Chapter 71
Chapter 71
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 71
Chapter Title: The Miracle Generation Emerges
-----------------------------------------------------------------
# 71
So at first, all the talk about the Crimson was dismissed as absurd rumors.
It wasn't until after the edited footage—excluding scenes that needed to stay confidential for security reasons—was broadcast that people finally started to believe it.
After that, the four of them shot to real fame.
Not just the promising rookie treatment they used to get.
The Miracle Generation.
The name I'd known only to myself up until now was starting to crop up here and there.
With the desperation and discontent from the aerial assault needing to be quelled, propaganda was making heavy use of it, which only amplified the trend.
And me?
My name came up too.
Just as Cadet No. 1 who played a brilliant role in this assault.
Given the massive feats the other four racked up, mine got overshadowed.
The barrage I unleashed at the end was kept under wraps.
Since it was an attack from an unknown source, it got cut out during editing.
'This level is just right.'
Of course, I wasn't the least bit miffed.
Even the attention focused on me right now felt like too much.
Not the protagonist—no, the power player pulling strings from the shadows.
That's the role I envision for myself.
"Still, there's talk that the fleet played the biggest part, huh?"
"Ho ho ho. Even so, we can't downplay our heroes' achievements, can we?"
The principal looked in pretty high spirits.
The snacks he was treating me to today weren't the usual stuff—they seemed like the high-end treats he saved for private meetings with female cadets.
"You did splendidly too, Cadet Leonard."
"...You're overly praising me today."
"No amount of emphasis is too much. I nearly made a huge blunder due to my own shortsightedness, but thanks to you, we averted the crisis."
"Uhmm..."
"I heard you were in bad shape but was too busy to check on you. Seeing you awake and healthy like this, face to face—how grateful I am. Ho ho ho."
Praise.
It was praise, sure, but listening to it nonstop left me not knowing where to put myself.
Coming from the principal, it felt especially unfamiliar.
So I quickly changed the subject.
"Ahem, speaking of which..."
I told him about what happened when I met Ur Karma and shared a bit about my ability.
Back in the day, I wouldn't have opened up easily about my superpower, but now I figured it was safe enough.
Especially since the principal was a key figure firmly on 'my side.'
Sharing just the right amount would make my future moves easier.
"...That story needs to be handled with care."
The principal's expression turned serious.
The fingers gripping his teacup twitched repeatedly, making a faint clink.
"No risks? Any limitations?"
"'During treatment,' there can't be any interference. If something interrupts midway, there's a low chance of problems cropping up. Other than leaving me completely defenseless, nothing much."
"...That's easy enough to guard against with preparation. Hmm, that's too good. Too good."
He kept stressing how good it was.
I agreed completely.
Alien contamination was one of the few incurable diseases in this world, where pretty much nothing was fatal except aging.
Especially the mutations—when they showed externally, they could be downright repulsive.
For civilians, of course, the aftereffects of artificial bodies weren't a big deal, so removal was an option.
But not everyone was eager to go artificial or cyborg.
Purists were the prime example of those repulsed by it, but even setting them aside, plenty of people preferred living with their natural-born flesh intact.
Those folks naturally shied away from replacing large parts of their bodies with artificial ones and, if possible, chose to live with the mutations as-is.
But how many of those people had power?
And if those powerful ones learned about my ability, would they not get greedy?
They definitely would.
Some would even go extreme.
That's the angle I leaned into.
"I actually think that's a good thing."
"...Oh?"
The principal mulled it over for a moment, then widened his eyes and let out an impressed exclamation.
"You're right. Exactly. A treasure in the hands of the powerless..."
"...becomes a disaster. But I've got more than enough strength and backing to handle it."
Applause echoed through the principal's office.
He looked almost moved.
'He's extra reactive today.'
Some kind of survival celebration service?
"Could you make some introductions later?"
"Of course! I didn't sit in this chair all these years for nothing."
As far as I knew, the principal's connections were top-tier worldwide.
Even in a closed-off group like this, once it hit a certain size, he had lines to pull—unconditionally.
'Whenever I need something, going through the principal is always fastest.'
Same in the original story, same now—he never changed.
The ultimate secure-job holder.
The principal's goal was 100 years of service.
By the time the original plot kicked off, he'd already hit that and upped it to 200.
He was already over 150, so hitting 250 would take some serious longevity.
"But before that..."
I could guess what he was about to say and drew out my words a bit.
"Please treat the cadets first."
"That was exactly what I wanted to ask you."
"Oh ho, a cut above the rest!
What I wanted was for the medical staff to stay in the dark about my involvement, aside from the patients themselves.
Even if I made them promise secrecy, the treatment process would leak it anyway—but there's a world of difference between knowing for sure and not.
"Just grab me for one full day."
"That's no issue. Now even the delayed Core Weapon ceremony can include every cadet."
"...You held it off for that?"
"Of course. The ceremony's one of the few chances I get to shine with a grand speech."
The assault left 70 cadets dead and about 100 severely injured with limb loss and such.
Of those, around 50 were second-years.
The first-years took the brunt.
That one year of training made such a difference—it proved the principal's philosophy wasn't wrong.
'Anyway, excluding casualties, 900 second-years are set to attend, and with my treatments, that'll add 15 more.'
15 people.
Might sound like just 15, but considering a superhuman's firepower, it's huge.
'They could handle millions of aliens each.'
Killing aliens, clearing hatcheries.
They'd be a massive help in planetary purges.
"...More importantly, tell me about that time."
"What do you mean?"
I played dumb with a grin.
During the assault, the principal vanished for a good while.
Speculation was he was with Cross Alliance trainees, but nothing was confirmed.
All anyone knew was he showed up late with 30,000 fighter mechs and completely shut down further damage.
"Those fighter mechs. You didn't just have them lying around for testing, right?"
"Were they? I don't remember well?"
"...No need to hide it. If that was the case, why order them with extra anti-alien special armaments? I already heard from Director Fontana."
"Ho ho ho. If Cadet Leonard's imagination is correct, does anything change?"
No real need to hide it anyway.
If it got out, he'd just get more praise.
What a wise call to protect the cadets.
I pondered the principal's intentions.
'To stay out of the spotlight and highlight the cadets' feats?'
That was the only thing that fit.
The principal saw fame as mere fluff from the start.
What mattered to him was his job as principal—prioritizing cadets and lighting their paths.
All while masterfully staying neutral and holding onto his humanity.
'Hmm...'
Once again, I felt he was indispensable to the Human Union.
"...Just curious. Sorry if I overstepped."
"No, no. I love this side of you, Cadet Leonard. Anything else you want to ask?"
"Yeah. ...The thing you found with Jang Werewolf. Was it a 'core' by any chance?"
"Oh..."
Pure guess on this one.
What ways were there to feed assault coordinates to aliens?
Not many, and for the Elohim Church, options narrowed even more.
Highest probability: a core.
A core was like a heart.
It served as the hatchery's hub, intelligent entities', or massive swarms'.
They generated massive energy on their own and sometimes doubled as beacons signaling aliens off-world.
Of course, just having a core wasn't enough.
'They knew how to use it.'
The Elohim Church had the deepest understanding of aliens in this era.
Though now pegged as the assault's culprits and nearly dismantled, in the original story, they caused all sorts of serious issues later.
"How'd you know?"
"Haha, who knows...?"
My hunch was spot on.
The principal must've gone hunting for the core.
Jang was hypersensitive to aliens, so he'd have been useful.
And Naphael's message mentioned a family member— a kidnapped victim who was one of the supers stationed at Cradle of Heroes Academy—so maybe he helped subdue them too.
"...Your guess is correct, Cadet Leonard. As principal, I feel the responsibility deeply. For such a dangerous item to be smuggled inside the academy without my knowledge."
"No matter how great you are, principal, even ten hands can't block one indefinitely."
"No. That's exactly why I sit in this chair."
He stated it firmly.
Half-baked comfort wouldn't help him.
Still, no scolding for me—he quickly regained his calm expression and spoke.
"Anyway, talking with you is always a pleasure, Cadet Leonard."
"...Glad to hear it."
"So, treatments tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow right away?"
Schedule's a bit tight.
"Can't delay the ceremony any longer. Outsiders are already holed up in the academy for days. We'll do it the day after treatments end—so two days from now."
Right.
No more stalling the ceremony.
Too much lost time already—need every day to adapt to Core Weapons.
Can't push commissioning either, so sooner the better.
"And that 'spoils of war' you picked up, Cadet Leonard."
"...Ah! That."
The principal wore a knowing, pleased smile.
I pictured the Crimson's wings and the leftover arm hidden in my dorm.
All I could do was flash an awkward smile.
'They said we didn't salvage much.'
The Crimson's end came courtesy of the fleet's focused barrage.
Fleet commanders, fearing revival, hammered it to dust with excessive firepower.
It ensured the kill but left little salvageable due to heat, radiation, and such.
So the value of my arm and wings was astronomical.
"Send it to Salmon Research? I'll help."
"...Haha, really? You'd do that?"
I'd been agonizing over disposal.
Corruption risk meant I couldn't keep it sealed forever—needed to move it fast.
But exporting past academy security, now tripled post-assault, was tricky timing.
"I'm a stakeholder, aren't I? Wasn't that why you roped me in?"
"Yeah, pretty much... You're right."
I was dying to see what Salmon's research turned up.
With my ability added, it'd be fighter-mech class at least.
"And you wanted to join CSPA activities, right?"
"Yes. Time's been short until now..."
"Fair enough."
CSPA.
Protecting and aiding kids turned refugees by aliens.
Main work: building and running shelters.
That was why I'd given the principal Salmon shares—to make this connection.
'Should check it out sometime...'
Probably around 10 now?
Still hadn't met face-to-face.
Hesitant, but looking forward to it.