The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master — Chapter 222 – Conception (1)

Chapter 222 – Conception (1)

As⁠ soon as I left the Nephilim‌‍ Temple, a status‍‌ window appeared before‌⁠ my eyes.

[You⁠ have obtained the‍‍ fifth fragment of⁠ 【???】, ‘The Profaned Name of the⁠ Great Being’. Total‍⁠ fragments obtained (5/7).]‍‍

―Flash!‍

==‌ ==

『To‌⁠⁠ hide the radiance⁠‍ of the Great‍⁠ Being, the false‌‌‍ existences overlay false⁠ names.

However,⁠ they will never‍⁠ be able to‍⁠‍ completely erase that light.

Thus,‌‌ the false stars‍ will pay with a blood atonement,⁠‌‍ and will meet‌‍ their end in⁠‍ the apocalypse.』

==⁠ ==

[Surprise‌ Mission: Complete the⁠ ‘Confirmation of the⁠ Truth’ at the⁠ Temple of the‌ Nephilim completed!]

[…]⁠⁠

[…]

[Good⁠ work.]

***⁠‍‌

Director⁠ Sung was pacing⁠ in place, alternately‍ looking at his‍ wristwatch and the‍‍ ground.

“I‌ think Heavenly Sword should have returned⁠⁠‌ by now…”

He⁠⁠ finally raised his‍ head. The sun‌‌ was falling between‍ the gaps of⁠‌ the palms, and‍‌ the hunched silhouette⁠ of the moon was beginning to‌⁠⁠ take clear shape.‍‍

Director‍‌ Sung’s eyes turned‌⁠ red. The worry‍⁠‍ over the anomalies⁠‌ arising at the‍‌ Gate of Gehenna‌‍ and the pain of Joaquin’s tragedy⁠ seemed to fade‌‍ at that moment,⁠ blending like the⁠‌‍ setting sun.

“This‍⁠‌ isn’t the time‍ to be standing‍‌ around!”

He⁠ shook his head‍‌ vigorously. Maybe because⁠ of sleepless nights,‌⁠ his brain had gone numb. And⁠ the culprit of⁠⁠ this damned insomnia⁠⁠‍ was, obviously.

“…The‍‍ imminent invasion of‌‍⁠ Fermush.”

That‍‌ alone was enough‌‌ to drive anyone⁠ to despair. But⁠ unfortunately, the pit of despair was‌ even deeper.

Everyone‌ who knew this‍ fact, including Director⁠‍ Sung, knew the⁠ truth. This was⁠ only the beginning.⁠⁠ The invasion of‍ the Fourth Corps‌‍ Commander, Fermush, was⁠‍ nothing but the⁠⁠ prelude. What would‌ come after was…‍⁠‌

‘The‍ Second Great Human-Demon War.’

Just‌‌ pronouncing it sounded⁠ horrible. There was precedent.

They⁠⁠⁠ knew how many⁠‌ lives would be taken. The entire⁠ land bathed in‍‌⁠ blood. That’s why‍‌ the heroes couldn’t⁠‍‌ even rest after⁠‌ death, unable to‍ return to the‍⁠⁠ earth.

『A⁠ hell on earth,‍⁠ full of empty‌ screams and futile⁠‍ deaths.』

Thus⁠‍ had the brutality⁠‍ of the war‍ seven hundred years⁠ ago been described.‍‍‍ Director Sung, with a somber expression,‌ looked around. This⁠⁠‍ splendor of Hawaii‌ he was contemplating‌ would be the‌‍⁠ first to turn⁠ into hell.

Instinctively,⁠ he covered his‌‍‍ nose. He could⁠ already smell the stench of blood.‍‍‍ The palm leaves‌‍⁠ seemed to him‍‌ like the claws‌ of a beast.‌

In⁠ such a place, in such dangerous⁠‍ times, and with‍‍⁠ Heavenly Sword still‍‍ not returned since‌‍⁠ morning, the anxiety⁠ swelling inside him‌‌ was about to⁠⁠⁠ explode.

“Damn‍⁠ it, wasn’t Edward‍ supposed to contact‌‍ us if something⁠‌ happened?! Why is‌‌ there no news‍ yet?!”

Anxiety‌‌ quickly turned into⁠ irritation. He had‍ to ask the‍ Sword Master to‍ organize a search⁠ before night fell‍‌ completely.

‘He’s⁠⁠ strong, yes, but⁠‍‍ he’s still human,‍⁠ made of flesh‍ and blood.’

Kang‌‍ Geom-Ma was humanity’s‌‌ hope. But he‌ was also a teenager, a student‍⁠ at the academy.‍⁠ It was easy‍‌ to forget because⁠⁠ of his maturity,⁠ but deep down‍⁠ he was still‌ a minor, someone⁠‌ who needed protection.‌

“If‍ something were to happen to him…”⁠

The‍ hair on his‌⁠⁠ body stood on‌ end.
A war could only exist if there⁠⁠‌ was balance between‌ both sides. Otherwise,‍ it wouldn’t be⁠⁠ war, but a one-sided massacre.

And‌‌ the one who‍‌ maintained that balance‌ was Kang Geom-Ma.‍⁠ His power was‍ equivalent, at a minimum, to two‍ or three full divisions of heroes.⁠

Being‌⁠ conservative, he probably‌⁠‍ surpassed the strength‌ of an entire‍⁠ country.

Calculating‍‍ his Hero Points‍ made sense. But⁠ could you put‌⁠ a score to‌⁠ the sky? It‍‌‌ was an act⁠‌ of arrogance.

Director‌⁠ Sung dragged his‍ heavy mechanical legs‌‌ toward the temporary base. His high-tech prosthetics felt like‍ lead.

“Damn⁠ it.”

His‍ artificial limbs did‍ not transmit the‌ urgent emotions running through his body.‍

As⁠⁠ he grumbled between sighs, a cloud‌‌‍ of dust brushed‌ past him.

Fwoooosh.⁠

A gigantic shadow was‌‍ projected in front‌‌ of him. Feeling⁠‌ an enormous presence, he turned around.‍‌ His eyes opened⁠ wide.

A dragon flapped its‍ wings, crossing the boundary between sun‌ and moon, as‍‌ if slicing the⁠ sky in two.‌‌

The‍‍⁠ heavy shadow weighing‍ on his heart‍‍ lifted. His mind,‌ dulled by insomnia,‍ suddenly felt clear.‌‌

Before‌ the dragon could‍ land, Kang Geom-Ma⁠‍⁠ had already jumped‍ off its back. Just like yesterday,⁠ the ground sank‌ under his feet,‌ and dust rose.‌

Through the cloud of‍‍ dust, Kang Geom-Ma⁠‌ emerged.

He‍‌ walked steadily toward‌‍ Chief Sung.

“We‍‌⁠ need to talk‍‍ urgently.”

Director Sung, dazed, only‍‍ nodded.

He⁠⁠ felt the worry‍⁠‌ and fear that⁠⁠ had been crushing him dissipate all‍‍ at once.

***⁠‍

I entered the Sword‍ Master’s pavilion alongside⁠ Director Sung.

My‌ body and mind felt extremely heavy,‌ but I couldn’t⁠‍⁠ allow myself to‍‌ delay the report. The situation was‌‍⁠ too serious for that.

So,⁠‍ even skipping dinner,⁠‍ I began recounting‌‍‌ everything that had⁠‍ happened at the‍ temple. How Edward‌⁠‌ died, who the⁠‌ priest was, what⁠ Kuarne had predicted.‍

When⁠ there were uncertain‌ aspects, I explained⁠ them as hypotheses,‍ for example, why⁠⁠‌ Kuarne appeared in⁠ that place.

“T-this‍ is impossible…”

Finally,⁠‍‌ Director Sung covered⁠⁠ his face with‍ his hands, unable‍‍ to contain his fear. His bluish lips trembled.

Even the Sword Master‌ struggled to maintain‍‌‍ composure. Although he⁠ tried to stay‍ rational, his face⁠‌ was also deathly‍‍ pale.

I kept silent. They⁠⁠ both needed time‌ to digest the‌⁠ impact. Only after the atmosphere inside‍‌ the pavilion calmed down a bit,‌‍ I spoke again.⁠

“Although from what Kuarne‍‌ said, it doesn’t‍‍ seem like they‌⁠ will attack immediately.‌⁠‍ Calculating, I’d say‌‍ it will take at least a year and a half.”

They⁠ both listened carefully.

“Fermush’s⁠ invasion also won’t‌ happen this year.‍ In short, we‌‍ still have time.‌‌ If we establish a defense system‍⁠ before then, we‍ can still resist.”‌

Naturally,‍ Kuarne hadn’t given⁠ an exact timeline.⁠ Although he was friendly, he was‍⁠‍ still an enemy.‍‍

Who⁠ in their right‍‌ mind would reveal‌‌ the exact date⁠‌ of an attack?‌‌‍ Even if Kuarne‌ were crazy, he wasn’t that stupid.‍‍

My‍‌ reasoning was based‍⁠ on my knowledge⁠‍⁠ of the game⁠‍ Miracle Blessing M.‍ The Second Human-Demon⁠ War was the‍‌ main event of the scenario.

Originally,‌ it was supposed⁠‌⁠ to occur two⁠‌ years later. It‌ wasn’t something that‌ could happen overnight.‌‍

Of⁠⁠‍ course, I didn’t rely only on that. After analyzing‌⁠ it rationally, I came to that‌‍⁠ conclusion.

In⁠‍‌ the end, the‌ Demon King’s army⁠‌ would be left⁠‍ with only two‍‍ Corps Commanders. And with one about⁠⁠ to invade, the only one who⁠ could lead the‌ war was Kuarne.⁠‍

Even‌ if he trusted⁠ himself, he couldn’t‍‌ control the entire⁠‍‌ army alone.

‘The‌‌⁠ old elf said⁠ there were many‍‍‌ demons who didn’t‍ obey Kuarne.’

He‌‍ would need time‍‍ to consolidate his‍ power and reorganize‌ his forces.

In‍‌ short, the demons‍ also needed to⁠ follow their own‍‍ steps. But that‌ didn’t mean we‌‍ could relax. The‍ demon army would‍‌‌ complete its preparations‌⁠ faster than humanity.‌⁠

‘If‍ Kuarne takes command,⁠⁠ any local resistance⁠ will be swept away instantly.’

That’s why I reduced‍‍ my time estimate‍‌‍ from two years‍⁠ to a year‍ and a half.‍ It was a conclusion based on‌‍ both knowledge and‍ reasoning.

‘And‌‍ most important of⁠ all.’

We‌‍ could still do‌‍⁠ it. I wanted‍‌ to convey that‍ to the Sword‌ Master and Director‍ Sung.

“Yes,⁠‍ it’s a desperate⁠ situation. But we‍ can’t just sit‌ back.”

“……”‌⁠

“The‍ probability of victory⁠⁠ is low, yes.‌‍‍ But it’s still⁠ possible. Think about⁠ it — didn’t‍⁠ our ancestors succeed⁠⁠ 700 years ago?”‍

“…That‍ was possible thanks‍‍ to the founding hero…”

Director‌‌ Sung left the‍⁠‍ sentence hanging.

“We‌ can do it‍⁠ too.”

I furrowed my brow‍ strongly.

“If‍⁠ within a year‍ and a half‌ I manage to‍ reach the level⁠‌ of Balor Joaquin,‌ we can make⁠ it.”

“……!”‍

The‌ eyes of the‍ Sword Master and‍ Director Sung widened.⁠‍
But‌ it wasn’t because of my words,‌⁠ but because of‍‌ the determination conveyed‌ by my gaze.‌‍⁠

Yes, the bar was extremely high. I myself had witnessed‍‌ my master’s power.‍⁠

‘The‍ summit that my master reached.’

My⁠ blessings — Blessing⁠ of Insensitivity to⁠‍ Pain, Blessing of‌ Transfer, Blessing of⁠‍ Strength, and the‌ Blessing of the‌⁠‍ Sword God — would have to‍ be pushed to‍‍⁠ their absolute limits‌ to even aspire‍⁠ to that level.

It‌‌ was a distant‍ goal for such a short time.⁠⁠⁠ Even so, I affirmed it with absolute certainty.

“No.‍ I’ll become even‍ stronger than that⁠ founding hero.”

There’s⁠‍ a saying that the student must‌‍ surpass the master.⁠‍ And in my‌ past life, I had been a swordsman who surpassed⁠‍ my master.

There‌‍‌ was no reason⁠ I couldn’t do‌‍ it in this‍ life too.

“And‍ besides, the current‍‌‌ generation of Joaquin‍⁠ Academy is the‍‍ brightest in its⁠ history. If they‍ grow too, we’ll⁠ be able to‍‌ face the demons.”

Though it wasn’t exactly⁠ for that, just⁠⁠‍ at that moment‌⁠‍ a special class‍ was created.

Saki⁠ Ryozo, Abel von‍‍ Nibelung, Rachel of⁠ Mura, Chloe Auditore,⁠ Speedweapon, Horn Tail,‌‍ Leon van Reinhardt.⁠ If we trained‌‍ them intensively, it⁠ would be possible. No, I would‌ make it possible.‌‍

The Sword Master, who was standing silently‍ to the side, looked at me‌ without a word.‍ After a long,‌⁠ deep gaze, he⁠⁠‌ bowed his head‌‍ to me.

“Command‍‍ this old man, Heavenly Sword. What⁠‌ do you want⁠‍ me to do?”‌⁠

A seventy-year-old veteran was⁠ bowing to me‌‍ in respect.

It⁠‍⁠ surprised me for‌‌‌ a moment, but⁠‌ I quickly composed⁠‍ myself and responded.⁠‍

“War⁠ isn’t a fight‍ between individuals, but‌ between forces. We⁠⁠‌ must not only‌‌ focus on the‌⁠ academy, but also‌ gather senior-level and‍‍⁠ warrior-level heroes to‌ form an army.”⁠‍

“Are⁠ you asking me⁠ to train the‌‌‍ new generations?”

I nodded. The Sword⁠ Master let out a hearty laugh.‌⁠‍

“How‍ could I refuse?⁠⁠ I’ll pass on⁠⁠ the sword techniques of Nibelung to‌ the promising heroes.‍ Besides, I already⁠‌ had experience as⁠‍⁠ an instructor at‌‍ the academy, didn’t‍‍ I? Maybe all⁠‌ this was inevitable,‍ as if it⁠‍ was meant for‍⁠ this moment.”

I smiled slightly and‌ then turned my‍ gaze to Director⁠‌‌ Sung.

“The⁠ association must take‌ charge of summoning⁠‌ the heroes. For‌‍ now, don’t reveal‍‌‌ the true reason‌‌ for the summons. It could cause⁠ confusion. So… invent‌ a suitable reason.‌⁠ Can you do‍ that?”

“It’s⁠ possible. No…”

Director⁠⁠ Sung corrected his‌‌ pronunciation fleetingly and,‌⁠ as if swearing‌ loyalty to me,⁠ answered firmly.

“I⁠ will make it⁠ happen.”

***

Inside‌‌ the tent Kang‍⁠⁠ Geom-Ma had left,⁠ the atmosphere, which‌‍⁠ had previously been‌ covered in darkness,‌ now felt much‌ clearer.

“First,‌‍ I’ll report everything‌ to Mr. Changseong‌ and establish a new institution. We’ll‌‍⁠ ensure the Sword‌ Master has no‌‍ difficulties training the⁠⁠⁠ heroes.”

“If‌ the budget falls‍ short, let me‌⁠ know. I’ll open‍‍‍ the Nibelung fund.”‌

At‌ those words, Director‌ Sung was startled.⁠‌

“Open the fund?! That’s⁠ unthinkable!”

“Come‌‍‌ on, man. Don’t‌ you see the‍‌⁠ gravity of the⁠⁠ situation? What good is hoarding money⁠ now? It’s better⁠ to use it for humanity’s future.”‌

“I‍‌ don’t know how‍‍ I could thank you…”

“There’s‌ no need to‌⁠ thank me. Ah,⁠ but since we’re‍ at it, could⁠ you do me‌ a small favor?”‍‌

“Of⁠ course.”

Director‍ Sung nodded quickly.‍‍

“I’d‌ like you to‌ arrange a meeting‍‌⁠ as soon as possible between Victor‍‌‍ Poison and Heavenly Sword.”

“The president of the‌‍‌ Association and Kang Geom-Ma…?”

The Sword Master smiled‌ lightly.

“I⁠⁠ feel it’s a necessary meeting, before‌ it’s too late.”⁠

Just‌⁠ as he was⁠⁠ about to leave,‍‍ he added one‍‌‍ more thing.

“Ah,⁠‌ and now that‍‍ I remember, I’d⁠⁠ also like you‍‌ to investigate the⁠ whereabouts of Meain⁠⁠⁠ Poison, the Miracle⁠⁠ of Strength. I think you know⁠⁠ well why, so‍ I won’t say⁠⁠ more.”