The Great Recruitment Hunt (A Complete Disaster)

High above the simulation rings, in the lavish, soundproofed President's Office.

President Kang Tae-San sat behind his massive desk, vigorously rubbing his throbbing temples.

The heavy oak doors opened, and his Chief Secretary entered, followed closely by the Head Battle Instructor.

Both of their faces were incredibly pale, carrying expressions of absolute, unadulterated shock.

"Report," President Kang commanded, his deep voice brokering no delays or excuses.

"Sir..." the Secretary began, her hands physically trembling as she held her digital tablet.

"The registration numbers for this week's tutorial batch have been finalized."

"Nine hundred new hunters have successfully registered for licenses by today."

President Kang froze completely, his hand dropping slowly from his face.

"Usually, an excellent batch yields two hundred and fifty survivors at most," he said, his voice tight.

"Are you telling me nine hundred rookies walked out of that hellhole as new hunters?"

"Yes, President," the Secretary confirmed, swallowing hard.

"And sir... that isn't even the most impossible part of the data."

She placed the tablet onto his desk, displaying a massive, glowing graph.

"Almost every single one of those nine hundred rookies successfully cleared Stage Four."

President Kang stood up so fast his heavy leather chair crashed backward onto the floor.

This defied every known mathematical statistic and historical precedent in the Tower's bloody history.

Clearing Stage Four was supposed to be a brutal, nearly impossible filter for absolute geniuses.

Having an entire generation of rookies conquer it was a statistical impossibility.

The Battle Instructor stepped forward, his rugged face tight with profound unease.

"Sir, I've been reviewing the combat footage of the latecomers who just finished their exams."

"There were two candidates at the very end. A mage and a brawler."

"They were absolutely flawless. Their movements didn't have an ounce of wasted energy."

The Instructor leaned forward, his voice dropping to a hushed, terrified whisper.

"The boy used his bare fists against the Level 5 projection. He didn't look like a terrified rookie, sir."

"He fought with the cold, absolute precision like a war veteran."

President Kang's eyes widened. "Did his mana frequency match the anomaly's signature?!"

"No, sir," the Secretary answered immediately, shaking her head in deep disappointment.

"Not a single one of the nine hundred rookies matched the Tower's broadcasted anomaly frequency."

President Kang sat down heavily, resting his elbows on the polished desk.

"A mana frequency is exactly like a human fingerprint. It is biologically unchangeable."

He stared blankly out the reinforced glass window, looking over the sprawling, ignorant city of Seoul.

"If none of them matched the anomaly... then the anomaly is still hiding in the shadows."

He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned completely white.

"Nine hundred Awakeners, and a globally purified tutorial stage."

"Something massive is brewing in the dark, and we are completely blind to it."

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Down in the bustling main lobby of the Association, Seo-Jun and Ha Neul walked toward the exit.

They held their brand-new licenses, blending perfectly into the crowd of celebrating rookies.

But their peaceful exit was abruptly, rudely interrupted.

A massive swarm of sharply dressed Corporate Guild recruiters suddenly blocked the grand glass doors.

They had been watching the live feeds of the virtual combat exams from the observation decks.

They were hungry wolves, desperate to sink their teeth into the most promising prodigies of this anomalous batch.

In his past life, Seo-Jun would have begged on his knees for a chance to speak to these elites.

He would have given anything for a scrap of their corporate backing and protection.

But that desperate, weak Lee Seo-Jun had died in the ashes of a ruined world.

The man standing here now viewed these corporate lapdogs as nothing more than pathetic, greedy scavengers.

A tall recruiter in a bespoke silver suit approached Ha Neul, offering a glossy business card.

"Miss Kang, your magical control was breathtaking. The Silver Falcon Guild would be honored to sponsor you."

Ha Neul didn't even glance at the expensive, gold-embossed card.

She shook her head firmly, stepping slightly closer to Seo-Jun's side.

"I appreciate the offer," Ha Neul said coldly, her voice carrying absolute, unbreakable loyalty.

"But I only go where Seo-Jun goes. With him, I know I will actually grow."

The Silver Falcon recruiter frowned, highly offended by her blatant dismissal.

Another massive, scarred man pushed his way to the front, wearing the emblem of the 'Iron Fist' Guild.

"Brawler," the scarred man said, his thick finger stabbing the air until it stopped just short of Seo Jun's chest.

His voice was rough, certain, like someone used to being obeyed.

"Our guild takes only close combat specialists. We can turn you into a star on the lower floors. The kind everyone remembers."

A different voice cut in before the words could settle.

"Don't be ridiculous."

A recruiter in a tailored coat stepped forward, eyes sharp as a blade drawn halfway from its sheath.

"He's clearly built for sustained frontline pressure. That kind of frame belongs with the Vanguard Titans."

The air between them tightened.

Not with hostility alone.

With competition.

Because in this line of work, talent was not merely noticed.

It was contested.

And Seo Jun, standing quietly between their words, had already become something neither of them could afford to lose.

They began to bicker loudly, arguing over the two rookies like they were prime cuts of meat at a butcher shop.

Seo-Jun watched their pathetic, squabbling display with deep, unadulterated boredom.

He slowly raised his right hand.

The sheer, unspoken authority radiating from his simple gesture caused the entire lobby to fall dead silent.

"We are not joining any guild," Seo-Jun declared, his voice cutting through the air like a physical blade.

For a moment, the recruiters just stared at him in utter, profound shock.

Then, their shock rapidly curdled into ugly, bruised corporate ego and visceral anger.

"You arrogant, foolish rookies!" the Silver Falcon recruiter spat, his face turning an ugly shade of red.

"You think clearing a virtual goblin makes you invincible? You'll die horribly in your first real dungeon!"

"You need our money, our resources, and our backing to survive this world!" the Iron Fist recruiter snarled.

"You cannot grow in the Tower without a major guild protecting your back!"

Seo-Jun smiled.

It was a cold, utterly terrifying smile that didn't reach his dark, ancient eyes.

"I have money," Seo Jun said calmly.

His voice was not raised, yet it carried with it an unsettling certainty which was clean, unshaken, absolute.

"And I know exactly how to make it grow faster than any of you can offer."

A brief silence followed.

The kind that did not come from agreement, but from disbelief trying to decide whether it had been insulted.

It wasn't shock.

It was recalculation.

Money was not rare here.

But confidence in making it grow faster than guild systems, investments, and controlled dungeon monopolies and that was not something a rookie was supposed to say so casually.

"You'll regret that tone, boy," the Silver Falcon representative said coldly, his smile tightening at the edges. "You have no idea what you're refusing."

Seo Jun glanced at him briefly.

Not curious.

Not threatened.

Just acknowledging something irrelevant.

"We'll see," he replied.

A pause followed.

For the first time, the recruiters did not immediately respond.

A man from Iron Fist clicked his tongue.

"You talk like you've already cleared floor ten."

Seo Jun glanced at him briefly.

"I don't need to clear floor ten to understand how you operate."

That line landed a little differently.

Not insulting.

Accusatory in a quiet way.

Another recruiter scoffed.

"Big words for someone without a guild backing him."

"Then don't back me," Seo Jun replied.

As if it genuinely didn't matter either way.

For a moment, the space between them grew awkward.

Not because anyone was afraid.

Because continuing the conversation felt slightly less advantageous than ending it.

One of the recruiters exhaled through his nose and stepped aside first.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

Then another followed, muttering, "Let him waste his opportunity if he wants."

The path opened naturally after that.

Not because they were forced away.

But because no one wanted to be the last person still arguing with someone who spoke like the outcome had already been decided.

Seo Jun moved forward without slowing.

Behind him, someone finally spoke again.

"Silver Falcon won't take that lightly."

Seo Jun didn't turn around.

"I didn't expect them to."

And he kept walking.

Seo-Jun and Ha Neul walked through the grand glass doors, stepping out into the bright, warm sunlight of Seoul.

The chaos of the Association faded behind them, leaving only the endless possibilities of the future.

Ha Neul looked up at him, a bright, excited spark dancing in her violet eyes.

"Where to now, Guild Master?" she asked playfully.

Seo-Jun looked out toward the distant, towering skyline, his blood already humming with anticipation.

"Let's go shopping," he said at last.

And just like that, the direction of everything changed.