The first day at Vanguard Hunter Academy was exactly what Min-ho had hoped for: a chaotic mess of administrative red tape that allowed him to disappear into the background. While the S-Class and A-Class students were being ushered into the Grand Hall for a televised welcoming ceremony, the D-Class was left to fend for itself. Their "orientation" consisted of a bored instructor handing out digital handbooks and telling them to stay out of the way of the "real" hunters.
Min-ho took the opportunity to explore the campus perimeter. He needed a place where he could test the physical changes from the Eternal Epoch Refining Scripture without setting off the high-sensitivity mana sensors scattered around the main facilities.
He found it near the old industrial docks at the back of the campus. It was a decommissioned logistics center, used decades ago when the Academy was first built. The concrete was cracked, weeds grew through the rusted iron rails, and the air smelled of salt and stagnant oil. Most importantly, it was a dead zone. There were no cameras here, and the nearest mana-detection pylon was over half a mile away.
Min-ho stepped onto a flat stretch of reinforced concrete. He felt different. It was the way his weight settled into the earth. Every step felt deliberate, as if his center of gravity had become a solid anchor.
He looked at a rusted shipping container that had been abandoned near a warehouse wall. It was solid steel, designed to hold tons of equipment. He stood in front of it and placed his palm against the corrugated metal.
He pushed.
There was no flashy explosion of energy. Instead, there was a low, groaning sound of metal being forced into a shape it didn't want to take. Min-ho watched as his hand sank into the steel as if it were soft clay. He wasn't even straining. His muscles didn't bulge, and his breathing remained steady. The sheer density of his Star-Forged Marrow was doing the work. The bone structure in his arm was now so compact that it could withstand the counter-pressure of crushing steel without a single micro-fracture.
"Still too loud," Min-ho muttered to himself, pulling his hand back.
The container now had a perfect indent of his palm, five inches deep. He moved to a stack of old construction beams solid I-beams of tempered iron. He gripped the edge of one and lifted.
The beam weighed at least two tons. He lifted it with one hand, holding it level. He felt the weight, but it didn't feel heavy. It felt like carrying a heavy grocery bag. He realized then that his physical limit wasn't just about how much he could lift; it was about the environment's ability to support him. As he held the beam, his sneakers sank two inches into the asphalt. The ground was failing before his body was.
He dropped the beam, letting it land silently on a pile of rubber tires to muffle the sound. He needed to test his speed next. He took a sprinting stance, focusing on the refined fibers in his legs.
He moved.
He covered fifty meters in a fraction of a second, his feet hitting the pavement with the force of small hammer strikes. When he stopped, he looked back at his starting point. The asphalt was torn up, the surface layer shredded by the friction of his takeoff
It was a strange problem to have. If he went all out in a standard arena, he would likely destroy the stage just by moving. He needed to master "lightness" the ability to decouple his internal density from his external impact.
"You're making a lot of noise for someone who was assigned to the 'trash' class."
The voice came from above. Min-ho didn't even flinch. He had felt a presence approaching three minutes ago, but the mana signature was familiar enough that he hadn't felt the need to enter a defensive stance.
He looked up. The red-haired girl was sitting on the edge of a warehouse roof, twenty feet up. She was swinging her legs back and forth, her amber eyes reflecting the afternoon sun. She wasn't wearing her school blazer anymore, just a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
"How long have you been there?" Min-ho asked, his voice neutral.
"Long enough to see you turn a shipping container into a piece of modern art," she said, hopping down from the roof. She landed with a graceful, silent thud a stark contrast to Min-ho's destructive movements.
She walked toward him, her eyes scanning the torn-up asphalt and the crushed steel. "My name is Chae-won. In case you didn't catch it during the S-Class announcement you skipped."
"Min-ho," he replied, already turning to walk toward the exit. "I caught it. You should go back to the ceremony. I'm sure they're missing their star pupil."
Chae-won stepped in front of him, blocking his path. She was shorter than him, but she radiated an intense, focused energy. "Most people would be terrified if an S-Class caught them hiding their strength. You just look like you're late for a nap. What are you, exactly? You hit the pillar and it gave a C-rank reading, but I've seen B-rank strikers who couldn't dent that container with a full-power skill."
"I have high bone density," Min-ho said, the lie coming easily now. "It's a passive mutation. Good for lifting things, bad for flashy mana tricks. That's why I'm in D-Class. Now, if you'll excuse me."
She reached out, her hand moving with a speed that would have caught any other student off guard. She didn't try to punch him; she just tried to grab his wrist to test his pulse.
Min-ho's hand moved faster. He didn't even think about it. He caught her wrist mid-air, his grip firm but careful.
The air between them seemed to vibrate for a second. Chae-won's eyes widened. She felt it not just the strength, but the sheer, immovable weight of his arm. It was like she had tried to grab a mountain.
"Let go," she whispered, her amber eyes flashing with a spark of mana.
Min-ho released her immediately. He saw the faint red marks on her skin and felt a twinge of annoyance not at her, but at himself. He was still struggling to gauge his own strength.
"You're awfully annoying," Min-ho said, his voice cold. "I came here to be left alone. If you're looking for a sparring partner or a rival, go find someone in S-Class who cares about rankings. I'm just a student who wants to finish his degree and get some sleep."
Chae-won rubbed her wrist, a strange look on her face. "You're lying. You don't care about the degree. You're hiding something much bigger than that? Why stay in the D-Class dorms when you could be at the top of the ladder?"
Min-ho stepped past her, not looking back. "Because the top of the ladder is loud, and I like the quiet. Don't follow me, Chae-won. And don't tell the instructors about this place. If I find someone else here tomorrow, I'll know who to blame."
Chae-won stood in the middle of the ruined logistics center, watching his retreating figure. She looked at the handprint in the steel and then at her own wrist.
"D-Class, huh?" she muttered to herself, a small, dangerous smile playing on her lips. "This year is going to be much more interesting than I thought."
Min-ho, meanwhile, was already checking his phone. He had three hours before the evening meal at the cafeteria. That was enough for another cycle in the Slumber Realm. He didn't care about Chae-won or her curiosity.
He reached the dorms and saw Han-gyul and Jin-woo arguing over which instant ramen flavor was the best. The mundane, quiet atmosphere felt like a shield. He walked into Room 404, kicked off his sneakers, and lay down on the squeaky bunk.