Chapter 63
Chapter 63
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: Unscheduled Transfer Exam
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Do you know the wisest way to handle an individual society can't cope with?
Create more individuals society can't cope with.
*Quinny Cowan's response to the question of why build an academy like this.*
***
Kwon Mongju awoke amid waves of pain.
He instinctively tried to sit up, but his body wouldn't move. Slowly, he circulated his mana to check his condition.
'...All the bones in my limbs are shattered, and not a single organ is intact. How am I even alive.'
Only after seeing the catheters and IV drips dangling all over him did the reality of his survival sink in.
A normal person would have been crippled for life, and even a superhuman would need at least half a year to recover from wounds like these.
He accepted his state with calm resignation.
After so many years as a mercenary, he was beyond getting worked up over injuries like this.
In this line of work, comrades you shared breakfast with were often in coffins by dinner. It was better to be grateful for surviving than to despair over scars like these.
Especially when he recalled the enemies they'd fought...
Ah.
Only then did Kwon Mongju remember what kind of battle he'd waged.
He'd fought mysterious freaks with beast heads flipped over their own, a superhuman flying through the skies, and a dragon driven mad by vengeance... and he'd saved Manchuria.
He was speechless for a moment. That was the battle he'd fought.
Even a mercenary captain with twenty years under his belt didn't know what to say about something like that.
None of it felt real. It was the stuff of novels, dramas, or fantastical legends from beyond the dimensional gates.
'Cheon Yeomyeong. What happened to that rookie?'
Kwon Mongju thought of the central figure in this fight.
The new recruit who'd joined with a forged resume, the hero who'd shoved a shotgun into a dragon's eye.
Since he himself was alive, it was clear Yeomyeong had won against the flying superhuman...
But survival aside, worry came first.
The state Yeomyeong had been in right before collapsing was, if anything, worse than his own.
Fortunately, the answer to his worries was right there beside him.
"Captain? You're awake."
A familiar voice came from the bed next to Kwon Mongju's.
Wincing through the sharp pain, he turned his head. There sat a young man on an identical recovery bed.
"How's your body holding up?"
Above a face unmarred by a single scratch, golden eyes sparkled.
Despite having been hurt far worse, Yeomyeong's bed didn't have so much as an IV drip.
It meant his wounds had already fully regenerated. The captain asked in disbelief.
"...How many days has it been since the fight ended?"
"Four days."
"Four?"
Regenerate those wounds in four days? No, judging by his relaxed posture, he'd finished healing long ago.
Compared to that, he himself... had only just regained consciousness.
Kwon Mongju sighed, feeling the gap in their physical prowess. There was no envy or inferiority complex.
He wasn't so foolish as to feel that toward a comrade who'd crossed life and death with him.
Instead—if it could be called that—he felt something akin to awe.
"...Yeomyeong."
Kwon Mongju addressed the pensive young man.
"If I asked about your true identity, would that be rude?"
At first, he'd thought he was just a drifter who'd slipped into the mercenary group with a fake resume.
But he'd not only fought Kahal Magdu alongside the Saintess on their first mission—he'd even carved out one of the dragon's ribs.
The Manchurian military and dwarves had focused on her connection to the Saintess, but Kwon Mongju was different. In his eyes, Cheon Yeomyeong seemed the one more deserving of caution.
He couldn't explain why... it was just a gut feeling. The same instinct that had saved him countless times in war.
In the end, his instincts hadn't been wrong. Yeomyeong had found the golden imperial seal with the mercenary group and fought the mad dragon to save Manchuria.
It was a feat hard to believe even having seen it firsthand. No—precisely because he'd watched the battle up close, it was even harder to accept.
Yet Yeomyeong showed no particular emotion about his own accomplishment. Or perhaps he was pretending not to.
Yeomyeong shrugged lightly.
"I'm Cheon Yeomyeong. You know that."
"You know that's not what I'm asking. In twenty years as a mercenary in this business, I've only seen one person like you."
Kwon Mongju recalled over a decade ago, when he'd still been a greenhorn.
In that era of utter chaos, there had been a superhuman in South America around Yeomyeong's age who'd accomplished similar feats.
His child? Probably not. If he'd had one, it'd be about Yeomyeong's age... but there wasn't a trace of resemblance in their looks.
But what about their background? There weren't many places that could raise a superhuman with this kind of talent at such a young age.
Thinking of it that way, his connection to the Saintess took on new meaning.
The superhuman in Kwon Mongju's memory had been a Holy Knight secretly dispatched to Earth from the Holy Kingdom.
"Please tell me. This could change the future of our mercenary group."
"...Is my identity that important?"
"As you know, the Korean government doesn't like foreign mercenary groups or ones from beyond the dimensional gates. If your identity is... what I think it is, you'll have to leave Korea."
"What do you think my identity is?"
"You're... a Holy Knight sent from the Holy Kingdom, aren't you?"
Kwon Mongju waited earnestly for Yeomyeong's answer.
But contrary to his expectations, Yeomyeong looked utterly baffled, like he had no idea what this was about.
"...A Holy Knight? Me? I can't even use holy power."
"But you're the only one among us who received the Saintess's blessing."
"...Everyone got the healing blessing."
"You know I'm talking about the blessing of the Red God. No one can receive that without a sacred relic..."
Kwon Mongju trailed off mid-sentence, then let out a long sigh before speaking again.
"Hoo... Right, you can't reveal your identity so easily. I've been rude out of my own greed. Forget I asked."
Yeomyeong blinked as the captain questioned and concluded on his own.
"No, really, I have nothing to do with the Saintess..."
"...It makes sense why the Saintess's mother tried to kill you and then stopped."
"Uh... that's..."
Yeomyeong searched for words, then realized he couldn't dispel the misunderstanding without revealing an even bigger truth.
He shut his mouth, and in Kwon Mongju's eyes, that silence looked like tacit affirmation.
'As I thought...'
Amid the small misunderstanding, a heavy silence filled the room. It lasted until the Saintess and Darulma opened the door and entered.
***
"Hey! We have a visitor!"
With a rowdy shout, the recovery room door slammed open.
It had clearly been kicked.
As the startled captain turned toward the sound, the Saintess entered, her waist-length straight white hair swaying.
She wore not the plain, loose priestess robes from before, but ornate ones that perfectly suited the word 'Saintess.'
"Saintess?"
But the one to first greet her—with her chin tilted upward like a model—was not Yeomyeong, but the captain festooned with tubes and drugs.
"Uh... this isn't a private room... is it?"
Her boisterous energy vanished in an instant. The Saintess cleared her throat awkwardly, then turned away as if nothing had happened and straightened her robes.
While the flustered captain tried to hide his expression, a dwarf followed her in.
Darulma Dun, the mercenary group's investor and chaebol of Dungan Heavy Industries.
Whether accustomed to the Saintess's antics or simply resigned, he entered with an inscrutable look and asked Yeomyeong and the captain.
"How are you both doing?"
A perfunctory question. Their conditions were obvious at a glance.
"Not bad."
"...Getting by."
Perfunctory answers. Darulma plopped into a chair prepared in the recovery room and continued.
"What do you want to hear first? Business matters? The mercenary group's situation?"
"...Mercenary group first."
The captain answered. Yeomyeong... was too busy lifting a pillow to shove the Saintess off his bed to reply.
Darulma watched them bicker for a moment, rubbed his temples, and spoke.
"The mercenary group's situation is neither good nor bad. Our elites are all laid up in hospitals from this mission, but the military's blocking other mercenary groups from approaching."
"The military?"
"Blatant courtship. We have what they want, don't we?"
"...The dragon."
The captain groaned. Last time they'd tried to seize it by force—now they were playing nice?
"Well, you won't have to worry about the military or other mercenaries for a while. Rebuilding northern Manchuria will keep them busy enough. And above all..."
Darulma turned to look at Yeomyeong.
"...The dragon will have to negotiate with someone other than us, right?"
The captain grasped Darulma's implication. Yeomyeong had felled the dragon, and its rights belonged to him.
The mercenary group and Saintess had helped, of course, but no one could deny Yeomyeong's contribution was the greatest.
"Any other issues would be... the reporters."
"...Reporters."
Damn war correspondents. Kwon Mongju sighed. He could guess what was happening.
"The whole mercenary group's busy dodging reporters. Something about their right to know."
"...What about the vice captain?"
The captain thought of Kim Mansu, whose injuries were the lightest, and asked. Darulma shrugged.
"Vice Captain Kim Mansu hit neuroses first. Looked like he wanted to chop off a limb and flee to the recovery room."
"..."
"Well, I trust he's not that stupid. That's why we made him vice captain, isn't it?"
Darulma turned to Yeomyeong, who'd finally pushed the Saintess off the bed.
"Anyway... Cheon Yeomyeong?"
Ignoring the Saintess's scowling finger-pointing, Yeomyeong met his gaze.
"Yes, Darulma."
"It'd be best if we talked alone. Business is better kept secret. When can you make time?"
"...Right now. Where to?"
No sooner had Yeomyeong spoken than the Saintess cut in.
"Wait, wait! What about me?"
"...What about you? What story?"
That's definitely not how you look at a Saintess... Darulma thought, eyeing Yeomyeong's expression.
Undeterred, the Saintess pulled a small paper envelope from her priestess robes.
"Yeomyeong, you gonna keep merc-ing? Or... wanna play in bigger waters?"
"...Bigger waters?"
Seeing Yeomyeong's interest, the Saintess grinned and tore open the envelope.
What emerged was something he'd seen once before.
An ornate, high-quality paper form crammed with fields for personal information.
To be precise... Lord Howe Academy Application Form.
"...Wanna go to the academy with me?"
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