Chapter 54
Chapter 54
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 54
Chapter Title: The Might of the Healing Factor
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Anyway, the majesty of the healing factor Jang was displaying was astonishing enough to overshadow all those flaws.
A situation where he had already taken multiple potentially fatal attacks.
Yet his movements showed no sign of slowing compared to when he was at full strength.
"Eek...!"
At this point, Runshin was the one showing panic instead.
The gritted teeth and charging with spear were gone; now he was shaking.
"Mental game's still weak."
I could understand given the opponent.
But the mental fortitude that always crumbles when things don't go as planned needed fixing.
'Well, even if fixed, it wouldn't have changed the outcome.'
Anyway.
Is he going easy?
Or is that all current Jang Wolf has?
For a guy from the Cross Alliance who's supposed to rack up merits as their fighting dog, it was underwhelming.
"Let's see if he can recover from this!"
Runshin finally made his choice.
Realizing he couldn't win like this.
The mechanical spear gripped in both hands trembled violently, writhing as if to slip free.
'He's cranked the output way up.'
Output so high even current Runshin struggled to control.
The spearhead spun threateningly, reminiscent of a drill.
With each clash, energy flowing from the core made the light gathered on the blade grow ever brighter.
'When did he master that?'
A technique not seen even a month ago.
Freely wielding the energy core showed his skill had definitely advanced a level.
Soon, when the light reached its limit, the strike landed.
A small, unflashy explosion.
In the next instant, Runshin's spear pierced precisely into Jang's left upper body.
The struck area burst open like an explosion.
A situation where survival took precedence over victory or defeat.
So, was the win Runshin's?
No.
'He deliberately skipped defense.'
Jang abandoned defense in the final moment and counterattacked instead.
Now sprawled on the floor was Runshin.
His throat had been precisely struck at the twin spear's center, and he was coughing up blood-flecked sputum.
Meanwhile, Jang was unscathed.
He had recovered so instantly that it made one question whether he'd been hurt at all.
Was that absurd recovery really a healing factor?
It would be easier to believe he'd rewound time.
"Enough?"
"Kuh... ack!"
"I'll take that as enough."
"You ba... kugh!"
A somewhat shocking result.
Already, murmurs of "immortal?" spread among the cadets.
An ability so powerful it was on another trajectory entirely.
He was practically immortal.
Who would want to face an immortal charging in a do-or-die frenzy?
"So, what do you think?"
I wanted my group's opinions.
Evaluations of Jang, who would one day be called a member of the Miracle Generation alongside us.
Curious, right?
"Boring."
"I'd like to know if he can break free after being frozen."
"Not interested."
But the reactions were more lukewarm than expected.
No matter what about the others, I had to ask Roze.
"Why, Roze?"
"Just is."
She pursed her lips, seeming upset.
'Rare to see her like this.'
As I was inwardly flustered by the unexpected response, Sahim provided more explanation.
"He has no soul."
"Soul?"
"I'm saying he seems like a well-made battle droid. His fighting style is awfully simple and uniform. Do you think a true martial artist like Miss Roze would get excited over a sandbag?"
"Sandbag..."
Indeed.
I'd failed to notice it, overshadowed by the healing factor's absurd recovery, but his combat resembled a battle machine that doesn't bother protecting itself.
It takes damage if it's efficient to do so.
In Jang's case, the ability meant he didn't even take wounds, making it even more efficient.
"But he's definitely a research subject. I want to test the limits of that ability."
Still, Sahim was the only one of the four showing interest.
As a research subject, that is.
That was something I was curious about too.
'Limits...'
I cast a glance at Jang as he left the training room, ignoring Runshin.
Despite his victory in the spar, his emotionless retreating figure somehow looked solitary.
*
Excluding the addition of Cross Alliance trainees, it was an unremarkable semester.
Classes had grown more practical and advanced, but for cadets who had matured through various ordeals, it wasn't particularly challenging.
Still, an undercurrent of determination not to fall behind the Cross Alliance began to burn.
The trainees' devout and diligent approach to every class both repulsed and stimulated the free-spirited cadets.
"Commander rankings slipped again."
"The EXP booster's too much, isn't it? We grinded a whole year for officer rank—ain't that unfair?"
The trainees had started Real Time Alien Tactics too.
For fairness, they got EXP boosters.
This sparked complaints from cadets whose commander levels were still stuck at officer rank.
Some even joked with me.
"General, right?"
"Petition the higher-ups for us."
In the RTA Tactics program, my commander level was brigadier general.
I'd just earned my first star.
An achievement in one year.
Apparently, I was the second cadet to reach general rank since the course's introduction.
Now the only one at general rank—with others maxed at colonel (true)—I even got called "General" among cadets.
"But promotions are easier than in reality. Just pay a little attention and you level up fast."
"But they're getting special treatment."
"So? They take harsh penalties too."
In the RTA Tactics program, there were no promotion denials for mistakes.
Instead, you got demoted.
The higher your rank, the more you had to manage, and failing to adapt led to drops—a phenomenon many cadets experienced.
'This feels like my limit too.'
General wasn't an easy seat.
Frontlines saw unpredictable battles daily.
Monitoring constantly shifting war conditions, handling tasks, and fighting— a general's workload was beyond imagination.
At a lower rank, you could just focus on combat without other worries.
But not at brigadier general.
Even in the program—where duties were scaled down—the time investment was no joke.
'No point pushing higher.'
So I shelved any further promotion ambitions.
It wasn't a real rank anyway.
Plus, the general rank gave markedly better intel quality, letting me clearly survey the battlefield even from my seat.
"Hmm..."
Lately, I invested more time studying battlefield flows than handling assigned cases.
My current intel was updated just yesterday.
The tactical table's various metrics showed subtly distorted trends.
'Something's about to happen. What?'
If things had followed the original story, I wouldn't need to worry like this.
I'd know the future, after all.
But this world had veered off since my arrival.
Especially with battle machines' resurgence, the frontlines clearly favored humanity.
Short-term fiscal strain on the military aside, casualties dropped, and some frontlines were raising banners for full recapture.
A situation that could certainly be viewed optimistically.
Not by me, though.
And my hunch soon proved true.
"Huh? Data line connected, I guess. Thought it was late today, but it works."
"Hope we get a decent case this time... Huh?"
The tactical table updated.
Latest battlefield figures, incorporating fresh intel, appeared.
It was RTA Tactics class time, so the cadets gathered in the lecture hall checked the table—and froze as if on cue.
"This..."
I checked the update too.
'It's finally starting.'
Engagements increased.
Multiple high-risk entities appeared.
Legion-scale unidentified alien forces detected incoming from outer space.
The meaning of all this intel was clear.
The full-scale invasion had resumed.
"What's this sudden?"
Unlike last time, it wouldn't end as a brief incident.
The aliens had unleashed their amassed forces in one go.
Not only had yesterday's optimistic metrics reversed, burdens on the frontlines and 4th defense line were surging dramatically.
Even support fleets prepped for contingencies had deployment orders.
But considering the incoming alien forces, complacency was impossible.
"This is gonna be really bad, isn't it?"
Rising sense of crisis.
One cadet's voice spoke for all.
With deployment just half a year away for us, the battlefield's urgency felt personal.
'The 4th defense line is doomed to break anyway.'
I could easily foresee what came next.
This was the promised grand flow.
I'd done my utmost to halt it so far, but it was too vast to stop.
What I was watching for were the changes afterward.
'Seed cleanup's done once. With good handling, we might hold with less damage than expected.'
What happens if the 4th line breaks and aliens breach inward?
Residential zones between the 3rd and 4th lines would struggle to escape the flames of war.
And the planets nurturing seeds would suffer even greater losses.
Not my original intent, but it was bound to work in our favor.
"Ah, damn...!"
"What'd these bastards eat wrong?"
"Goddamn alien shits!"
For cadets, no worse news existed.
In times like these, front or rear—everywhere became a dangerous battlefield.
None of the battlefields we'd face ahead would be "just for experience."
The lecture hall filled with a gloomy mood.
And it spread academy-wide soon enough.
*
The academy grew chaotic.
Daily shifting war news made focusing on classes impossible.
But instructors and administrators made no special moves.
Whether they cared or not, they showed their usual faces.
If anything, with Cross Alliance trainees approaching classes seriously, they taught them with extra focus.
"Tough bastards."
"Don't they have facial muscles? No change at all."
"Or missing half their brains."
I got why such talk arose.
Trainees rarely showed emotions.
Not absent entirely.
Jang Wolf was just an extreme case; other trainees conversed and reacted.
But their emotional range stayed narrow regardless.
For expressive cadets, such types were hard to deal with.
'Well, our side's no bundle of charm either.'
Already a year and a half.
We'd been through much together.
Jealousy among us, life-and-death crises crossed.
Relations among the once hyper-bouncy, willful cadets had improved considerably.
Still, none had personalities worth praising.
"You're as carefree as ever."
"Me?"
"Yeah, you."
Runshin tossed the words casually.
I'm actually more gravely aware than most.
More importantly, why's she been sticking to me so much lately?
"...Am I?"
"Hmph."
What now?
I scanned the surroundings.
Cadets clustered around me, subtly or not.
It'd been like this since first semester's practical martial arts class.
'Not like I wanted to be the boss or anything...'
I'm not one to step forward.
My original writer self hadn't been great at relationships either.
With fantastical thinking and long solitary reflection, I probably came off as odd.
Now, with a clear goal, I consciously maintained bonds with necessary people, that's all.
"Afternoon class?"
"Who knows. Boring theory lectures and crap."
"Bored? Go train."
"I'll handle that myself."
I tuned out Runshin's grumbling and checked the tactical table again.
I'd tried not to, but with the war situation flipping drastically, my time here had spiked.
Couldn't ignore it even if I wanted.
'At most a month?'
The 4th defense line looked set to crumble eventually.
Not entirely, but areas with concentrated assaults would have to be yielded.
They were already showing such movements.
I'd submitted "strategy" reports multiple times myself: better to retreat early, preserve fleet strength intact, than hold and balloon losses.