The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master — Chapter 207 – Footprints (3)

Chapter 207 – Footprints (3)

There⁠‌ was a man.‌ He was inept.⁠ He didn’t excel‍⁠‍ at anything. The‌⁠ village elders believed⁠ he would never‍ amount to anything⁠ of value.

However,‍ in his gaze—cold⁠⁠‌ enough to give⁠‌‌ chills—there was something‍ indescribable. That expression,‌‍‍ paired with his⁠‌‌ black hair and⁠‌‍ eyes, gave him‌ an unsettling aura.‍⁠

Because‍‌‍ of this, the‌‌ village adults would‍⁠⁠ clear their throats‍ uncomfortably whenever they‍‍⁠ saw him and‌ keep their distance.‍⁠

Even‍‍ under those piercing‍⁠ stares, the man‍ remained silent.

He‍‍ tried tending a garden but only‌⁠ harvested rotten crops.‍ He picked fruit,⁠ yet always chose‌ the ones already‍‍ spoiled.

There‍ was nothing he⁠‌‌ could do right.‍⁠⁠

So⁠ in the end,⁠‍ he had no⁠⁠ choice but to⁠ rely on the⁠ village’s communal supplies.‍‍ And with that,‍ he simply passed‍ the time.

Years‍‍ went by. When‌⁠ the man reached‍‌‌ adolescence, the village‍ elders summoned him.⁠

They‍‌⁠ laid out a variety of weapons⁠⁠ before him—swords, spears,⁠ bows, maces.

An‌ old woman pointed⁠ with her chin.⁠‌ It was a signal to choose⁠ one.

The‌ man looked at‍ her for a moment, then reached out.

He‍‍‍ chose a sword.‌

There‌⁠ was no particular⁠ reason. It just‍ didn’t seem like⁠ a bad choice.‌ That was all.‍‌

Unaware⁠⁠ that this choice‍‍ would change both⁠ his fate and‍ the fate of‌⁠‍ all humanity. He⁠⁠ was immediately sent to the battlefield, a lone sword‍ strapped to his‌ waist—not by his⁠ own will.

It‍ was the result‌ of a royal⁠‌⁠ decree mandating conscription.‌‌

The⁠⁠ Great Human-Demon War‍ had broken out‍ without warning, and⁠⁠ the Empire began‌⁠ rounding up young⁠‍‍ men from every⁠⁠ village to build an army.

The⁠‌‌ village elders held a secret meeting⁠ and decided to‌ send him to‍ the front lines.

After all, he was⁠ an orphan, a good-for-nothing. There was‌‌ nothing to lose.‌

Even‍‍ so, the man‍ held no resentment‌ toward the village.‌ To be honest,⁠⁠ he didn’t feel anything at all.‍ His actions and‌⁠ thoughts were entirely‍ devoid of ‘will.’‌‌

That‍‍ was exactly why‍ everyone had labeled‌‌‍ him inept. And⁠ also why they⁠ believed he would‌‌ die quickly.

But⁠⁠ those expectations were‌‍ completely wrong.

The man began to‌⁠ stand out on⁠‌ the battlefield. He‌ wasn’t just skilled.‌ His presence alone‌ could shift the⁠‍ tide of war.‍

He‍ possessed overwhelming martial‌ prowess.

His‌‍‌ movements were as‍ smooth as flowing‌‌ water, yet as‍ destructive as a natural disaster.

Every⁠‍ time he swung‌⁠ his sword, the⁠ Demon King’s forces⁠‍‍ were annihilated. With‌‌ every step he‌ took, the battlefield‌‌ was drenched in⁠⁠‍ a thick mist‌ of blood. Everything‌ in his path‌ turned crimson.

For⁠⁠ more than ten‌⁠ years of war,‍⁠ the man grew‍⁠‍ stronger.

As⁠⁠⁠ if he had‌‌ no limits.

His‍ power approached that‌⁠ of a god.‌⁠

Followers⁠‍ began to gather.⁠⁠ Over time, they⁠ multiplied beyond counting.‌

He⁠‌ chose seven among‍ them as his‌⁠ disciples. They would‍ later be known‌⁠‍ as the Seven‌ Braves—the origin of‍‍ the Heroes of‍‍⁠ the Seven Stars.⁠‍ That man, once‌‍ deemed useless, became⁠⁠⁠ the hope of‌ humanity.

In‌‍‍ contrast, the Demon⁠ King’s army grew‌ to fear and‍⁠⁠ despise him.

Humans‌ and demons alike‍⁠ said the same‌ of him—he was⁠‍ a being favored‌‌ by the heavens.‌

But‍ he didn’t accept⁠‌ that.

He‌ knew he was⁠ still inept. Because,⁠ in proportion to the power he‌ had been granted,‍⁠ he was only‍ able to wield‍ a minuscule portion—barely‍ the tip of‌‌ a needle.

And‌‌ even that fraction‌ was difficult to‌ control or manifest.‌‌

Then,‍ the man came⁠‍ to a realization.⁠‌ There was another…⁠ someone more suited⁠⁠ than him to‍ wield that power.⁠‌⁠

***‌

Lycan‍ drew in all‍‌ the magical energy‌‌ he could.

This‍‌‍ was the Demon‍⁠ Realm—Gehenna. Everything around‌ him was pure‌⁠ magic.

He‌⁠‍ could absorb it‍⁠⁠ without limit, and‍ in an instant,‌ he amassed an overwhelming amount.

In⁠ contrast, that environment⁠ was toxic for‍‌ humans. Normally, one⁠⁠ would convulse and‍⁠ collapse under such‍⁠ a dense concentration⁠‌ of mana.

And⁠ yet—

Whooom.⁠

The‍‌ darkness thickened. Light‌⁠⁠ was pushed back‍ by it. In the face of that endless blackness,⁠‌ a sacred energy‍ rose to meet‍‍⁠ it.

Lycan‌ saw those eyes,‍ glowing green. The‍ human with the‍ sword approached with‍ steady steps.

Lycan‌ felt a chill‍‍ run down his⁠ spine.

Not‌ even in the‍ face of infinite‍ power. Not even‌ against someone who⁠ could wipe out‍ half of humanity—Balor Joaquin never showed⁠ fear.

He‍ didn’t even fight‍ with intent.

He‍‌‍ simply moved toward‌⁠‍ his enemy.

That⁠ alone made him‌ identical to “Him.”‌‍

If so, then this⁠ man was no⁠ different from a demigod.

“How does it feel…‌‍ to be chosen‍‌ by Him?”

Lycan‍ curled his lips⁠‌ in delight.

Balor,⁠ without stopping for‍‌ even a second,‍‍ responded.

“Don’t⁠‍ you see? This‍⁠ arm is being⁠‌ consumed. I’m not‍‍⁠ chosen. I was‌ just born with‍ this damned curse.”⁠⁠

“Hahaha!”‌‍

Lycan burst into laughter.‍ The sky roared‍ with thunder. Lightning‍ streaked across the⁠ land in pale⁠⁠ blue arcs.

Then‍ he spoke again.‌⁠

“Did⁠‍‍ you know? Demons‌ and humans… are⁠ essentially the same.⁠‍ In this war,‍ I’ve seen countless human atrocities. Sometimes,‌⁠ their darkness far⁠⁠ surpasses ours. Light‌⁠ and shadow are‌‌ divided by a paper-thin line.”

“I’ve‌ never seen a demon do anything‍‌ good.”

Lycan⁠‌ laughed again, this time with scorn. The earth quivered⁠⁠ faintly.

“Balor Joaquin, the more I speak with‍‌ you, the more‍ fascinating you become.‍‌ It’s a shame⁠‌‌ this is where‍‌ our conversation ends.”‍‍

“Don’t‍ worry, Lycan. When you arrive in‌ hell, the demons‍⁠ that have already‍ died will keep‍ you company.”

Balor‍‌ lunged forward. A single leap. Lycan‍ couldn’t react in‍ time.

A speed so absurd⁠ even lightning couldn’t‌ catch up. The‍ Holy Sword, Gram,⁠ drew a line‌⁠ of light.

Slash!‍

In‍ a blink, a red streak appeared‌‌ across Lycan’s left arm. Before the‌ limb could fall,‌⁠⁠ Balor swung down‍⁠⁠ with another strike—aiming⁠ for his legs.‍ But this time,‌⁠ Lycan reacted.

Rumble!‍

Thousands‌ of bolts of‍⁠‌ lightning fell from‌ the sky, crushing a massive section⁠⁠ of terrain.

Balor⁠‌ retreated quickly.

He⁠‌ swung his sword,‍ cutting through the‍ spears of electricity.

His‌‌ arms and legs‍ moved faster than⁠⁠‌ lightning.

His‍ movements defied causality.‌‍

Blue flashes blinded the eyes. Thunder shredded⁠‌ the eardrums. Blood‍ sprayed across Balor’s‍‍⁠ cheek.

And‍ still—millions more lightning‍ lances fell from above.

Balor‌ furrowed his brow.‌‍‍

The‌‌ relentless bombardment was‌ becoming a nuisance.⁠ So far, he had been dodging‌ by the narrowest‍‍ of margins,
but‍ he couldn’t keep⁠⁠ that up forever.⁠‍‍

‘In that case.’

His⁠‌‍ left arm began‌ to blacken and‍⁠ char even faster.

Without⁠‍ changing his expression, he raised Gram.⁠‍ He slashed at⁠‌ the lightning in⁠ the air.

Crack.‌

Something‌‍⁠ shattered into a thousand pieces.

Mountains‌ melted like ice.‍ A catastrophe unleashed⁠‌‍ by Gram.

The⁠⁠ speed of his‌ blade was now‍⁠ beyond visual tracking.

Rumble.⁠‌

A light drizzle began‌‍‍ to fall. Red‌ rain, slick as‌ oil, soaked the⁠‍‌ battlefield. Yet both⁠‍ man and demon‌ clashed with undiminished‍ ferocity.

Black‌⁠‍ spheres, like pools‍ of oil, floated‍‍ in scattered distortion.‍ Their battle had‍ warped time and‍‌⁠ space.

Gehenna‍‌ screamed.

Thud…‍‌ thud…

Fragments‌‍ began to rain‌‌ down from the‌‌⁠ sky. A procession‍⁠ of death caused‍ by only two‍⁠⁠ beings.

Then,‍ Balor looked down.‍ His left arm‌‍‍ was now just bone.

He⁠⁠ frowned.

‘Time’s‌‌ running out.’

If the corruption reached‌⁠ his legs, he’d‍⁠⁠ lose mobility. And‍‌‍ losing mobility was‍‍‌ the breaking point.‌⁠

Defeat⁠ would become inevitable.‍‌

‘This ends now.’

Balor‌ bent his waist⁠⁠ and slid back‌‌‍ his right leg.‍‌‌ His sword, hanging⁠ low in his‌‍ left hand, drooped‌⁠ slightly. From his⁠ darkened face, two⁠ green streams of‍‌ light flowed like‍‍⁠ trails of flame.‍⁠

Lycan⁠ watched silently—and understood‌ immediately.

This would be the‌ end of their⁠ battle.

The‌‌ raindrops fell heavier.⁠

The⁠‌ shattered Demon Realm⁠ continued to distort‌ time and space.

〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓‍

Boom.‌

Balor’s‌ figure vanished.

***‍

Lycan⁠⁠ staggered—and his torso‍‌ separated.

His upper body rolled across the ground⁠⁠‌ before coming to⁠ a stop.

The‍ electricity faded into the air, leaving‌⁠ only a few‌⁠ floating sparks.

His‍ eyes lifted toward‍‌‍ the sky. The‌⁠ sun, sinking in⁠⁠ the west, looked‌ as though it‌‍ had been split‌‍⁠ in two.

The‌ earth still bubbled⁠⁠ like boiling lava.⁠

Lycan⁠ turned his gaze‍⁠ to the side.‍ There stood the⁠⁠ victor of the⁠ slaughter—the human.

Barely‍ able to stand,‍‍ staggering on his‌ feet, utterly ravaged.⁠‌⁠

Balor‌‌ coughed blood again‌‌ and again. His‌ entire body was‌‍⁠ covered in wounds.⁠

He‌‌ wiped the blood‍ from his lips,⁠ then took a faltering step.

He⁠‍ stabbed Gram into⁠ the ground, using‌ the Holy Sword⁠⁠ as a cane.‍

He⁠‌‍ approached Lycan and‌ looked down at⁠ him. Droplets from⁠ his chin splashed‍ onto the demon’s‌‍ face.

His breathing was ragged.‌ His face pale.‌‌ His body beyond‌ exhaustion.

Yet‍ Balor remained standing. His gaze was‌⁠ unwavering and cold.‍

He‍ held the unmistakable‍⁠ bearing of a victor.

Lycan‍⁠ muttered with difficulty.⁠

“…Even‌⁠ you… can’t fully‍‌ wield that power…‍‌ can you?”

Balor‍‌ didn’t respond.

He‌ simply stared blankly into the distance.‍

Lycan’s⁠ eyes began to⁠ turn gray.

“…I‍ guess it’s true…‍ If it weren’t,‍‍ there’d be no‍ way to stop‍⁠ the end of⁠ this world…”

“Just⁠‌ one question.”

Balor‌ finally spoke. His⁠ voice sounded corroded,⁠‌ like rusted metal.⁠‍

“That⁠ ‘Lord’ you speak⁠ of—the one who⁠ gave me this‍ cursed power… where⁠‍ is he?”

Lycan‍ gave a faint‍ smile.

“He‌‍⁠ destroyed all the⁠‍⁠ gods by himself.‌ The world, fearing⁠ his power, cast‌‌ him out. So‍ he no longer‍‍ exists in our‍⁠ plane. Why do‌‌‍ you ask?”

“I‍‌ intend to kill him. If he’s‌‌ your master, he‍‌‍ must be an⁠ enemy of humanity.⁠‍ And if he‌ gave me this‍ curse, he must‍ pay the price.⁠ Even if he⁠⁠‌ wiped out the⁠ gods.”

To⁠ Lycan, those words‍‌ were heresy. But his smile only‌ widened.

“Interesting…⁠‌ Very interesting. But‍ you can’t kill‌‌⁠ him. Only a Hero can face Him. You know⁠‌ that, right, Balor Joaquin?”

“But if you truly⁠‍‍ wish to see⁠ Him, I can⁠‌ tell you how.”‌⁠

Balor’s‍ face showed the slightest reaction. His‌‌‍ eyes widened—just a little.

And‌⁠⁠ then Lycan spoke, very slowly.

“Use⁠⁠ the Ring’s Eye that you received⁠‍⁠ from Ouroboros. That’s⁠ how you’ll reach‍ where He is.”‍

“And‍‍ why tell me‌‍ all this so⁠⁠‌ easily?”

“That’s‌‌ a foolish question.‌‍ I already told‌ you. I acknowledge⁠ you as my‍ comrade. That’s why‍‌ I’ll tell you.”‌‍

“……”‌‌‌

“Demons‍‌ kill humans. We‍⁠ feel no remorse⁠ or compassion for⁠ it. That’s how‍‌ it’s meant to⁠‌ be—an unchanging law.⁠‌ But who defined‍‍ that law? Maybe‍‍‍ we’re all just‍‌⁠ pawns—puppets of someone‌ higher.”

Balor‌‍‌ Joaquin sighed and asked once more.

“After I use the‌ Ring’s Eye, how‍‌ do I find‌ Him?”

“That‌ too is a foolish question. Aren’t‍‍ you humans always⁠ praying to false‍ gods every day?‌ If you cry out in sincerity…‍ The true Absolute⁠‌‌ will come to‌ you.”

Lycan⁠⁠ took a deep⁠‍ breath and spoke‌‍ his final words.⁠

“Follow‌ the trail of⁠‍ His existence. That‍⁠ journey begins with‌ my death. Do what you must⁠⁠⁠ now, Balor Joaquin.”⁠

Balor‍ raised his sword‌⁠ in reverse grip.‍ And then—without a crash, without a scream—came the dull sound of flesh‍⁠⁠ being torn.

It⁠ was the sound‍‌‌ that marked the⁠ end of a war.