That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B!

Was his mana actually limitless?

Obviously not.

In the canon universe of Solo Leveling, a Hunter’s mana capacity was permanently fixed the exact moment they Awakened. You could spend years lifting heavy weights to train your physical muscles or practicing your sword swings to sharpen your combat technique, but your raw ”Mana Rank”—whether it was E, D, C, B, A, or S—never changed. The only extremely rare exception was experiencing a highly dangerous, near-lethal ”Re-Awakening.”

But Min-jun had the Manager. He was basically a walking glitch in the world’s underlying code.

Sung Jin-woo’s leveling system was explosive and incredibly obvious. He literally went from the world’s weakest E-Rank to a god-tier S-Rank by completing daily quests and dumping stat points into Strength, Agility, and Intelligence like a video game RPG character.

Min-jun didn’t have a menu to magically assign stat points. Instead, his entire strategy was built around min-maxing. He focused on extreme mana compression.

Normal Hunters—even the elite S-Ranks currently standing up in the observation deck—constantly leaked mana. Their bodies were like buckets with tiny holes, constantly bleeding raw magical energy out into the air. That was why they felt so overwhelmingly oppressive to normal humans, and exactly why Cha Hae-In’s mutated senses told her they all smelled like rotting blood.

Min-jun used the Manager to perfectly seal his bucket.

He pulled his magical energy inward, compressing it until it was incredibly dense. Instead of ”Leveling Up,” his Manager was constantly optimizing his mana density in the background. Because his energy wasn’t bleeding out into the atmosphere, his internal ”MP fuel tank” was easily ten times deeper than the fiery Choi Jong-In’s. Even if the veteran S-Ranks in the room had years of brutal combat experience, Min-jun could simply outlast them. He had the biggest battery in the room.

This perfect compression was also the exact reason his scent was totally neutral—like crisp morning dew—to Cha Hae-In, leaving her completely mesmerized and unable to look away from him.

Still, there was a major difference between his growth and Jin-woo’s. Jin-woo had strict Daily Quests to force his physical evolution. He had to run ten kilometers, do a hundred push-ups, and complete sit-ups every single day, or face a lethal survival penalty. Min-jun didn’t have to suffer through any of that exhausting cardio. All he had to do was passively absorb the ambient mana in his surroundings to continually feed his internal compression cycle.

But simply holding a lot of dense mana wasn’t going to be enough to survive the cosmic endgame.

The Architect—the rogue magical moderator who created Jin-woo’s System—spent eons designing that software. Min-jun couldn’t just casually code a flawless replica overnight, even with the Manager’s ridiculous processing speed. The trial and error required would take a lifetime.

He desperately needed Jin-woo to unlock his System as soon as possible. Once the original protagonist booted up his unique power, Min-jun could instruct the Manager to silently scan it, analyze the source code, and pirate a safer, optimized version for himself—one that didn’t risk his soul being completely hijacked by the Shadow Monarch.

Until that day came, compressing his mana was his best survival tactic. If he could just reach the absolute physical peak of an S-Rank Hunter, he could comfortably hide under Jin-woo’s shadow when the apocalyptic war between the Rulers and Monarchs finally began.

But surviving the apocalypse was a problem for another day. Right now, his focus was entirely on the Combat Test.

Since Min-jun had officially declared his class as an ”Archer,” the Association evaluators hauled out their most durable piece of equipment. It was an S-Rank reinforced target dummy, forged from high-grade magical alloys and heavily compressed monster bone, positioned exactly one hundred meters away at the far end of the firing range.

”Hunter-nim, please demonstrate your maximum piercing power on the target,” the head evaluator announced through the overhead intercom.

A nervous staff member jogged up to him, holding a rack of expensive, magically forged weapons. ”Do you need to borrow a bow, Hunter-nim? We have several high-tier options available from the armory.”

”No, I’m fine,” Min-jun replied politely, waving the man away.

Honestly, carrying a physical bow and a quiver full of arrows around the streets of Seoul sounded incredibly annoying. They were bulky, heavy, and totally impractical for a university student. Sure, holding a glowing magical bow looked undeniably cool—and he fully admitted he was still a guy who appreciated the aesthetics of looking like a badass—but functionally, he didn’t actually need one.

The VIPs up in the observation deck leaned against the glass, murmuring in confusion. Was he going to summon a weapon from a subspace inventory? Some Hunters were born with unique transformation skills, like Baek Yoon-Ho turning into a tiger. Was Min-jun going to manifest a massive longbow made of pure energy?

Min-jun didn’t even bother taking a proper firing stance. He casually kept his left hand resting in his slacks pocket.

With a subtle shift of his intent, the air next to his right shoulder violently warped. A single, brilliantly glowing blue arrow materialized out of thin air. It wasn’t made of wood or steel; it was forged entirely from hyper-compressed, vibrating blue mana. It hovered perfectly still, suspended in mid-air right beside his head.

Manager. Target lock.

[Auto-aim function engaged. Trajectory locked.]

Min-jun raised his right hand.

Snap!

The sharp sound of his fingers snapping echoed across the silent firing range.

Instantly, the blue arrow broke the sound barrier. The sheer kinetic force of its acceleration ripped up the concrete floor beneath its flight path. It didn’t just pierce the S-Rank monster-bone dummy. It completely vaporized the entire top half of the target in a blinding flash of blue light.

But the arrow didn’t stop there. It slammed into the heavily reinforced, magic-absorbing concrete wall behind the target, blew a massive, smoking crater straight through the bunker, and shot out into the open sky.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!

The delayed shockwave hit a second later, violently rattling the reinforced safety glass of the VIP viewing gallery and nearly knocking several reporters off their feet.

”.....”

The entire facility was plunged into a stunned, breathless silence.

But the spectators weren’t the only ones who were surprised. Min-jun stood there, his eyes slightly wide as he stared at the smoking hole in the government bunker.

Hmm... Manager?

[Yes?]

Am I actually that powerful?

[Negative.]

”...” Min-jun blinked.

[You are significantly more powerful than that. However, if you had utilized one hundred percent of your output, there was a high statistical probability that you would have leveled several city blocks. Therefore, I proactively decreased your mana input by a substantial margin.]

...Thank you for the save, Min-jun thought, gently rubbing his chin.

He was way stronger than he had initially calculated. But considering the endgame bosses of this universe were literal gods who could manipulate space and time, possessing enough firepower to wipe a city off the map was probably just the bare minimum requirement to survive.

Min-jun casually glanced up at the VIP gallery. His eyes locked directly onto Lim Tae-Gyu, the reigning number one S-Rank Archer in South Korea.

Min-jun offered a polite, friendly smile.

Tae-Gyu’s jaw dropped. The paper coffee cup slipped right through his trembling fingers, splashing hot liquid all over his expensive shoes. In that exact fraction of a second, Tae-Gyu knew with absolute certainty that he had just been demoted to the second-best archer in the country—and the gap between number one and number two was the size of the Pacific Ocean.

As the smoke slowly began to clear from the firing range, the VIPs finally snapped out of their shock. Complete chaos erupted.

The Guild Masters didn’t even wait for the evaluators to clear the room; they rushed down the stairs, sprinting onto the floor to surround Min-jun before he could even take a step toward the exit. The bidding war exploded instantly.

”KIM MIN-JUN! PLEASE JOIN THE HUNTERS GUILD! WE WILL MAKE YOU OUR VICE PRESIDENT RIGHT AWAY!” Choi Jong-In yelled, completely dropping his gentlemanly persona.

”THE WHITE TIGER GUILD WILL OFFER YOU A THIRTY BILLION WON SIGNING BONUS! IN CASH! RIGHT NOW!” Baek Yoon-Ho roared, aggressively pushing his way to the front.

”THE FIEND GUILD WILL DOUBLE ANY OFFER!” Tae-Gyu shouted desperately, trying to salvage his corporate monopoly. ”WE’LL GIVE YOU AN EXECUTIVE BOARD SEAT AND FULL RAID CONTROL!”

As the corporate heavyweights aggressively shoved each other to hand him their golden contracts, a heavy, suffocating pressure suddenly crashed down on the group.

Chairman Go Gun-Hee walked slowly toward the chaotic circle, intentionally flaring his terrifying aura. The bickering Guild Masters instantly froze and scattered, parting like a group of scolded children making way for an incredibly angry adult.

Chairman Go didn’t even look at the billionaires. He kept his sharp eyes entirely fixed on Min-jun, then slowly turned his head to look at the vaporized dummy and the massive hole in his reinforced wall. Finally, he looked back at the young man.

”Kim Min-jun-nim,” Chairman Go said, his deep voice leaving absolutely no room for argument. ”The Guilds can wait. The Association requires a moment of your time. Chief Woo, prepare my private office immediately.”

The Guild Masters immediately started sweating bullets. They all knew exactly what Chairman Go was trying to do. If the Chairman somehow managed to convince this kid to join the Association’s elite Monitoring Division by using national patriotism as a weapon, the private Guilds would lose him forever.

However, Min-jun didn’t look intimidated by the Chairman’s heavy aura. He simply lifted his left wrist and casually checked his watch.

”I have exactly forty-five minutes before my next class starts, Chairman Go,” Min-jun replied smoothly, adjusting his glasses. ”Lead the way.”