S-Classes That I Raised to Devour - Chapter 2

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 2. The Youngest Son of the Potato Soup Restaurant
The Official Hunter examination held every January that year drew a record number of applicants.
Before the formal testing began, the usual ceremonial speeches and congratulations typical of state events filled the space.
Of course, most hunters barely listened, and some even dozed off. Chae Mujin was one of them.
“What benefits did you come to see, sir?”
A tap-tap on his shoulder roused him. His eyes snapped open, and when he turned his head reflexively, he saw a familiar yet unfamiliar face.
“I came for the possibility that if I become an Official Hunter, I could become a disciple of the Greatest Sword Master of Korea.”
“…Kim Jiwoo?”
“How do you know my name?”
Young. Impossibly young, which is why he hadn’t recognized him at first. But the man before him was unmistakably Kim Jiwoo.
An A-rank hunter he had cultivated with his own hands, and simultaneously, a mortal enemy who had betrayed and murdered him.
He barely suppressed the urge to strangle the man to death right then and there.
“I saw you on NewTube.”
“Wow, really? I only have 800 subscribers, so I never thought I’d meet one here!”
Nausea welled up at the sight of the man’s joy.
But it also snapped him back to clarity.
‘I’m dead.’
The moment his eyes opened, everything had changed. Ten years prior, on the day he had taken the Official Hunter examination?
‘There’s only one thing I can guess.’
Retracing his dead past was agonizing, but the memory came easily.
The memory of using Hoegwangbanjo on the Moon just before death.
If his desperate gambit had succeeded in killing the Moon, a Raid Reward would have been issued.
‘A solo subjugation yields greater compensation, so Regression must have been given as that reward. There’s no other explanation.’
A hollow laugh escaped him. It was easy to say, but how could such a thing possibly happen?
A blessing in misfortune. That was the only way to explain it.
“What’s your name, subscriber?”
Hearing Kim Jiwoo’s voice, the reason for the Regression no longer mattered.
He knew this. The Kim Jiwoo before him had not yet betrayed him. It was only a future he had experienced, a different timeline.
So this Kim Jiwoo would be innocent of the charge. Innocent of his rage.
‘Understanding and forgiveness are different things.’
Though it was a story from another world line, the fact that this bastard had betrayed and ultimately killed him remained unchanged.
Someone once said that forgiveness was the greatest revenge. That was nonsense.
True revenge required retaliation proportionate enough to soothe his burning resentment.
“Chae Mujin. I’m twenty-six.”
“I’m twenty-four. What’s your Level?”
His Level at this point, he knew without even opening his status window.
“Still Level 1.”
“A newbie, then. I thought as much. For reference, I’m Level 16. And this isn’t my first time taking the Official Hunter exam—it’s my second attempt.”
“Let’s drop the formalities between us.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah.”
He extended a friendly hand first to the man he could have ground into dust without effort.
“Want to form a party together?”
“Sure. What’s your Job Class?”
“Supporter.”
“A Supporter?”
The moment he revealed his Job Class, the man’s expression crumbled.
In most games, Supporters occupy a noble position.
The difference in power depending on whether or not one receives a Supporter’s Buff is absolutely massive.
But the Supporters of reality were different.
The stats gained from Buffs were minimal, their duration was short, and most critically, they drained experience points.
‘Not bringing a Supporter is standard party composition—nothing more to say.’
Just like in his past life, Kim Jiwoo stood up the moment he learned his Job Class.
“I need to use the restroom.”
Back then, he’d naively waited thirty minutes, thinking the man would actually return. How innocent he’d been.
“Go ahead.”
This time, he let him go easily. This bastard would come back to him eventually anyway.
The moment he left, the test supervisor raised the microphone volume.
―…and with that, we conclude the safety protocol briefing. The First Official Hunter Examination will now commence at the Central Athletic Field. Please proceed there immediately.
Standing up, he saw hunters filing in orderly lines below.
Watching them move with such tension and discipline, he felt it afresh.
“I’ve really come back.”
It was no dream, no illusion. He had genuinely regressed into the past.
His mind churned, but what came to mind wasn’t the Moon’s invasion—it was the calamity that would strike in just one year.
‘I have ten years before the Moon descends. But in just one year, the Thousand-Pierced Magical Girl will go berserk.’
A Named Boss Monster: the Thousand-Pierced Magical Girl.
She was not originally a hostile entity, but due to certain circumstances, she goes berserk.
‘All of Gangwon Province is wiped out, millions dead.’
The aftermath crippled South Korea’s economy and triggered a food crisis.
But that was not the end. Two more massive catastrophes occur within the decade.
Global disasters claiming tens of millions to hundreds of millions of lives.
His inability to stop the Moon was partly due to humanity being gravely weakened from failing to prevent these catastrophes.
‘My immediate goal is the Magical Girl. Stop her first, and then think about what comes next.’
But how could he stop her? If he immediately appealed that “she’s dangerous and countermeasures must be taken,” would anyone believe him?
‘They’d just lock me in a psychiatric ward.’
In the end, he had to be the one to stop her.
But he could not become strong. Born a Supporter, he could only play the role of kingmaker.
While that couldn’t be helped, there was no need to become an Official Hunter again and accept the restrictions on his actions.
‘All the hunters who betrayed me were ones I’d been granted. This time, I’ll pick whoever I want.’
So why not just abandon the exam and leave right now? Because it wasn’t necessary.
‘There are already hundreds of hunters here—why bother looking elsewhere?’
This place was a buffet. Raw gems he could pick and choose from, laid out before him.
And Kim Jiwoo beside him was tteokbokki. A snack he was curious about, took a bite or two of, and then threw away.
* * *
The First Examination was a Job Class ability assessment.
Awakened individuals received unique Job Classes, broadly categorized into four types.
The Tanker, responsible for defense.
The Dealer, responsible for offense.
The Healer, responsible for recovery.
The Supporter, responsible for support.
Many Job Class variations derived from these broad categories, but for now, only one thing needed to be demonstrated.
How well did they understand their own Job Class?
If understanding was poor, did they at least have skill to compensate?
―Dealer applicant number 1, please come to the testing platform. Equipment is not permitted.
Following the speaker’s instruction, applicant number 1 climbed onto the platform and was immediately startled.
“Something seems wrong with this?”
Before him stood a scarecrow. But the material was different from last year.
“Why is it metal instead of wood?”
“Regulations changed this year. You’ll attack the scarecrow for the next ten minutes.”
“Are you serious?”
Applicant number 1 gripped the issued dagger and swung it at what appeared to be the thinnest part—the neck.
It was not a crude swing born of strength alone.
Mana, the exclusive domain of Awakened ones, was channeled through it.
A pale blue light gathered on the dagger, and when it struck the scarecrow, a considerable sound rang out.
Clang!
For such a loud noise, the cut was surprisingly shallow.
As the hunter continued striking afterward, only sparks flew noisily.
―Time limit of 10 minutes, elapsed. Please descend from the testing platform.
The moment applicant number 1 descended, the previously black scoreboard lit up.
―[Applicant 1: 3 points]
The score posted immediately after the test made everyone wince.
“A wound like that should kill most monsters.”
“Sounds like the rumors about this year’s exam being record-breaking difficult were true.”
“Is it just the Dealer exam that’s hard? Don’t they usually vet close-range Dealers more strictly anyway?”
The spectators’ speculation was immediately refuted in the next test.
The Tanker applicant had to defend the scarecrow instead—against a Level 100 C-rank Hunter attacker.
―[Applicant 2: 3 points]
The rare Healer Job Class was comparatively lenient.
All they had to do was heal a pre-wounded Monster, and minimum score was 5 points.
The main event came next: the Supporter’s turn.
“Please cast a Buff on me.”
“Yes.”
The moment Supporter applicant number 24 extended her hand to cast a Buff on the supervisor―
Whoosh!
The supervisor vanished before her eyes.
Applicant number 24 was bewildered.
“Please cast the Buff.”
By the time she turned around at the supervisor’s voice coming from behind, it was too late.
“If you move like that, I cannot receive the Buff!”
That’s right. A Buff cannot be applied to a target instantly.
The target must be clearly in line of sight for the Buff to land.
“In actual combat, if you stand still waiting to receive a Buff, you’ll be directly exposed to the Monster’s attacks. So you must be able to cast Buffs even on moving targets.”
The supervisor explained kindly, but applicant number 24 simply could not cast the Buff.
―Time limit of 10 minutes, elapsed.
―[Applicant 24: 0 points]
“Wait, just a moment. Where is such a rule? You should at least let us cast the Buff!”
“If you do not descend immediately, your examination eligibility will be permanently revoked.”
The first to receive 0 points was, predictably, a Supporter.
The Supporters’ ordeal did not end there.
Even those who managed to cast a Buff received harsh scores for poor judgment.
“Why did you cast a Physical Attack Power Buff on me? I’m a Skill Dealer.”
“I just met you today—how was I supposed to know?”
“Descend.”
―[Applicant 47: 1 point]
As Supporters received consecutively poor scores, the other Supporters stood up and shouted.
“This is ridiculous. If you’re not going to accept Supporters, just say so outright.”
“If the first exam is like this, the next one’s a waste of time. Let’s go.”
No one even pretended to try to stop the departing Supporters.
They merely offered looks that seemed to say: about time you left.
Zing.
The ceiling camera tracked the departing Supporters.
“How many left?”
“Forty-two out of seventy-two. That’s over half, so I win the bet. Ha-ha-ha!”
The supervisors in the control room had already foreseen this outcome.
The state simply did not want to accept Supporters as Official Hunters. That was the truth.
“Let’s see what guts the ones who stayed have.”
As one supervisor examined the remaining Supporters, his brow furrowed.
While everyone else waited nervously for their turn, there was one Supporter sitting alone with his back leisurely reclined, arms crossed.
The badge on his chest read 77.
“What’s with that guy? Is he the association chairman’s son or something?”
His colleague rapidly worked the keyboard.
Since all applicant information had been collected, typing in just a number pulled up everything.
“Hey, look at this.”
“What? Is he really the chairman’s secret son?”
“Name: Chae Mujin, age 26, completed mandatory service the year before last, Awakened last summer. Completed hunter basic education but has no dungeon entry records.”
“A complete novice?”
“Wait, there’s more. He has an older brother and sister—the brother’s a D-rank Hunter, the sister’s a professional soldier.”
“So the family’s military?”
“No. His parents run a potato soup restaurant. I know the place, you probably do too—Chae Deok-su’s Potato Soup on the Gwanghwamun backstreet.”
“The food there is good. But so in the end, he’s just ordinary background?”
“Can’t be the chairman’s secret son, but he’s definitely the youngest son of the potato soup restaurant family. Ha-ha-ha-ha!”
“Hold on. Shh! It’s the chairman’s daughter’s turn.”
Among the applicants this year was Cheon Ihwa, the chairman of the Hunter Association’s only daughter.
She did not simply carry the status of the association chairman’s daughter.
She was the sole disciple of the Greatest Sword Master of Korea and was also famous as the youngest C-rank Hunter.
Tap, clatter.
The steel scarecrow’s head fell cleanly severed.
A slash so swift that even high-speed cameras barely captured it.
―[Applicant 76: 9 points]
The moment she ascended the platform, Cheon Ihwa received 9 points for severing the scarecrow’s head in a single blow.
Since the previous highest was 5 points, this was the moment the assumption of a maximum score of 5 shattered.
“Wow, insane. 9 points? Isn’t that a record high?”
“Beautiful and prodigiously talented with a sword, plus she’s the association chairman’s daughter—life is this unfair?”
“Whoever marries Cheon Ihwa must have saved the nation—no, the planet—in a past life.”
“You’re really pushing Cheon Ihwa. What about the next guy? It’s almost cruel by contrast.”
While the two lavished praise on Cheon Ihwa, applicant number 77’s exam ended in an instant.
“Right after Cheon Ihwa, it’s that unlucky Supporter from the potato soup restaurant.”
“Since it ended so fast, he probably got 0 points too.”
The two glanced at the scoreboard casually, their eyes widening beyond measure.
―[Applicant 77: 10 points]

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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