The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master — Chapter 247: Bloody War (1)

Chapter 247: Bloody War (1)

It’s⁠ common for a friend from yesterday‌⁠ to become today’s⁠‌ enemy.

But‌‌ the reverse? That’s‌‌ far rarer.

Even the lightest wounds‌⁠ leave scars, and⁠‍ healing takes months.‍⁠‌ Human relationships are‍ the same, if⁠‍‌ not worse.

Unless‌‍ there’s a clear‌‌ interest involved, an‍ enemy from yesterday rarely becomes a friend today.
But sometimes, it‌ happens.

The‌‌ President of the Association and I were one of‍‍ those rare cases.‌

“Come‌⁠ by anytime. You‍⁠ have no idea⁠‍ how happy I was to finally‌ meet someone I can truly talk⁠‌‌ to.”

The⁠ president smiled as he saw us⁠‌ off. His eyes,‌‍‌ once clouded with⁠⁠ madness, now shone‍ with clarity. As I watched him‍‌ wave, I thought:⁠

‘Is⁠⁠⁠ saying I get‍ along with this⁠⁠ guy a compliment‍‌ or an insult?’⁠‍⁠

After‍ the treatment, I had a long⁠‍⁠ talk with him. The president passionately⁠ explained his projects⁠ to me.

And⁠‌‌ though I hate‌‌‌ to admit it,⁠ I was pleasantly⁠⁠ surprised—in a good‍⁠ way.

‘I‍‌⁠ thought he was‌ just a lunatic,⁠‍ but of course…⁠‍‍ he’s still the‍‍ President of the‌‍⁠ Association.’

His‍ vision and vast knowledge impressed me.⁠⁠ I started to‍⁠ understand why he was called the‌ brightest mind of‌ humanity.

That‌ said, he used⁠ a lot of‌‌ technical terms, so⁠‌ I only understood⁠⁠ about half of it.

Still,‌ I nodded enthusiastically.‌‍⁠ In my previous‍‌ life, I worked‌ in customer service. Making conversation with old folks was my specialty.

And‌ it seems he‍‌ mistook that courtesy‌ for “we’ve got‌ great chemistry.”

As⁠‌ if anyone could‌ have a normal⁠‍ conversation with a madman…

Still,‌ professionalism means not⁠ showing what you‍ really think.

“I‌‌⁠ enjoyed our talk⁠‍⁠ as well.”

When⁠ he heard that,‍ his smile widened.‍⁠ Then, as if‍‌⁠ remembering something, he⁠ asked:

“I‍‍‍ almost forgot. Did‍ you hear they‍ lifted the member‍ cap on your‌‍‌ fan site, Heavenly⁠‌ Sword?”

“Yeah,‍‌‌ a friend told‌ me before I came.”

“I’m‍‍‍ the one who‍‌ removed it.”

“……?”⁠

The‌ president showed me‌ the screen of⁠ his smartphone. It was my fan⁠‌‌ site, and at‍‍⁠ the bottom was‍⁠ his username.

‘Cheonma_toxic?’‌

What‌‌ a weird nickname.

“We‌‍ put that limit in place to‍ reduce the influence‍⁠‌ of any one‌ hero. In fact,‌ that’s why the‌‍ Association was created.⁠⁠‍ I don’t know‌ if you knew,‌ but power groups⁠⁠ are deeply afraid‍⁠ of one person⁠ becoming too powerful.”‍

“Why?”⁠

The‍ president shrugged.

“Since⁠⁠ when do big‌ shots need a good reason? They’re‌⁠ just afraid of‌⁠ losing their authority.”

And‌ I couldn’t help‍⁠⁠ but feel something strange.
Hearing someone above‍ those “big shots” mock them like‍‌ that.

“But power can’t suppress⁠ individuals forever. That‍⁠ kind of thinking‍ is outdated. And⁠‌ besides, the world‍ is in turmoil. Three corps commanders‌ appearing in a single year is‍ absurd. In times‌ like these, humanity‍⁠ needs a representative—a‌ leader.”

“The‌ closest one to‌‌‌ that would be⁠ you, President.”

The⁠ assistant spoke cautiously. The president chuckled‌‌⁠ and looked at‍ Media.

“Well, daughter, your assistant⁠ seems ambitious. He⁠ sure knows how to say flattering‌ things.”

“That’s not how I meant it…”

“I‌ was joking. But⁠‌ judging by your‍ reaction, maybe you⁠ meant it seriously.”⁠

“……”‌‌⁠

“I‍‌ appreciate that you‍‍ hold me in‌ such high regard,⁠ but I’m not‍‍⁠ someone chosen by‌ the heavens. Just‌‍ a few hours‌ ago, I wanted to die. Do‌⁠⁠ you really think someone like that‍‌ can be humanity’s‍ great savior? Besides,⁠ I’m still part⁠‌⁠ of the Association.‍ And a true‍ leader doesn’t draw‍ strength from an⁠⁠ organization. He’s born‌⁠ as an individual.‌ He must be⁠⁠ chosen by the era.”

As he spoke, the‍⁠ president raised his‍ gaze to the‌⁠⁠ sky. He let⁠‌ out a quiet⁠⁠ sigh.

“You’re⁠‌‌ lucky. Just as⁠ you’re about to⁠‌ leave, the heavens⁠‍ give you this gift.”

We‍⁠ all looked up.⁠⁠‍ And in the‍‌ next second, our‍‌‌ eyes widened.

A wavering curtain covered‌ the night sky.‍ Purple and teal⁠⁠ streaks intertwined like⁠ vines.

It looked like a mantle woven of light.

“An⁠ aurora…”

Someone‍ murmured. Judging by‍ the feminine voice,⁠‌ it was either‌‌ the director or‌ the secretary. Maybe⁠‌⁠ both at once.⁠⁠

Thump,‌‌ thump.

My‍⁠ heart pounded hard.‌

And⁠‍ the only thought in my mind‍ at that moment‍‌ was—

‘Beautiful.’

I have no better word for it.‌‍

The⁠ aurora. A wonder⁠⁠ unlike the veil‌‍‍ of alternate space.‌‍ A fragment of‍ nature. The twilight‍ of this blue‌ planet we live‌ on.

“It‍⁠ can only be‌ seen at the poles. Some call it the ‘heavenly‍ curtain.’ The natives‍‍ of these regions call it ‘the‍⁠ soul of the‌⁠ gods.’ And as its name suggests,‌‍ it’s a rare‍ phenomenon. This is⁠ only the second‍ time I’ve seen⁠ it since I came here.”

As‍ everyone admired the‍ view in awe,⁠‌ the president spoke‍‍ to me.

“You‍ are the one‌ chosen by this‌‍ era, Heavenly Sword.”

He‌ patted me on‍ the shoulder.

“Change‍⁠ the course of‍ this age. From⁠‍ behind the scenes,⁠‌ I’ll support you‌⁠ however I can.”

And‍‍‍ his words carried no light weight.‍

***‍⁠

The⁠‌ first thing that⁠ greeted me upon⁠⁠ returning from Antarctica‌ was a mountain of accumulated work.‌‍‍ I’d only been⁠⁠ gone for a single day, yet‍ the documents were‌ piled up like⁠ a mountain.

I let my shoulders‌ slump in defeat.⁠ But oh well.‍‍‍ If I leave‌ today’s work for tomorrow, it’ll double‍ by the time⁠‍ I get back.

Better⁠⁠⁠ to clear one⁠ more sheet than‌‍ complain. It’s healthier‌ for my mental‌⁠ well-being.

“Do⁠⁠ these documents reproduce‍‍ or something? No‍‌‌ matter how much⁠⁠ I get through,⁠‌ they just keep⁠⁠ multiplying instead of‌ decreasing.”

…And‌ yet, as soon‍‍‌ as I set my mind to‌ something, I start‍ grumbling. But I can’t help it—it’s⁠ frustrating.

Everyone‍ else is sleeping⁠‍ while I’m chained‍ to a desk.⁠

“Should‍⁠⁠ I call Speedweapon‍‍ to hang out?”‍

And‌‍‌ while I’m at‍ it, dump some⁠‍⁠ of the work‌‌‌ on him.

The‍⁠ thought had barely‌ crossed my mind⁠⁠ when I shook‌‌⁠ my head. It⁠ was 11:30 p.m.⁠ Not only would⁠‍⁠ it be rude to call him‌ at this hour,‍‍ but with how‍‌‍ much he talks,‍ I’d never get‌⁠ anything done.

If‌ I call Speedweapon,‍⁠⁠ I have to‌‍ give up both‌ work and sleep.‌

‘I’m⁠ not sacrificing sleep‌ just because I’m‍‍ bored.’

Just then, the office‍‌ door opened quietly.‍‍

On‍‌ reflex, I reached‍‌‌ for my sashimi‌ knife, thinking it‌‍ might be a thief—but then dismissed‌⁠ the idea. There⁠‍ was nothing worth‍ stealing here… unless‍ someone wanted the‌⁠ documents.

In⁠‌ fact, a part‌ of me was‍ hoping it was‌ a thief.

If‍‍‌ someone was bold⁠ enough to steal‌ them, I might‍ even forgive him.‌ I could just‍ pretend to be‌‌⁠ asleep.

That’s‍ how generous I am. Even with‌⁠‍ thieves.

Creak…⁠⁠‍

Unfortunately,⁠ it wasn’t a thief.
It was just⁠‍ Abel, slipping in⁠‍ quietly like a stray cat.

‘What’s‍‌ she doing here‌⁠ at this hour?’‍

She‍ peeked her head‍⁠ through the crack‌⁠ in the door‌ and asked,

“Are⁠‍⁠ you busy…?”

“No,‌‌ don’t worry.”

I was, but I couldn’t say that‌⁠ outright. Imagine how‌‌⁠ embarrassed she’d be‍‌⁠ if I rejected‌⁠ her when she⁠ came in like‍‍ that.

Abel⁠‌‌ shut the door‌ and entered silently.‌‍

“I was worried I’d⁠ be interrupting, but…⁠ I’m glad.”

She‌‌ coughed a bit,‍‌ trying to hide‌‌ her nervousness.

‘This‌‍ feels familiar.’

Where‌⁠ had I seen⁠⁠‍ a scene like‍‍‌ this before?

‘Ah,‌ right—back when I lived in Nibelung’s‍‌ territory. She came‌ just like this,⁠ saying she brought⁠‌ me that rabbit⁠ blanket.’

The⁠⁠ same blanket I still use today.⁠‌ The material is⁠ so soft it‌ makes me sleepy‍‌‍ just by putting⁠ it on.

“So, what brings you‌ here at this hour?”

I asked. Abel hesitated‌‌‍ for a moment,‌⁠⁠ then spoke in‍⁠ a barely audible‌‍‌ voice.

“My⁠ grandfather said something.‍‍ That something big‌ will happen soon⁠‍ near the Gehenna⁠‌⁠ portal. But he‌‍ didn’t tell me any secrets—I swear.”⁠

“It‍ doesn’t matter if‌ you know.”

Hearing‌‌ my firm tone,‍‌ she blinked. I leaned on my hand and said,‌

“The‌ Sword Master is your family, Abel.⁠ If your grandfather’s⁠ about to face‌ something major, it’s‍⁠ only natural that‌ you, as family,‍ would know. Confidential‍ or not, it’s‍⁠ natural to worry‍‍‍ about those you‌ care about. I’ll⁠ tell you.”

And‍ I told her‍‍ everything. What exactly the Sword Master‌⁠⁠ was doing at⁠ the portal, why,‍ and what kind‌⁠‌ of event was⁠⁠ expected. I laid‍ out the logical‌ sequence as I understood it.

The⁠ truth is, this⁠ time, it’s incredibly‌ difficult to predict⁠⁠⁠ the outcome.

We⁠ don’t even know‍ the true extent‍ of Fermush’s power—the‍ one coming through‌‌ the Gehenna portal.‍

We‌‍ don’t know how⁠⁠ strong he is⁠ or exactly what⁠‌‍ type of magic‍‌ he uses. Everything’s⁠‍ based on speculation and historical records.‌⁠

That’s why we have⁠‌ to prepare for‌‌⁠ everything. I hope‍‍‌ all the heroes⁠‌ return alive, but I can’t guarantee⁠ that.

It’s⁠‍ not about effort.‌ It’s about luck.⁠ Still, as commander,‌‌ I can’t just‌‌ say optimistic things.‌‍

I’m‌ not a soldier.‌ I’m a general.‍⁠ A general has‌ to consider both‍ the best and⁠ the worst outcomes.

“Anyway,‍ that’s everything.”

“……”‍‌‌

Abel⁠‍⁠ listened in silence,⁠‍ without much expression.‌‍ But as her‍‍ face tensed slightly,⁠‌ I realized she‍ hadn’t known.

“I‌‍ see.”

Maybe‌‍⁠ she was numbed‍ by all the‍ training in the⁠‍⁠ Heavenly Class.

“And‌ you’re going too,⁠ aren’t you?”

“Yeah, most likely.”

“Aren’t⁠⁠‍ you scared? You‌⁠ said it’s possible‌‍ someone might die.”‍‌

“I‍ am scared.”

I didn’t deny it.‌ Even if it’s‌‌ more about fearing‌⁠ for others, it’s‌ still fear.

I clenched my fist‍‌ and gently hit‍ the desk.

“But⁠⁠ I have a responsibility. I’m the‍ one who’s supposed‌‌⁠ to be on‌‌ the front lines.‌ If I tremble,⁠ how are the‍ heroes in the‍‌ rear supposed to stay motivated? That’s‌ why, even if‍⁠ I’m scared, I have to pretend⁠ I’m not—to act‍⁠ like everything’s fine.”

Abel‍ chuckled softly and teased,

“And⁠⁠ you’re pretending to⁠⁠⁠ be cool too.”‍

“Hey,⁠ I’m being serious.”⁠‍

“That’s⁠‌‌ what makes it⁠ funnier!”

With a smile, she‌‌ turned toward the‍ door. She looked‍ relieved, though I wasn’t sure why.‍

Before⁠⁠⁠ leaving, she glanced‍‍ back halfway.

“Still…‍ Knowing you’ll be⁠ with Grandpa eases⁠ my mind.”

Between‍ her hair, I could see her⁠ ears blushing red⁠ like tomatoes.

“So‍‌‍ I forgive you⁠‌ for ‘pretending.’”

With that, Abel left⁠‍ the office.

***‌⁠

Hawaiian⁠ Island, right in⁠⁠ front of the‌ Gehenna portal.

Director⁠ Sung and the⁠‌ Sword Master stood‌ side by side,‍ staring at the‍ portal. The cracks‌ etched into its⁠ surface had expanded‍ enough to allow‍‌ a person to‌‌⁠ pass through.

Behind‍⁠ them stood Association⁠‍‍ staff and Japanese⁠‌ heroes. All of‍‍⁠ them had tense,‍ distorted expressions.

A gloomy silence filled‍ the air. Only‌‌ a few—like Director⁠ Sung himself and a few elite‍ warrior-class heroes—managed to⁠ stay composed. But‌ even they wore⁠ grim faces.

“The‍ time has finally‍ come.”

Director‍‌⁠ Sung murmured. The‍ Sword Master nodded.‌

“Call‍ Changseong.”