Resonance: Awakening of the Unknown

Surpass Your Limit

Morning came hard and fast at Eclipse Academy.

For most of the campus, the first day began with routine — lectures, introductions, the quiet hum of mana theory. But for the Combat Division, it began with chaos.

The training field behind the east dormitory blazed under the rising sun. Dozens of first-year students stood in line, sweat glistening under the glare. Wooden swords, mana rods, and reinforced shields were scattered along the racks.

The air shimmered faintly with mana from the activated rune barriers, each one buzzing like an unseen storm.

A single whistle cut through the noise.

"Form up three lines!"

The voice carried authority — deep, sharp, and impossible to ignore.

The students scrambled into line. Jiwoo fell into place beside Minjae, adjusting his grip on the wooden practice sword.

Across the field stood a man built like a fortress. Broad shoulders, black hair touched with silver, a faint scar crossing his jaw. His aura pressed on everyone like invisible gravity.

"I am Instructor Baek Gunho." The name alone sent murmurs through the crowd.

"Wait, that Baek Gunho?"

"The one of the best combat class in Korea?"

"They say he's the rival of the Sword of Salvation of Korea"

Baek raised one hand — silence fell instantly.

"S-Rank Combatant. Former Vanguard, Korean Hero Corps. I'm not here to babysit you. I'm here to see who actually belongs here."

His eyes scanned them like a predator studying prey.

"Your first drill is simple — we measure your survival instinct."

With a tap on the control plate, the field rumbled to life. Panels along the ground shifted, releasing a burst of steam and light as metal frames rose from hidden compartments. Within seconds, rows of practice dummies stood in formation, each gripping a wooden practice sword.

"Your task is to stay standing. No mana, no armor. Just your body, practice sword, and what little training you think you have." Baek said, tone calm but cold, 

Someone in the back raised a hand. "Sir, how long do we—"

"Until I get bored."

"What? Is he serious?"

"Without mana? We'll get killed out here!"

"That's insane—these dummies hit like a maniac!"

The field erupted into chaos.

The practice dummies lunged forward, swords swinging. Screams filled the air as first-years scattered, tripping over each other. Mana surged — wild and unstable — lighting the field in flashes of blue and gold.

While others panicked, Jiwoo steadied his breath, lowered his stance.

"Relax. You've done this a thousand times."

The world narrowed to his opponent's frame.

The noise faded. His body moved as if he were facing an opponent in kendo—precise, fluid, and without hesitation.

His dummy struck first. Jiwoo sidestepped, parried, countered — a clean, perfect motion. The construct's shoulder joint cracked under his strike. Another pivot, another downward cut — the dummy collapsed, deactivated.

Baek's voice barked from across the field. "Han Jiwoo! Have you trained before?"

"Yes, sir. Kendo" 

"Kendo?" Baek's lips twitched slightly — not a smile, but close. "That explains the discipline. Keep that up."

Jiwoo bowed slightly, exhaling slow. He could feel that pulse again under his ribs — faint, like something's waking up.

When the whistle blew, the field looked wrecked. Students were sprawled on the ground, gasping for air. Even the constructs smoked from overuse.

Baek crossed his arms. "You all fight like you're afraid to get hit. You'll either learn how to move, or you'll break before midterm."

He turned away. "Class dismissed."

Then, without looking back "Han Jiwoo — stay."

A few heads turned, curious. Minjae hesitated, glancing at his roommate, but Jiwoo just nodded. "Go ahead."

When the last of the students had cleared the field, Baek walked toward him, tapping a tablet. Jiwoo's data flickered across the screen.

Name: Han Jiwoo

Class: Combatant

Rank: E

Attribute: Dual (Unknown Secondary)

Baek hummed, almost amused. "A dual class, E Rank. But that second class—Unknown huh... Interesting." He looked up, eyes sharp. "Tell me something, Jiwoo — do you believe in that ranking?"

Jiwoo hesitated. "Doesn't matter what I believe, sir. As long as I have my hands and feet, I can still fight."

Baek chuckled — a rare sound, low and dangerous. "Good answer."

He tossed Jiwoo a wooden practice sword. "Fight me."

Jiwoo froze. "Sir?"

"You heard me. Don't think, move. Show me what you learned from your precious kendo."

Jiwoo's heart pounded. Every instinct screamed against it — but his hands were already tightening around the hilt.

"Yes, sir."

They faced each other at the center of the field. Baek didn't even raise his guard, he stood casually, sword at his side.

Jiwoo inhaled, dropped into stance. Then he moved — fast, clean, precise.

Strike. Step. Counter.

Baek blocked every blow effortlessly. His eyes tracked Jiwoo's rhythm, reading each motion like a book." Good form," he said finally. "But you've hit a wall, haven't you?"

Jiwoo's breathing steadied. "This is my limit, sir."

Baek tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Limit, huh?" He raised his sword again, aura flaring like heat off steel. "Then break it."

Jiwoo's grip tightened. The world narrowed to the rhythm of his breath — step, swing, block, pivot. He poured everything he had into the next exchange, every ounce of control, every reflex honed through years of Kendo drills.

But Baek didn't yield an inch. Their blades clashed again and again, each impact heavier than the last, until the sound itself began to shake the air.

Sweat blurred Jiwoo's vision. His arms trembled. That's it. That's all I have—

And then, the pulse. That faint vibration under his ribs — stronger now, insistent.

A surge of violet light flared along his blade.

Baek parried once — twice — then stopped playing.

With one hand, he struck forward, their blades colliding. The impact sent a jolt through Jiwoo's arms. Sparks of mana danced in the air.

"Better," Baek growled. "But you're still afraid of yourself."

Jiwoo's vision tunneled. His pulse thundered. "Afraid of myself…?"

The warmth in his chest pulsed — violently. The air warped for a split second, violet light flickering around his blade.

Baek's eyes widened. "What the—"

Jiwoo swung.

The air split with a sharp hum. A dark arc burst from Jiwoo's blade — silent, swift, and unnatural. It sliced across the field, grazing the barrier and leaving a faint distortion before fading.

Baek's eyes narrowed. His mana flared red as he stepped in, intercepting the strike with a single swing. The impact cracked the ground and sent a wave of wind through the arena, knocking Jiwoo off his feet.

Dust settled slowly. Jiwoo lay still on the dirt, unconscious.

*** Minjae's POV ***

"W-what the hell…"

Minjae stood at the gate, wide-eyed. He had come back out of curiosity — and now his brain couldn't process what he just saw.

"That's… Instructor Baek," he whispered. "And Jiwoo— he's fighting him? E-rank my ass!"

He rubbed his eyes, like that would change what he saw.

"And what the hell was that slash? That wasn't mana… it ate mana!"

Before he could think further, Baek turned toward him.

"Hey, kid."

Minjae stiffened. "Y-yes, sir?"

"Take him to the nurse's office."

Minjae blinked. "Me?"

Baek's gaze cut through him. "You're already here. Unless you want me to knock you unconscious too and I'll be the one who will put you two in the nurse's office"

"I'll take him now sir!"

Minjae ran forward, half-panicking, half-staring at Jiwoo's still form. "Dude… what are you?"

*** Baek's POV ***

When the field finally quieted, Baek stood alone.

Baek looked down at the faint line across his cheek — a thin red cut. A single drop of blood slid down his jaw.

He touched it, smirked faintly. "E-rank, huh? Interesting."

His gaze drifted to the faint scar in the air — where Jiwoo's slash had bent space for a moment before sealing itself.

That wasn't mana alone, that was void.

Baek's eyes narrowed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Let's see how you'll grow that power, Han Jiwoo."

He looked toward the dormitory Minjae had disappeared into, expression unreadable.

"Maybe I'll ask Headmaster about this."

***

When Jiwoo opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was the white ceiling. The faint scent of herbs and mana stones filled the air, and sunlight streamed through half-drawn curtains.

He blinked slowly, his thoughts still swimming. Nurse's office.

His arms ached. His chest felt heavy — not painful, just… different. Like something deep inside had shifted.

A familiar voice spoke up from his side.

"Oh, thank god. You're awake."

Jiwoo turned his head. Seo Minjae sat beside the bed, legs crossed, worry written all over his face.

"How long was I out?" Jiwoo's voice came out rough.

"A few hours," Minjae said. "Instructor Baek told me to brought you here after you passed out. Told me to watch over you until you woke up."

Jiwoo frowned. "Passed out…?"Memories came back in fragments — the fight, the clash of blades, that surge of power that wasn't his mana.

Minjae leaned forward. "You okay, man? I thought you were dead for a second. You and Instructor Baek went at it like an actual duel, not a spar."

Jiwoo exhaled, running a hand over his face. "It wasn't supposed to go that far."

"No kidding. When your sword started glowing, I thought you were about to blow the field again."

That made Jiwoo pause. "…Glowing?"

"Yeah." Minjae's tone dropped, quieter now. "It was weird. Not like normal mana. The color was wrong — kinda violet, but darker. Even Instructor Baek looked… surprised."

Jiwoo didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted to the wooden sword lying on the table beside him — the edge faintly charred, as if burned from the inside.

He pressed a hand to his chest. The pulse was still there — faint, steady.

Minjae sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Instructor Baek said you're fine, but told me not to mention anything about what happened."

"Not to mention it?" Jiwoo repeated.

"Yeah. Said he'd handle it himself."

Silence settled between them. Outside, the faint sound of students training carried through the open window — laughter, shouts, the rhythmic thud of practice strikes.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Finally, Minjae stood. "Anyway, you should rest. I'll bring food from the cafeteria later. Don't move around too much."

He turned toward the door.

"Hey, Minjae," Jiwoo called softly.

Minjae looked back. "Yeah?"

"…Thanks."

The boy grinned. "Don't thank me yet. You still owe me for carrying your unconscious ass across half the campus."

Jiwoo almost smiled. "Fine. Add it to my tab."

When Minjae left, the room grew quiet again.

Jiwoo leaned back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling.

His hand drifted to his chest once more. That pulse — the same rhythm as the resonance, as the explosion — faint but alive.

Whatever it was, it wasn't gone.

Somewhere out there, the world kept moving. But inside, something had changed.

Jiwoo lay back, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts blurred, as he close his eyes and open it again he wasn't in the infirmary anymore.

There was nothing but black. No light. No sound. The air felt thick, pressing against his skin, like he was buried underwater.

"…Where—"The word never left his lips.