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Thanks to the principal, Lee Ha-Eun and I could freely use the teacher training room after school.
Of course, we couldn’t use it in the morning during class—but once all the other first graders had gone home, it was ours.
Even if I went home early, I’d have nothing to do anyway.
My mother raised me alone, and during the day, she went to work, only returning by dinner. Before starting elementary school, this hadn’t been an issue because she stayed at the kindergarten until she finished work. But now… I had to remain home alone until she returned.
Sure, I could have gone to Lee Ha-Eun’s house, or she could have come to mine.
But I think it’s safer to stay at school, where teachers are around…
The same went for Ha-Eun’s mother. Originally, she’d considered sending Ha-Eun to an academy, but for a first grader, that seemed unnecessary.
If Ha-Eun were a normal child, she’d likely attend an arts or sports academy, maybe piano lessons or gymnastics. But since she was Awakened, an academy that trained combat skills—an Ability Utilization Academy—would be the ideal choice. The thought of sending such a young girl to that kind of training probably weighed on her parents’ conscience.
“More than anything, Ha-Eun seems happiest when she’s with Geonwoo.”
“If this continues… aren’t we practically becoming family?”
And so it became natural for Ha-eun and me to stay after school, using the training room.
Honestly, at first, I worried she might get bored.
Training in the room was, well… just training. There wasn’t much else to do.
But…
“…Ugh…”
Ha-Eun simply sat on a chair, gathering magical energy from the air and awkwardly mimicking the instructors’ poses. Perhaps her naturally calm and timid personality made it hard for her to get bored, even in such a place.
The teachers had heard about our arrangement from the principal. Since we didn’t interfere with their training, they didn’t mind our presence. In fact, they seemed almost proud that such young kids were already attempting to train, clumsy as it was, offering occasional advice.
“You’re not channeling your magic correctly there… like me… like this… Whew?!”
“Are you insane?! You’re teaching this to children? One slip, and the magic backfires—you could get seriously hurt!”
…Well, most of their advice was useless to us anyway. Too low-level for me, too advanced for Ha-Eun.
It was a Friday—a day when our routine felt especially monotonous.
“I told you to come home early today,” Ha-Eun said during lunch in the cafeteria.
“Huh? Really?”
“Yeah. I’m staying at my grandmother’s house this weekend.”
It wasn’t unusual. Every two or three weeks, Ha-Eun’s family went to the countryside to spend time with her grandparents.
“Okay. Have a nice trip.”
“I’ll get some pocket money from grandma and grandpa!”
“…Right.”
It seemed her grandparents were generous with treats and money whenever she visited.
Finishing lunch, we returned to class for the closing ceremony.
“Attention! Greetings!”
“Goodbye!”
At the class president’s command, the children bowed to the principal, packed their bags, and ran toward the exits.
“Don’t run! You’ll fall!”
The principal called out, but first graders rarely listened.
I noticed his frown deepen as I packed my bag and headed to the training room.
“Hmm? Geonwoo, are you going alone today?”
“Yes. Ha-eun’s at her grandmother’s.”
“Oh… it’s Friday…”
The principal nodded knowingly.
“The teachers have an important meeting today. The training room will be empty. Just make sure you get home on time.”
“Yes, sir.”
Empty… just for me.
Today, I could finally train without worrying about Ha-eun’s gaze—or the teachers’.
I felt a thrill as I headed to the training room…
Until something unusual struck my senses.
…I think it’s near the school’s trash cans.
A place people rarely visited, except to throw something away. Even what caught my attention was slightly beyond the usual garbage dump. For now, it was hidden—safe from discovery.
This is it…
I had intended a proper training session today, but it seemed fate had other plans.
Should I skip training and go there instead?
I left my bag in the training room and made my way toward the trash heap, encountering no one along the way. Everyone else—students and teachers alike—was either in class or in the staff room.
Pausing before the heap, I thought:
“…If I go in barehanded, the blood will be everywhere, won’t it?”
I needed tools. Luckily, the dump was full of potential, albeit smelly. Using Samadhi Evolution, I burned away the filth and uncovered a useful item.
“It’s a broken bamboo sword…”
Perhaps a teacher had broken it during training. Even though this was an elementary school for Awakened children, sword training wasn’t in the curriculum. I picked it up and swung it lightly.
Awkward, but better than nothing.
Broken as it was, for my size it was workable. I burned away the dirty sections with Samadhi Evolution and moved toward my destination.
…It’s amazing every time I see it.
A space that should have been blocked by a wall was open. Not collapsed, not just removed—the area was twisted, defying the original structure.
People called this a Gate. Beyond it lay a Dungeon.
The names don’t matter.
The problem: abandoned Gates and Dungeons often caused trouble. Some allowed monsters to escape, others emitted black fog that corrupted the air. This Dungeon, I suspected, would release its inhabitants if ignored.
Simple solution.
Enter the Dungeon and eliminate everything inside.
Which means… I get actual combat experience.
As an elementary schooler, how else would I fight? This Dungeon would let me gauge my limits and sharpen the senses I had before my regression.
With only the broken bamboo sword, I stepped into the Dungeon.
A woosh—an axe flew at me.
Bang!
I redirected it with the side of my bamboo sword and dodged, sending it crashing into the ground. My eyes caught the attacker immediately: a massive, green-skinned monster. Muscular? Not exactly. Thick, solid flesh.
An Orc. Not a bad first opponent.
Orcs are stronger than children, but intelligent enough to use tools. Perfect for testing my techniques.
Whoosh!
“Oops.”
I dodged another axe swing. The Orcs attacked relentlessly, rushing me as soon as I entered. With my current body, parrying with the bamboo sword alone was barely enough—I could only deflect or evade. Directly blocking would snap the weak sword and leave me at their mercy.
If I just hold out… it’ll end quickly.
But I wouldn’t just hold out.
“Synchronization,” I whispered.
My internal energy and magic surged. My body strengthened; the bamboo sword in my hand hardened and sharpened.
I thrust it into the nearest Orc’s neck.
Thunk!
The sword, broken at the end, was sharp and reinforced by my magic. It pierced cleanly, and the Orc collapsed.
“Gyaaah?!”
Another Orc raised its axe—but before it could react, I stabbed it through the neck as well. The axe clattered uselessly to the ground.
Thud! Thud!
Two massive bodies hit the floor, making a loud noise. Soon, more Orcs would come. The broken bamboo sword was inefficient for multiple enemies—it could only stab. Yet…
I can handle this.
Even if I had grown younger, going all-out against Orcs was… worth it.
