Chapter 144
Chapter 144
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 144
Chapter Title: Building the Squad
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“We can’t do it on our own.”
“Of course, there’ll be more superhumans deployed. I’m just asking you to be the face of the operation—and its leader.”
“There are leaders, and then there are leaders. We’re too small-scale.”
“If you perform successfully on the Styx frontlines, I’ll recognize you and your team as an official superhuman unit. And I’ll approve expanding your independent unit at the same time.”
“Really...?”
Darmosa nodded.
It was an outrageous offer.
Conditions that were impossible not to be stunned by.
“How long? There’s got to be a time limit on this, right?”
“Two years.”
“...Hmm.”
The fact that conditions were attached already meant something, so the timeframe itself didn’t matter much.
Still, two years was reasonable enough.
‘A superhuman unit.’
There were around thirty superhuman units currently in the Alliance.
The exact number couldn’t be stated because some operated in secret.
The most famous was the Central Superhuman Unit, and besides that, there were four that could be called majors—all active on the frontmost lines.
‘Cerberus Superhuman Unit.’
I recalled the name Vasimut for the first time in ages.
The one man who could stand toe-to-toe with the Miracle Generation at the peak of their power.
The leaders commanding the frontlines all thought themselves the strongest, but not him.
Next up in fame were the single superhuman units per defensive sector, and the rest weren’t worth much attention.
‘No, there’s one more.’
The superhuman unit that guarded only Earth, humanity’s birthplace.
In the original story, it existed only in the setting and wouldn’t mobilize unless Earth itself was in danger.
But given the unit’s nature, the odds of it causing issues were slim anyway, so no need to worry.
“The personnel’s small, but we can build it up over time. The real issue is the leader’s strength...”
Darmosa glanced sideways at me.
I knew full well I fell short.
A leader weaker than his own members.
It wasn’t a thing in normal superhuman units.
“What’ll two years get me?”
“Probably...”
I nodded with an uncertain look.
By the book, I was a fresh academy grad.
I should barely be adapting to superhuman life, let alone leading members.
Chasing a leadership role this early felt like too much greed.
‘...No. I’m at a decent level, aren’t I?’
It was just that everyone around me was so exceptional—my growth rate was insanely fast compared to a normal superhuman.
No reason for self-loathing.
Look at my cohort alone—no one outshone me that easily.
‘Yeah, that’s right.’
I indulged in a brief fantasy, padding my self-esteem.
But the truth remained: those with real talent were growing at terrifying speeds right this instant.
“What about the backlash?”
“There’s already precedent. Just prove yourself.”
He was right, as Darmosa said.
Dissatisfaction wouldn’t be an issue.
The moment we shone, the critics would flip their faces like it was nothing.
And I had no intention of refusing out of fear of criticism.
Official superhuman unit recognition came with real value.
Exclusive operational priority, massive Alliance-level support, and full personnel authority over unit members.
Nothing to pass up.
But the crown jewel was scouting rights for third-year Cradle of Heroes Academy cadets and provisional superhumans.
Official units could scout promising talents and recruit them directly.
The number of slots granted each year factored in regional intensity, resupply priorities, and more.
That said, some units barely used the privilege.
Frontline units ignored anyone without top-tier talent due to the risks.
The Central Unit and a few with secretive goals were the same.
‘In two years, I can snag the big fish.’ Sure, it sucked missing out on prizes in the meantime, but that couldn’t be helped.
My cohort had been a bumper crop, so the ones right after weren’t as standout—and I’d already bagged the two biggest catches anyway.
“But this isn’t everything, right?”
“Why?”
“You’ve got to staff the basics at least. What can five superhumans do?
A superhuman unit’s minimum is a hundred members.
Many neared a thousand, each overseeing a dozen star systems.
“I figured you’d say that.”
Darmosa grinned and pulled up a list.
“Pulling core members from existing units is tough. Pick from these.”
“...Huh?”
I was shocked scanning the list.
Several familiar names jumped out.
Darmosa added, as if he understood.
“I included a lot of your cohort. Flip the page for transferable personnel. Take a good look. Not that I recommend them.”
Even without his warning, I didn’t expect much from the next page.
“Transferable” meant they hadn’t adapted to their current units.
Or they’d been branded surplus.
Those superhumans often ended up in regular military roles, bouncing around without fixed postings—hardly ideal conditions.
‘Not all bad, though.’
Not every transferable was subpar.
Some had tricky abilities hard to utilize, or volunteered for transfer themselves.
Pick right, and gems could be found here.
“...Gonna need time to look this over.”
Too much to check on the spot.
“Sure. Take your time. You’ve got... five days. No limit on the transferables.”
“That’s appreciated, but...”
“What now? More demands?”
“The name I want isn’t here.”
I tapped the panel, feigning deep disappointment.
Great news to snag multiple cohort-mates, but without this, it was bust.
Darmosa caught on quick to who I meant.
“They’re off-limits.”
“Come on.”
“Really off-limits.”
Barton and Sahim.
The last two pieces of the Miracle Generation I lacked.
There was one more, but Jiang Worulf was with the Cross Alliance, so recruitment wasn’t possible.
“We’ll need a new contract soon...”
“Doesn’t matter. No.”
Tighter defense than expected.
I dangled the battleship secondary battery energy amplifier mass-production deal, but he shook his head firmly.
“Above all, they don’t want it.”
“...What? For real?”
“Yeah.”
Darmosa sighed as he answered.
“It’s a headache for me too. All because of you.”
I pressed for details, but he stonewalled.
“Contact them yourself. They’re probably on leave right now.”
*
I routed through Lachesis to the planet.
Prep time: two weeks.
Too long stuck on Yumaha had crammed the schedule again.
By original plan, I should be finalizing crew selections and fleet composition now.
But first, other business.
‘Been a while.’ One year since leaving the academy.
Time flies.
Back then, we were fellow cadets—now, I was meeting them as leader of an independent unit.
Might be awkward.
“You’re here!”
“Look at you. You’re glowing.”
Academy arrival: cohort-mates turned out to greet me.
They’d gathered ahead of postings, responding to my call.
“Captain.”
“Giz.”
A massive frame blocked my view entirely.
He’d bulked up even more since last time.
“I’ve been waiting for your summons.”
Still mindful of others, he hunched forward awkwardly, voice gruff.
“Doesn’t mean I’ll pick everyone who shows.”
“I’m in for sure. I’m sticking with you.”
About fifty cohort-mates here.
Friends and standouts I’d contacted, only those up for trials.
My initial scouting slots: twenty.
We’d expand based on results, hitting a hundred in two years.
No results, no dice—but that went without saying.
“Move it, big lug!”
Someone yelled from behind Giz.
Shoving failed, so they darted around sideways.
“Runshin.”
“You got lucky running into me. You really think you can put the great Runshin under you?”
Fuming, he yanked the mechanical spear off his back and aimed it my way.
“Long time. Good to see you.”
“Long time my ass! Spar first. Gotta see how much ballsier you’ve gotten.”
“Don’t be rude to the captain. You’re no match.”
“Shut it, meathead.”
“Didn’t watch the news? Our achievements are on another level.”
“Argh, seriously!”
Runshin gnashed his teeth and slammed a kick into Giz’s calf—loud enough to echo.
Giz just took it, face unchanging.
‘Both changed.’
Giz and Runshin had topped talent charts since academy days.
A year of combat had honed them sharply.
I eyed the mechanical spear Runshin held.
‘That’s the real deal.’
Unlike standard spears, the haft was thick, with triple interlocking gears so precise seams vanished.
The blade evoked a drill.
Not the academy toy he’d toted.
Liu clan weapon, granted only to those reaching a threshold.
A treasure boosting user power through sheer performance.
‘Insanely expensive, though...’
Rivaled holy weapons in output.
Factoring in core weapons, Runshin was elite-grade already.
“Anyway, what’s it gonna be!”
“Hold up. Greetings first. I’ll spar you soon.”
“A man’s word is gold. I’ll wait!”
Runshin nodded, pleased, and backed off.
Heartfelt reunions continued after.
Scattered on missions, the hall buzzed nonstop with catch-ups.
“Pretty much everyone I want is here.”
“Who’d ignore a call from the Golden Fleet’s boss?”
Shepin snickered from behind.
Still an embarrassing moniker.
Couldn’t get used to it.
“Go prep the tests.”
“What’s to prep? Just bodies.”
“Underestimate them here, and you’ll regret it forever. Gotta save face as seniors.”
“They’re all fresh academy grads, right?”
Shepin scoffed.
“We were too.”
“You’re mutants. Compare apples to apples. Who’d buy you guys as second-years?”
“Fair, but our cohort’s no slouches. Don’t underestimate them.”
“Hmm...”
Shepin looked uneasy.
I wasn’t exaggerating.
Shepin hadn’t slacked amid our grind, but Giz and Runshin alone would be close calls.
‘Experience aside, they’re even.’
Superhuman world ran on merit.
They were my cohort, but Shepin had crossed death’s door countless times with me—I hoped no slights.
Elite members didn’t get dismissed anywhere, but still, seniority.
“Fine, got it.”
“Tell Roze and Merdi too.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Shepin headed back to the ship.
Greetings done, I led them to the main hall.
Academy was on break, so facilities were free.
Word spread—cadets swarmed to watch.
“Senior!”
A familiar voice called.
Ur Karmada.
Rare gem from the underclassmen.
“You okay?”
“Totally! Healed ages ago. Felt so bad you left without a proper goodbye.”
“Healthy’s all that matters.”
“...Everyone I treated thinks the same.”
“Everyone?”
The cadets I’d cleansed of corruption.
They knew each other?
I eyed her questioningly; she caught on, waving it off.
“Of course it’s secret. Haven’t breathed a word.”
Ur mimed zipping her lips.