Chapter 101
Chapter 101
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 101
Chapter Title: Special Training (2)
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The man opened his eyes in his dream.
The first thing that entered his field of vision was the sight of towering skyscrapers and a city teeming with people.
Well-paved roads and countless cars, a fragrant coffee house beneath a high-rise, men heading to work and elderly folks, the latest smartphones and canes, weary working moms and the rosy cheeks of toddlers clutching their mothers' hands.
It was a scene so vivid it seemed ready to spring to life at any moment, but this was not reality—it was a dream.
Nothing the man's gaze touched moved.
Like a single frozen frame from a paused movie, it was a world at a complete standstill.
‘…Not a particularly high-level dream. Was it rushed?’
After gazing at the scene for a moment, the man rose from his spot with a brief assessment in mind.
There was no panic or fear. He had experienced dreams like this before.
‘The one who called me… is to the east, huh.’
He walked eastward through the frozen crowds.
Crossing a halted crosswalk, jaywalking across lanes of motionless traffic for what felt like ages.
Before he knew it, he had reached his destination—a beach that clashed with the urban sprawl.
A vast horizon like the open sea caught his eye first, but this was no ocean.
It was the massive lake Americans called one of the Great Lakes, the heart of Chicago, home to the enormous dimensional gate known as the Chicago Dimension Gate.
Lake Michigan.
Standing on the shore, the man took in the lake.
More precisely, he stared at the dimensional gate gleaming atop the massive artificial island crafted by dwarves.
In this dream where everything was frozen, only the dimensional gate pulsed with life.
[Why are you so late?]
No sooner had he fixed his gaze on it than a voice boomed from beyond the gate, immense as thunder itself speaking.
“To drag me into a dream out of the blue, and your first words are that?”
The man scowled as he spoke, and the gate spat out light as if making excuses.
[It was urgent. No time to explain.]
“…Urgent, huh. Fine, then. Tell me just how urgent it was.”
The man spoke in a tone that said he’d hear it out. The voice from beyond replied weakly.
[It’s no use.]
“…No use?”
[It’s already too late.]
Only then did the man realize things had gone seriously awry. Frowning deeply, he pressed on.
“As your contractor, I command you. Explain exactly what’s too late, and why. Right now.”
Whatever lay beyond the gate fell silent. Instead, an invisible force seized the man.
“…What the hell are you doing.”
[I lack the skill to explain in your human tongue. See for yourself.]
See for himself? What?
The moment the question crossed his mind, his body shot into the sky.
It accelerated so fiercely that when he glanced down, both Chicago and Lake Michigan had shrunk to the size of a fingernail.
“At least tell me the destination before hauling me off like this.”
Despite the situation, the man asked calmly. They were already leaving the American continent, crossing the Pacific.
As the Australian continent came into view far ahead, the voice answered.
[We’re heading to the place you Earthlings call Lord Howe Island.]
Lord Howe? The man stroked his chin, thinking of the academy.
What disaster could have struck a place that had been fine as of that morning?
Before he could finish pondering, the invisible force set him down on solid ground.
Even without anyone telling him, he knew this was Lord Howe the moment his feet touched earth.
There couldn’t possibly be two places in the world where such an immense convergence of possibilities warped the dreamscape this badly.
[Do you see?]
The voice asked. The man shook his head.
“No, it’s all possibilities—I can’t see a thing.”
Narrowing his eyes, he scanned his surroundings.
No matter how hard he focused, all he saw were chaotic outlines like a child’s scribbles and jumbled colors.
It was only natural. Possibilities were like gravity—the stronger their cluster, the more they sucked in and distorted the surrounding dream.
[Ugh, humans…]
The voice, watching his struggle, suddenly infused him with an invisible force.
Its purpose was simple: to counter the surrounding possibilities and clear the man’s vision.
Bracing against the sudden surge, he glared ahead.
[Do you see now?]
“…Yeah, a little.”
The first things to come into view were a grassy field somewhere on the academy outskirts and a pair of man and woman sitting side by side atop it.
The distorted outlines made it hard to see clearly, but…
A dark night, two people sitting close with faces overlapping. It was obvious what they were up to.
[What do you think? We need countermeasures, even now.]
Unlike the man, whose tension had evaporated, the voice was deadly serious.
Sighing, the man replied.
“…To me, it just looks like a couple of horny kids bumping lips in the dead of night.”
[…]
“What countermeasures for some young punks making out? Should we distribute mouthwash at the academy? Or condoms?”
No sooner had he sneered than the voice poured another surge of force into him.
[…Look more clearly.]
Whoosh!
This influx was so massive it shook the dream itself, allowing the man to finally see what had been hidden.
A small orb glimmering above the pair’s heads.
“A possibility? Visible to the naked eye… that thing’s…”
[At that level, you could call it fate and it wouldn’t be amiss.]
As the voice said, if an innate possibility visualized itself in a dream to that degree, labeling it fate was no stretch.
Just as immense gravity birthed a black hole to devour all around it, that level of possibility would suck in everything nearby.
“Yun-seong? No, doesn’t look like Yun-seong…”
The man cautiously tried to make out their faces.
But the light radiating from the fate was so intense that the pair’s faces, backed by the orb, remained shrouded in shadow.
[Who they are doesn’t matter. What matters is that orb. Check it.]
Following the voice, the man squinted at the glowing orb. Moments later, he spotted something odd.
[Do you see?]
“…Yeah, I see it.”
The orb wasn’t one. One side bulged out, as if two orbs had merged into one.
“There aren’t many with a fate like that… and they’ve fused? First time I’ve seen a case like this. Did one absorb the other’s fate?”
[No. By the time I noticed the anomaly, one had already consumed the other.]
The man rubbed his forehead. The trials had only just begun, and already this.
“…Might have to start over.”
He muttered something between a lament and a sigh, then turned to face the direction of the voice.
“We can plan countermeasures once we ID them. There’s still time, so first let’s confirm their faces…”
He didn’t finish. His senses—more precisely, the power the voice had infused—reacted to something.
……
Silence descended upon the frozen dream world. A long, long silence.
“…Who’s there.”
Unable to bear it, the man spoke. A library’s worth of information flooded his mind.
At this hour, in this place, pulling something like this… only a few suspects.
“…Pasun? Or Maoran Lerak?”
No answer came. Was its identity exposed, forcing hesitation? Or just calling his bluff?
As the man backed away thoughtfully—
Thud.
Something bumped his back.
Something chilling, one he’d rarely if ever felt before.
Craning his neck carefully to look, he found…
A colossal shadow looming over him.
“Ah, ahh…”
The moment he recognized it and tried to scream—
『Shh.』
It raised a finger to its lips in a silencing gesture. And with that mere gesture, the dream rippled, sealing the man’s mouth.
『This is the moment my chosen one claims fate for the first time.』
『No trinket like a dodol tableware could peep at something so weighty.』
『So forget everything you’ve seen here.』
The man couldn’t respond. He had already awakened from the dream.
And like most dreams, he remembered nothing of it.
***
Morning in the first-year dorms was quiet.
No blaring reveille, no boisterous chatter typical of students.
Those with good stamina or light sleepers had already headed to the training halls, while aspiring mages had begun morning meditation before the dorm supervisors even patrolled.
To an outsider, it might look like the pinnacle of a top superhuman academy…
But the truth was a bit different.
Special training.
That was the new curriculum announced by the principal just days ago—the root of all this diligence.
Truth be told, when it was first revealed, the students’ reactions had been lukewarm.
The academy’s established program wasn’t flawed, and it had boasted prestige for decades.
Bringing in outside instructors now? It was obviously just for show.
…That’s what they thought. Until they saw the list of guest instructors.
But the moment the list of ‘external guest instructors’ the academy had summoned was revealed, the students’ attitudes flipped 180 degrees.
—Seva Lermontov? Infinity Style coming as an instructor?
—Hoana Tulle?! Didn’t she retire from the Holy Knights ages ago?
—Mikelle! The Mikelle of the Mikelle equations!
Not just famous alumni, but retired legends and renowned scholars drawn by the academy’s prestige.
The students who saw the list began counting down the days to the special classes like it was nothing.
They even openly chatted about whose class to take during interim periods, killing time that way.
But that excitement didn’t last.
The day the academy distributed the special class application forms, the students realized a shocking truth.
It wasn’t students choosing instructors—it was instructors choosing students.
A tiny few who grasped the academy’s political undercurrents understood what was happening.
The principal was rallying forces, and the special classes were mere pretext.
But most students, unaware of the politics, interpreted it differently.
An endless competition where only the worthy got picked by the best instructors.
—They’re only selecting students worth teaching?
—The principal’s sharpening the knife!
—Damn it, wasn’t admissions over?
In a way, it was inevitable. Save for a lucky few, these were kids who’d competed their whole lives to become superhumans.
They dove headfirst into the fray of training and study.
—Don’t cut in line at the training hall, you idiots!
—Anyone joining a group buy for elixirs?
—‘The Vessel’ is personally recruiting for a magic study group! Sign up!
Of course, some students stayed above the fray.
The saintess who needed no teaching, Jeon Yun-seong with instructors dispatched straight from America, and…
Cheon Yeomyeong.
He showed zero interest in the special training hype, to the point of seeming blatant.
He yielded training slots willingly and shot down study invites with ruthless precision.
Did he secretly scout the guest list on his own? Nope.
He simply showed his face at interim classes, quietly.
Most students read his attitude as supreme confidence—he could snag any instructor he wanted.
And why not? He was the star of the terrorist incident, his skills proven beyond doubt. Special instructors were a given.
Rumors even swirled that some guests had come specifically to see Yeomyeong.
But a tiny minority—those still viewing the world through rose-tinted glasses—had other takes.
—Isn’t he applying for the same class as Seti?
—Hong Seti? What’s their deal?
—Can’t you tell? They’re always together lately.
Like all such gossip, it didn’t make big waves.
Whether they went public or not, nearly every student was too busy sorting their own mess.
Except one…
In the girls’ dorm inner shrine, the saintess—who’d been in penitential prayer for days—reacted differently.
—A few days ago, Seti broke curfew, they say.
—The north island’s under repairs, so not sightseeing… maybe?
The moment she overheard the girls in the shrine gossiping about Seti and Yeomyeong.
She halted her prayers, grabbed her invisibility cloak and revolver from her room.
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