Died for a Million Times: I can Copy Infinite SSS Talents!-Chapter 77 --Commendation Ceremony

As expected, the events involving Link had already made their way through the camp grapevine.

Before he knew it, a crowd had gathered around him. Without saying a word, they lifted him high into the air and tossed him up, catching him steadily each time he came down.

"Let’s give three cheers for the hero who protected the Northern Front—and the man who made our Eagle Hatchling Camp proud—Link!"

"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!!"

The enthusiasm of the crowd startled Link.

He quickly tried to get them to put him down, but just as he was about to catch his breath, two familiar figures approached.

Lifting his head, Link saw Annora staring intently at him, her face full of curiosity.

"...What is it?"

He asked cautiously, but Annora didn’t reply. She just kept staring silently, her gaze locked on him.

The way she looked at him made Link feel a little uneasy.

Honestly, he had never really been able to figure out what someone like Annora was thinking. She was unpredictable and eccentric. And her constant pestering before had already left a deep psychological scar on him.

So now, his first instinct was that she was probably here again for some baffling, irrational reason.

His time was valuable, after all—he didn’t want to waste it on nonsense.

"Link!"

Just as he was thinking this, Annora suddenly called out to him.

Link snapped back to attention. "What is it, exactly? If you’re not going to speak, I’m leaving."

"Wait, no, don’t go!"

She stepped in front of him hurriedly, then fidgeted for a bit before finally mumbling, "You... You’re really amazing."

"Being able to uncover General Adamu’s betrayal... You must’ve worked incredibly hard behind the scenes."

"So... So I just wanted to..."

Seeing her stammer and hesitate again, Link didn’t even bother to wait this time. He lightly pushed her aside and strode off in large steps.

But right then, Annora’s voice rang out behind him, loud and clear:

"Don’t you dare forget our promise!"

Link didn’t turn around. He simply raised one hand behind him and made an ’OK’ gesture in reply.

Annora’s face instantly flushed crimson. She quickly ducked back into the crowd, trying to hide her embarrassment in the noise and bustle of the group.

But Link didn’t see any of that.

In his memory, Annora had always been a bit of a naïve and straightforward girl.

She wasn’t the scheming type—what you saw was what you got. She said what she thought, and acted on what she felt.

Dealing with someone like that might get a little exhausting, sure. But at least you didn’t have to worry about her stabbing you in the back.

In a place as complex and chaotic as Eagle Hatchling Camp—or even the entire Northern Front—she was truly a rare exception.

After that brief moment of reflection, Link turned without hesitation and pushed open the dormitory door. He threw himself onto the bed and closed his eyes to rest.

Ten straight days of training, scouting, and experimentation had left his mind utterly drained.

It wasn’t that his mind power had been depleted per se—rather, it was a deep psychological exhaustion that had set in.

An esper, after all, wasn’t a machine. The human brain, when overworked for long periods, naturally craved mental emptiness. This was an instinct as ancient as life itself.

Link was still human. He wasn’t immune to this biological law.

Especially considering that every day he lived through seemed to be just more of the same: throwing himself into danger to trigger death, acquiring new talents, and constantly reshaping his battle strategies based on the newly gained skills.

Maybe you wouldn’t notice anything wrong in the short term.

But over time, the brain would eventually activate its built-in defense mechanism, forcibly demanding rest—demanding that he stop, do nothing, and just be for a while.

Before long, the long-lost feeling of drowsiness crept up on him.

Without resistance, Link surrendered to sleep.

...

When he opened his eyes again, it was already noon the next day.

The dormitory was empty. Outside, everything was eerily quiet—almost as if the entire camp had vanished overnight.

Link got out of bed and shuffled to the washroom. After a simple wash-up, he chugged several bottles of psionic potion.

Once the lingering fatigue had been fully cleared away, he opened the door and stepped out.

The noonday sun was blinding, forcing him to squint until his eyes slowly adjusted.

Only then did he realize that a massive crowd had gathered in front of the dormitory building. Neatly organized into square formations, the groups stood silently on the open field.

Just as he was about to ask someone what was going on, a loudspeaker echoed from the plaza in the distance:

"All personnel, assemble at the plaza immediately!"

The formations sprang into motion at once, marching in perfect unison toward the plaza.

Link shook his head in resignation, then descended the stairs and joined the rear of the column.

Soon, they arrived at the plaza.

The stage, which had been under construction by the engineering corps, was now fully completed. While not particularly luxurious, it looked decent enough to be presentable.

Several square-jawed men clad in battle armor stood or sat on the platform, each with a stern expression carved into their face.

Nate was seated at the center of the stage, his presence alone exuding silent authority.

With General Adamu now disgraced, Nate was the sole general holding real power at the Northern Front.

Another junior general had only just been appointed. His youthful appearance and modest strength—only Tier 6—made him largely irrelevant in this kind of formal setting.

He sat obediently beside Nate, not daring to speak.

As for the other soldiers present, Link scanned the stage and noted that most of them were around Tier 5 in strength.

That struck him as odd.

The Northern Front was a critical battlefield directly engaged with the moonfolk. And yet the esper stationed here were only Tier 5?

Something didn’t add up.

He figured there were two possibilities: either the elite forces were still engaged in heavy combat at the frontlines and hadn’t yet returned, or Nate had dispatched them on classified missions elsewhere.

The second possibility intrigued Link.

What a pity, he thought. This "Bloodsoaked General" was really something else. If only he’d pulled a few strings to get Link included in one of those secret task forces... just imagine the talents he could gain in the process.

Of course, that was a thought best kept to himself.

On the surface, he dared not reveal a single hint of ambition.

"Silence!"

A steady, seasoned voice rang out from the stage.

It came from an elderly soldier—his voice wasn’t loud, but it carried with absolute clarity across the entire plaza.

Instantly, the murmur of whispers vanished, and a dead silence blanketed the crowd.

You could hear a pin drop.

The old soldier reached into his pocket, pulled out a prepared script, and began reading the commendations for the espers who had distinguished themselves during recent operations.

The army maintained strict standards when it came to granting honors.

You received the merit you earned—no more, no less. There was no favoritism involved.

As a result, no one among the audience had any objections to those being called up to receive awards.

Before long, Link spotted a familiar face among those approaching the stage.

It was none other than the officer—Edward.