coobybook Chapter 463 [Empire] Actual Combat
Chapter 463 [Empire] Actual Combat
Finally, I couldn't help but speak, my tone calm but unyielding: "I'm hungry, come with me to the cafeteria."
The boy was stunned for a moment, as if he couldn't believe that I would take the initiative to ask him to do something, but when he saw the look in my eyes, he hesitated for a moment, nodded, and responded softly: "Yes." Then, he walked out from his bed carefully, as if he was still confirming whether he could keep up with my pace.
I didn't look back and walked straight to the door. He followed closely behind me, not daring to get too close, maintaining a delicate distance, as if he was afraid of disturbing me, but also afraid of causing unnecessary trouble if he walked too far.
I noticed that although I didn't ask him to do anything servile this time, he still acted like a "tool" and an "attachment", without showing any expectations or initiative, as if this passive role had been deeply rooted in his life.
As we walked through the dormitory hallway, a few boys from the mecha class glanced over, their eyes a touch of disdain before they shifted their focus and continued chatting about the day's training results. No one raised any objections to my actions, or to the boy's. In their eyes, even though I looked a little "petite," I was still a student from Special Abilities Class 1, while he was just a "tool" for the support staff. They didn't care that I was walking him out; they didn't even say a word.
Entering the cafeteria, the atmosphere was as chilly as ever. Due to the diverse backgrounds of the students, the cafeteria often became a place where each student worked their own way. Few initiated conversation, and most simply lowered their heads, quickly finishing their meals and leaving in a hurry. I walked to the buffet area, grabbed some food, and found a corner to sit down.
The boy followed me, still with his head down, and carefully placed my food on the table, as if he was doing something extremely nervous. Then he sat down across from me, not making any sound, but quietly eating his meal.
I looked at him, feeling a little annoyed. Actually, I wasn't the type to deliberately make others feel inferior, or at least, I didn't want to put anyone in such a depressing environment. But that was the rule of this school: the weak could only endure silently, while the strong could do whatever they wanted.
As I ate, I suddenly felt a little tired of this life of constant self-suppression. Although I didn't intend to interfere too much in other people's affairs, I knew that this hierarchy and class division wouldn't change just because of my own thoughts.
I looked at the boy. He seemed to notice my gaze and lowered his head again, not daring to look me in the eye. He just continued to eat his meal mechanically. I sighed and put down my chopsticks: "You don't have to keep your head down like that. Not every place requires that."
He said "yes", still without looking up, just continued eating quietly.
I don't know why, but seeing him like this, I felt a surge of inexplicable irritation, even the urge to change something. But this urge was quickly suppressed. Because I knew there was an unbridgeable gap between him and me—he was in the logistics class, and I was in Class 1 of the Special Abilities Program. I knew the gap between us better than anyone else.
Or rather, I don't quite belong here.
So, in the end, I didn't say anything, just sighed and continued eating my food.
I suddenly felt like laughing. Back when I was the "young master" of the capital planet, I had no servants around me. Instead, I lived a free-range life. I did whatever I wanted, with few constraints, and no one dared to tell me what to do. I arranged my daily life almost entirely on my own. There was no sense of superiority, a need for service, only my own freedom.
But at this military academy, things were completely different. From the moment I arrived, I actually began to "enjoy" this kind of treatment. While I wasn't treated to the same meticulous care as some aristocratic families, at least here, as a student in Special Abilities Class 1, my status was high enough to make the "logistics team" around me "tools," doing seemingly insignificant things for me. I even started asking them to bring me water, hand me a towel, or help me organize my equipment.
Thinking about this contrast, it's almost laughable—I actually experienced the feeling of being "served" in a place like this. And that unconscious sense of superiority actually gave me a strange sense of satisfaction. Even though I knew it wasn't something to brag about.
I picked up the bowl and gently stirred the soup. My eyes stumbled over the boy, his head bowed as he ate. Suddenly, something strange struck me. Perhaps he wasn't being submissive, but simply accustomed to this kind of life. No one wants to live like a tool, but in this clearly defined environment, everything seemed to flow so naturally.
"You don't have to be too nervous. No one will blame you if you don't do well." I couldn't help but speak.
He raised his head slightly, but didn't look at me. He still lowered his head to eat, "I understand."
The corners of my mouth curled up slightly, but I felt like I didn't have much expectations for him. He might get used to these orders and do things like a machine, but I suddenly wasn't sure if I could always be so indifferent.
Sometimes, people get used to a certain lifestyle and even fall into it unknowingly.
There are neither too many nor too few students in the logistics class, with almost every dormitory equipped with one. At first glance, this arrangement seems to be for some kind of "practical" learning or to cultivate a sense of "service", but upon closer inspection, this model feels strange.
They were supposed to be training at the academy. Students like me in Special Abilities Class 1 needed to gain experience in combat and actual combat, but these students in the logistics class were constantly forced into a "supporting role." They had no chance for real training, and weren't even eligible to participate in the most basic military academy courses. More often than not, they were assigned to provide services for us "combat-oriented" students. This arrangement felt a little off, no matter how I looked at it.
Sometimes I can't help but wonder what the real purpose of this arrangement is. Is it to develop their work abilities? Or is it to make them understand, in some sense, the gap between themselves and those "above"? Perhaps there's some unsavory reason, or perhaps it's simply to reinforce the hierarchy within the academy. Regardless, aside from him, I haven't seen any other logistics students show any resistance; instead, they've all accepted this arrangement as normal.
As for the boy, he seemed to have long since grown accustomed to this passive existence. He moved with extreme caution, not daring to even hint at any rebellion in front of us "strong men," as if already bound by this identity. He wasn't a robot, but circumstances had pushed him into a corner that didn't belong to him, and he endured it silently.
"Are you going to be so humble all your life?" I couldn't help but ask him, with a hint of provocation in my voice.
He was slightly stunned, looked up at me, with no expression on his face, and answered in a flat tone: "This is what I should do." Then he lowered his head and continued his work.
Sometimes, I really don't understand whether this "what should be done" comes from my inner recognition or is a rule that has been instilled in my mind from the beginning. After all, who wants to live in the shadow of others throughout their youth?
Maybe I asked the wrong question. After all, he was just a student assigned here, with no ability to choose his lifestyle. And I, who was in a completely different environment from him, really couldn't really understand why he was so obedient.
I shook my head, stopped asking questions, and continued eating. Because I also knew that in this cruel military academy, no one except the strong had the right to decide their own fate.
Physical training has exhausted me, leaving me feeling almost exhausted, especially after several days of intense training. Adding today's supernatural combat training, and my condition has worsened.
Unlike those new men who are born with devastating attacks or other powerful superpowers, my "superpower" is simply my contracted plant—the green ivy vine. Calling it a "superpower" is a stretch, as it's not an innate ability, but rather a partnership formed through a contract. It can be used like a weapon to lash out at enemies, or summoned remotely for strikes, but it's ultimately not a "superpower." It's just a plant, with its own life and perceptions, and it can be damaged.
Perhaps it was this green ivy vine that initially mistaken me for a new male. It seemed like a part of me, something I could summon at any moment and react to in any way. To others, it looked like a manifestation of my supernatural powers, but to me, it was more like a being in need of protection, a companion.
While it's not truly a "superpower," it's flexible and agile enough to even give me a temporary advantage. However, every time I summon it, I worry about whether it will be hurt. Unlike a true superpower, it doesn't suffer the same invulnerability. It also shows "pain" when attacked, and I can't predict the exact extent of the damage. Therefore, every time I use it, I feel a mixture of dependence and a subtle sense of guilt.
Especially during my supernatural combat training, I had to summon it frequently. Every time I wielded the green vine to strike my training opponent, I felt a surge of unease. Although it could swiftly strike or entangle its enemies, this "power" didn't seem to belong to me, and the responsibility for its damage weighed heavily on me.
After training, I often looked at its bent branches, my heart full of doubts - is this kind of power worth my repeated reliance? Will there be a day when I will abuse it and cause it to suffer unbearable damage?
No one ever gave me answers to these questions. After all, everyone thought I was the new male and considered my green ivy vine my special ability.
After today's combat training, I could almost feel its weariness—its vines seemed weaker than usual, its slightly drooping branches telling me of its weariness. I sighed, feeling a sense of emptiness and powerlessness. This isn't the life I truly desire, but I also know I have no choice. No matter how physically exhausted or mentally depressed I am, the relentless training continues day after day.
"I'm sorry," I whispered to it, barely audible. "I won't let you get hurt again."
The next day, facing the ridicule of those truly new men, I didn't choose to remain silent. Instead, I took the green seedling from my backpack and let it stretch out its tender green vines, beginning to emit a faint glow in the air.
As if responding to the sadness in my heart, the cyan light suddenly flashed, instantly transforming into a dazzling beam of light, fiercely striking the space around me. Almost instantly, the entire powerful members of the Superpower Team 1 were thrown to the ground. The temperature in the air suddenly dropped, and the cyan light gave me an indescribable sense of oppression, as if all the rules had been broken in that moment.
The scene fell silent for a moment, everyone stopped moving, as if even breathing had become difficult. I could sense their shock and confusion, but I felt no elation in my heart. Even though the green seedling displayed such immense power, it wasn't the way I had hoped. It seemed to have its own consciousness, responding to my emotions while also reflecting my inner distress and powerlessness.
Ultimately, the shock of that moment resulted in nearly every member of the Ability Team being sent to the treatment chamber. Damage to their blood, muscles, and even their abilities forced them to temporarily swallow their pride and recuperate in the chamber. I stood nearby, still feeling a mixture of emotions as I watched all this unfold.
No one dared to laugh at me anymore, nor did anyone dare to question my "superpowers." Even though this power seemed to originate from my plant companion, it was far more powerful than anyone had anticipated. It shocked even those born with offensive powers, leaving them unable to react.
But I knew this power didn't belong to me. It was the power of the cyan seedling, a force I couldn't fully control. Perhaps the awe it brought was simply because it was unfettered and limitless. Its power, to some extent, was beyond my true control.
I looked at the students being sent to the treatment chambers. Their eyes were filled with confusion and doubt. But I felt no sense of pride, only a deep exhaustion. This world has too many rules, too many frameworks. I'm just a bystander in the outside world, unable to control even my own destiny.
"Is this the result I want to see?" I whispered to the green seedlings, with an unknown emotion surging in my heart.
Its light remains soft, without any response, as if it is just growing quietly and existing silently.
I can feel my heart sighing at all this.