Savior Proto-Call Chapter 6

Chapter 6. No Longer Human (6)

The Salvation Academy.

The easiest way to understand it was to think of it as a military academy for ability users.

It was a place where those who had awakened supernatural abilities and were soon to be officially commissioned received basic military training alongside specialized training in the use of their abilities.

"...I just hope it really does become my salvation, like its name suggests."

Yoon Doha murmured the words almost like a prayer as she stared blankly at the buildings rising from the center of the island.

This was also the place where her future profession would ultimately be decided.

She would become either a Savior or a Redeemer.

Phantasms were generally divided into seven grades.

The closer a Phantasm was to Grade 1, the more difficult it was to destroy. Conversely, the closer it was to Grade 7, the easier it became.

Saviors were generally individuals with a talent for exterminating Fragments and destroying Phantasms.

At the very least, they had to be capable of destroying a Grade 5 or higher Phantasm entirely on their own.

In addition to that basic requirement, their abilities either had to be specialized for combat or possess applications that could produce comparable results.

In extremely rare cases, even those who failed to meet either of those conditions could be appointed as Saviors if their awakening grade was confirmed to be Grade 1.

Saviors were exempt from most administrative duties and miscellaneous paperwork.

Their assignments were almost exclusively limited to confronting Fragments and Phantasms.

Redeemers, on the other hand, were those who failed to meet the requirements for becoming Saviors.

Anyone who had difficulty independently destroying Phantasms ranging from Grade 5 to Grade 7 would be relegated to the position of Redeemer.

Consequently, individuals with abilities specialized more toward support than combat, or those with lower awakening grades, were generally appointed as Redeemers.

They assisted Saviors and were still required to participate in the destruction of Phantasms and Fragments.

However, since direct destruction wasn't their primary responsibility, they were also assigned duties involving their designated Savior or other administrative work.

The commissioning examination determined whether a candidate would become a Savior or a Redeemer based on how closely they met the requirements for the former.

Their salaries and pensions were then calculated accordingly.

Both positions required individuals to risk their lives.

Nevertheless, Redeemers received comparatively lower salaries.

According to public opinion, Redeemers were simply paid less hazard compensation than Saviors, despite putting their lives on the line just as often.

But regardless of how anyone tried to justify it, the underlying issue was discrimination based on grades and abilities.

When you think about it, being a Redeemer is a pretty miserable job.

You have to worry about keeping your Savior alive, worry about keeping yourself alive, and then endure people looking down on you because your ability supposedly isn't useful.

And on top of all that, they have the nerve to be stingy with your salary.

"Tsk."

After walking for quite some time and gradually drawing closer to the buildings, Yoon Doha clicked her tongue softly and raised her head.

Under the vast, open sky, an enormous white wall came into view.

It was tall enough to rival the walls of a prison.

Above it, electrified barbed wire twisted together like tangled threads.

Yoon Doha stared at the rather inhumane sight and continued seriously considering whether she'd truly made the right decision.

But she had already become an ability user.

If she ran away now, she'd be branded an anti-government ability user and become a candidate for immediate execution.

There was no way for her to turn back anymore.

Besides, she desperately needed a high-paying job.

With those thoughts in mind, Yoon Doha dragged her weary feet toward the checkpoint at the main entrance.

Above it hung an enormous sign bearing the words SALVATION ACADEMY, its imposing presence difficult to ignore.

The identity verification process was simple.

She handed her student identification card and Awakening Confirmation Certificate to the soldier stationed at the checkpoint.

Her identity was quickly confirmed, and permission to enter was granted.

Then again, she'd already undergone an exhausting number of identity checks before being allowed to board the ferry bound for Salvation Island.

There probably wasn't much need to be excessively strict once she was already inside.

Her destination was Lecture Room No. 2 in the Training Building.

Yoon Doha found the building without much difficulty.

There weren't many structures on the island to begin with, and signs had been conveniently placed throughout the grounds.

The academy grounds sloped gently upward.

Viewed from the entrance, the Training Building stood on the left, shaped like a horizontally reversed Korean letter ㄱ.

On the opposite side, to the right, stood the Medical Building, a long rectangular structure.

Farther uphill, at an elevation roughly equivalent to five building floors, stood the smallest building—the Research Building—alongside two separate dormitories for male and female trainees.

Wow.

At this rate, my knees are going to give out before I even learn how to use my ability.

Ignoring the renewed ache in the knee that the white-haired mad dog had chewed on several days earlier, Yoon Doha turned left.

A leaf carried by the spring breeze landed softly on the duffel bag slung carelessly over her shoulder.

The bag contained her everyday necessities.

The leaf's vivid green color seemed particularly brilliant, overflowing with life.

So they actually bothered planting living things on this artificial island.

It was spring now.

Summer would arrive soon.

And by the end of that season, her fate would have been decided.

Whether she became a Savior or a Redeemer.

Please.

Let salvation come to me in the end, too.

Yoon Doha offered a desperate prayer to a god whose very existence she couldn't be certain of.

Then, with an indifferent expression, she brushed away the leaves that had fallen onto her hair and bag.

Before she knew it, she'd arrived in front of the Training Building.

She stopped briefly.

A sigh of astonishment escaped through her slightly parted lips.

"...Wow. That exterior is something else."

It was a five-story building painted entirely white.

However, its walls were in complete disarray.

Deep grooves had been carved into the surface, as though something exceptionally hard and powerful had scraped across them.

Elsewhere, old stains had permanently discolored the white paint, leaving faint brown marks.

These unusual traces, rarely encountered in everyday life, brought to mind the aftermath of a fierce battle.

The overwhelming whiteness of the building somehow reminded her of Baek Lee Young.

That crazy white dog.

An inexplicable sense of foreboding crawled up her spine, causing her muscles to tense.

Unable to shake the unpleasant feeling, Yoon Doha tugged her cardigan sleeves firmly downward and entered the building.

Perhaps because she'd arrived early, the interior was relatively quiet.

Surprisingly, the inside was also far more orderly and polished than the shabby exterior had led her to expect.

She felt secretly relieved to discover that it appeared to be a perfectly habitable place.

After asking for directions to Lecture Room No. 2 at the information desk, Yoon Doha headed to the second floor.

The second floor was rather plain.

In fact, it looked remarkably similar to the corridors of an ordinary university building.

Doors bearing engraved nameplates lined the hallway.

Lecture Room No. 2 wasn't particularly far away.

However, as Doha casually glanced into the classrooms along the way, an uneasy feeling began to settle over her.

Strangely enough, what she could see through the corridor-facing windows hardly resembled ordinary classrooms.

The places where exterior windows should have been were instead covered by specially treated walls that prevented anyone from seeing outside.

Even the entrances were fitted with heavy protective doors.

They looked solid enough to fracture a toe without the slightest difficulty if someone accidentally caught their foot beneath one.

Of course, it was obvious that ability users—especially those whose abilities had only recently manifested—were essentially ticking time bombs.

Even so, the fact that the facilities appeared specifically designed for confinement and restraint left an unpleasant impression.

Why does everything here look like it's meant to restrain or imprison people?

They treat us like this and still call us government employees.

No wonder ability users have earned the nickname "government dogs."

After entertaining those unnecessarily depressing thoughts, Yoon Doha finally opened the protective door to her assigned classroom.

The door itself was astonishingly thick.

It was almost as thick as two index fingers placed side by side.

...This feels wrong.

Something about this place definitely feels wrong.

Would all these heavily fortified safety measures really work in my favor?

Dragging her feet, Doha stepped inside.

Apart from a window designated for emergency escape, the classroom's walls were completely sealed off.

The entire interior was plainly visible.

They really aren't taking any chances, huh?

A dry chuckle escaped her.

But her amusement lasted only a moment.

At the very front of the classroom, someone was lying face down on a desk.

Upon noticing the person's back, Yoon Doha immediately fell silent.

She had an almost obsessive compulsion about punctuality.

For a brief moment, a faint spark of interest appeared in her eyes.

But it was quickly buried beneath the overwhelming weight of her own circumstances.

Yoon Doha walked past the person and placed her black duffel bag on a desk in the very back row, beside the window.

She tilted her stiff neck from side to side while surveying the room with unusually weary eyes.

Class 4.

That was the class she'd been assigned to at the Salvation Academy.

It was a class composed exclusively of individuals possessing Special Category abilities.

Generally, supernatural abilities were classified into two major categories.

Natural Category and Special Category.

Natural Category abilities were relatively straightforward to distinguish.

Everything else—the miscellaneous abilities that didn't clearly fall into the Natural Category—was conveniently grouped under the Special Category.

"...It would've been nice if I'd gotten into Class 1."

For most ability users, using their abilities caused their contamination levels to rise.

Severe contamination, in turn, triggered Phantom Pain.

Eventually, Phantom Pain could lead to the loss of rationality and uncontrolled ability rampages.

And among the various ability types, the ones most likely to produce catastrophic consequences during such rampages generally belonged to the Special Category.

As if that weren't troubling enough, there was another issue that bothered her even more.

The reason the Salvation Academy currently had only Classes 1 and 4, with no Classes 2 or 3, was hardly something anyone could laugh about.

In the past, when the Special Category class had still been called Class 2, its trainees had participated in a group training and observation mission.

During that mission, the entire class had been wiped out after its members suffered Phantom Pain and lost control of their abilities.

To commemorate the dead, the designation Class 2 was permanently retired.

However, a similar incident occurred later.

Every member of Class 3 was killed as well.

Consequently, the Special Category class was renamed once again.

This time, it became Class 4.

Nowadays, people even called it the Death Class, because nobody knew when its members might all drop dead again.

In Korean, the number four could be pronounced the same way as the character meaning death.

That unfortunate association made the nickname even more unpleasant.

Seriously, what the hell?

They turn us into government employees to save people's lives, and then they name our class after death?

To make matters worse, ability users weren't allowed to resign unless they became so severely disabled that using their abilities was no longer possible.

That had given rise to another dark joke.

The Korean word for resignation also contained a syllable pronounced sa.

And according to the joke, even the sa in resignation supposedly stood for death.

...Well, whether I die after getting caught in someone's rampage or die fighting inside a Phantasm, dead is dead.

As long as they pay me well enough, I can risk my life.

After briefly losing herself in those thoughts, Yoon Doha shook her head to clear her mind.

There were still thirty minutes remaining until the scheduled assembly time.

She glanced at the digital watch on her wrist.

Then she pulled out a chair, sank heavily into it, and released a sigh so deep it seemed as though the entire world might collapse.

Death isn't a big deal.

All I need is to make money.

She could tell herself those things as casually as she liked.

But it didn't change the fact that her mood was sinking.

It wasn't so much that she was afraid of dying.

Rather, she resented the reality that she had to go to such lengths merely to keep her older sister alive and sustain her own existence.

Her gaze drifted toward the front of the classroom.

For a moment, she stared at the wheat-colored hair of the person lying motionless over a desk, looking almost like a corpse.

Then she shook her head again.

Lowering her own head onto the desk, Yoon Doha decided to indulge in a brief nap.

Even if I'm going to die, I should at least get some sleep first.

After all, wasn't there a saying that even a ghost looks better if it dies peacefully?