The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master — Chapter 250: Bloody War (4)

Chapter 250: Bloody War (4)

After⁠⁠ a brief meal,⁠ we resumed the‌ meeting immediately. The‌ atmosphere was very‍ different from before.⁠‍

Everyone‌ was speaking in‌⁠ hushed tones, calmly reconciling differences. Was‌‌ it the power‍‌‍ of rice? Or⁠‌ the effect of⁠‍ my earlier intervention?⁠ Whatever it was,‌ as long as‍ the meeting went‍‍ smoothly, that was‍⁠‌ enough.

‘To all this…’

Listening‌ silently to the⁠ strategic discussion was making me sleepy.‌ It wasn’t that‌ the tension had‍‍ lifted. I’m not⁠ brave enough to‍ relax when a Corps Commander is‌ about to attack.‌‌ I was blinking because…

‘That’s‍‌ not how it’s‍‍ done.’

I let them talk,⁠ assuming they were‍‍ more experienced than‌⁠ me. After all,⁠ they wore more⁠‌ ranks than a military supply depot.‍

But⁠⁠ still… I don’t‌ know. The strategies‍ they were proposing‍ lacked realism. And‌‍‌ when someone mentioned⁠ “ambushing” a Corps‍ Commander from the⁠⁠ rear, it only‍‍‍ got worse.

It‌ was understandable. No‌ one there had⁠‍ direct experience fighting⁠ a Corps Commander.‍ The Swordmaster and‌‍‍ Changseong were away,‍⁠‍ rallying the troops.⁠

In⁠ short, I was⁠ the only one‍ in the room⁠ who had actually‌‍‌ fought one. And‍‌ not just one—I’d‌ killed two. When‍‌‌ it came to‌ Corps Commanders, I was basically a veteran. Or not.⁠

“Excuse‍‌ me. May I have your attention‍‌⁠ for a moment?”

I raised my voice.‍ At this rate,‌‍ Fermush would show up while we‍ were still debating.‍

“Yes,‍‍‌ go ahead.”

Everyone⁠‌‍ politely stopped what they were saying⁠⁠ and looked at⁠ me. I appreciated‌⁠‍ the attention, but‍ it was so‌‌ sudden it made‍ me uncomfortable—like a ghost had passed⁠ through.

‘Well,⁠⁠ they’re soldiers. Respecting‍ the chain of⁠ command is second⁠ nature to them.’‌⁠

I cleared my throat⁠ a few times,⁠⁠ the echo bouncing‌ off the tent.‌‍

“First,‌ let me say⁠⁠ that attempting a rear ambush on⁠ a Corps Commander‍ won’t work. And⁠ even if it‍‌ did, the damage‍⁠ would be too⁠‌ great. So I won’t allow it.”⁠‍

“May‍ I ask why?”⁠

General‌ Remi raised her‌‍ voice cautiously. She⁠ didn’t sound critical—genuinely‍⁠ curious, eyes gleaming with interest.

I won’t lie, it‌⁠ felt weird being‌ stared at like‍ that by a three-star general. I sometimes forget this‍‍⁠ isn’t Earth.

Though‌ come to think⁠ of it, something‌ felt off from‍⁠‌ the start. A young, pretty, polite‌ general? In my⁠⁠ world, three-stars preferred tracksuits over uniforms‍ and football over‍⁠ paperwork.

Whenever‌⁠ a two-star showed⁠‍‍ up, the whole‌‍⁠ base flipped upside‍‍ down.

“The‌ general’s order, ‘I want to play⁠⁠ football.’ Everyone, up‌‌ the mountain with‍ shovels.”

Young men answering the⁠ call of duty⁠‍‌ would wage brutal‌ battles against the‍‍ mountain—day and night, rain or shine.‍⁠⁠ Dinner? Dirt. Singing⁠ military chants until‍ every ounce of‌⁠‌ strength was drained.

By‍ day three, that‍ hill was a football field. That’s the harsh reality.‌‍

Sounds‌ insane? It is.‍ Go check for⁠‍ yourselves.

“Shit.”⁠

“Pardon?”‌‍

“A‍‍‌ slip of the‍ tongue.”

“I‌ understand.”

Best‌ not go further.‌ My PTSD was‍ kicking in.

I pressed my temples‍⁠ with my thumbs⁠‍ and spoke quietly.‌‍

“The‌⁠ magic used by⁠⁠‌ Corps Commanders isn’t‍ comparable to regular‌⁠ demons. Even if‌⁠‍ they use the‌‌ same low-level spell,‌ one creates a puddle while the⁠ other summons a lake or an‌ ocean. The power‌ scale is completely⁠ different. If a strike unit tries‌⁠ to ambush them‍ from behind and⁠⁠ they’re detected, what‌‍ do you think⁠‍‍ would happen?”

“Almost guaranteed total annihilation.”⁠‍

Remi‌‌‍ replied. I nodded‍⁠⁠ while looking at⁠ her.

“Exactly.‌ That’s why it’s better to consolidate⁠ our forces in‍ a frontal assault‌ than to split‍‍ them up for skirmishes. Fewer casualties⁠‌ that way.”

“I understand your point,‌ Heavenly Sword. But⁠ a head-on clash‍ doesn’t favor us.‌‌ If our numbers‍ are equal, we‌‍ humans lose.”

“She’s right. At the‌ Academy they teach⁠⁠‍ us that no‌‌ matter how strong‍ a human is,‍⁠⁠ we’re helpless against⁠ magic.”

Remi⁠‍‌ looked at me like, “Oh, right—you’re‌ seventeen…”

That’s‍⁠ me. A teen⁠ with the soul‍‍ of a forty-year-old.‍ A guy who,⁠‍ no matter how‌‍ much you peel,⁠ always has another⁠ layer. Like an⁠‍⁠ onion.

“But‍‌‍ we heroes have⁠‍‍ blessings. Think about‌⁠ it—the enemy has one type of‍⁠ magic, but we⁠ have tanks, healers,⁠‍ and attackers. Blessings‌‌ are divided into‍ three roles. That‌ means when we’re⁠‌ well-organized and divided⁠ properly, that’s when‍‌‍ we really shine. The stronger the‍‍ enemy, the more⁠ important it is⁠ to stay united.”‍‍

“Understood. But our roles‌ are already divided…”⁠‌‌

“Dividing‍‌ by name isn’t⁠ enough. What matters is how they’re⁠ positioned and what‌⁠ specific function they‍ perform on the‌⁠ battlefield.”

I laid out a map of the‍ area around the‌ portal and began⁠⁠‌ scribbling on it.‍ Remi leaned in‍⁠‌ to see.

“Top…‌ jungle… mid… bottom…”

She⁠ muttered quietly. The⁠ other officers looked⁠⁠‍ at me strangely.⁠‌

Understandable.‌‌‍ Those terms come‍ from another game.⁠

I tossed the pen‌ over my shoulder⁠⁠ and looked around.‍ Everyone seemed ready⁠ to listen. Good.⁠‍⁠

I spoke solemnly.

“From‌‍⁠ now on, I’ll explain the roles,⁠ positions, and tactical‍ directives for every⁠ scenario. I welcome‍⁠ your suggestions.”

In‍ Korea, we have‌⁠ two traditional games of long-standing.

One‌ is League X Legends.

The other is Star⁠ X Craft.

Separated‌‌ by almost twenty‌ years, but with‌‌ one thing in common—they’re both real-time‍‍⁠ strategy games.

And‍ as a Korean‍ raised among keyboards⁠ and internet cafés,‍‌‌ I played both.⁠⁠⁠

So‌‍ if there’s anyone‍‍‍ here capable of‌‌ teaching advanced tactics, it’s me.

And⁠‌ just so you‍ know, I was⁠ Gold IV.

That’s‌‌ right. Elite.

***⁠

The‌ night was well⁠ advanced.

As‍⁠⁠ he exited the tent, Director Sung‍ let out a long yawn. He‍ rubbed his eyes‍⁠ and stretched his⁠‌‍ drowsy body.

“So‍‍ exhausting.”

As‌⁠ he tapped his⁠⁠‌ shoulder with his‌⁠ prosthetic arm, a figure emerged from‍ the tent. Sung‍ glanced sideways to‌⁠ see who it‍ was—it was General‍⁠ Remi. She noticed⁠‌ his gaze and⁠⁠ turned her head.‌⁠

Thus‍‌ began a brief‌‍‌ standoff of glances.‍ Remi approached him‌ with firm steps‌⁠‌ and extended her⁠⁠⁠ left hand.

“I⁠ apologize for earlier.‍⁠ I formally apologize for letting my‍‍ personal situation affect‍‌‌ my emotions.”

“Ah,‌ yes…”

Director⁠‍ Sung shook her⁠‌⁠ hand, somewhat awkwardly. But then his eyes widened slightly.⁠⁠‌ Remi had offered‍ her left hand on purpose—to greet‍ him with her‌‌ real hand instead‍ of the prosthetic.⁠‍

Sung⁠‌‌ looked at her carefully. She was⁠‍ under immense pressure,‌‌ both internally and‍‌ externally. Yet she⁠ had maintained her composure. Sung thought that, given the⁠‍‍ circumstances, she had‍‍ treated him quite⁠ decently.

“I⁠‍ also apologize, General⁠ Remi. I was‍ rude in my‌ words and behavior.‍‍⁠ Even though the rank was obvious,⁠ I acted inconsiderately.”

“At‌ least you recognize it.”

“Sorry…”‌⁠‌

Remi‌ smiled slightly and‍ let go of his hand.

“In‌ my opinion, Association⁠ staff are way⁠‍‍ too stiff. How are you stricter‍ than the military?”

“Pardon?”

“It‌‌ was a joke.”‌‍

“…Ah,⁠‌‌ right.”

Director‍ Sung scratched his⁠‍ forehead with his‍‍ prosthetic, a bit‍ embarrassed. Then Remi‌⁠ pulled a small‍‍‍ flask of whiskey from her pocket.⁠⁠ With a glance,⁠‍ she pointed to‌ his artificial arm.⁠⁠‍

“Looks‌ like good tech.”⁠

“This?‌ Well…”

Before‍‌ answering, Sung realized the intent behind⁠ her words. What‍⁠ she was really‍ asking was, “How‍ did you lose‌ your arm, being‌ a non-combatant?” A typically indirect Japanese‌ way of probing.

But‍‌⁠ Director Sung was‍ a seasoned veteran⁠ of life. He⁠‌ caught on immediately⁠⁠ and responded with‍ a smile.

“Let’s‍ call it my⁠ personal medal. Do⁠⁠ you remember the⁠ Joaquin tragedy, General?⁠ The staff member‍‌ who almost died‌‌ and survived—that was⁠ me.”

“……!”

Remi’s‌ hand stopped mid-motion,⁠ just as she‍ was uncapping the‍‍⁠ flask. Her eyes⁠ widened in surprise.‍ Sung chuckled softly.‌

“But‌ to be honest,‌ I survived, yes—but‌ I didn’t do⁠ anything. I’m not⁠ a hero. While‌‍‍ Heavenly Sword defeated‌‌ the Third Corps‌ Commander, I was⁠ curled up in‌‍‍ a corner like‍ a sack of potatoes.”

He‌ spoke self-deprecatingly. Remi‌ shook her head.‌⁠

“Anyone⁠‌⁠ who was there⁠ is a hero. And a soldier.‌‍ Calling yourself a mere sack of⁠‍⁠ potatoes is an‍⁠ insult—not just to‍‍ yourself, but to‌ Heavenly Sword, who⁠ risked his life⁠ to save you.”‌

This‍⁠‍ time, it was⁠‌‌ Sung who was⁠‍‍ taken aback.

“General…‌⁠ I didn’t expect‌ you to be‌‍⁠ such a good⁠ person.”

“Being‌ complimented by someone‍ I argued with⁠ makes the whiskey⁠ taste even more‍‌ bitter.”

Remi‍ took a sip.‍ Sung was perplexed.‌ Bitter? Wasn’t that‍⁠⁠ a bad thing?‍ After drinking, Remi offered him the⁠‍ flask.

“Want⁠⁠⁠ a drink?”

“Gladly.”‌

Sung‌‌ took a small⁠‍ sip. Bitter and sweet at the⁠⁠ same time. Two‌⁠ flavors that shouldn’t‍ coexist, yet they‍ danced on his⁠ palate.

Seeing‌ his expression shift,‍ Remi smiled.

“How‍‍ is it?”

“It’s⁠‍ good. Actually sweet.⁠‍ Though it seems⁠ like a pretty‍ strong liquor.”

“When⁠‍ alcohol tastes sweet,‌‌⁠ it’s not a good sign.”

“Pardon?”‌

“It‍ means life has‍⁠ been very bitter.”‍

Sung⁠ squinted his eyes.‌

“…General‌‌ Remi, do you⁠⁠‌ watch a lot‍⁠‌ of Korean dramas?”⁠

“The whole world’s hooked⁠⁠ on Hallyu.”

Remi‍‍‌ nudged his prosthetic.⁠‌

“And‍‌‌ you seem to‍‌ know your dramas‍⁠ too, judging from‌‌‍ your reaction to‍‍‍ one line.”

“…….”‍‌‌

It‍⁠ was true. Director‍ Sung was a die-hard fan of‌⁠ soap operas. Remi⁠ chuckled with her‍ shoulders shaking.

Moonlight‌ spilled gently around⁠‌ them. The conversation⁠ grew more intimate,⁠‌ the flask passed‍‌ back and forth.‍‍ Naturally, the topic drifted to Heavenly‍⁠‌ Sword, Kang Geom-Ma.‌‍

“I never imagined Heavenly‍ Sword had such‌‍‌ knowledge of military⁠ strategy.”

Remi⁠ commented. Sung nodded vigorously.

“Me‌ neither. I knew⁠‌ he wasn’t just‌‌‍ brute strength, but‍ even so, he⁠ still surprises me.”⁠‌

“His⁠‌‌ tactical explanations were⁠ so clear… Top,‌‍ mid, jungle, bottom.⁠⁠ Very intuitive. We‍ should consider adopting⁠ it officially after‍‌ this operation.”

“I’ll⁠ draft a report‍ to submit to⁠ Deputy Director Changseong.⁠‍ Speaking of which‍ where is he⁠⁠ now…?”

At‍‌‌ that moment, a loud noise came⁠ from behind them.‌ Sung turned, startled.‌

“He‌ always shows up‌ when you mention him.”

Changseong⁠⁠ appeared, dusting off his hands. At‌‌ his feet were dozens of stacked‍ boxes.

“I⁠‍ was looking for‍‌ you, Vice President.”⁠⁠‍

“The fact that I’m⁠ called a director‍ who’s been drinking…‍ it moves me.”‌

“…….”‍

“…….”

Remi‌‍⁠ subtly slid the‌‍‍ flask back to⁠⁠ Sung. He didn’t‌‌ notice and quickly‌ changed the subject.‌‌

“Where‌‌ were you? And⁠⁠ what’s all this?”‌⁠

“Heavenly⁠ Sword asked me‌‌ for a personal‌‌‌ favor. Said it‍⁠ was essential for the operation.”

Sung‍⁠ frowned and opened a box. Remi‌‌ approached, curious.