I Possessed a Broken Academy Instructor

Chapter 99

“Hmm.”

About a week had passed since Instructor Jin Crow awoke.

In that time, quite a lot had happened.

The cadets returned, a rough but general strategy was handed down from the Ministry of Defense, and the overworked chief of staff of the Fourth Fleet collapsed…

Of course, most of it was either expected or not particularly concerning.

Well, except for one thing.

“So, you’re saying that after realizing it was a forged ID and reviewing the CCTV, you confirmed that it was Captain Satra, a Level 2 wanted criminal, and ultimately lost her, is that right?”

“Y-yes, that’s correct.”

Jin Crow had no choice but to ponder seriously as he listened to the response from the military police guarding him.

…Are they idiots?

Whether he had feelings for Satra was a separate matter.

The cadets probably hadn’t been able to care about her either.

It was only natural.

Pamiyu had collapsed, and aside from the half-poisoned Dokoran and Baek Hwi-young, the rest were likely on the brink of exhaustion.

‘They said all those who followed her are dead. Plus, her original condition wasn’t exactly normal.’

She must have been forced to receive treatment, and with so many injured, it would have been absurd for the soldiers to identify everyone.

Isn’t it remarkable that they realized she was a wanted person, even if belatedly?

“I requested cooperation from the local authorities as much as possible, but there are still quite a few sectors that haven’t been reclaimed, so it seems difficult… Ugh.”

However, the military police had no way of knowing that he was thinking such things, so they merely fidgeted nervously.

Perhaps, deep down, he was hurling every curse imaginable at the gendarmes and soldiers present.

But, well, that was not his concern.

What mattered was not the feelings of the gendarmes, but the matter of Satra.

‘Objectively speaking, whether she gets caught or not is not a significant variable.’

In the past, had it been during his relationship with Satra in the Atla Colony, it would surely have posed a problem.

Back then, she was the de facto heir leading the Lemal Planetary Defense Force, a Quad Gear, while he was merely a broken man with an unstable position, a mere instructor.

But now, everything had turned upside down.

Satra’s foundation had crumbled completely due to the negligence of the Synth Empire, the deception of the Red Hand, and her own misguided choices.

‘No power, no influence, not even hatred towards me.’

Just considering the attitude she had shown in the safe house before, it was clear that her hatred was not directed at the Red Hand or the Creatures, nor at him or the Synth Empire.

In other words, she was a variable, but…

‘It’s the Red Hand that should be concerned, not me.’

Of course, it wouldn’t be easy.

What kind of creatures were the Red Hand?

Even though they were a thorn in the side of both the Synth Empire and the Empire itself, their considerable strength and elusive bases made them a persistent threat that remained unaddressed.

But could Satra, having barely escaped alone, deal a meaningful blow to them?

Well, no matter how he thought about it, it seemed unlikely.

‘To die pitifully or to take a desperate revenge.’

Either way, there was no room for Jin Crow to intervene.

Isn’t that just how life is?

Excuses and regrets for one’s own mistakes hold no value to others, and if one cannot overcome all those hardships, they will ultimately be eliminated in a ruthless survival of the fittest.

“Well, that’s that.”

Jin Crow shook his head, trying to sever the deepening thoughts.

Was it because he was gradually merging with that inner turmoil?

Or was it that he was adapting more and more to this world with no answers?

It felt as if he was attributing meaning to everything he would have simply brushed aside in the past, becoming ensnared in it.

Ssshh, drip-.

He took a drag from his cigarette, and with gloved hands gripping the stimulant and a bag containing his meager belongings, he murmured to the gendarme following him.

“It’s about time we head back. You’ve done well.”

“Yes. It was an honor to serve, Instructor.”

The military police raised their salutes in unison, sincerity etched into their expressions.

He did not bother to turn back and acknowledge them.

Perhaps it was due to his damned temperament; the genuine respect still sent shivers down his spine.

He suddenly bit down on the end of his cigarette, mulling over the fact that it was not his to claim, and through narrowed brows, he watched the transport ship slowly descend into the hangar.

“Instructor.”

“Follow me, Ner.”

He climbed aboard the transport ship alongside Ner, who wore a makeshift black uniform instead of a patient’s garb, and thought to himself.

He vowed, with a weighty sincerity, that he would not step outside the military academy until the next front inspection.

It was a promise steeped in resolve.

*

“Central Special Operations Academy.”

Regarded as the pinnacle among the special operations academies of the Synthesized Nation, it was known externally for its conservatism, yet a tempest had just landed there.

Of course, it was not a literal storm that had struck the true Sigma satellite city.

As the end of the break approached, a rumor began to circulate among the cadets who had returned to the dorms for various reasons.

“Hey, did you hear the news?”

“Hmm? What news?”

“Mercato. They say a creature has appeared there too?”

“Mercato? Isn’t that the capital of the Free Planet Alliance?”

It all began with the tragic tidings from Mercato.

Regrettable, but that was all.

However, as the instructors grew serious and even the headmaster of Ideale was absent, the previously indifferent cadets began to grasp the gravity of the situation.

“Our cadets are there?”

“They say Instructor Jin Crow is there too?”

“…Miel. Will they be alright?”

“B-BEATUS? Oh, no!”

Though they would later be known as the Star Riders and become generals, at this moment, they were merely friends who had shared trials and tribulations.

Those cadets who had ties with them swallowed their anxiety, hoping fervently for the instructors’ return, praying for good news, and thus the break came to an end.

Yet, the news that trickled in was despairing.

“Hell of Inse, creatures pose a new security threat!”

“Famous celebrity A: ‘Mercato is hell, I regret having survived.’ Extreme choice…”

“A Journey from Which One Cannot Return, ‘Daughter, please come back.’ The family’s cries are an ongoing lament…”

The presumed dead increase daily, while the government of the Synthesized Nation maintains its silence, offering only the barest of briefings.

The instructors remaining at the academy were mute, and even when prodded by parents and relatives connected to various factions, the only response was a hollow, “Wait.”

“It is not good.”

“…I cannot continue the lectures.”

The instructors were on the brink of madness.

Setting everything else aside, with both instructors and military police conspicuously absent, the atmosphere was so grim that they could not simply push the first-year cadets without care.

Days passed in this heavy silence.

“Ah, I have returned…”

With the weary mumble of Dokoran, whose eyes were caked with sleep, all the cadets who had gone missing from Mercato returned to the academy.

“First, everyone go to the infirmary for an examination. Hah. I didn’t want to come back first.”

Of course, Obia Timist, who had been forced to bring the cadets back, appeared oddly irritated at having missed out on unexpected revelry, but she was not the important one.

“I will return on the next transport ship.”

With Ideale’s positive communication, the flood of reports that had been momentarily controlled began to pour in.

And those who witnessed it could hardly believe their eyes.

“Instructor J of the Central Special Operations Academy. On leave, eliminated the creature’s upper-class King and Queen.”

It began with a small media outlet based in the Free Planet Alliance.

‘More military nonsense.’

‘Honestly, they just can’t keep their mouths shut…’

At first, most reactions were along those lines.

Whether it was a Queen or a King, just the names alone suggested a final boss, yet this so-called “instructor on leave from the Central Special Operations Academy” had taken them down?

It would be more believable if someone had just happened to propose while kneeling on the street and succeeded in marriage.

However, soon, as evidence from some mercenaries who had filmed the life-and-death moment began to circulate through the galaxy.

“Did that monster really blow up an imperial ship?”

“And our Synthesized Nation instructor caught it?”

“Uh…”

The long-dormant adrenaline of militarism began to surge back into the minds of the citizens.

“Please, send that instructor back!” Why did the Emperor of the Empire cling to the pants of the Chancellor of the Synthesized Nation, weeping?

“The security of the Free Planet Alliance was destroyed yesterday. Because that instructor left!”

“Why do we not have such special operations officers?” The reason for the Emperor’s fury!

“The empire trembling before the creature. The creature trembling before the instructor!”

At its core, the United Synthesis of Humanity is a militaristic state.

A generation that remembers the recent Third Galactic War forms the backbone of society, and while they find solace in peace, there lingers an unshakable desire for national superiority.

The so-called national pride.

Regrettably, the vast galaxy is rife with sensationalist media eager to satiate that craving.

And, as is customary with such outlets, they inevitably embellish and concoct conspiracies to boost their sales.

“…Instructor J is a battle weapon cultivated by the Synthesis, and this expedition is intentionally meant to project power. He possesses firepower at least equivalent to a Penta Gear, and in the forthcoming attrition war with the empire, overwhelming force will be necessary…”

As a result, Famiu, receiving treatment in the infirmary, shook her head in disbelief while reading an article sent by Dokoran in the group chat.

“Not worth reading any further.”

As expected.

Aside from Hino Kanae, who sent a sweating emoji, and Miel, who forced a smile, no one else replied in the chat.

What can I say?

Isn’t it remarkably consistent?

“Pfft.”

Famiu let out a chuckle absentmindedly, then glanced at the nearly finished IV drip.

Just then.

*Shhrrr-.*

The partition folded under an indifferent touch, and soon a curt doctor pulled the needle from her wrist and said,

“Done. You can go.”

“Yes.”

With green hair and a slender, boyish frame.

Incongruous with his appearance, piercings adorned his ears and lips, and a snake tattoo peeked from the nape of his neck.

Had it not been for the white coat and the faint insignia of a captain on the military uniform beneath, one would hardly believe he was a soldier.

‘He’s new, but he’s prickly.’

She briefly regarded the military doctor who had just arrived during the break, then rose from her seat and exited the infirmary.

And right after she left, the man, with an indifferent hand, tidied up the IV, then took a familiar, pipe-shaped electronic cigarette and approached the window.

“…Sigh, I never wanted to assume this identity again. What was that damn order?”

Leaves swayed through the slightly open window.

Gazing at the smoke dispersing beyond, he sighed, knowing nothing would change.

A former owner of Hansarang Pharmacy.

Current Military Physician of the United Human Synthesis Nation.

Captain Zikmund Nihel.

Muttering that awkward name under his breath, he gazed at the man in black military uniform walking down the distant avenue, followed closely by a blonde girl.

“Ah, damn, I feel like I’m going to be caught.”

Viper made a solemn vow.

To avoid crossing paths as much as possible.