Became a Failed Experimental Subject Chapter 95

Ch.95 12 million won

“I don’t know what it is, but one thing’s for sure—there’s absolutely no way an ordinary human could wield this kind of power…”

“His ability is a bit unusual, isn’t it? I mean, compared to other superpower humans.”

“Ah, that makes sense, too. Was it called Limit Break or something?”

The heroes of A-City, unaware of Gombang’s power, interpreted my ability in their own way.

A physical enhancement ability called Limit Break—it supposedly allows one to surpass the physical limits a human can achieve through muscle training.

“Since it’s an ability that directly affects the body and leaves results, it’s only natural there’s no energy signature.”

“Looking at his height—over 2 meters—it seems to fit the abilities’ characteristics, right? They say the more you train, the bigger your body gets.”

“Could we check your regenerative ability? Just a small wound on your body…”

“Hmm.”

Unlike Gu Seo-ryong, I can’t use other abilities in human form, so I didn’t mind them theorizing about my ability’s true nature. I extended my hand.

Then, the team leader secretly activated his ability and shot out a sharp blade of wind.

Pik! The wind blade grazed my body, leaving a small scratch.

The other heroes and students thought the team leader had controlled his ability, seeing only the minor wound, but the team leader stared at me with a stiff expression.

“Too tough… Are you really A-rank?”

“Whoa! The regeneration speed—!”

“Wow, this is insane.”

“Amazing…”

“Limit Break gradually enhances all physical abilities through training, right? With this absurd regeneration, it seems confirmed.”

The heroes marveled at the instantly healing wound, then rushed to a corner of the field and brought back something.

“Don’t worry. For superpower humans with unusual abilities who couldn’t get a proper rank assessment, A-City has multiple methods of measuring abilities.”

“It’s a bit old-fashioned, but let’s try this.”

“Hmm.”

“Wow, it’s been years since we last opened this.”

When the heroes opened a box covered in dust and rain, various items came out—a steel cable twisted into a spiral, spheres the size of fists, and a small T-shaped object of unknown purpose.

“Here, bite down on this.”

“Why do I have to bite it?”

“It’s a cardiopulmonary endurance checker. We’ll test your physical stamina.”

I bit the protruding part and breathed. With each exhale, liquid moved inside the device.

Normal breathing made the liquid reach the red line at the end, and red lights flashed at both extremes. It was a device to check if I was breathing properly while moving.

“Now, step on this… And pull the handle with all your strength while holding your position.”

The cable was a device to measure muscle strength and endurance in the back, shoulders, arms, and legs simultaneously.

I pulled as instructed, and the heroes measured the length of the stretched cable.

“Muscle strength is… Huh? Upper-mid A-rank?”

“How long do I have to keep doing this?”

“Huh? You’re not supposed to talk.”

“Wait, you have the leisure to talk?”

Thirty seconds into the measurement, already bored, I yawned and stretched.

As I twisted my waist left and right while pulling, the cable spring creaked and screamed.

Then, teu-deu-deuk!—a sound like wood tearing—followed by ti-di-ding! as the wire strands snapped one by one.

“W-wait! Stop!”

“It’s breaking, it’s breaking!”

“Done.”

When I released the cable, the heroes and students stared at it, now frayed like a broom, with wide eyes.

“This… Just based on physicality, isn’t this on par with Teacher Yeo Woon-jae in his prime?”

“Probably because this cable hasn’t been maintained in a while, right?”

“Insane.”

Next were the various spheres.

They twisted automatically when gripped tightly. The test was to see how far they could be twisted using grip strength alone.

“Grip strength, upper A-rank.”

“Now, next, throw this sphere over there…”

Hearing that, I snatched the sphere and threw it toward a scrap vehicle.

Thunk! With a surprisingly small sound, a tiny hole appeared in the vehicle.

The heroes ran to the car, inspecting the perfectly clean penetration mark with no cracks. They dug into the ground behind the vehicle and returned with the results.

“Mid A-rank.”

“Wow, you’re consistently A-rank across the board… That’s rare.”

“Your physical balance is unbelievably good.”

“Finally, for endurance, since there’s been no alarm so far… S-rank.”

When I removed the T-shaped mouthpiece, a chorus of whoa! erupted.

The team leader, with a dazed expression, scanned me up and down and let out a sigh.

“If you were a villain, I’d already be dead.”

“Is the test over?”

“Ah, yes, it’s over. Total rank: A. Congratulations! You’re an A-rank superpower human!”

“Hmm…”

Amid the heroes’ and students’ applause, I was disappointed that my human form’s level was only A-rank.

Still, I thought I’d barely scrape into low S-rank.

Is this the limit of a purely human body without monstrous transformation?

“Good work. Now, since the measurements are done this way.”

“Students, someday you too can achieve strength like this. Keep honing your abilities!”

“Yes!”

After the tests, the team leader took me elsewhere, holding documents.

We entered a first-floor office where regular police officers worked. They stood up nervously and saluted.

“Good afternoon!”

“Mm, everyone take your seats.”

“Yes!”

The officers sat back down, exuding unease as they kept glancing at the team leader and me.

The team leader walked past them, stopping at one officer’s desk and dropping the documents.

“Process this superpower human registration card for him. Quickly.”

“Yes! You mean a hero registration card?”

“Superpower human. Registration card.”

“S-sorry!”

“Tch…”

As the frightened officer typed with trembling hands, the team leader clicked his tongue softly.

He took a card from a drawer and inserted it into a strange machine.

Clunk, clunk. After the sounds, a superpower human registration card with a photo like Gu Seo-ryong’s was printed. The officer handed it to the team leader with both hands.

“Here you go. Sorry for the delay.”

“Sorry. The card took a while.”

“Was it slow?”

If anything, it was fast—much quicker than ordering a hot dog in W-City.

“Paperwork like this is handled by civilians. Can’t be helped. Superpower humans are always in short supply, and civilians need to work to earn their keep…”

“Hmm.”

“Understanding these shortcomings is also part of being a superpower human. Let’s step outside—it’s stuffy in here.”

A barely perceptible undercurrent of disdain and resentment, unnoticeable unless you were a monster.

As we left the office, the team leader’s emotions lingered in the air. My monstrous senses picked up the whispers of the humans.

“Slow? He’d take even longer if he did it himself.”

“Damn superpower human supremacists…”

“That superpower human earlier was A-rank.”

“Ugh, another high-and-mighty person to bow and scrape to?”

“He didn’t seem like a bad guy.”

“That’s just for now. He’ll change soon enough.”

“Except for Kage, all heroes know is violence.”

Though outwardly compliant, resentment toward superpower humans had clearly built up.

In the hallway, the team leader handed me a vending machine coffee and the superpower human registration card.

“Technically, you should watch an educational video, but… Never mind. Mr. Park Deun-deun, you probably wouldn’t watch it anyway. You keep saying too long whenever explanations drag on.”

“Too long.”

“But I’ll summarize: superpower humans are superior. Superior superpower humans have a duty to protect inferior civilians. Superpower humans are equal. Superpower humans help superpower humans. That’s it.”

“Still long.”

“Congratulations. A-rank superpower human Park Deun-deun.”

Holding the card, I felt a strange emotion—my first human ID. I examined it closely.

Nothing special—just my name, rank, issue date, and district.

“With this, you’re exempt from liability in cases of monster or villain-related damage or disturbances. If you ever clash with other heroes, show this first. As an A-rank, most situations will resolve themselves.”

“Sounds like it might be right.”

“Well, honestly, that’s not entirely wrong… But if you disrespect other superpower humans, Kage—the strongest—won’t let it slide. All superpower humans are equal, but S-ranks are special.”

Obeying the strongest—sounds like monster logic.

As I pondered how different this was from W-City, the team leader explained the card’s benefits.

“Superpower humans aren’t covered by Hero Priority laws. No priority access to facilities or restaurants, but no obligation to yield to heroes either. Also, you’ll receive a superpower human stipend—less than heroes, but still.”

“Stipend?”

“Money. As an A-rank, you’ll get 12 million won monthly. It’s already deposited.”

“12 million won!”

For the first time today, I perked up, eyes wide.

12 million won meant 1,200 bowls of gukbap—enough to eat full for a week.

I’d only planned to stay in A-City for about a week, but with this card, I could eat so much gukbap.

“You get this much just for being a superpower human?”

“Yes. Most superpower humans turn to villainy for money. Kage’s welfare policy addresses that. By the way, becoming a hero doubles it. Come register anytime if you’re interested.”

“No thanks.”

W-City had nothing like this.

Since Yoo Hyena, who knew all about welfare, never mentioned it, it definitely didn’t exist there.

Imagining all the food I could buy, I swallowed hard.

This Kage guy… Might be better than I thought.

“Also, if you want to grow stronger, you can freely access training facilities, superpower human education centers, and analysis labs. I’ll accompany you anytime—uh, Mr. Park Deun-deun?”

Getting the card meant I had no more business here.

Seeing no reason to listen further, I turned toward the exit.

“Wait, where are you going?”

Today, I’d only eaten one hot dog.

Now, I had the equivalent of about 24,000 hot dogs in my hands.

“Going to eat.”

Leaving the stunned team leader behind, I walked out.

***

Pondering what to eat, I caught a delicious scent on my way back to my hideout.

The shop’s sign read Fried Chicken.

Curious, I showed my superpower human card and asked what it was. The owner, frightened, quickly fried a chicken with a forced smile.

The taste of that first bite was astounding.

A faint memory—something I might have eaten as a child.

A flavor so good it made my taste buds bow in worship.

W-City had fried chicken too, but it was called tongdak—crispy and chewy, but not crunchy.

This was entirely different.

I bought 50 fried chickens on the spot. The stunned owner bowed deeply as I took the food back to my hideout.

I wanted more, but he said 50 was already pushing it.

“Meow meow meow…!”

“Mmm… Gulp, mmm…!”

Back at the hideout, Sagugu sniffed the air and pounced on the chicken bags.

Sagugu and I tore open the packaging and dug in on the bed.

Beside us, Gu Seo-ryong scowled.

“Hey? Instead of eating chicken, say something!”

“Brother! This is so good!”

“How the hell does your registration trigger four, five government records the moment it’s issued?”

“Mmm, better than dakgalbi.”

“Mom, try some!”

“Sigh…”

When Sagugu offered a drumstick, Gu Seo-ryong sighed and took a bite.

After one taste, she fell silent too.

“Wow, what is this? They didn’t have this four years ago. Is this really the same chicken?”

“They said it’s a recently rediscovered recipe.”

“Wait, it’s not air-fried? It’s actually oil-fried?”

“Sooooooooo good!”