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The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master Chapter 258: Blessing (1)

Chapter 258: Blessing (1)

A sky of gray⁠‍ stone, a completely‌​ black sun, and⁠​ a structure rising‌‌‌ like an altar‌ piercing both. At‍ its summit, Kuarne​​ rested his chin‌ on the armrest⁠​‌ while receiving his‍‍ subordinate’s report.

“The⁠⁠ human forces engaged​‌ the golems in⁠​​ open field, and⁠ Lady Fermush confronted‍ the descendant of‌‍‍ Aaron Nibelung directly⁠ but in the⁠‍ end, she fell‌ to that man.‍⁠ Additionally, it’s reported‍⁠ that this man⁠ allied with the​‍‌ leader of the​ Hero Association and​⁠ used angels as⁠‍⁠ if they were⁠​ servants.”

The‍ high elf Suha‍​​ didn’t dare raise⁠‍ her head. With‍⁠ her forehead pressed‍ to the ground,‌ she delivered the‌‌‌ report in a trembling voice.

Kuarne⁠‍ showed no change⁠‍‍ in expression, either‌​​ before or after​ the report. He​ only gazed upon⁠⁠‍ the world with​ dull, lifeless eyes,‌ as if they​ were made of⁠ inanimate matter.

The‍‍ high elf was​ sweating as though​‍‍ pouring water. Just⁠ delivering the report⁠⁠⁠ was torture. The‌⁠ death of the​ Fourth Corps Commander…‌‍ and given Kuarne’s​ origin, the subject​‌​ of angels was‌‌⁠ particularly sensitive.

“…That‍‍‍ man.”

Kuarne⁠ murmured in a low voice. In‌ his white pupils,‍⁠ half-hidden beneath snowy‌​⁠ lashes, a void​ deeper than the⁠⁠​ abyss floated.

Only‌‌ suffocating silence followed‌ until the high‌⁠ elf’s long ears‌ twitched. She instinctively‌​‍ lifted her head.‌

“Hahaha!”‍​​

Kuarne​‌⁠ burst into laughter‍​ as he looked⁠ up at the‌ black sun. A thick madness overflowed‍⁠ in his white‌ pupils.

He‌‍ violently scratched his‍‍‌ cheeks with both​‌‌ hands. Chunks of⁠‌⁠ flesh peeled off​​‌ like skin under​‍ his nails.

“…K-Kuarne,‌‍‌ my lord…”

The‌‍​ high elf gasped.⁠​​ The laughter stopped‌ abruptly, as if‌‍ it had never‌​ existed. Kuarne slowly‌⁠ turned toward her.​

“……”‌

“……!”‌

The‌⁠ high elf froze.‍ She immediately began‌ banging her forehead​ against the floor.‍​

“F-forgive‌ me!”

Kuarne‌ approached slowly and​ crouched in front​‍​ of her. The‌⁠‍ elf could only‍‌ see his pale,​‌‍ elegant feet. She⁠‌ begged and begged⁠‌⁠ before those long​ toes.

“Do​​‌ you think I’ve‌​​ lost my mind?”⁠​​

Kuarne​⁠⁠ spoke in a voice devoid of​ emotion. Without lifting​⁠ her head, the​ high elf desperately​​‌ shook it.

“Impossible!​ How could I harbor such a blasphemous thought? For⁠ this humble servant,‌‍⁠ seeing my lord‌ rejoice is the‌ greatest glory of​⁠ my lineage…”

Without​ responding, Kuarne extended‍‍ a hand. He⁠‌ took the elf’s⁠ trembling chin and⁠⁠ examined her pale‍‌ face.

“You’re‍⁠ injured.”

“N-no,‍ I’m fine…”

“I’m​ not fine seeing⁠​ it, so you’re‌ not fine.”

His‌⁠ words made no⁠⁠​ sense. That was⁠ how he was.​​​ No one knew​‌‌ what schemes lurked‌‍ in his mind.‍⁠⁠

“Please…‌‌ at least spare‍ my life…”

The‌⁠⁠ elf kept her‌ gaze lowered, yet‍ Kuarne’s face still​‌ burned into her⁠‍ retinas. The smile⁠⁠⁠ twisted by scars‌‌⁠ rose from only‍ one corner of‌‌ his mouth.

“Tell​‌⁠ me, what color‌​⁠ are my eyes​‌ and hair?”

“Purer⁠‌​ than snow, of‍​ a radiant white…”⁠‌​

At⁠ such praise, Kuarne‌​⁠ softly shook his‍‌‍ head.

“No.‍‌ From head to⁠ toe, I’m as‌ black as that‍ sun.”

What​‌ was he talking​⁠‌ about? Cold sweat​ formed on the⁠‌ bridge of the‍ elf’s nose. A line of blood​ trickled down her⁠⁠ face from her‍⁠ forehead.

She‌ forced a weak‍⁠⁠ smile.

“Y-you’re‌ right… my lord‍⁠ is a radiant‍‌ darkness like that‍ firm sun…”

Kuarne⁠⁠​ wiped her nose‍‍ with his index​ finger, then brought‌‍ it to his​ mouth.

“This⁠​ taste.”

He⁠​‍ sucked the finger‌‌ with a wicked‍⁠ expression.

“It’s‍‍‍ the taste of‍⁠ a lie.”

“My‍⁠ lord Kuarne, no…!”‍

That​⁠⁠ scream was her‌‌​ last word. Kuarne‍⁠‍ twisted his beautiful⁠​ face. A small​⁠‌ sphere formed in‍‌ the center of‌​​ the high elf’s​‌​ chest.

“Do​‍​ you know why‍‌ you’re going to⁠ die here? Because,⁠​ to save your​ own skin, you⁠⁠‌ dared compare me‌‍ to Him. And‍ also.”

He‍ looked at her‌⁠​ with deadly coldness⁠ as her body‍⁠ began to unravel.‍‍‌

“You‌⁠‌ showed no proper​ reverence. Since when‌​‍ is the Almighty‍⁠ your friend? Insolent‍ wretch, know your‌ place!”

Crack.⁠

“Your⁠⁠​ sins deserve that​‌​ I kill you⁠​ millions of times,‍​‌ but I appreciate‌ that you sincerely‌‌ mourned Fermush’s death.‌​⁠ So I’ll give‌‌ you a quick​⁠‍ death. That will‌‌​ be my act⁠ of mercy.”

Even⁠ as he spoke,‍‌ the high elf’s‌​​ body compressed in‍‌‍ a spiral from​ the center of‍ the sphere. Her⁠ skin shriveled like‌‌ a wet rag,⁠‍ and her bones⁠ twisted grotesquely.

She‍ tried to invoke‌ a supreme spell‍‍ to resist, but‌ the dark sphere⁠​ devoured even her‍ magic.

Moments⁠‌⁠ later, all that⁠⁠ remained was a perfectly round crater.⁠​‍ That was the⁠ only trace of‍⁠‍ her existence.

“The‌‍ return of the‍ Great Lord is‍‌‌ near.”

Kuarne​‍ rose to his‍ feet, one knee‍⁠ pressing the ground.‌⁠

“The‌⁠ Academy break is​‌ soon, right? Make​​⁠ sure my nephew‍⁠‍ comes to the‌⁠​ Demon Territory.”

“We’ll‌ dispatch someone immediately.”‌​⁠

The‍ subordinate behind the‌ throne, a demoness⁠⁠‍ with her hands‌‍ crossed behind her‍​ back, nodded. She‍‌‌ was Kuarne’s current‍​ chief assistant and‍⁠⁠ second in rank‌​ within Gehenna.

“It’s‍​‌ been a while‌‌ since I saw⁠ him.”

Kuarne⁠ lifted his head‍‍‍ with a faint⁠‌ smile.

“My⁠⁠⁠ dear nephew, Leon⁠‍ van Reinhardt.”

High‍‍⁠ above in the⁠ sky, the black‌ sun began to​ tilt. The gloomy‌ shadows cast by⁠‌‌ that dark light‍⁠ swayed as if⁠​⁠ they were alive.​‍

***‌‍

Sip.‍

The​ headmistress of the‌⁠​ Academy, Media, took⁠⁠ a sip of‍​ black tea and⁠‍⁠ looked up. In⁠​‌ front of her,⁠‍ a woman who‌⁠‍ was the spitting⁠ image of herself‌​​ stared back. For⁠ a moment, it​⁠‍ was like looking​ into a mirror.‍⁠

‘…But‍‍ unlike me, her​​‍ face is well⁠ cared for. Just‌​ look at that⁠‍​ glow on her‍ skin.’

Media‍⁠ let out a deep sigh. Her‌‌ twin sister, Meain,​‌​ was lounging on⁠ the sofa with⁠⁠​ a completely carefree‌‌ attitude.

“Don’t‍ you know sighing‍​‌ accelerates aging? Even⁠​​ if you’re an‌​‌ ancient, you should​⁠‍ take care of​​ your skin. Your‍‍‌ face’s already gone​‌‌ downhill since becoming‌‍ headmistress.”

Media‌ was speechless. Hearing‍⁠​ that from someone‍⁠‌ who embodied the‌ word “laziness” was‌​‌ just plain irritating.‌⁠

“I‌ don’t think you’re‍⁠​ the one to⁠‌ be saying that…⁠ or are you,‍‍‍ ex–head–mis–tress? What, want‍​ the job back,‍ huh?!”

Meain‍⁠‌ waved her hand.‍

“Pass,‌‌ pass.”

Media‌‍‍ mentally wrote the⁠‍​ character for “patience”​⁠⁠ three times. She‌ fought the urge‍ to plant a fist into that⁠⁠ mocking smile.

“I‌ prefer getting paid⁠⁠​ rather than doing‌ the paying. And⁠ honestly, being headmistress​⁠ isn’t worth the‌ workload.”

“……”​⁠

It‌ was hard to​⁠ stay calm. The⁠​ teacup in her⁠ hand trembled slightly.⁠⁠‍ Inside her, a storm brewed in⁠‍‍ silence.

“The‍ pay between an⁠ instructor and the‌‍​ headmistress isn’t that‍ different, you know?‌ After taxes, I might even earn⁠ more. The work‍⁠​ environment’s great, super‍⁠ comfy. If I want a break,‌​ I send the‌​​ kids off to⁠⁠ self-study. Being an​‌ instructor is basically​ a paycheck heist!‍ Of course, compared​ to the headmistress…”‌‍

Meain​⁠​ adjusted her glasses‌ and raised the‍ left corner of​​ her mouth.

“Call‌ me Meain, the⁠​ paycheck thief.”

A perfect parody of‌​ a serial killer​ disguised as a detective. Since they‍‍ were kids, Meain⁠​​ had been not‌⁠‌ just a master—but‌‌‍ an artist—at annoying⁠ her younger sister.⁠‌

“And‌⁠⁠ why didn’t this​‌‌ great paycheck thief‌‍‍ join the operation⁠​ to hunt down​​ Fermush, huh?”

Media‍‍ forced a tight⁠ smile from her‌ jaw and used‍‌ her sweetest voice.⁠⁠ Though inside, her⁠‌ heart pounded furiously.​

“Of‌‍‍ course I wanted‌‌⁠ to go. But‍​ Kang Geom-Ma personally​‍‌ asked me to‍ supervise the Heavenly‌ Class while he‍⁠ handled the Fourth⁠‍​ Corps Commander.”

“How’s‌⁠​ Heavenly Sword doing‍‌ with the job⁠ he took on?‌​ Because if he’s‌ not up to​​⁠ it, we can‌‍ replace him with​​ someone more competent.‌​ There are plenty‍⁠‌ of candidates, you‍‌ know.”

Meain⁠‌ motioned with her​⁠⁠ eyes toward the⁠‌​ table in front‍ of them.

“The​⁠​ report’s there. Read‌⁠⁠ it yourself, yo-yo-yo.”‌‌

Media⁠‌​ immediately opened the‍⁠ report. Her double-lidded⁠​‌ eyes scanned it‌‍ like they were​ about to devour‌⁠ it.

“Please,​ let there be​⁠‍ something, just one⁠ thing.”

Her‍‍ mint green eyes⁠‌ moved up and⁠​‌ down, left to‌‍⁠ right. After decades‌⁠​ as headmistress, she​​⁠ had perfected the‌​​ art of speed-reading.⁠

“Grades‌​ personal records individual‍⁠‌ personality profiles…”

The‌​ report was immaculately​⁠‌ organized by section.​ Perfect. Which made‍‍ it all the‌‍ more annoying. If​‌⁠ at least something⁠ were lacking, she⁠‍ could scold her…​ damn it.

Then​‍ Media furrowed her‌‌‍ brow slightly. She‌​⁠ glanced away from⁠ the paper and⁠ flipped the report.‍

Media⁠‌ asked.

“Leon‍‌‍ van Reinhardt. Isn’t‌ his growth rate‌ a bit too​ fast?”

Meain,‍‍ head tilted back,‌⁠ slowly lowered it​ as if she’d‍ been waiting for‌‍ that question, and​⁠ nodded solemnly.

“Yes.⁠‌⁠ Even accounting for‌‍ the fact that⁠‍ he’s a Hero,​ he’s progressing way⁠​⁠ too fast.”

“Compared‌ to Heavenly Sword?”⁠‍

“Heavenly‌ Sword defeated three⁠⁠⁠ Corps Commanders alone.​‌‌ Obviously Leon’s nowhere‍ near his level‍ yet. But…”

Meain‍​ leaned forward. She​‍​ knocked on the⁠‍ back of the​⁠​ report as if​ knocking on a door.

“In⁠ terms of potential,‌‌⁠ he’s not behind.‍‍‌ It’s innate—his ‘capacity‌‍ as a vessel.’”‍⁠

“Heavenly‌​​ Sword told me‌​⁠ something once. That‌⁠​ Leon is a nephilim. Did you​‌ already know?”

“I‍ suspected. But nephilim⁠​ only appear in‍‌​ legends. Then again,⁠‌​ we ancients are‍‌ part of those​ too, in a sense.”

As⁠‍ the Poison sisters‍​ talked, the air‍⁠‌ in the headmistress’s‍ office grew colder.​ Even the tea‍⁠​ lost its aroma‍​ as it cooled.‍​‍

Media​ drank from her​‍‌ cold cup to⁠​ moisten her dry‌‌ throat.

Then​ reheated it and‌​ spoke.

“Alright,‍‍ accepting that Leon’s‍ from the Demon​ Territory is one‍⁠ thing. But who​‍⁠ are his real‍ parents? He doesn’t‌‍⁠ seem like someone‌ who just happened​‌ to grow up‌ there. You must‍‌⁠ have an idea.”⁠‌

“I​ don’t know who​‍ the mother is,​‌ but I’ve got‌ a pretty clear‍​ suspicion about the​​⁠ father.”

Meain‌‍‍ also refilled her​‌‌ cup. With her‌⁠​ lips at the⁠ rim, she said.⁠‌​

“Remember‌⁠ the fallen angels‌⁠​ from mythological times?”⁠

“Yeah.​‌ Dad used to​​‌ tell us stories‍⁠ about them when‌‍‍ we were little.”⁠

The‍‍ Poison family descended‌ from the ancients​‍​ massacred by angels.⁠⁠ They were the‌ humans most deeply‌⁠​ tied to mythology.‍ So they knew‍⁠ the forbidden stories⁠​ well.

“Angels⁠ were heaven’s representatives.​​‌ Among them, the‌ most radiant formed​‌ a group—the Grigori.​​ That name ring⁠‍⁠ a bell?”

Media‍​ nodded.

“Yes,‍‌‍ I’ve heard of‌⁠ it.”

“The⁠​ Grigori’s purpose was⁠ to strictly enforce​ the celestial gospel.‍ In other words,⁠ heaven’s lapdogs. But‌‌⁠ powerful ones. One‌‍​ day, they betrayed​⁠ heaven. The leader‌⁠ of that betrayal‍​​ was Azazel, whose‌‍‍ current name is⁠⁠ Kuarne, the one‍ who now rules‌​ the Demon Territory.”‌​‍

“Heavenly‍ Sword mentioned that‍‍ once. Said he⁠ heard it while⁠ visiting the nephilim​‌‍ temple.”

“I‌‍‍ don’t know why⁠⁠⁠ Kuarne acts as‌ a priest there,​ but he wasn’t​‌ alone. Samael, Lucifel,⁠ Sandalphon… and others.⁠‍⁠ Several of the‍⁠‍ most powerful angels⁠ led that rebellion.⁠‍‍ In short, it‌‍​ was a coup​‌ d’état against the‍ gods. The motive?‌‌ No one really​‌ knows. And going​‍‌ into detail is​⁠⁠ pointless. After all,‍‌ we’re talking about‍⁠ mythology.”

Meain⁠ moistened her lips‌​⁠ with tea and⁠​​ set the cup‍ on the table⁠ with a soft​‍ clink. Calmly, she​‌ continued.

“The⁠‍‍ rebellion of the‍ Grigori ended in​‍‌ failure. And not​​ just a partial‌‍ one—a total failure.”‌

“You⁠​‍ said you didn’t​ know their motive.​⁠​ Then how do‌ you know the⁠⁠ result?”

“I‌ just told you.‍ Kuarne was Azazel.⁠‍‍ If the rebellion‌⁠‌ had succeeded, do‌ you think he’d​⁠ be holed up⁠‍ in the Demon⁠⁠ Territory now? And‍‍‍ that’s not all.‌⁠‍ The reason he’s‍‍ in that state‌⁠ is because, except‌⁠‌ for him, the⁠‌ Grigori were nearly‌‌ wiped out. All​ by a single⁠​ angel sent by⁠‌ the gods.”

“One‌ angel took them⁠‌ all on? Is‍‍⁠ that even possible?”‍‌⁠

Meain‌ let out a chuckle.

“Why‍ not? Even the​‌‍ gods, who brushed⁠‍ against infinity, were​ nearly wiped out⁠‌ by a single‌‍ being. The Grigori‍​⁠ followed the same‌ path. Kuarne, the‍ strongest among them,‌⁠​ was the only‌‌‌ one able to​‍ fight on even‌​ terms, but that⁠‌‍ doesn’t change the⁠⁠ fact that he‌ lost.”

“Then…‌‍⁠ who was that⁠⁠‌ angel? And what‌‍ does that have⁠‌​ to do with​​‌ Leon’s origin?”

“Ugh,⁠ don’t rush me.​⁠⁠ You’ve always been​‌ so impatient when​⁠ you’re curious.”

“Fine…”‌

Media‌‌​ lowered her voice,⁠‍⁠ a bit sheepish.‍​‌ Meain found that‍ look endearing and​⁠‌ resumed the explanation.‌

“The​ name of God’s‌⁠​ apostle, the supreme⁠​​ angel of all,‌ Kuarne’s brother, bearer‌⁠​ of 36 wings…​‌⁠ is Metatron (מטטרון).”‌‌

Meain‌​⁠ paused briefly before⁠‌ continuing.

“Leon​ is a descendant⁠ of Metatron.”

***⁠

Ryozo‌ and Abel spoke⁠ to me at‍‍⁠ the same time.‌⁠⁠

“Choose‌ me or her.”​⁠

“Choose​​ me or her.”‍

Same‌ phrase, eyes narrowed⁠‌​ with fury, lips⁠⁠ pursed. To top⁠‍​ it off, their‍‍⁠ cheeks pressed together​ while they shot​‌⁠ me that perfectly‍⁠⁠ synchronized sharp glare.⁠‌ Not even rehearsed⁠ choreography could match‌‍‌ that.

Anyway.⁠​

I just got out‍⁠ of the hospital​ and I’m already‍ in this mess.​

The⁠‍‌ chaos started a day ago.

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