I Possessed a Broken Academy Instructor - Chapter 81



Chapter 81

In essence, the superhumans are broadly divided into two categories.

The Martial and the Psionic.

Yet, as mentioned before, it is impossible to classify all superhumans’ traits, abilities, and personalities solely into these two.

It is a self-evident truth upon a moment’s thought.

Even in a simple technical profession, countless roles emerge based on the assigned tasks and aptitudes; how could one possibly encapsulate those who are sporadically unearthed across this vast galaxy in just two words?

Of course, the Martial category is somewhat less complex.

They are warriors who carry on their lineage through centuries of physical enhancement and training.

Due to their nature of wielding the body as a weapon to manifest phenomena, they can be somewhat classified by lineage, school, or as individuals known as Grandmasters.

‘But the Psionic is of a different thread.’

They delve deeply into the study and advancement of psionic energy and gears from the very foundation, striving for a singular, perfected outcome.

Thus, while they can mimic or guide towards the same results and phenomena, they cannot exert influence over others to the same extent as the Martial.

Take the Runner as an example.

They all aim for the same phenomenon of ‘extreme speed,’ yet their methods diverge.

‘Some simply reduce their body mass, some manipulate the surrounding gravity, while others manipulate the earth itself.’

To illustrate with a more extreme example, there are the healing abilities commonly referred to as Support.

Other cadets and instructors might say that the reason to befriend Support cadets lies in their ‘rarity’ and ‘necessity,’ but Pamiyu understood the underlying fear.

A fear that is neither openly displayed nor deliberately revealed.

‘For a superhuman, an attack originating from within the body is not easily countered.’

The ability to manipulate the body for healing also implies the potential to manipulate that healing in a negative direction.

Of course, being a superhuman allows for adequate countermeasures, but if one were to suffer injuries severe enough to lose consciousness, wouldn’t that leave them utterly defenseless?

In any case, for this reason, the Psionic category branches into numerous paths, and the understanding of psionic energy among individuals differs significantly from that of the Martial.

‘…Baek Hui-young.’

That was the reason.

The context in which Pamiyu immediately sensed Baek Hui-young’s growth.

When he grasped her wrist while still in a dazed state, she encountered the frantic traces of gears spinning wildly for rapid recovery.

But she was not one to be startled merely by gears.

Even if a cadet, no matter how elite, from the Central Special Operations Academy, has ascended to Quad Gear as a mere first-year, it is indeed surprising, though not without precedent.

Had that been all, perhaps congratulations would have been in order.

But she had seen it.

‘…A monster, reduced to rags. A creature swimming through a sea of corpses, drowning while shackled with countless wounds.’

A source that exudes psionic energy.

Gear is merely a measure of a superhuman’s abilities, while the heart is named the Psychic Core or the Psychic Nucleus.

In other words, the psionic energy reflects something that has been extreme and distorted within that person.

Is that why?

She could only stare at him, her expression lost for words, her eyes wide with shock, as if all her previous impressions of Miel—her childhood friend who had always seemed a bit blunt and inscrutable—had been rendered meaningless.

“…”

No, this was closer to fear.

An instinctive aversion to the incomprehensible monstrosity.

It was then.

Whether he had sensed something in her demeanor or felt discomfort at having his true nature exposed, Baek Hwi-young narrowed his brow slightly and spoke in a low voice.

“…This is…”

A voice cracked with embarrassment.

And in that moment, as she faced his characteristic ashen pupils for the first time, so close and so prolonged, she could not help but realize that she had been mistaken all along.

…It wasn’t just Instructor Jin Crow who was mad.

No, perhaps he was the only sane one.

As she confronted Baek Hwi-young’s pupils, which seemed empty yet were filled with something utterly incomprehensible, Pamiu found herself thinking this without meaning to.

It was right then.

“Hwi, Hwi-young!”

Had she heard the commotion from inside the room?

Miel, who had been sobbing outside for a while, rushed in urgently, and Baek Hwi-young, as if to say he had never worn that eerie, strange expression, casually pulled out the IV that had been stuck in his wrist and caught Miel, who was dashing toward him.

“Wahhh…”

“It’s okay. Anyone would think you were dead.”

“Don’t say that… Wahhh!”

Moreover, the once-rampaging psionic energy had settled into stillness, returning to a ‘normal’ face adorned with a faint smile.

Meanwhile, outside, Dokgo Ran and Hino Kana realized that Baek Hwi-young had gotten up and entered the room.

Perhaps they felt a twinge of guilt for having thrown themselves into danger to save him.

They all wore expressions of relief, and even Beatus, who had been cleaning his firearm with a blank face until then, was not much different.

“…….”

In that warm atmosphere, there was nothing for Famiyu to do.

No, she couldn’t even fathom what words to say in the first place. Because of that, she took a step back and gazed at their figures.

Was it because they knew her usual temperament?

No one among the cadets questioned her silence, even as she stood there with a strangely enigmatic gaze.

However, that didn’t last long.

Baek Hui-young gently brushed the brown hair of Miel, who had just managed to stop crying, and then turned to Beatus.

“What’s the situation?”

“……Well, it’s not good.”

Since he had collapsed before the situation escalated to extremes, Beatus explained as concisely as possible, trying to lessen the shock he would feel.

Yet, feeling the burn inside, he unconsciously took out a cigarette and placed it between his lips as he spoke.

“Not sure what happened with the instructor or the mafia… um, anyway, I didn’t get a proper explanation, but it seems the madman ruling this Free Planet Alliance has unleashed the creatures. Then suddenly, a void rift opened… While you were unconscious, we tried to escape, but we had already lost air superiority.”

Even so, amidst their own struggles and the lack of clear answers, he had prepared himself for the fact that he couldn’t help but feel shocked. Yet, the face of Baek Hui-young, who was listening to the story, was the very picture of calm.

“……I see, I see.”

As if he had known that such a thing would happen someday.

It was a pity that only Famiyu noticed that subtle sense of dissonance.

But perhaps it was because the last member of their party had awakened.

“Separately from the instructor, it’s best for us not to get involved in this matter.”

Hinokana, who had been silent until now, finally spoke up, and Dokoran nodded obediently, as if he understood that this was not a situation for reckless behavior.

Thanks to that, Hinokana began to cautiously mention the information brought by the shadows of their clan.

“They say the Fourth Fleet of the Synthesized Nation is coming to rescue the citizens of the Synthesized Nation, and it would be wise to contact the embassy and join them right away…”

At first glance, it seemed like the best course of action the cadets could take.

Even Famiyu nodded absentmindedly in agreement.

But they say life never goes as one wishes.

No sooner had her words escaped her lips than a series of shouts erupted from outside, and Satra, with a stiffened face, shouted.

“……They’re coming!”

– Kyaaa!

– Kiiiiiiiiiiiiik!

At last, the chilling howls of creatures echoed from outside, a sound so eerie it sent shivers down the spine.

*

The common folk possess a woeful ignorance of the special operations officers.

Perhaps this is only natural.

For humans—no, for sentient beings—are bound to hold an endlessly narrow view of that which they have not experienced.

Is this the reason?

Many misunderstand, and at times, they question.

Why is it that the overwhelming majority of superhumans stagnate at the Triple level, while a mere individual at the Pentagear level is treated as a being capable of opening the front lines?

“Hahahahahaha!”

Sterro Mer could not help but concede.

He had glimpsed the future through Nectar, and believed he had already gauged and accepted his own capabilities, yet the flesh of the Pentagear he so craved was a realm that could not be easily articulated by mere prior estimations.

Crack!

With a mere extension of his fingertips, concrete erupted.

The skeletal remains of a once-collapsed building twisted as if it were nothing but flesh, soon filling the slanted lobby with the bodies of creatures that transformed into mere chunks of meat.

“…With this power.”

Though he outwardly appeared as a boy of noble upbringing, to those who held their breath, witnessing his overwhelming might, he was nothing short of a shock.

Just moments ago, the body of Von, who had been slaughtering the elite brigade of Black Mer, was torn in half.

Hundreds of creatures surged from all directions, shredded at his beck and call, and Sterro Mer reveled in the omnipotence he had finally grasped, drenched in the repulsive green and purple ichor that splattered around him.

‘A new game is set.’

In less than five minutes, he had cleared the lobby, and with a single leap, he ascended to the highest level of the crumbling building.

Crack!

At times, he plucked the tongues of welcoming creatures, burst their eyeballs, and neatly butchered them, until he finally reached the uppermost level of the Mer Corporation, which had been split in two. There, the hellish scene of Mercato unfolded before him.

—Kyaaah!

—P-Please, spare me!

The screams and cries carried on the wind disoriented his ears, and at the edge of his gaze, he beheld the ships of Black Mer, in which he had invested heavily, being shot down by the Void Tortoise, plummeting to their doom.

The thick stench of blood brushed against his nostrils, and though the countless structures he had built with numerous bodies were collapsing, he paid it no mind.

“This incident will serve as a pretext for a massive overhaul. We will uproot the seeds of rebellion and, while deceiving the Empire and the Synthetic States, construct Noah’s Ark.”

Fragments of destruction glimpsed through Nectar.

What is needed by all sentient beings, crumbling under the waves of encroaching creatures, internal strife, and discord, is not cooperation, justice, or camaraderie.

What is required is overwhelming leadership and unity alone.

He espoused values fundamentally different from the freedom he sought, yet what he desired was not a hollow, reckless freedom that knew not the death it wrought upon one another, but rather a freedom nestled within an overwhelming and stable societal system.

“Life is but a beggar’s plight, dying aimlessly in the vast expanse of the galaxy. I have sown this freedom; what harm is there in reaping it for a moment?”

His convictions had already twisted, contradictions coiling upon themselves, yet he felt none of it.

Was that the reason?

He savored the shouts and howls echoing from all directions as if they were music, and he inhaled deeply.

Yet, his sense of omnipotence would last no more than five minutes.

“……!”

He turned his head in dread, his trembling gaze reaching out to pull the concrete and debris around him toward the rear.

Crack-crack-crack!

In an instant, those reassembled fragments obeyed his command, piercing toward the foe like machines, but what brushed past him through the swirling dust was merely a gaze that regarded him with disdain, as if the bloodshed of the attack was inconsequential.

—Deceived. Misled. Thus, like us.

The black exoskeleton mirrored the form of a human, yet its size surpassed humanity, becoming something else entirely.

The skin, sliding like a dress, writhed, and its eyes shone with a blend of malevolence and mercy, cunning and purity, revulsion and ecstasy, illuminating him.

Born of contradiction, a monster that upheld contradiction.

The Queen of Creatures.

As she locked eyes with the pitiful, frail beast that had frozen in that moment, she whispered in a voice both sweet and chilling.

“Die!”

Perhaps it was due to the low compatibility of a body not long joined.

Veins surged, and he lashed out madly with fingertips extended toward the queen, but all that returned to him was an ever-growing sense of powerlessness.

“Grrk!”

The queen slowly moved her massive form, reaching a hand toward Steromer’s face.

At last, when her sticky, colossal hand grasped his head, Steromer realized and spoke.

—Truth.

The truth of the universe, unfathomable to the human self, seized his mind.

All he had thought was but a delusion, and the requiem of destruction had already begun.

“Oh, no.”

His heart faltered.

He tried to resist, but the moment he understood that the goal he had pursued for centuries, driven and compromised, was in fact an empty struggle, impossible to realize, the ego he had fortified crumbled in an instant.

“Uaaah!”

And what pierced through his shattered heart was the queen’s power.

– Mine. Ours.

She gazed upon Stero Mer, writhing in agony, as if he were truly lovely.

Creeeak!

Soon, she thrust him into the depths of his own belly, tearing himself apart.

– Companion.

With the anticipation of a newly born King, she slowly closed her eyes, letting the screams of dying men and the ecstatic cries of her children serve as the lullaby for her womb.