# Chapter 7
In truth, this aspect played a significant role in why Iyeon was only a Mugunghwa Tier 2.
If he could draw detailed pictures even if it took time, he would have received decent treatment despite certain limitations. When the Superpower Management Office first received Iyeon’s ability, it became quite the topic of conversation. The Superhuman Rating Examination Committee was filled with anticipation, claiming that a talent of at least Mugunghwa Tier 4 or higher had finally appeared after a long time.
Superpower examinations primarily measure and analyze three factors to classify tiers: the type of ability, the strength unit of power called “gi-ryeok” that can be exerted, and the application versatility of the ability. In the case of materialization, when compared to other superhumans with similar gi-ryeok, it was an ability with limitless applications that could raise one’s tier by at least one level based solely on the ability itself.
However, upon seeing the video demonstration, the committee was left speechless. Iyeon’s drawing skills were worse than a kindergartener’s.
Something did emerge from the paper he’d drawn on with great effort, but the committee members had to strain their eyes at the monitor to identify what it was. Even after Iyeon explained, it still didn’t look anything like what he claimed. The simpler drawings seemed to function somewhat similarly to what they were supposed to be, but as soon as the structure became even slightly complex, any semblance of functionality vanished, resulting in what looked like a meticulously drawn steel scrubber.
What’s more, only drawings created by Iyeon himself could be materialized. The information that drawings by others, printed images, and photographs couldn’t be materialized drew sighs from everyone.
At first, the committee suspected Iyeon might be playing a prank because his drawings were so terrible—there had actually been cases of superhumans adopting such concepts during their evaluations. But Iyeon looked so confident showing his drawings. His expression of genuine pride was astonishing.
A materialization ability user who couldn’t draw—it was like some divine prank. While Iyeon’s gi-ryeok level and application skills weren’t bad, in this case, the unique nature of his ability actually worked against him. After in-depth discussions, the committee assigned Iyeon a Mugunghwa Tier 2 ranking.
“Wait a moment.”
Iyeon put his pen to the front of the paper airplane and drew a thick cross shape and several circles that resembled a child’s doodle. The lines were still trembling, but since they were simple shapes, they were at least recognizable. They looked like buttons on a game controller.
“These are the controls.”
With those words, the buttons puffed up slightly, transforming into a pressable form. Iyeon pulled out a heavily crumpled blank piece of paper from somewhere and drew another paper airplane. It was an abstractly shaped airplane, different from the one they were currently riding.
“I’ll ride this one. Let’s catch them together.”
As Iyeon placed his hand on the paper, a paper airplane of similar size to the one they were riding emerged, crumpling the paper severely as it escaped and hovered beside them. Despite being drawn on crumpled paper, fortunately, the airplane was merely ugly rather than crumpled, its surface smooth.
As Iyeon moved over to it, Sano looked up at the sky. Soon, the paper airplane took off at a terrifying speed, charging toward one of the Muribul birds.
“…Why is it so fast?”
It was a creation whose performance even its creator didn’t know. After briefly marveling, Iyeon too increased his airplane’s altitude. The paper airplane created a light breeze as it nimbly raised its head and approached a Muribul bird.
Even with transportation, catching a Muribul bird was difficult. First, the Muribul birds were too fast. Just when you thought you were close, they would mockingly change direction, making them seem catchable yet uncatchable.
Moreover, whenever Iyeon missed one, the Muribul bird would momentarily pause, provocatively spinning in place before gradually distancing itself. Couldn’t they survive with one less wing as long as they were alive? Iyeon, who instantly lost his humanity, clenched his fist.
After more than ten minutes of struggle, Iyeon barely managed to catch one—with its wings intact. After putting his trophy in a drawn cage, he wiped his sweat with a satisfied face. Je Sano must have caught at least two by now. While looking around for Sano, Iyeon soon spotted a paper airplane floating in the distance.
The white body was gliding through the clear sky as flexibly as if performing acrobatics, and atop it stood a large figure firmly planted with one foot stretched forward as if riding a skateboard.
The foot pressing the controls moved slightly to control the direction. On the arm part of the ivory-colored hoodie, which was enormous for Iyeon but fit Sano perfectly, something red was visible.
Sano lowered his posture slightly and seemed to fly a bit before extending his hand forward. A Muribul bird was visible in front of him. Something like a string extended from his long fingertips, wrapping around the Muribul bird.
It stuck so quickly and persistently that the bird had no chance to escape. Instantly bound all over, the Muribul bird was helplessly drawn in by Sano’s pulling force. The fluttering wings were pitiful to see.
Sano grasped the caught Muribul bird by the neck and firmly tucked it under his side. His sides were already full of Muribul birds. After looking around, Sano spotted the one remaining bird caught in Iyeon’s cage and approached him. Iyeon greeted him with a sullen face.
It was certainly processed at an incredibly fast speed, and it was an impressive ability… but he couldn’t shake the thought that Sano looked like a chicken vendor riding a board.
“That’s all of them.”
From the fingertips of the curtly speaking Sano, something like a string extended again. Upon closer inspection, his fingers had transformed into solid mineral ropes. Sano strung the Muribul birds together like dried pollock and opened the cage door to stuff them all in. Just like that, the mission was over.
“That was really fast…”
This mission would have taken an entire day if he’d done it alone. So this is why they assign more difficult missions to those with stronger abilities. His understanding of human resource utilization improved.
“Now we just need to go to the Superpower Management Office to hand these over and get the completion certificate.”
There was some distance from here to the Superpower Management Office, but it wouldn’t take long if they rode the paper airplane. We should be able to submit it today. Iyeon turned to look at Sano with a somewhat lighter heart.
“Drive for me.”
His attitude was nonchalantly carefree, as if he had completely forgotten that his life had been threatened just hours ago. Sano scoffed with an incredulous face.
“What exactly can you do?”
“I’m saying I don’t have navigation.”
Iyeon, who used public transportation, wouldn’t have a navigation app. Meanwhile, Sano traveled even through pitch-black underground, so he could probably find the Superpower Management Office blindfolded in mid-air.
Faced with this brazen demand, Sano started to sit down in front of the controls but paused. Somehow, he was complying too easily. Just as Iyeon, armed with firm distrust in Sano’s altruism, was about to open his mouth to further persuade him—
Sano quickly turned his head to look at the cage behind them. It was so urgent that it felt alarming.
Iyeon followed his gaze with confusion. Given how urgently Sano looked, he thought a Muribul bird had escaped, but that wasn’t it… wait. Iyeon’s eyeballs rolled slowly.
The Muribul birds, seemingly uncomfortable in the cramped cage, kept fluttering, wanting to get out. The colors and patterns of their flapping wings were so splendid and iridescent that rumors circulated that rich people would pay expensive prices to raise them.
But up close, the beautiful feathers of the Muribul birds were just ordinary bird feathers. Meaning, even though they looked pretty as if they were glowing, they didn’t actually shine.
The current glowing phenomenon was unheard of.
“Are they supposed to be like this?”
“It’s my first time seeing Muribul birds too… but I don’t think so.”
A sudden change in mutants couldn’t be a good sign. Sano turned his body to change his posture. Iyeon also gripped his sling bag strap with a tense face. The atmosphere instantly froze like thin ice.
At first, the Muribul birds emitted only a faint white light, but they gradually shone brighter. Iyeon whispered without taking his eyes off the cage.
“Can’t you do something with your ability?”
“How?”
“Somehow.”
“I could have tried if we were on the ground.”
Ah, that’s right. This was a space without any minerals. There were limits to what abilities Sano could deploy. Of all places, it had to be here. Iyeon clicked his tongue inwardly as he cautiously took a step toward the cage.
Flash! A blinding light erupted.
Despite reflexively raising his arms to shield his eyes from the immense amount of light, it was impossible to completely defend against it due to its explosive speed. While rapidly blinking and rubbing his eyes to restore his temporarily blurred vision, Iyeon’s body shook violently with the sensation of being strongly pulled.
When he came to his senses, he was being carried up in the sky. The large body that had abandoned the paper airplane was easily carrying Iyeon.
“What, what’s going on?”
“Hold tight.”
How am I supposed to hold tight here?! Alarmed, Iyeon hugged Sano’s head but received a savage warning asking if he wanted to die together, so he firmly gripped the fabric of his back instead. While Sano’s arms were thick and sturdy, at a height where falling meant instant death, having only that as a safety belt was a different matter.
Carrying Iyeon, who had curled up and was clinging tightly, Sano jumped down from a height of over 10 floors and landed on the rooftop of a nearby building as if bouncing on a giant trampoline after pushing off from the ground. Since the area was mostly residential, even a relatively tall building was only about 3 stories high, but this was more than enough to grasp the overall situation.
For a superhuman to flee from a mutant without a minimum response would violate the duty to protect ordinary citizens. That’s why Sano landed at a spot close enough to visually confirm the scene where the Muribul birds had glowed. After putting Iyeon down, Sano looked in the direction they had been, or more precisely, at the point where they would have fallen if they had dropped straight from the paper airplane.
The paper airplane was already gone without a trace. Near the paper airplane, which had been shattered beyond recognition, the remains of the similarly shattered cage were scattered.
What replaced where they had been was something utterly alien.
There was a gigantic tiger with blue-glowing fur. The tiger was as large as a city bus that commonly passed through the streets. Above the mutant’s head, the freed Muribul birds were floating about distractedly. Judging from the circumstances, they seemed to have summoned it.
“…What is that?”
The blank murmur was close to talking to himself. Iyeon’s eyes gazed blankly at the gigantic and beautiful blue mutant. It was clearly not a low-grade like the Muribul birds.
“A Blue Tiger.”
Sano’s answer came out very naturally. If it was a mutant that Je Sano knew, it was obvious.
“It’s a Grade 2 mutant.”
A high-risk mutant classified as top-tier.
