Blood on My Hands, Fire in My Veins
Killing someone in the Academy of the Fallen Nation was a first for me, but since it was a fictional character, it didn't really shock me. If anything, it felt like my kill count in a game had just ticked up by one. That didn't mean I enjoyed the slaughter or anything. I just figured it was the most efficient way in this world.
"So, why'd you kill your roommate?"
I'd been dragged back to the headmaster's office right after our little greeting earlier. The difference this time? My hands were bound behind my back, and I was on my knees. Instructors loomed behind me, adding to the pressure.
'I got annoyed watching him simp for the protagonist while cozying up to the guys.' Yeah, if I said that honestly, I'd be shot on the spot. Keeping my face as blank as possible, I replied,
"There was a chance he was involved with the rebels."
"Rebels?"
"Someone who entered the academy to become an agent without taking EDP-427? The conclusion's obvious. He was either already a rebel or about to become one."
"John Peralta didn't take EDP-427? How did you know that?"
The headmaster—Albert Grayham—asked with a grave expression. I had to nail this answer. Screw it up, and I'd be tied to a post as target practice. In this military academy disguised as a school, that was totally plausible.
What should I say? Putting on a serious face, I opened my mouth.
"What does the king say when he doesn't want to go to the palace?"
"?"
"Grumble grumble."
A soft chuckle. Bang—
A pistol appeared in the headmaster's hand as if it'd always been there. Smoke rose from the barrel.
One of the instructors behind me clutched his chest and collapsed.
"......A petty trick, but it works sometimes."
"Surprisingly well, actually."
Truth be told, I hadn't expected it to land either. I was just bullshitting, but damn, it worked. What if I dropped a whole stand-up routine? Could I wipe out the rebels single-handedly? Unintentionally, I'd pioneered a new rebel detection method.
At the headmaster's gesture, the instructors hauled me up and untied my hands.
"Run a full checkup and bring him back here."
"Yes, sir."
Led by an instructor, I headed to the infirmary for a battery of tests. It seemed like they were verifying if I'd taken the drugs too. Needle in the arm was standard, plus a throat swab and even a urine sample—a full package. Made me wonder if they were throwing in a free health check.
Of course, no such perks existed; they were just confirming drug compliance. The results came back quick.
The headmaster nodded as he took the report from the instructor.
"Excellent."
"Thank you."
"One more thing left."
With that, he dragged me to the central academy plaza. The hard-packed sand ground gave off an eerie vibe.
"Was supposed to do this tomorrow, but since you're here, let's wrap it all up."
At his signal, instructors herded a line of bound prisoners to the center.
"Aaaagh!"
"Spare me!"
"Let go, you bastards!"
"Burn in hell!"
Hands and feet tightly bound, they writhed on the ground, screaming. The headmaster ignored them like buzzing flies and handed me a pistol.
"These are rebel collaborators. Execute them yourself."
A loyalty test, huh. Unlike John Peralta's gun, this one had ornate decorations—heavy in my hand.
I could do it if ordered, but... Getting bossed around like this was starting to piss me off. Kill them all together with the prisoners? Tempting, but probably not feasible. Instructors fiddling with their guns nearby, unknown abilities—too risky to act rashly. Besides, I hadn't gotten Telos or Alaboy Fighting Technique yet, my whole reason for joining.
'Headmaster can wait for another chance.'
Ignoring the cat-like growl in my gut, I aimed at the increasingly annoying, screaming prisoners. A red-eyed man freaked out at the barrel pointed his way.
"Valkyrie forever!"
Bang— Bang bang bang!
I unloaded like a machine gun, dropping them all, then handed the pistol back.
"What's Valkyrie?"
"What the rebels call themselves. Not important."
'Makes sense—they're not officially recognized by the state anyway.' Funny if the government adopted their nickname.
After helping the instructors move the bodies to the incinerator, I finally returned to the dorm. The bloodstains on the walls and bed were gone. Solo room now—way more comfy. Killing John was the right call.
After chilling in the dorm for the day, I headed to the infirmary for my Telos injection.
Mariel, the doctor who'd tested me yesterday, was there. A canon character—she'd later supply rebels with Telos via the protagonist, tipping the balance against the government. For now, she's compliant with EDP-427 and no rebel ties, so I'll keep an eye on her.
"......"
The injection proceeded silently. Mariel strapped my limbs to the bed—tight enough that even serious struggling wouldn't budge them. Guess thrashing was common.
'Pain sucks, but...'
Short pain for fantasy-level powers beat decades grinding traditional magic I couldn't even comprehend. Not a genius with perfect recall—quick-and-dirty junk food powers suited me fine.
Mariel approached with the syringe. Glowing orange liquid: Telos. Sparkling like some illicit drug.
It flowed in. At first, a tingle in my arm, then bitter spiciness in my mouth. Cold sweat poured out; my body shook. Unnaturally freezing, the bed felt like snow. The leather straps like frozen chains.
"Ugh......"
Unlike the chilling exterior, my insides boiled in a dizzying clash. A groan escaped. Tried holding it, but vision flickered—I screamed and thrashed.
"Aaaargh!"
The straps tore like paper. Flames erupted from my screaming mouth.
Whoosh!
"Haa... haa..."
After spewing fire, symptoms vanished; vision cleared. The med bed was snapped in half, ceiling melted where the pillar hit.
Dazed, half-standing, Mariel approached, sweat-soaked from the splash.
"You've awakened an elemental ability."
She quietly noted it on her chart.
"Congratulations."
Her face said otherwise. I didn't bother responding. Empty words aside, solid power.
Fwoosh.
Flames bloomed from my upturned palm—not hot to me.
'Agent gets the free pass, huh.'
Not just stronger body or sharper mind—this was obvious superpower territory. Fire control? Versatile as hell.
Caught up in the novelty, I played around: lighter flickers from fingers, full-arm blaze. Mid-fun, remembered Mariel; turned to her.
Scribble scribble. She observed silently, jotting anomalies.
"Can I head out now?"
"One moment... sign here, please."
Paperwork done, I left the infirmary. Morning duties finished. Afternoon meant academy schedule.
Time for chow—summoned the guidebook.
'Where's the cafeteria?'
The cafeteria at Hailum National Academy is...
Following the guidebook, I reached a quiet cafeteria. Early arrival had me worried about portions, but eating was fine.
Should've been fine...
'This shit's fucking disgusting...'
The government skimped even on food for their enforcer trainees. Bland slop: greasy salty soup, rock-hard bread. Salad? Just weeds, no fruit. Made me wanna kill everyone and quit.
Now I get why the protagonist joined the rebels after shaking off EDP-427.