Chapter 48
Chapter 48
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: All Classes Pass
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The sixth practical martial arts class ended with Class 1's victory.
About half the class were injured.
Considering that 100 Cradle of Heroes Academy cadets had suffered such devastating losses against just four opponents, it was the kind of damage that left you speechless. But given that their opponents were the instructor team, you could call it a solid performance.
Stimulated by Class 1's success, the other classes gritted their teeth and threw themselves into training.
No other classes passed until the eighth lesson, but starting from the ninth, they began passing in droves, and by the eleventh, every class had earned their approval.
"Cough! I didn't expect everyone to pass so soon."
"That's why we can't slack off, Lemon."
"My class was the first to pass, though?"
"Lemon, you cheated."
Roze ruthlessly tore down my achievement.
Cheating.
She called the energy barrier a cheat.
And she was right.
The memory of that day came flooding back vividly—the day I got cocky after blocking the vice instructor's attacks and resumed training with Roze.
'Two hits...'
She pinpointed my existence on the first clash and ended it on the second.
The time it took for the energy barrier to shatter was a mere instant.
At first, I was baffled.
I'd never had that happen against the vice instructor.
Roze, on the other hand, yelled at me when she saw my shocked face.
She said I'd picked up some weird trick somewhere.
I must have been deluded.
If it had been a one-on-one against the vice instructor with no interference, could I have really held the energy barrier?
He definitely could have broken it.
And I'd have been done for in an instant.
Against Roze, who was stronger than the vice instructor, it was nothing more than a minor obstacle.
That realization led me to start training in how to wield the energy barrier at will.
'Why does it work so well now when it didn't on my own...?'
Maybe you really have to learn by getting hit.
It all came down to willpower.
Roze didn't blindly forbid me from using the energy barrier.
She just worried that I'd rely on some gimmick for a quick power boost before I was ready—something that wouldn't actually help my skills.
From my perspective, it was a win: I could control the energy barrier now, and training went back to normal.
"You're not using it now."
"I'm telling you to use it properly. Properly. Don't just lean on it blindly—learn to make use of it."
"Got it."
I wiped the sweat from my forehead and stood up.
With the second-year first semester nearly over, my physical condition was all over the place.
My stamina wasn't great, and my senses felt off-kilter.
That was why I kept taking unexpected clean hits during training.
Just now, that's what made the energy barrier pop out.
'And it broke right away...'
If an energy barrier takes an attack it can't handle and shatters forcibly, the concentrated energy doesn't protect the body—instead, it rampages wildly.
The damage you take in that process is a given.
If it were just pain, that'd be lucky.
But whether from the tangled energy flow or because the energy accumulation organ—my horn—was on my head, intense vertigo sometimes hit me temporarily.
In the heat of battle, that could be fatal.
That's why Roze emphasized it so many times.
I pinched off the nosebleed clotting one nostril, blew hard to clear it, and got back into stance.
"Lately, I've been feeling all fuzzy-headed. No idea why."
"...Really? Hmm, like I said. It's probably nothing."
She rolled her eyes awkwardly and mumbled.
Suspicious.
She reacted the same way every time I brought it up.
But I had no time to press her—I had to deal with Roze charging in.
Time flew by in that frenzy, and soon it was evening.
"Ah! I'm starving."
"Want one of these?"
"Yeah!"
She snatched the caramels I pulled from my pocket in a flash.
Ten caramels vanished in the blink of an eye, like magic.
Worried she might've eaten the wrappers too, I handed over the rest when she held out her hand.
"Uh..."
But this time, she didn't eat right away.
She stared back and forth between me and the caramels, looking conflicted.
"I've got my own snack."
"Really?"
Only then did she relax, peeling them one by one and popping them into her mouth.
She ate so neatly.
How could such a simple treat make her so happy?
I stared at her face, lost in thought for a moment, then snapped out of it and repacked my gear.
"I'll eat dinner separately."
"Again today?"
"Yeah. Got something to take care of."
"...You've been so busy lately."
Time was speeding up.
Maybe because the practical martial arts had me so preoccupied, but this semester felt especially fast.
Lose yourself in the flow for a bit, look back, and a week was gone.
'Still, this is one thing I can't neglect.'
Even in the chaos, I kept tabs on external developments.
The collapse of the fourth defense line last year.
Signs of fallout from that incident were cropping up everywhere.
Alien activity had spiked sharply in the living zones between the third and fourth defense lines.
Normally, you'd chalk it up to management lapses causing disturbances, but the intel I'd gathered showed this was different.
My guess: indiscriminate planet drops to plant 'seeds.'
So far, they claimed to be holding it off.
Planetary anti-air defenses were shooting them down before they even hit the atmosphere.
But was that really true?
'Miss just one...'
Planetary anti-air coverage is expensive.
Not just the garrison ships and construction costs, but the maintenance was astronomical.
Not every planet could afford it.
The reports coming up?
Of course they'd say they'd handled every one they found—good job.
But what about the ones they missed?
Right now, on some planet, a tumor devouring humanity was quietly blooming.
One silver lining.
Darmosa, head of the Central Superhuman Unit, was acting on the reports I'd been steadily sending via the Real Time Alien Tactics program, mobilizing forces accordingly.
If not for that, I wouldn't be sitting here peacefully.
'Will it really happen?'
If things followed the original story, half a year from now.
Just six months left.
The flow had diverged in fine details from the original, so I couldn't be sure.
All I could do was prepare.
"Hmm..."
Honestly, I didn't even know my own feelings.
Did I want it to happen, or not?
Of course I hoped it wouldn't—but if it didn't, the future could veer wildly off my predictions.
The big picture would change.
I'm a believer in the butterfly effect.
A single flap of a butterfly's wings can shake the real world.
There are stories like that.
Protagonist time-travels back, lotto numbers are still the same, wins big.
Really?
Could lottery numbers, swayed by the tiniest shifts in pumped air flow, stay identical despite the returner's massive changes?
No way.
That's why I hadn't foreseen this outcome.
Or if my knowledge would stay useful in the altered timeline.
-Beep! Nice to see you, Master.
Connection established.
The hologram flickering in midair showed R3D3.
Still sporting that cute, slightly dopey body, blinking away.
"Yeah. Where's Director Fontana?"
-She's sleeping.
"Sleeping? Wake her."
-Understood.
A moment later, static crackled with a faint yelp, and Fontana appeared on screen.
-Ugh, you damn scrap heap!
-I merely followed Master's orders.
-Ah, crap. Did I hand over control too soon?
Fontana grumbled, running a hand through her hair.
Her appearance was a mess again, just like when we first met.
"Busy?"
-Yeah, yeah. The boss is piling on the work.
"All done?"
-Of course. Hey, you—go clean the lab. Don't just stand there.
-Do not interfere with Master's call. Beep!
-This thing...!
My robot was doing great.
No matter how much Fontana griped, it was useless against ironclad R3D3.
"What're you doing with the kid? Recap the progress."
-It's all in the report I sent.
"No time to read it all."
Fontana sighed deeply and spoke.
-Hiring more mercs. 22 teams so far, about 400 heads, all B-rank or better.
"Results?"
-Two hits. Not bad, right?
"Yeah."
Two hits meant contamination sources the military hadn't found, now neutralized.
How far the contamination had spread or what might've happened—we'd only know if it went down for real. But at least two spots were saved.
'I figured we might find zero.'
Better than expected.
Money talks, huh.
Top-tier mercs hooked on the 'safe' gigs—five times standard pay—were delivering.
Light work combing rural planets with weak AA nets.
I'd jacked the pay, turning a boring time-sink trash job into a sweet deal.
They probably thought the client—me—was some idiot with cash to burn.
Plenty still eyed it warily, suspecting hidden dangers the client hadn't disclosed. But more would bite soon.
'Doesn't matter to me.'
Reputation? Not my problem.
Key was discovering two alien contaminations.
"Keep it up. No issues scaling personnel?"
-You really gonna keep this going? Don't we need some reward or something?
"Already getting rewarded."
The mercs' feats were mine.
Reporting to the Humanity Union had netted me bonuses.
Peanuts compared to what I shelled out, sure.
-If you say so...
"Main projects?"
-2 and 3 are dragging; 4's underway.
Main projects were high-impact research led by Director Fontana, based on my intel picks.
Project 1—reviving combat mechs—was done; now onto others.
"4's the bio-armor suit, right."
-Yep. Intel from that leech doc's paying off big. At this rate, meaningful results in three months?
Armor suits were essential battlefield gear for anyone stepping onto the field.
But regular grunts got the low-end models.
Bio-armor suits were mid-to-high tier.
Only elite spec ops or instructor-level masters wore them.
'But if this pans out, production costs drop massively.'
Still tough for line infantry, but feasible for martial arts-capable spec ops, maybe.
Bio-armor was pricey not just from production, but constant replacement of bio-muscles and nerves.
Nail the research, though, and maintenance shrinks to topping off fluids—huge cost savings, prime cost-performance.
Studies showed spec ops in bio-armor boosted combat power 3x average; military would love it.
"Performance upgrades?"
-Tricky there. Might be better to dial it back a bit.
"For costs?"
-Yeah. 1% performance bump costs 3.24% more, but drop 10% performance and costs fall nearly 27.3%.
What a dilemma.
Boost performance? Gains too marginal for the spend.
Cut costs? The performance hit glares.
"...No need to sweat that now. We'll find the sweet spot eventually."
-Right. Still, testing'll burn cash?
"You know money's no object. And I won't overfund this time."
-Sure, sure. Lab's broke now. Oy...
Liar.
The lab always had ample funds.
No need to worry about money from the start.
Puppets ready to dance at a word, everywhere.
Broke? Just stick out a hand.
Salmon Lab's influence was absolute now.