Alaboy Fighting Technique

Albert Grayham, headmaster of Hailum National Academy in the fallen nation, was mechanically signing documents as always.

His hand, which had been checking numbers and signing as they flowed by, paused briefly at one document.

It was a report on Minho, the test subject sent from the Moralis Research Institute for the academy to utilize instead of discarding. Grayham recalled the moment he first met him. Unusually, the test subject had arrived alone at the academy with just a single official document. Unlike most human experiment subjects, who showed violent reactions and escape attempts without handlers, Minho displayed remarkable obedience—likely from some form of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠training. Of course, on the first day, he'd killed his roommate in a sudden outburst... but since that roommate was a subversive element, it could even be seen as above-average loyalty to the government. And he'd passed the contingency test flawlessly. Even with EDP-427, a normal person would hesitate at least a moment when handed a pistol and told to kill. But Minho took the gun without a flicker of doubt and put a bullet in each prisoner's head. The shots, fired almost like rapid fire, hit their marks precisely. Grayham had been deeply impressed.

'Physical enhancement subjects usually can't control their own strength.'

A common side effect of forced biological experiments and brainwashing education. Some subjects even suffered intelligence degradation, ending up as mere meat shields. But Minho's accuracy hadn't dropped even while spraying bullets with the pistol. It meant he could control his body to its limits. In other words, Minho was a highly successful experimental case.

'No idea why they sent a subject like that to the academy, but I'll make good use of him now that he's here.'

The report stated that Minho had acquired a fire-element ability. Elemental abilities were simple but versatile depending on application—very useful.

'And fire, no less...'

It would come in handy in situations requiring raw power. Suddenly, Grayham felt it would be a waste to use Minho in an ordinary role. The original plan was basic training followed by meat-shield duty, but even a rough assessment showed his performance was too superior for that. There'd be plenty of time to burn through him after his lifespan became an issue.

'It's been a while since we got a decent one.'

Standing from his seat, Grayham stepped out of the headmaster's office.

I barely suppressed my murderous impulse toward the higher-ups and headed to the lecture hall for training.

'Finally time to learn Alaboy Fighting Technique?'

Heart pounding, I entered the classroom. Students stood like mannequins, staring at the podium. And on the podium, the headmaster stood with hands behind his back...

'The headmaster?!'

For some reason, ever since arriving at the academy, I kept running into that old man. He turned at the sound of the door, and our eyes met.

"You're late."

"...Sorry."

I'd arrived on time, but it was the headmaster—might as well play along. I scanned for an empty seat and took one.

"Today, I'll be conducting the lecture in place of Instructor Clayton."

One of the instructors behind the headmaster was probably Instructor Clayton. The headmaster paused, then pointed at me with spread fingers.

"Everyone except Minho Moralis there received Telos a week ago and has been learning to handle their abilities."

I'd awakened my power just this morning, so these guys were already ahead. The headmaster showed no intention of giving me catch-up lessons and continued.

"Today, we'll learn Alaboy Fighting Technique, the pride of our academy. You there—why do we learn ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Alaboy Fighting Technique?"

"To get stronger, sir."

A student in front answered his prompt. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The headmaster shook his head, as if he hadn't expected the right answer anyway.

"Not wrong. You'll get stronger mastering Alaboy Fighting Technique. But the ultimate goal is to conserve resources."

'What?'

"Agents are always outnumbered. The rebels breed like rats. If we just spray abilities and bullets, we'll exhaust ourselves before wiping them out."

Listening quietly, it wasn't wrong. In the original story, agents operated in pairs against hordes of rebels. The power and combat disparity just led to rebel massacres most times. Naturally, state-backed agents outmatched bloodsucking, ragtag rebels, even with budget cuts.

"In that sense, Alaboy Fighting Technique maximizes results with limited resources. Saving one bullet or ability use means smashing one more rebel skull."

In the end, budget and manpower issues. The original world's ultimate combat method boiled down to cheapskate efficiency. This country was doomed. I'd either climb high and leech off it or flip it over.

While I pondered that, the headmaster called Instructor Clayton forward.

"You, you, and you. Step up."

Three students from the front row advanced at his command.

"Now, begin a 1-vs-3 spar with Instructor Clayton. Everyone else, step back five paces."

The headmaster casually ordered a spar inside the classroom. The students retreated without question.

"Ability use is permitted during the spar. Do your best to take down Instructor Clayton."

Tat-tat-pat! No sooner had he spoken than the students kicked off the floor toward the instructor. The one with spikes from his fist struck first at the instructor's face. The instructor naturally deflected it toward the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠student approaching from the side with sharp fangs. Crash! As he sidelined those two, the third sneaked up silently and swung a military knife from his waist. No footsteps—probably an ability. Slash— The ambush sliced air as the instructor exploded upward from a low stance, slamming a fist into the solar plexus. Thud!

"Urk..."

The two returning students targeted his back but ended up rolling on the floor, fists to their solar plexuses. Spar over.

The headmaster ignored the dazed students and spoke.

"Instructor Clayton didn't use his ability. Yet he subdued you three—ability users—without breaking a sweat. If you were enemies, he could massacre everyone in this room alone."

'Yes! That's it!'

My cooled excitement reignited at the headmaster's spirited words.

"Now, pair with the student next to you and spar. No abilities in student-vs-student spars."

Students scattered to find partners at his order. Instructors moved to supervise. I grabbed the guy next to me and shifted spots.

"Begin!"

Spars started on his signal. Pat-pat-pat! My opponent seemed trained in martial arts, closing in with flashy footwork. As he neared, I lunged a fist at his chest in a surprise attack. Crack!

"Gahk..."

Caught off guard, he raised his arms to guard, but my punch snapped both and sent him tumbling backward.

"Spar halted."

A nearby instructor called it. The headmaster, who'd approached, said,

"...From now on, Minho Moralis spars with an instructor."

Not bad for me. Better to learn one-on-one with an instructor via spar than bicker with students. I'd scored private tutoring for Alaboy Fighting Technique.

Headmaster Grayham watched Minho begin sparring with the instructor, lost in thought. He'd assumed Minho would grasp the no-injuries spar's intent under ability restrictions and hold back accordingly. But contrary to expectations, Minho crushed his classmate's arms without hesitation, just like killing his roommate or executing prisoners. Grayham revised his assessment slightly.

'Intelligence seems a bit low compared to his strength... A side effect of the experiment, after all.'