Chapter 67

Chapter 67

From Cosmic Rascal to Professor.

Episode 67: Celestine Incident – Bay No. 2 (1).

As your eyes traced the murky reflection in the puddle, you could see the bodies strewn about—medical personnel, security officers, facility managers, and even teachers. Strikingly, there were no inspectors. Not one could be seen in their distinctive uniform.

“Didn’t they deploy a lot of personnel?” someone inquired.

It was known that EX-grade inspectors were in short supply. Reportedly, only four had been stationed in the lobby while the others were dispatched to the ship. Additionally, there was a sizable unit composed entirely of S-grade inspectors.

“Have all those inspectors really vanished?”

“I—I’m just as confused as you are. But right now, we need to focus on finding any survivors.”

The inspectors from the first ship, who had arrived later, tirelessly cleaned the lobby. They gathered the bodies, collected scattered organs, mopped up the blood, and cleared debris from the pillars. Their primary goal, however, was to locate any survivors.

“No, no. I don’t…” Turning around, I saw Merlin sitting on the ground, sobbing. She wasn’t alone in her distress; everyone was visibly shaken.

“It’ll be okay, damn it. It has to be,” Matus tried to console Merlin, but his words fell short. She appeared to be in a particularly fragile state.

Merlin Whiritia: 370/1000

[Mental state]

Merlin has witnessed a traumatic event, causing a rapid decline in her mental health. Continued exposure could lead to anxiety disorder, separation anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder.

The true battle was beginning. Mental wounds are often more debilitating than physical ones. Without immediate intervention, Merlin’s condition could deteriorate beyond recovery, a fate arguably worse than death. It was crucial, for the sake of all Outer Gods’ biologists, to prevent such an outcome.

“Cartesia,” I whispered her name, only to be met with an immediate rebuke in my mind.

“Do not call my true name carelessly.”

Her response was terse. But then, what else was I to call her? Referring to her as ‘Outer God’ felt too impersonal.

“I need a favor.”

“A favor? An inferior species dares to ask me?”

“If you prefer, I’ll make it an order.” I quickly tallied up the remaining Pron in my reserves. After setting aside 100,000 for the technology tree, about 50,000 Pron remained. I decided to use it all, commanding, “I’m going to deploy an area-wide skill for mental recovery.”

“…Stubborn, aren’t you?”

The ‘God of Wisdom and Curiosity’ has approved your request.

Cartesia, the Outer God who values contracts and compensation, would comply as long as the price was right. With sufficient Pron, you could persuade her to do nearly anything.

Notification: The PN levels of living beings within a 20-meter radius have decreased by 200 each.

A wave of relief washed over me as I noticed Merlin’s panting ease. Mental stabilization skills were a rarity, even among constellations. Yet, every Outer God from the Descartes legion was equipped with this ability.

At times like these, Cartesia is an excellent sponsor when you consider it. She gives out pron and may complain but she will do anything if the price is right.

The ‘God of Wisdom and Curiosity’ remains silent.

You have received 500 Pron in sponsorship.

Just as I thought, she had come through once again.

“There’s a survivor here!” The inspector’s voice cut through the air, his arm waving from across the room. Snapped out of our lethargy, we leaped from our chairs and sprinted toward him.

“Ms. Kendra?” I gasped. There, amidst the chaos, lay our homeroom teacher, gravely injured, missing her left shoulder blade.

Kendra was rushed to the hospital immediately. Her last words before losing consciousness were cryptic, “Pillar, be wary of the silver pillar…” There was no time to press for more details given the urgency of the situation. Since a significant amount of time had elapsed since her arm was severed, the prospects of reattaching it were slim. Our homeroom teacher would likely have to adapt to a mechanical arm—a common fate in our world.

Once the search concluded, the inspectors prioritized getting the students home safely. Welton and his group shared a few words with me before departing. Soon, I found myself the last student lingering in the lobby.

“About your homeroom teacher, it’s a miracle she survived,” Enabet remarked, her tone tinged with bitterness as she stood guard over me.

“Most people would have died from the blood loss by then. It’s either the Constellation watching over you or sheer luck.”

“Probably a bit of both,” I admitted, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for still being alive.

Enabet nodded, then reached for a cigarette. Noticing my gaze, she hesitated, returning the lighter to her pocket. “Want a candy instead?” she offered.

“Is it flavored?”

“It’s mint.”

I eagerly accepted the mint candy, the bright flavor momentarily lifting the somber mood.

“I used to get these from a friend often. They should be in compartment 2, but I’ve lost touch with her.”

“A girl?” Enabet asked, almost instinctively.

“How did you guess?”

“Just a guess.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle.

Enabet shifted the conversation as she glanced around the now cleaner lobby. “Scenes like this are pretty common in my line of work,” she remarked.

“It must be tough,” I replied.

“Not as tough as it is for you,” she said with a chuckle, giving my shoulder a gentle pat. “By the way, did you mention your name was Aidel? You seem to have a special ability, kid. You should probably head home soon. There’s a good chance that other areas might also be dealing with Incarnates.”

“I’m more worried about my sibling and our friend. Just being able to stay here feels like a blessing,” I admitted.

“You’re brave,” Enabet commented, a shadow briefly crossing my face before vanishing. She hesitated, then slowly withdrew her hand. “Sorry, you just reminded me of a junior I used to pat on the head.”

I responded with an awkward smile as the atmosphere grew slightly tense. Enabet’s lips twitched into a small smile.

“Thank you for humoring me. It’s comforting to have someone of EX rank looking out just for me.”

“Wouldn’t it be safer to stay somewhere more secure if you know that?”

“Isn’t it safest right here, by your side, Inspector?” I teased.

“You rascal…”

I looked up at the sky. Three stars were visible, like dots against the dark canvas. They were Celestine Ship Bays 1, 2, and 3. Bay 1 had stabilized, leaving only Bays 2 and 3 to worry about. Bay 4 was out of orbit and irrelevant now. I faced two choices. But before making any decision, I needed the approval of the inspectors, including Enabet. Permission to go there. Of course, they wouldn’t grant it. Could I somehow persuade them with words?

Lost in thought, I glanced down at where Enabet was supposed to be standing. Silence met me. The spot was empty. Not just her—every inspector who had been milling about the lobby was gone. Over thirty of them vanished without a trace. A cold shiver ran down my spine.

The ‘God of Wisdom and Curiosity’ sensed an unusual presence.

“Dodge, rookie. Bottom right.”

The moment the status window popped up, I instinctively leaped to the left.

Swish! A steel skewer erupted from the ground where I had just stood, tracing a diagonal from the bottom right to the top left. It gleamed silver, briefly dazzling me.

“Duck, rookie.”

Cartesia’s voice had barely faded when I ducked. A silver spike whizzed past, narrowly missing my eye.

“Hoo, you dodged that.”

After evading two deadly attacks, a voice echoed around me. The next instant, the source of the voice materialized. What emerged from the ground bore a human shape with four limbs, but that was where the similarity ended. Its torso was unnaturally thin, and its entire body was a ghostly white. The limbs were disproportionate and slender compared to the torso, with eerily long fingers. Its face was distorted, reminiscent of the tormented figure in Munch’s ‘The Scream’.

The Incarnate ‘Yoodles’ has descended.

Terminate it!

Celestine Bay 2. Before the Practical Evaluation.

Instructor Isaac Clark, overseeing the test, announced, “There’s a chance we might encounter an Incarnate due to the small breach in the Ether Belt. Until our scientists can repair it, we remain at the mercy of the Outer God’s unpredictability. We are, undeniably, in a precarious position.”

The students immediately began to murmur among themselves, their anxiety palpable.

“I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned it,” Isaac muttered under his breath.

“They’re still just seventeen, after all. It can’t be helped,” replied his assistant, Inspector Kizel, with a shrug.

Isaac, sharing a knowing look with Kizel, smirked as his gaze landed on a particular student. She was a striking girl with golden ponytails and deep blue eyes that conveyed a calmness unusual for her age. Her complexion was pale, almost porcelain, enhancing her ethereal beauty. Yet, it was not her looks that had captured Isaac’s keen interest; it was her composed demeanor.

“Take note of that girl, Rustila. From the start, she hasn’t shown a flicker of concern. Instead, she’s been methodically inspecting her sword,” Isaac pointed out.

“Indeed, she’s a rare find,” Kizel agreed, nodding. His years of experience on the battlefield had honed his ability to spot potential just from a person’s demeanor and actions.

“With a face like that, oh…”

Isaac playfully tapped Kizel on the head, interrupting him. “That girl is already spoken for.”

“Of course. It would be surprising if someone with her beauty didn’t have a boyfriend. It would be a real waste, wouldn’t it?”

“A waste indeed.”

What’s crucial for a swordsman is always their combat ability. A less-than-perfect face? Surgery can fix that. But a flawed mindset? That’s irreparable. In that regard, Rustila was a prodigy. Her composure, even when compared to her peers, was extraordinary—and composure is the cornerstone of swordsmanship.

“She has a constellation backing her, and her tricks are clever. Her fundamentals might seem weak, but that’s not due to a lack of skill. Rather, her techniques simply don’t align with conventional swordsmanship. Yet, she has the potential to transcend these limitations.”

“So, you’re saying she’s inherently gifted?”

“Exactly. Once she’s in the military, she could be a game changer.”

The two evaluators concluded their discussion as Isaac initiated the practical exam. The second Bay, floating in orbit around the first, was designed to assess combat abilities in space.

“Combat isn’t confined to solid ground. Consider this: how would you defeat a distant monster with only a sword in zero gravity? Or how swiftly can you regain your footing if your stance is thrown off by a planet’s gravitational pull? These nuances could very well decide your fate.”

“E-excuse me… Isn’t that too challenging?” A student protested. The difficulty level seemed more appropriate for cadets in a military academy.

“Indeed, it is challenging.”

“Hmm, is that so?” Murmurs of dissent spread as Isaac stroked his chin thoughtfully. Just moments ago, the Constellation that influenced him had started to send signals.

“So, what’s our plan for handling this situation?”

Suddenly, the room trembled. The students looked up in confusion. Dozens of massive hexagonal silver pillars began to descend from above.