A Mighty and Strong Admission! (2)
A girl riding a robot vacuum cleaner appeared in midair with a soft pop and a faint flash of light right in front of the academy gates. She was the ultimate beneficiary of the unofficial hunter-world proverb: “The best abilities are the ones that help in everyday life.” If she had come the normal way, she would have been jostled on the hellish subway and purgatorial buses until lunchtime. Or she might have sprinted across the sidewalks using a hunter’s physical prowess—like the man charging toward the gates from far away.
From this distance, he was little more than a speck to ordinary eyes, yet he was running for his life. “Am I going to be late?” Judging by the school uniform, he looked like a fellow freshman. His hair was a mess from the long sprint, and his uniform flapped wildly; he looked utterly disheveled. He leaped over the traffic-jammed road, landed, nearly toppled, caught himself with his arms, and kept going on all fours. At that speed, he might just make it before the gates closed.
Still… I felt like I had seen him somewhere before. I frowned and searched my memory, but nothing surfaced. The distance made his face hard to see, and the feeling remained frustratingly vague. I tapped the robot vacuum, but it only rolled its wheels left and right as if to say it didn’t know either. Folding my arms, I thought hard, yet the memory refused to come. If he were important, I would have remembered him immediately. I relaxed my expression and began a slow descent toward the gates.
Even from this height, the view beyond the gates stretched endlessly. Buildings of every height and shape filled the vast campus, most still wrapped in scaffolding. Streams of people moved between them, many clutching coffee cups and looking dead on their feet. Since the other grades hadn’t started yet, those were probably the graduate students. Five years ago, the first gate had opened in this world. Without warning, rifts to another realm had appeared, linking this world to another and mixing their matter and laws. Over ninety percent of the beings beyond the gates were hostile to humanity.
The world had united. Armies and nations threw everything they had at the invaders. Amid the global chaos, academia scrambled to understand and analyze the otherworld. Every field—from sciences to humanities to the arts—was mobilized, and a shocking number of graduates ended up becoming graduate students themselves. New disciplines sprang up like mushrooms after rain. Veteran professors founded departments close to their old specialties, while new professors had only a year or two more experience than their graduate students. Their one common trait was chronic fatigue; the only difference was whether they drank coffee or energy drinks.
Despite the massive workforce, every new gate spat out knowledge no one had ever seen before—far more than even round-the-clock dedication could process. The result was plain to see: people shuffled about looking like something between human and zombie. Worse, the ratio kept tilting toward the zombie side. Yet soldiers and hunters still risked their lives to maintain order, driven by a sense of duty. I offered a silent prayer for them and turned my gaze back to the gates.
The entrance was crowded too, but most of the people weren’t graduate students or academy cadets. Rows of booths lined the path inside, and their scouts pounced on anyone who looked like a student, aggressively recruiting.
“Students with energy-projection abilities! Apply to Star Plus Power Plant! We offer the highest average salary among non-combat jobs, and we actually care about work-life balance…”
They would pay well—mostly because overtime was mandatory and bonuses came with it. “If you value freedom and worry about your family’s safety, reserve a spot at the United States Ability Camp! Complete the six-month program and you’ll receive permanent residency…”
Relying on a powerful nation to protect your family sounded nice—until you remembered America was currently the front line of the gate war and your own safety would be in constant danger. Guilds, the military, public corporations, even foreign countries sent scouts to snap up fresh talent before it could bloom, all hoping to ride the wave of rapid growth. They dangled promises of above-average salaries and reasonable hours after graduation. Of course, they made decisions with limited information, so they didn’t always profit. Still, on average the gamble paid off, which was why they were so desperate to recruit newcomers.
None of it applied to me. Those offers were for rookies whose futures were still uncertain. Just then, the campus broadcast chimed nine o’clock. Two guards began pushing the three-meter-tall gates shut. Despite the iron bars, the massive doors moved easily—clearly the work of seasoned ability users. Right before the gates sealed completely, a human figure hurled itself through the narrowing gap.
“I… made it!!”
With a heavy thud, the man slammed into the ground, tumbled several times, and ended up sprawled flat on his back, gasping for breath while sweat poured off him like rain. The guards glanced at him, then went back to their duties as if nothing had happened. Up close, the black-haired youth had the face of a handsome playboy, but his actions didn’t match his looks. If I left him there, he would only cause trouble, and I could also clear up that nagging sense of déjà vu. I decided to speak to him.
“Hey, if you stay lying there, you’re going to regret it.”
The man, who looked older than me, answered without even looking over. “Huff… just… a little… let me… catch my breath…”
Wow. He was completely wiped out. The old legend of a messenger who ran all the way home with news of victory only to die the moment he delivered it came to mind. If the message were long enough, that legend might become reality.
“At least go rest on a bench.”
At my casual gesture, the sidewalk blocks rose into the air, lifting the man with them. Too exhausted to resist, he hung limply as the blocks carried him toward the bench. I set him down gently, then returned the blocks to their original places. They clicked together like a puzzle, leaving the path spotless, as if nothing had happened.
A loud exhale rattled in his throat; he sounded parched. Should I offer him something to drink?
“Hey, it’s not water, but would you like something to drink?”
“Th-thanks…”
“Here.”
I pulled a tumbler from my bag and handed it over. The man stared at the floating pinkish tumbler, then decided to deal with his immediate problem first. He opened the lid and gulped the contents without checking what was inside. At least he had enough conscience not to put his mouth on it.
“That’s a drink called Divine Ichor. It’s pretty strong! To be specific, it fully restores stamina, increases mana by 2 up to a maximum of 800, and boosts mana by 15 percent for eight hours… Does that make sense?”
He seemed to be listening even while chugging, but his lack of reaction suggested my explanation had been too abstract. Without having played the game in a past life, he wouldn’t know item stats anyway. This world didn’t even have status windows.
“There’s a minor side effect that could be dangerous for ordinary people, but after seeing how you ran earlier, I figured you could handle it!”
The man, who had been happily quenching his thirst, suddenly froze with his mouth hanging open. His eyes widened—he had clearly realized something was wrong. He hadn’t fully understood my words so much as he was feeling the effects in real time.
“Huh…? Side… effect…?”
His pupils began to shake violently. He looked like someone who had poured gasoline on a fire instead of water.
“It just shaves off a bit of health. You’ll only feel a slight sting, right?”
Someone as sturdy as him should be fine. I had drunk it when my own stats were lower than his, after all. A dry metallic sound vanished from his voice, replaced by a scream carrying a solid splash of moisture. Was it really that bad? I called the tumbler back and took a sip myself. The cool liquid slid down my throat with a pleasant carbonated kick. Watching him roll around clutching his chest, I wondered if he was overreacting. It hadn’t been this bad when I first tried it… Still, he had enough pride left not to scream at full volume, only letting out short, pained groans.
That scream sounded oddly familiar. I had heard it more than once or twice—the pitch, the cadence… It finally clicked.
It was the male protagonist’s game-over scream from I Became the Academy’s Savior—Voice A. I had heard that exact scream countless times while exploring bizarre routes in my past life. It was almost nostalgic. So the protagonist I had searched so hard for had been right here all along! And he was using the most basic character preset, no less.