Academy of the Fallen Nation
Caw—caw— Even though the sun was high in the sky at midday, there was no color to be seen anywhere in the city, and it wasn't just because of the weather. Ten years after the war's end, the city still seemed to carry the acrid scent of ashes with every breath, shrouded in a gray fog that lent it a gloomy air.
At the city hall in the heart of Hailum, Philip, who was handling paperwork, let out a sudden yawn as drowsiness hit him, quickly glancing around at his surroundings. Fortunately, no one seemed to have noticed; his colleagues were all absorbed in their tasks.
Ring ring ring— A dry alarm like metal being struck rang out, and the city hall employees uniformly stopped what they were doing, pulling something from their pockets. An unidentified green pill. Everyone swallowed it at once.
Philip, who had been watching from the side, also swallowed the pill in his hand. The only difference from the others was that his was fake.
Three years after his homeland, the Hailum Kingdom, fell in defeat—that is, seven years ago—they had begun steadily distributing these green pills to the citizens. The drug suppressed emotions to make control easier. It had been devised as an extreme measure during a time when the regime nearly collapsed under the weight of massive war reparations, but surprisingly effective, the citizens were still obligated to take it at set intervals.
Click. Of course, there were cases like Philip, who faked taking it by closing the pill bottle lid, but most such attempts ended badly. Refusing the pill was treated as equivalent to refusing civic duty, punished severely—and in extreme cases, summarily executed under the pretext of being rebels.
If the enforcers ever found out...
Bang.Thud thud. A man entering through the city hall doors interrupted Philip's thoughts, placing a single card in front of him.
"I require processing for enrollment at Hailum National Academy and one set of EDP-427."
"Please wait a moment."
Philip examined the card, which looked like an ID. 'Subject from Moralis Research Institute... They were doing experiments like this?' Checking the reader, he saw it was for record laundering via academy enrollment.
Confirming no issues in the system, Philip quickly processed the paperwork and issued the documents. As for him, he wanted nothing more to do with this so-called subject, whether it ended up as target practice or a killing machine at the academy.
Watching the man's back as he silently took the papers and pill bottle, Philip let out a deep internal sigh of relief that he'd survived another day.
......
Crunch. 'Tch... Tastes awful.'
I chewed and swallowed the pill called EDP-427 as I headed to the academy. This bitter, astringent pill, which matched the city's air perfectly, didn't have the powerful effects described in the original work on me—it was about as effective as a mild calming tablet. It was a bit unsettling to ingest, but it lived up to the guidebook's guarantee.
World Tester's effect is this, huh.
The title's vague description: "Always maintains a subjective viewpoint." I'd skipped over it not understanding, but now it seemed pretty useful.
'They distribute this stuff to the entire population. Ugh, horrifying.'
This world was from a dystopian American comic. A nation defeated in war squeezes its people to pay reparations. As with these kinds of stories, the elites were the villains, and the protagonist rises against them to become the people's savior.
'Couldn't care less.'
For me, as long as I suck the sweet nectar from whichever side, I'm good.
Flip.
Arriving at the academy's main gate, I double-checked the papers in my hand.
'This is definitely legit, right?'
The Placebo ID card is working properly.
A curt reply, basically telling me to stop asking and go in. Disguising as a test subject from Moralis Research Institute was a clever idea. The institute was known not just for EDP-427 but also for developing Telos, the drug used to awaken superpowers inside Hailum National Academy for training enforcers. It'd be weirder if they didn't do human experiments.
The lab's security demands fit perfectly with the status of a bottom-rung test subject with no human rights whatsoever, making the disguise easy. I strode confidently into the academy grounds.
"Halt right there."
The moment I stepped inside, a guard at the entrance blocked my path.
"State your business."
"I'm here for academy enrollment procedures."
He checked the papers and pressed a bell nearby. After a short wait, another guard in the same uniform emerged from inside and opened the door.
The first guard handed over the papers without even looking at him.
"Escort them to the headmaster's office."
"Yes, sir."
Following the escort, I surveyed the academy interior. The barren grounds, with no garden in sight and a stark interior, were filled with students training. Clang clang—Huff. Some sparred barehanded or with weapons, while spaced-out gunshots suggested shooting practice.
Soon, we reached the headmaster's office, and the escort knocked.
"I've brought the new enrollee."
"Enter."
Creeeak.
The headmaster's office had only a desk and chair for work—no other furniture worthy of the name. Not even a guest chair. With his stubborn, soldier-like appearance more fitting a military man than an academic, he read the papers I handed him, then pulled out a lighter and burned them.
Whoosh!
"......!"
I barely suppressed a startled gasp.
"......Has Moralis grown complacent? Sending a single test subject without even basic details. Who do they expect to hold accountable if state assets go to waste?"
Thankfully, he hadn't noticed anything off; the headmaster quietly observed me. His rock-steady expression without a flicker and scalpel-sharp gaze made it seem like he didn't need EDP-427 at all.
"Any special notes? It doesn't say what experiment you were subjected to."
"......A body enhancement experiment."
"Body enhancement... That's tech researched during the war. Too much lifespan reduction relative to effects—no surviving subjects left. Some eccentric must've been tinkering."
After a moment's thought, he spoke.
"Then we can use you for maybe five years at most. We'll train you fast and deploy you to the field. Any objections?"
"None."
"From now on, your name is Min-ho Moralis. Telos injection in two days—prepare yourself."
Since he'd burned even the papers, he probably figured I'd die soon from experiment side effects and planned to use me up quick and discard me.
'Works for me.'
No reason to turn down a chance to rack up merits. Leaving the headmaster who'd dismissed me, I followed the escort to the dorms.
Creeeak.
"Here. I'm heading back."
The escort vanished without waiting for a reply after that one line. I looked around the room. Designed for two, it had beds against both walls, with desks at the headboards.
Lying on the bed, I pondered my plans.
'First, get the Telos injection and awaken a superpower.'
Everyone trained at Hailum Academy received the drug Telos to awaken superpowers. Those with useful ones were gathered into the enforcers—a paramilitary group handling everything from public order to rebel suppression where force was needed.
There was also the Alaboy Fighting Technique, learned under the emotion-suppressed state from EDP-427.
'Tell me more about the Alaboy Fighting Technique.'
The Alaboy Fighting Technique is a martial art that accounts for every possible scenario using body and weapons. It aims for perfect offense and defense by observing and comparing one's durability, attack power, and the opponent's abilities.
Originally premised on EDP-427 intake, but with my high-speed thinking ability, I could learn it. The core plan: Leverage these to climb high in the enforcers.
This world gave the ruling class wide latitude, so higher status meant more options.
Creeeak—
Then the door opened, and a guy who looked like an academy student entered. He eyed me lying on the bed for a moment before speaking.
"Who're you?"
"Min-ho Moralis. Just enrolled."
"......I'm John Peralta."
After the introductions, John sat at his desk and started writing something. The name rang a bell, so I racked my brain before asking the guidebook.
'Is there a character named John Peralta?'
John Peralta becomes the protagonist's partner as an enforcer while acting as a spy, an officer in the rebels.
'Oh, right.'
In the original comic, when the protagonist worked as an enforcer, John Peralta was the one egging him on to snap out of it and rebel against the higher-ups.
'Hmm...'
From my gradually resurfacing memories, John had likely already stopped taking EDP-427. He'd probably gotten Telos and learned some Alaboy Fighting Technique too.
I made up my mind.
'Rooting out subversives makes a good initiation ritual, right?'
Quietly approaching John from behind, I drew the pistol from his waist holster.
"What the hell are you—!"
Bang—
John turned and stood, a hole punched through his forehead. Red paint sprayed across his desk and bed like a burst sprinkler.
Bang!
"Drop the gun! Hands up!"
Nearby instructors burst through the door and subdued me. I offered no resistance, complying obediently with their orders.