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The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master Chapter 263: The Terror Live (2)

Chapter 263: The Terror Live (2)

One​ of the terrorists​‍ reflexively looked down.‌‌‌ The head of​ his companion, who⁠​ had rushed out‍ earlier, rolled to‍ a stop at‌⁠ the tip of⁠ his shoe.

The​​ eyes, already lifeless,​​ seemed to stare⁠​ back at him⁠​ as if retaining​ a final glimmer⁠​ of awareness. Those‌‌ pupils, glazed with⁠‌​ a white film,‌⁠ appeared to say.⁠​

‘See⁠ you in the​ next world, buddy.’⁠⁠

Terrified,‍‌ the terrorist kicked​ the head away‌​‌ and panted as‌ he looked around⁠ at the chaos.⁠‌

At‌‍⁠ least that one‍ had died decently.​​ Compared to the⁠​ others, whose heads‍⁠‍ were shattered like‍​‍ dice. An eyeball​⁠‌ rolled across the‍ floor, having come​ loose, and severed⁠​ fingers lay around⁠ like sliced sausages.⁠

Swallowing⁠‍ hard, the server‍‍​ looked up. With⁠‌ just that single‌ attack, he understood‌⁠ who the middle-aged‌⁠ man dressed as⁠ a butler really⁠ was. His face‌ seemed vaguely familiar,‌​​ but after seeing‍‍‍ those wire threads,​ there was no‍‌‍ doubt.

‘Karon​​​ Rakshasa.’

In​ the criminal underworld,​⁠‍ Karon was a legend. The beast‌​ that hunted heroes.‌​ A hitman who,​ once he accepted⁠‍⁠ a job, acknowledged‍​‍ no hierarchy. A demon who massacred⁠​⁠ enemies with steel‌ wires sprouting from⁠⁠ his fingers like‍ spider webs.

And‌​⁠ that nocturnal demon⁠​‌ was here? At‍‌ the academy? Since⁠‍​ joining the Nibelung,⁠ he hadn’t returned​ to the front​‍‌ lines.

Karon‌‍ cracked his neck‍‍ from side to​‌ side.

“Hmm.‍‍⁠ I’ve been away⁠ from the action‌ too long. I wanted to take​⁠‍ ten at once,​ but only managed‍​⁠ five.”

“That’s⁠⁠ why I keep⁠⁠ telling you to​​⁠ come out with​‍ me more often.”⁠⁠⁠

Shail‌​‍ replied, crouching into‌‍ a jump stance.‍‍

“…If​‌⁠ it means getting⁠​⁠ into a car⁠‌​ with you, I’d⁠ rather rust in​‌ peace. Anyway, enough​⁠‍ talk. Let’s burn⁠‌ this trash first…”​​​

Before⁠ Karon could finish‍ his sentence, Shail‍‌ had already moved.​​‌

She‍ appeared in front‍‍ of the enemy‌ in the blink⁠ of an eye,‌⁠ and his eyes‍ widened just before⁠​ a stiletto pierced‌ his throat.

Splat—blood⁠‌ splashed across Shail’s​⁠​ cheek. She spun⁠⁠⁠ with a gymnast’s‌ grace as knives‌ skimmed past her‍ waist.

In​⁠ that opening, a swarm of wires‌ snapped like a whip. Arms and⁠⁠ legs were severed‍ into square and‍ triangular chunks. Shail‌‌ finished the job⁠‌⁠ with surgical precision.‍‌‌

“There’s‍ only two of‌​​ them! Let’s rush⁠ them all at‌​‌ onc—gghk!”

An​‍ arrow lodged in⁠​ the shouting man’s‌ throat. He tried‌ to turn his⁠⁠ neck with difficulty.‍‌ In the distance,​ a girl with‌ light blue hair​‍⁠ pulled back her⁠ bow.

“Two?”‌‌

Ryozo‌​​ tilted his head,‍‌ his traditional Japanese‌‍‌ hairstyle more striking‌‍⁠ than ever. He​ released the bowstring.​​

Thunk.‍‌

An​⁠ arrow embedded itself‌ between another terrorist’s​ eyes, and he⁠‍​ collapsed instantly. As‌ the others turned,⁠ another fell to​ a clean sword⁠⁠​ slash.

Slash.‍‍

Abel’s⁠ blade sliced through⁠ a collarbone and‌‍​ exited through the‌‌ neck. He positioned​‍​ himself beside Shail,⁠​ exchanged a glance,‌‍ and they stepped‍ forward in unison.⁠‌⁠

The‍ terrorists’ eyes darted​ wildly. Arrows rained⁠​​ from behind, bodies‌​‌ piled up in‍ front. Though they​ outnumbered their enemies,​ they were the​⁠ ones cornered.

Their⁠‍​ plan to knock‍⁠‌ everyone out with‍ sedatives and take‍​​ hostages had failed.​​

They​​‌ were supposed to‍ act after the⁠​⁠ dance began, but⁠‌‌ that brat who​⁠‌ looked like a punk had jumped‌​ in early. They‌​​ tried to eliminate​ him silently, but⁠‍ even with his​⁠‌ hand impaled, he⁠ knocked one of‌‍‌ them unconscious.

That‍ forced them to​ launch their operation‍​‍ prematurely. From there,​‍ everything unraveled.

The⁠‍ terrorist couldn’t believe‌‌‌ it. How could​ they be so​​‌ composed? Were they‍‍ really students? Even‍‌ if they were‌ from Joaquin Academy,⁠‍ this was too‍⁠ much. Their composure⁠ surpassed even that⁠⁠ of hardened criminals.‍‌

Their⁠⁠ plan had accounted‍‌‍ for many variables,⁠‍‍ but this was‍‌ beyond anything they​ had calculated. It‌ was like a brutal traffic accident.‌

“Damn‌⁠ it.”

At​​ this rate, they‍ wouldn’t buy enough‌ time before he—Heavenly⁠​‌ Sword—arrived. If Kang‌ Geom-Ma showed up,‌‍ it would be‌ an instant massacre.‌ They wouldn’t even‍‌ have time to​ resist.

And‍​‍ even before that,‍​ nearly a dozen​ were already dead.‌ Blood gushed through‍‍‍ fingers trying to​‌‍ cover a shattered⁠​‍ collarbone, and a net of silver‍‌‍ threads continued trapping⁠​ enemies. Those who​ tried to flee​‍‌ ended up with‍⁠‌ arrows or stilettos​‍‌ in their feet.​​​

A full-scale ambush. Death‌ groans echoed from​ every direction.

Finally,‌ the man who⁠​ seemed to be‍ the leader of‌ the terrorists could‌​​ do nothing but⁠⁠‍ scream, cold sweat‌ soaking his back.⁠‌

“F-fight⁠‌‌ to the death…!”⁠‍

It​​ was unclear whether‌​⁠ it was a war cry or‍ a plea. The‍ only certainty was​ that it wasn’t​ something a terrorist⁠‌​ should be saying.‌

***‌​‌

What‍ greeted us after‍ bursting through the‍‍‍ changing room door⁠ was a group‌​​ of hooded figures.​​⁠

“There’s‌⁠ a lot of​​ them.”

Kang⁠‍ Geom-Ma muttered without‍‌‌ emotion.

Like​‌‍ grease-filled pipes, the⁠‍ hooded figures packed‌‍ the corridor tightly.‍⁠‌

Beneath‍ their masks, they‌ wore waiter uniforms.‍​​

We‍ understood how they⁠ had bypassed the‌​ academy’s tight security.‌

Camouflage.​‌

‘Damn‍ it.’

So‌⁠ close, and we⁠​​ didn’t see it.⁠ Of course, we’d‍​ thoroughly screened all‍ staff through Vixbig.‍⁠‌ But there are‌ always gaps.

‘I⁠‌ never imagined the​‍ hiring agency was⁠ a front.’

The⁠ most furious among​​ us was undoubtedly​⁠​ Director Media. Her‍ face twisted with⁠ rage as she​​ screamed.

“You⁠ bastards! Do you‍‌ even know where⁠ you are? And⁠ you have the​ nerve to come‌​ here, not knowing‍‍ who you’re dealing‌⁠‌ with? You think​⁠ coming in numbers‍⁠​ will get you‍‍ anything?”

That’s⁠ when a voice‍‍⁠ emerged from the‍‌‌ back of the​​⁠ group of hooded​​ figures.

“We​‌ don’t think so.”​

The‌‌ masked men stepped​ aside in unison,‌ making way for​‍ a man who‍⁠ walked forward confidently.‍​

“With‍ the Heavenly Sword,‌ the director, and⁠​‌ the famous Media​​⁠ here—how could we​‌ possibly stop you?”​

The‍‌⁠ man smirked cynically.‍ Meain stepped forward,⁠⁠​ speaking on her‌‍ sister’s behalf, who​⁠⁠ was still fuming.​

“And⁠⁠ what of it?⁠⁠‌ Did you come‌‍​ here to die?‍​​ Is that your‌​ plan?”

“Yes.‌‌ Even though we’re​‍ nobodies, we can⁠ buy time. That’s‍⁠ why we’re here.”‍⁠

“Haven’t⁠​‍ you learned a damn thing? After​‌ dying like rats,‌‌ you still come‍‍‍ crawling out like‌ cockroaches?”

“Insult⁠ us all you‍ like. But our‍ deaths are one‌ more step toward‌​ the goal. No​​⁠ regrets.”

The​ man shrugged with​‍ a mocking grin.‌‌​

“Oh,⁠‌ and just in⁠​ case you were‍ worried you’d be‌⁠‌ disappointed—everyone here can‌‍⁠ use magic. The⁠ non-mages were sent⁠‍⁠ to the ballroom.​​‌ But even among‍ them, we chose‌⁠ only the elite.”‌⁠

“You⁠​⁠ dared to touch​⁠ my students?”

“Ooh,‌⁠‌ scary, Director. But‍⁠​ come on, this‍​⁠ is textbook. What​ terrorist doesn’t take‌‍ hostages? If you‌‌⁠ want to save⁠⁠⁠ those precious students,‌‌​ it’s simple—kill us‍ all. That’ll clear‌⁠‍ the way.”

The​ man spoke with⁠⁠ confidence. He was​ already resigned to⁠‍ death. He had​⁠ nothing left to⁠ lose. That boldness‌ came from that​ place.

“Well,‌‍ instead of wasting‌‌⁠ time, why don’t​ we…”

Step.​‍‍

A single step cut⁠​​ his sentence short.‌⁠⁠ Kang Geom-Ma stepped‌‍‌ forward.

Everyone​‌​ instinctively tensed. Just‌​​ by walking, he⁠‍‍ filled the corridor‍ with pressure.

“Overwhelming‌‌‍ with sheer numbers‍‍⁠ I see you‍‍​ at least tried​⁠⁠ to prepare for⁠​⁠ me.”

These‍‍ villains weren’t fools.​ Kang Geom-Ma had‌ fought them countless​‌ times.

They‍⁠ probably guessed that​​ his ability was‌⁠ like a short‌ explosion—a sprinter.

“But‌ what good is​‍ that if you’re⁠⁠ still a bunch​ of idiots?”

His​⁠ pupils sharpened. The⁠​⁠ man, startled, gave‍‌‍ the order.

“Attack!”‍

But‌ their bodies moved‍ before his voice⁠ did.

Kang‍‍‍ Geom-Ma held Murasame⁠ short. He stabbed‌ the blade into‍‍​ the wall. Crimson‌ energy seeped into⁠‌ it, then expanded‌​​ throughout the hallway.‍⁠

[Underworld‌⁠​ King’s Horn Power‌ activated.]

The⁠‍‍ formation that filled‌​ the corridor collapsed​​‌ instantly. They fell​⁠⁠ like wheat under⁠‌ a hurricane.

“……!”⁠

Only​ one man remained‍⁠ standing. All those​‍ presences, gone. The​ group was annihilated‍⁠ so easily, they‍‌‌ didn’t even manage⁠⁠‌ to buy time.​​⁠

Media‌⁠‍ and Meain were⁠ left stunned, as‌⁠ if cold water‍ had been thrown​⁠ in their faces.‌ They expected a chaotic, prolonged battle.⁠‌ They were completely​ wrong.

‘I‌‌ thought I couldn’t‌ be surprised by‌ Kang Geom-Ma anymore.’⁠‍‍

But‌ he always did.‌ The sisters fell​​ silent. They knew⁠ what came next.​‌

‘The‌‌‍ finishing blow.’

And​‌ they moved without⁠ hesitation. They executed​⁠ the survivors like‌ hyenas cleaning up⁠ scraps. The corridor‍‌⁠ was drenched in​‌ blood.

The‌ man stumbled backward,‍ tripped over a corpse, and fell.‌​ Kang Geom-Ma slowly‌ approached, stepping over‌ piled bodies.

“Humans​‍‍ learn from their​‍ mistakes.”

His‍ cold eyes stared‍ through his bangs.‌‌‍ A chilling gaze.‌‍⁠

“But‍ you stopped being‌⁠ human, so you‌ just keep repeating‌‌ the same ones.”⁠

At‍ that moment, the⁠​ man who had‍⁠ accepted death clung‌⁠ to life once​ more. He wanted​‍‌ to live. He⁠​ wanted to escape.​⁠‌

Before⁠⁠‌ he knew it,​⁠‍ Kang Geom-Ma was‍‍ in front of⁠ him. He crouched.‌‌ While the corpses⁠ exploded around them,‍⁠ silence filled the‌⁠‌ space between them.‌‌‍

The‍⁠ man thought to‌ resist but couldn’t.​‍ He was frozen​ with fear.

Kang‌​ Geom-Ma brushed his‌⁠‍ messy hair back.‌‌ He tried to‍ loosen his bow⁠ tie with a finger, then stopped.‍‍‍ That knot was⁠‍ a memory from‌⁠​ the stylist.

“The‍⁠ purpose of the​‍ infiltration.”

His⁠‍‍ voice was brief.‍​​ When the man‍‍‍ didn’t respond, he​​​ grabbed his hair‌​‌ and whispered in‍⁠ his ear.

“The⁠‍ purpose.”

“T-t-that…”‌​​

The‌ man sobbed and⁠‌ drooled. He tried​ to speak, but⁠​​ his tongue wouldn’t​⁠ move.

“Villains‌‌ always break the‌ same way. What​ happened to all⁠ that bravado?”

Tsk.⁠​

“Die.‌ I’ll ask someone‌‌ else.”

Murasame⁠⁠ moved. In an‍​ instant, it was​​‌ stained red.

Thud.‍⁠​

A round mass hit⁠‌ the floor. Kang‍‌​ Geom-Ma flicked the​‍⁠ blood from his‌​ sashimi blade. The‌​‌ blade trembled—it had‍ been damaged when‍‌‌ stabbed into the‌‍ wall.

Frowning,‌⁠‍ he stood up.‌‌‌ Then looked back.‌ Everything was under​‍‌ control.

Without⁠​​ waiting for the​‌ twins, he left‍​‍ immediately. His destination‌ was the ballroom,‍ where true chaos⁠‍ awaited.

***⁠‌

The⁠‍​ confrontation in the‌ ballroom had reached⁠‌⁠ a critical point.​⁠‌

“They’re​​‍ possessed by rage.”‍‍​

Karon​‌‍ clicked his tongue.​‌ The terrorists were‍​ resisting with wild‌⁠ stubbornness.

“They‍‍⁠ weren’t nobodies, after​​‍ all.”

Moreover,⁠ the fire of​​ determination burned in⁠ their eyes. At​​ first, they had⁠‌ been intimidated, but​​ they recovered quickly.‍⁠‌ A cornered mouse‌⁠⁠ can bite a cat.

“Numbers​‍‍ win! Push forward!”‌​

One‍‍ of the terrorists‌⁠ shouted as he​⁠‍ dodged nimbly, waiting​⁠‍ for the right‌‌⁠ moment.

In​ the dressing room‌‍ where the Heavenly⁠ Sword was, all‍⁠ the magic users‍​ had been dispatched.⁠

They​​‌ knew they would‍ be annihilated, but⁠​ with luck, they⁠​ could hold out⁠ for about twenty​ minutes.

They​ had to take​‍‍ control here before⁠ that happened.

Unlike‍‌​ the group in‌⁠ the dressing room,​​ those on this⁠⁠ front were fighting​⁠‍ to survive. As‌‌⁠ they fought, they⁠ searched for escape‌​ routes in case‌‍⁠ everything went wrong.​⁠

‘Still,​‍⁠ reinforcements will arrive⁠​‌ soon.’

Then​ perhaps they could‌​ turn the tide.​ The terrorist suppressed​‍ his agitation and⁠‌ led the offense‌‌ coldly.

Creak.⁠‌

Suddenly,⁠‌ the ballroom doors‌⁠ swung open.

The‍⁠‌ terrorist’s face lit‍ up. For a moment, it looked⁠ like reinforcements were​​‌ arriving.

But‍ in the next⁠‍ instant—

Everyone,‌​​ including him, was‌​ frozen in shock.‌⁠ Because the person‌⁠ who entered was‌ someone they never‍ wanted to meet.‌

“Ah…”​‌​

Someone‍ let out a sigh of despair.‍⁠⁠

An‍‌ accident can be‌⁠ managed. But in‌‌‌ the face of⁠ a calamity, there‌‍‌ is nothing to⁠‍​ be done.

And‍ in the end,⁠‌ calamity arrived.

Kang⁠‍ Geom-Ma stepped through‍ the entrance, drenched‌ in blood from‍‍ head to toe.‍​​

Behind‌​ him, corpses mutilated‍ by sashimi littered‌ the floor.

All​​‌ hope the terrorists​ had vanished as​ if it had‍‌‌ never existed.

“Right‌ now, if I gave in to⁠ my emotions, I’d​‍‍ kill every last‌⁠‌ one of you.”⁠

Kang⁠‌‍ Geom-Ma said from‌ the threshold, disdainfully⁠‍⁠ flicking away the‍​​ bits sullying his‍ sashimi.

“But‍ I have questions,‍ so I’ll leave‌‍​ one of you⁠‌ alive. I’ll give⁠‌‍ you a choice—decide​ who it will⁠​‌ be. You can⁠​‌ let me choose,‌​ or settle it​​‌ among yourselves.”

At‌⁠ that declaration, the‌ terrorists glanced back‍⁠⁠ and forth between​ their weapons and​ their comrades. You​⁠‌ could almost hear‌ their eyes creaking‌ as they darted‌ around frantically.

“And‍‌ let me warn‍​‌ you, I have​​ no patience.”

Kang‍ Geom-Ma pressed on‌⁠⁠ with his tone.​‍ The terrorists’ decision‍ was unanimous.

Uwooooh!‌‌⁠

Their‍ morale reignited—but this​​ time, the tips​ of their weapons‌⁠ turned not toward⁠ the enemy, but‍⁠ toward their own⁠ comrades.

“I⁠‍‌ never liked you‌‍ anyway!”

“Says​ you, bastard! Just‌‌ die already!”

The​⁠ desperate screams of​​ those clinging to​ survival echoed through​ the ballroom like‌‍​ a pitiful, pathetic‌‌⁠ wail.

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