Special Entity Report - 2
Executor Carlos. They say he drew attention from the moment he first enrolled in the officer academy. He showed exceptional aptitude for the stellar adaptation procedure.
The ability he possesses now, White Crystal, was granted to him from the very first procedure.
And it doesn't stop there!
Shockingly, Carlos had an activation index of 4.0 right from the start. Even ordinary Executors have to undergo multiple procedures to raise their activation index, but Carlos blew right past that threshold.
And it's not just talent—he's got tireless effort on top of it...!
A genius who works hard too? That's cheating. It violates the international code of conduct.
They say talent is something you're born with. That's why the mediocre can't beat geniuses—it's the natural order bestowed by the heavens.
But I disagree! Effort is a talent too.
In other words, Carlos was born with double the talent. So he's twice as infuriating.
Thump thump thump. Trial complete. Verdict: execution.
Ah, execution might be a bit harsh?
Anyway. I can grudgingly accept that Carlos is exceptional, but I still can't wrap my head around it. Not everyone outstanding gets universal respect.
They might have a rotten personality, or just zero social skills, or a laundry list of flaws. Of course, Carlos is outstanding enough to earn respect from others, and he doesn't have any glaring defects, but is that enough to command absolute faith from the Executors?
"So, Mr. Vega...... um, I mean Vega sir, I respect the 1st Platoon leader too, but is he really that amazing?"
I tilted my head after saying it.
That came out a little weird?
"What I mean is......"
"It's fine. I get what you're saying. No matter how capable he is, it's hard to earn unconditional trust from every Executor, right?"
Yes, exactly! That's precisely what I wanted to say.
"Well, if we're talking about the platoon leader's capabilities, we could go on forever, but there was a major incident. It's still treated as a closely guarded secret within the Sector."
Thump thump. Uncle Vega began unspooling the tale like a kindly old man handing over a warm latte.
No cinnamon popcorn in a moment like this? What a tragedy.
"It's not that far back. Relatively recent—two years ago, the Sector faced a massive crisis. We still haven't fully uncovered the cause, but one thing's certain: the Sector came this close to vanishing entirely."
"The Sector?"
"Hard to believe, right? The Defense Bureau hasn't released a peep about it."
"What on earth happened?"
"Cadavers invaded. Three individuals with an activation index of 5.0."
"Just three of th...... um. Wow, that's shocking. Three entities that strong attacking all at once? So the one who stopped them was......?"
"Right. The 1st Platoon leader. There was nothing we could do at the time. Once the activation index hits 5.0 or higher, personal firearms are basically useless. Even strategic weapons could only hope to pin them down at best. If we'd poured every ounce of firepower into one Cadaver, we might've killed it—but then we'd have been defenseless against the other two. But when the platoon leader stepped up, everything changed. He took down a 5.0 Cadaver single-handedly—something even the whole Sector would've struggled with. From that point on, our goal shifted. We weren't just resisting pointlessly anymore; we were desperately trying to keep those disaster-class Cadavers from reaching the Sector."
Vega gazed into the distance, his voice tinged with misty nostalgia.
This uncle's totally drunk on the memory. I can guess the rest without hearing it.
"We call that day the Steel Rain Operation. It wasn't officially designated, but it's an open secret among Executors. Bullets poured endlessly from our muzzles, and just as the gunfire started fading into silence, that enormous gunshot rang out—I'll never forget it. We could barely even hold their ankles, but one bullet turned a disaster white and dropped it dead."
Clap clap clap. I responded with enthusiastic applause, like an audience at the era's greatest drama.
Uncle Vega shot me a glance but said nothing.
He loves the applause, obviously!
"Wow, that's incredible. No wonder everyone trusts the platoon leader even more after that."
And Nera is sorely disappointed in the Sector's standards. My cozy lab with the doctor nearly got wiped out without me even knowing.
"That's why everyone's so down."
There were plenty of injured Executors around besides Uncle Vega. Thankfully, no fatalities.
Of course not. As the guardian of balance, I made sure the blood feud stayed just hot enough. Probably!
Anyway, survival is victory. It's not the strong who survive—survivors become strong.
So Uncle Vega could stand a little taller. His misty eyes from moments ago were gone; now his head just hung limp.
"Yeah. Abyss...... What the hell is that thing? I've never even imagined the platoon leader getting pushed back."
"The outside's dangerous. It happens."
"No, no. I don't know how much you understand about the platoon leader's abilities, but...... to a Cadaver, that power is death itself. Touch it and you're done. It's absolute law. Resisting it......"
Uncle Vega trailed off, unable to continue. Just state the plain truth! That I'm stronger than Carlos!
White Crystal isn't as omnipotent as it seems? Sure, it's a cheat ability, but basic fire magic counters it just fine! Assuming you survive the bullet, that is.
But is there really reason to tremble like this? Monsters being stronger than humans is par for the course in this apocalyptic world. And from the sound of it, they were sweating bullets over mere 5.0 trash just the other day.
It's just a throwback to the old days anyway. Entrusting the Sector's fate to one guy from the start was the real oddity.
I've lived less life in this world than most, but here's some advice: no organization that pins everything on one person stays intact for long.
It's basically wagering your fate on a game of chicken. Fun once or twice, but keep it up and eventually your head cracks open.
By then, pretending to 'realize how dangerous the game was!' won't help—you'll be on death's door.
So why not chalk it up to a learning experience and perk up?
"It's not like attacks didn't work, right? Even if it looked fine on the outside, who knows if it's stressing internally." I didn't even say that much.
"You had to see it with your own eyes......"
"Or maybe the body we saw was a fake? I hear some Cadavers can make meat clones sometimes."
Technically not clones—more like a biosuit—but close enough.
"If that's true, it's even worse. It'd mean a mere hunk of meat puppet is stronger than the platoon leader......"
Ah, he finally said it. After all that denial, he's completely broken.
Uncle Vega, now gloomy as an overcast sky, clutched his stomach like it hurt.
Did someone punch him there? I saw bad bruising when treating wounds earlier—such a shame.
Time to bail and tell him to rest.
I stood up. It was getting toward evening, no more casualties coming to the infirmary, so my duty was done.
I escaped the infirmary's dour vibe. All these Executors were fresh-as-seaweed despite their injuries; it was dragging my energy down too.
Outside, I ran into familiar faces.
Carlos. Lira. Nova.
Nova was her usual blank self. Lira wasn't her usual self...... she was seaweed mode too. Carlos wore a deep-sea fish scowl, deadly serious.
"Hello!"
Nera, 1st Platoon's mood-maker and everyone's idol, greeted them brightly.
No one replied.
What's with everyone?