Frey lay flat on the cold stone ground, staring blankly at the sky above.
Clouds drifted slowly, their movement calm and indifferent. He watched them without really seeing, his mind empty, his body unwilling to move.
It had been a month.
A full month since he had entered the system's training space.
And in that entire month, he had not landed a single hit.
Not even once.
The statue with the angry face stood at a distance, unmoving. Frey knew better than to relax. That thing wasn't a statue—it was closer to a natural disaster given form. Once it moved, there was no hesitation, no restraint.
During this month, Frey had been beaten so thoroughly that there wasn't a single part of his body that hadn't been broken.
Arms. Legs. Ribs. Fingers. Spine.
Every bone.
If not for the system's healing, he would have died hundreds of times. Possibly more. He had stopped counting early on—it didn't make the pain any lighter.
The system allowed him exactly six hours of sleep. Once those hours were up, the statue attacked again. No warning. No preparation.
Frey never felt hunger. Never felt thirst. The system kept his body functioning just enough to continue.
"Six hours of sleep," Frey muttered once while lying face-down. "That's not training. That's workplace exploitation."
The statue had answered by breaking his shoulder.
He had tried to escape.
In the early days, Frey searched the forest surrounding the mountain, the interior of the structure, every corridor and stairway. There was no exit. No hidden passage.
This space was sealed.
Eventually, he stopped looking.
At first, the training was nothing more than a one-sided beating. Frey couldn't even follow the statue's movements. Sometimes he didn't realize he'd been hit until he was already airborne.
But after two weeks of this brutality, something began to change.
Patterns.
The statue wasn't adapting. It fought like an ancient warrior—direct, repetitive, overwhelming. There were no tricks. No deception.
Frey started avoiding attacks. Barely. Sometimes by accident.
He still couldn't counter.
Not once.
By the end of the month, however, Frey was no longer the same person who had entered this place.
Today, he knew, this would end.
He had observed everything. There weren't many patterns, but there were habits.
The statue was like a warrior carved from stone.
And that was the problem.
Stone lacked flexibility.
Its speed compensated for that flaw—but not completely.
Frey stood, exhaling slowly.
"Alright," he said aloud, voice hoarse. "One more time."
The statue moved.
Frey began circling it, constantly changing direction. Dodge. Step. Turn. Retreat. He never stayed behind it for long.
He knew what came next.
Whenever he moved behind the statue, it always responded with a back kick aimed directly at his chest.
Normally, even knowing this didn't help. The kick was too fast.
But now—
Now his body could react.
The kick came.
Frey dodged at the last moment, heart hammering, and stepped in.
His fist connected with the statue's outstretched leg.
For a second, there was silence.
Then—
MISSION: Training Regiment
Chain Mission: Land one attack on the opponent
Status: Accomplished
Reward: +1 Rank Increase to All Stats
Frey staggered back, breathing hard.
"…I did it," he said, almost disbelieving. Then louder, "I ACTUALLY DID IT."
A strange energy surged through him, warm and familiar—like something that had always belonged to him, finally loosening its restraints.
SYSTEM STATUS
Name: Frey StarlightRank: EStrength: E-Speed: EAgility: EAura: SSSTemplate: 0%Skills: LOCKEDTechniques: LOCKEDWeapons: LOCKED
"So that's it," Frey muttered. "A whole month… for one rank."
Disappointment flickered briefly.
Then the ground trembled.
The statues moved.
They stepped aside, positioning themselves on both sides of the altar where the sword was embedded.
Frey froze.
Then his eyes widened.
"…You're kidding," he whispered. "I passed?"
He moved forward cautiously.
The sword radiated an otherworldly presence. Black as the abyss, swallowing light. Thin white lines ran across the blade like stars scattered through empty space.
"Balerion… the Black Dread," Frey murmured.
He reached out with his left hand.
The moment he touched it, the handle fused into his forearm. The blade extended from his knuckles.
Frey inhaled sharply.
"…That's not how swords normally work."
A notification appeared.
Weapon Acquired: Balerion — The Black Dread
Another followed immediately.
2nd Chain Mission Activated:Learn the Technique : "Ten Thousand Steps of Shadow"
Frey raised his arm slowly, letting the light catch the blade.
"So this is it," he said quietly.
He already understood.
This structure was the Shadow Sect.
The runes carved into the walls weren't decorations. They were the technique itself.
Ten Thousand Steps of Shadow could only be understood at dawn and dusk, when sunlight struck the walls at a specific angle.
"Now comes the real training," Frey said.
Five months passed.
In an ancient sect hidden deep within an unknown forest, a boy stood in the center of an open training ground.
Two statues attacked him.
One wielded a sword.The other, a spear.
Frey moved.
The angry-faced statue slashed. Frey shifted left, his movement smooth, controlled.
The spear followed from behind.
He jumped right, rotated mid-air, and thrust his blade—
It was blocked.
The angry statue had intercepted the attack.
Frey landed and stepped back. "Really?" he said, breathing hard. "Both of you at once now?"
Silence.
"…I'm calling you Angry," he added, pointing. "And you're Sad."
Months of isolation had consequences.
During these five months, Frey fought relentlessly. He learned every form carved into the walls. Yet one problem remained.
He could not use aura externally.
No matter how hard he tried, it refused to manifest beyond reinforcing his body.
"I have SSS aura," Frey muttered one evening. "And absolutely no idea how to use it."
Still, he continued.
Eventually, the runes faded.
Then—
2nd Chain Mission
Completed:"Ten Thousand Steps of Shadow" Acquired
Returning to the Real World
Frey exhaled deeply.
"…Finally."
Six months.
He wanted a bath. Food. Sleep.
He glanced at the statues. "I won't miss you," he said honestly. "But… I'll admit you taught me something."
The world dissolved.
Frey woke up abruptly.
For a brief moment, his body tensed, expecting pain.
There was none.
He lay still and looked around.
The familiar ceiling. The dim light. His room.
"…I'm back," he murmured.
He reached for his phone and checked the time.
12:30 a.m.
Frey blinked.
"…Six hours."
So time hadn't frozen.
"That's good," he muttered. "Disappearing for six months would've been difficult to explain."
Relief lasted only a second.
Then reality caught up.
"…Now the real problem," Frey said, rubbing his face. "How am I supposed to kill a monster?"
He needed a hunter's license.
To get that, he needed to graduate.
And waiting another year was not an option.
"…I might need to trespass," he sighed.
The word itself didn't sit well with him, but he didn't see another path.
After taking a long bath and eating a proper meal—despite not being hungry in the training space, his body clearly missed real food—Frey went to bed.
The next day passed like any other.
Classes. Lectures. Noise.
Frey attended them out of habit, his body present while his thoughts stayed elsewhere.
During the break, he stepped outside to clear his head.
That was when he saw them.
Sung Jin-Woo was walking beside a teacher.
Sung Jin-Ah walked next to him.
Frey stopped mid-step.
"…Wait," he muttered.
His eyes narrowed.
Is this the part where the teacher talks to Jin-Woo?
His mind raced.
After the spider gate? Before? No—was it after his discharge? Damn it…
His memory refused to cooperate.
"…I remember the events," Frey muttered under his breath. "Not the sequence."
Cold realization set in.
That's dangerous.
Up until now, he had relied on the story. On what he remembered from the manhwa.
But memory without order was unreliable.
"…I can't rely on this anymore," he said quietly.
Most of Jin-Woo's major fights happened after obtaining Igris and unlocking the Shadow Monarch class.
"I am sure that, he haven't changed the class yet but, I can't be sure about it's timing."
Frey clenched his fists.
"I need to act," he said. "Before the story progresses anu further."
That evening, after returning home, Frey began searching for gate incidents.
Reports. Alerts. News archives.
Nothing useful.
No public information that would allow a civilian—especially a student—to legally enter a gate.
"…Of course," he muttered. "Why would it be that easy?"
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
Then the thought struck him.
Slow at first.
Then all at once.
If I can't enter an existing gate…
What about one that hasn't opened yet?
Frey sat up.
"…I could be a victim."
The idea was risky. Reckless.
But possible.
"If I'm present when it opens," he reasoned, "then I don't need permission."
The problem came immediately after.
All the upcoming gates he remembered were dangerous.
Far beyond his current level.
"…This is bad," Frey muttered.
Then another thought followed.
The Solo Leveling story span for around 1 year and Jinwoo first major raid after the class change was.... around one and a half months after his hospital discharge.
That was the Ice Elf arc.
Frey ran a hand through his hair.
"…Mission impossible," he said bitterly.
But there was one thing he did remember.
Not the timeline.
The location.
The area around the gate.
He remembered it clearly—not because of text, but because of visuals.
The area was near his appartment.
The crossing.The surrounding buildings.The layout.
"…I know where it will appear."
That night, Frey ordered several small spy cameras online.
Two days later, he went to the area.
He climbed to the rooftop of a nearby building. The view was perfect—clear sightlines, minimal foot traffic.
He installed the camera in a concealed spot and synced it to his phone.
"…Alright," Frey said quietly. "That's done."
After that, life returned to routine.
School. Homework. Training at home.
He practiced sword movements carefully, adapting what he had learned in the Shadow Sect to a confined space. Every night, he checked the camera.
Nothing.
Days passed.
Then—
Midnight.
Frey was preparing to sleep. Habit made him check the camera one last time.
The screen flickered.
A crack formed in the air.
Frey froze.
"…Now?" he whispered.
His heart sank.
"Now?! What the hell is wrong with your timing?!"
There was no time to think.
Frey changed quickly—comfortable pants, a sweatshirt, warm layers, a jacket, sturdy boots. He grabbed the bag he had prepared in advance.
This was his only chance.
He slung the bag over his shoulder and stepped out.
"…This better be worth it," Frey muttered.
And without looking back, he ran into the night.