the way they had spoken, the way they had looked at him before everything changed.
The same group.
The same people.
He was the last person to saw these people. He witnessed their final moments.
Now—
Reduced to paper.
Jin didn't react outwardly.
Didn't let anything show.
His expression remained the same as he walked past, his posture unchanged, his pace steady, because stopping would draw attention, and attention was something he could not afford now, not when the situation had already begun to spread beyond the school itself.
There were more.
Enough to notice.
Enough to matter.
And the response had already begun.
Investigators had arrived.
They weren't hard to spot. Their presence stood out from the rest of the school, their movements purposeful, their attention focused, speaking with students individually, asking questions, gathering information, trying to piece together something that hadn't yet formed into a clear conclusion.
Jin passed by one of those interactions without slowing, catching fragments of conversation as he moved.
"When was the last time you saw them?"
"Did they mention anything unusual?"
"Any change in behavior?"
Standard questions.
Expected.
No one looked at him twice.
He didn't give them a reason to.
The situation didn't concern him directly.
Not yet.
And even if it did—
There was nothing linking him.
That was enough.
By the time he returned to his room later, the outside noise had already begun to fade, replaced by something else entirely as the day moved toward evening.
News.
The television displayed the same broadcast that had been circulating for the past few days, but this time the tone had shifted slightly, no longer just speculative, no longer just cautious observation.
The anomaly.
It had first been detected as irregular spatial fluctuations above a specific region, something subtle enough to go unnoticed by ordinary people but clear enough for researchers and awakened individuals to recognize that something wasn't normal. At first, it had been dismissed as a possible gate formation, an early-stage distortion that would stabilize over time.
But it hadn't.
It had grown.
Slowly.
Then faster.
And now—
It had changed again.
"A small crack has been observed."
The words appeared clearly on the screen.
The footage wasn't visible to the naked eye directly, but through enhanced imaging, something thin, almost invisible, stretched across the sky in a distant region, narrow enough to be ignored by most, but present enough to confirm that whatever this was, it wasn't stopping.
Jin watched it for a few seconds.
Then looked away.
"Not a gate."
That much was obvious.
Gates didn't behave like this.
They didn't expand slowly.
They didn't distort space over time.
This was something else.
Something that hadn't fully revealed itself yet.
Jin leaned back slightly after that, not diving into speculation, not forcing conclusions, because there was no immediate action he could take regarding something like this, and thinking about it beyond what was necessary would only distract him from what he could control.
Training.
Growth.
Preparation.
Those mattered.
The rest—
Would come later.
He closed his eyes briefly, letting the day settle without forcing anything further into it, the noise from outside fading completely as his focus returned inward, not in thought, but in readiness.
Tomorrow—
He would return to the gate.