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The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master Chapter 283: Breath

Chapter 283: Breath

Before‌‌ anyone could utter‌​⁠ a single word,‌ a white silhouette‌‍‍ suddenly appeared from​‌‌ a corner of‌​ the conference room,‍ right in the‌‌ shadowy area beyond‌​ the reach of‌‍ the light.

It⁠‍ was the same⁠ ghost that had​ been beheaded as‌​‍ soon as it⁠‌‌ manifested earlier.

“What​‌ the hell…?”

The⁠​ room fell into‌ a stunned silence.‍ Even though everyone‌​ present were veterans‌ of countless battles,‌ they were still‌‍ human—and thus susceptible​⁠ to being startled.‌​‌ Moreover, aside from​‌ three people, the​‌‍ average age hovered⁠​​ around 70, so‍‍​ even a minor‌⁠​ shock could rattle⁠ their hearts. The​‌‌ cruelty of time.‍

“…Aren’t‍ you supposed to​‍‌ let someone finish‍ speaking?”

Herya‌‌‍ stepped out of‍ the darkness in​​ the corner. Her‌‍ tone was slightly⁠⁠ annoyed, as if⁠‍​ offended. Once again,​ it was only‌ an imitation of​ humanity.

“……”‌

Kang​⁠ Geom-Ma glanced at‍ her without the⁠⁠ slightest surprise.

‘That​ thing isn’t a demon—it really feels​ like a ghost.’⁠​

Cutting‍ her down earlier⁠‌‌ hadn’t been satisfying.‌‍​ So he hadn’t​‍ expected her to​ be gone for⁠ good. Still, he‍​ didn’t expect her‌ to return this‌‌⁠ fast.

Of‌‍‍ course, it didn’t‍‌‌ bother him. He‍‍ was still a teenager, brimming with‌ energy.

“Calling⁠‌ yourself a person—what​⁠⁠ bullshit.”

Kang‌‍⁠ Geom-Ma sheathed his⁠‍ sashimi knife coldly.⁠​ He realized cutting⁠​​ a clone was​‌ useless.

“You‌​ were never human‍ to begin with.​⁠ Why do you⁠​‍ insist on pretending‍​ you are? It’s‌⁠‍ disgusting.”

Herya​‍‍ stopped about twenty‌ paces away. Her​ face, like a porcelain doll’s, bore‌ a blank expression,‌​ and most notably,‍⁠ her gaze lacked‍​ any humanity—translucent and⁠‍​ eerie.

“What⁠⁠‌ do you mean‌‍ I’m disgusting…?”

“It​ means you repulse‍⁠ me. Do I need to explain⁠⁠ basic vocabulary now?‍‌ Anyway, it’s things​ like this that‌​‌ make me hate⁠​‍ people without empathy.⁠⁠ Tch. Damn psychopath.”‍

At⁠ the word “psychopath,”⁠ everyone in the​​ room flinched in​​‍ sync. Then they‌​‍ turned their wary⁠ eyes on Kang‍‌ Geom-Ma. Lack of‍‌ empathy—who was the​⁠ real psychopath here?‍‌ Best not to⁠⁠​ dig deeper.

“If⁠ you’re just a messenger, do your‌‌‌ job and get‍ lost. I don’t⁠ want to see‌ that repulsive face​⁠⁠ again. Damn herbal‍⁠ infusion.”

A barely perceptible expression⁠‍‌ crossed Herya’s face‌‌ after receiving such‌‍‍ a barrage of​​ insults.

Only⁠‌ with great attention​​⁠ could one notice‍​ a slight twitch⁠ in her brow.‍‍ Above all, the‌⁠​ last phrase seemed⁠‍ to hit her‌⁠ particularly hard… “Herbal​‍ infusion.” Though she‍‌ didn’t quite understand‌ it, it must’ve‍⁠ been one of‌ the worst possible​‍‍ insults.

Herya‌‌‍ often attracted many​‌‌ men during undercover‌ missions in human‌‍‍ cities. All because​ of her striking‍‍ beauty. And yet—⁠

‘Is‍‍‍ this guy blind?’‍

Receiving‌‍ such blunt insults‌ so naturally—this situation⁠‍ and its emotions​ were completely foreign​‌ to her. She⁠‌⁠ felt bubbles of​ fury boiling within,​‍ and a slight‌ pain throbbed in‍ her head.

For‍ the first time​ since her creation,​ Herya vaguely sensed​⁠​ an emotion called⁠‌⁠ “anger.”

“Understood.”‍⁠​

But‍‌ she didn’t show‍ it. She just‌‍‍ had to fulfill⁠⁠‍ her role and​‍ return. After all,⁠‌ Lord Kuarne would‍⁠ be the one‌ to punish this‌‌‍ man.

Suppressing​‍‍ her rage, Herya‍ continued.

“It’s‌ not about completely⁠⁠⁠ exterminating humanity in⁠‍‍ this war.”

It​‌ was Kuarne’s message—or⁠ rather, his warning.⁠

“Humans​​‍ and demons have‌ a symbiotic relationship.⁠​⁠ Like two sides⁠​‌ of a scale,‌‌ they must coexist​ in balance. But‍‌ the human population⁠⁠ has grown excessively​‌ and is destroying‌ this beautiful blue‍ planet. Meanwhile, what​ about us, the‍ Demon King’s Army?‍‍​ We’ve endured for‍‌ hundreds and thousands‍​ of years in‌ the Demon Realm,⁠⁠ where not even​​ a blade of⁠‍ grass grows. That​‍ is why I,‍‌‌ Kuarne, speak on‌ behalf of the​ entire demon race—we‍‌⁠ will exchange our​ homes with the⁠⁠ humans. Furthermore, we‍ will reduce their‍⁠ numbers from six‍‍ billion to just‍‌ fifty million. Don’t‌​⁠ worry about the‍‌​ details. I will⁠‌ personally relieve you​​‍ of the burden.”‍⁠‌

The​‍ conference room was⁠ so large and‌ sparse that Herya’s‌‍ voice echoed off⁠‍ the walls, leaving‌⁠​ a hollow ring⁠ behind. As if‌ to etch her⁠⁠⁠ words deep into⁠ everyone’s minds.

Naturally,⁠‌ the reaction from‍ those present wasn’t​​ favorable.

“What‍ kind of garbage‍⁠‌ are you spouting?!”⁠

The​⁠ Swordmaster shot to‍⁠ his feet, unsheathing‌‍ his weapon.

Changseong​ followed, grabbing the‌‍‍ spear he had‌​ leaned against the‌⁠⁠ wall.

“Reduce⁠‌ the human population‌‌ to a tenth​‍ and exile us⁠‌ to the Demon⁠‌​ Realm? What an​ utterly absurd joke!”‍​⁠

Changseong‌⁠‌ pointed his spear‌⁠​ at Herya. His​ teeth were grinding‍ audibly.

“Listen‌​⁠ closely, damn ghost.‍⁠‍ Go and tell​‌‍ Kuarne this—from Richard‍ Mura, I swear‌⁠ by my spear‍​ that I will⁠‍ cut off his‍ head. Tell him⁠⁠​ to prepare, for‍​​ I will not​​​ let demon blood⁠⁠⁠ defile my noble⁠‍ weapon.”

He⁠​ knew physical attacks‍ wouldn’t work on​‌⁠ the ghost. But‍ such reactions had​‌⁠ become second nature⁠‍ after seventy years‍‍​ of life.

“You’re​ not strong enough‍ to do that.”‍⁠‌

Herya​‌ smirked with disdain.‍​ It was the‌‌ same kind of‍‍ smirk humans wore⁠​ when mocking others.​‌​

“Excuse⁠ me, but allow⁠ me to say⁠ this. Of everyone‍‍‍ here, only two​​‍ could face Lord⁠‍ Kuarne—Meian in her‌⁠‍ awakened state and​ Heavenly Sword. Aside‍ from them, none‍‌ of you could​ even graze his‍‌ cloak.”

The⁠ two men, who‍‌ had been growling⁠⁠ fiercely, fell silent.⁠

Though​‍‌ their pride was‌​ wounded, they knew​⁠‍ the words were⁠​ true. And this⁠ wasn’t the time​​ to cling to‌⁠ pride.

It‍​ was time to‍ replace fury and⁠‍ drive with reason⁠​ and strategy.

What‍ the Swordmaster and⁠​ Changseong chose was​⁠ silence. Not simply‌⁠‌ withholding words, but‌⁠ glaring at Herya‍‍‌ with burning hatred.​

But‌‍‌ Herya paid no⁠ attention to their‌⁠‌ murderous stares. Her‍‌ focus remained solely‍⁠ on Kang Geom-Ma.‍

That⁠ expression he had‍‍ held for a while now—that indifferent⁠ gaze, that blank⁠ face devoid of‌⁠ color or scent,‍​ as if detached‌‍​ from all things​ worldly—it sparked deep‌‌ curiosity in her.​‌

The‍⁠ atmosphere was thick.​⁠ A space filled‍​‍ with rage, scorn,​⁠ and simmering resentment.​‍‌

And​ then Kang Geom-Ma‍⁠‍ finally spoke.

“Your‌​ face.”

At⁠‍ that moment, the‍⁠‍ swirling storm of⁠​ emotions stopped. Everyone‌​‌ doubted their ears‍ and looked at‍‍ Kang Geom-Ma in​‌ astonishment. Herya was‌⁠ no exception.

She‍‌‌ slightly parted her​ lips. Your face?​‍‌ How was she‍​ supposed to respond⁠⁠ to that? Was‍ that something one‍ could say in‌ this situation? She‍‌⁠ had learned a lot from observing‌ humans, tailoring her‌​⁠ behavior to fit‍​‌ the occasion.

That’s⁠​⁠ how she’d been​⁠ chosen as emissary—over‍⁠ other demons.

Herya⁠‍​ had confidence in‌⁠ herself. She believed​‍⁠ she could handle‍‌⁠ any response smoothly.‌⁠‍

But​⁠​ that confidence turned‌‌​ into shame, painting‌ her cheeks red.​ It was the⁠⁠‌ moment she truly‍‌‍ understood what emotion​ was.

Kang⁠​⁠ Geom-Ma repeated.

“Your⁠‌‌ face.”

And⁠‌ for some reason,‍​⁠ Herya felt offended.‍⁠⁠ Before this moment,⁠⁠​ such words would’ve​ been a compliment.‌‍ But now, it‌‍ was more insulting⁠​​ than anything else.​ She had planned⁠​ to leave right‌​⁠ after delivering her⁠​ message, but now‍⁠‍ she couldn’t depart​‍‍ with that bitter⁠ taste.

Thinking‍⁠‍ quickly, she replied‌‌ with what she⁠‌⁠ thought was appropriate.​

“Bounce⁠⁠‍ back.”

A childish, simple comeback.​ Unfortunately, she didn’t‍​‍ yet grasp the⁠‌‍ concept of “childish.”⁠​‌

With⁠‌ that, Herya slowly​ stepped back into⁠ the shadows. Her‌ body began disintegrating‍ from the feet‍ up.

When⁠‌‌ the decomposition reached​⁠ her jaw, Kang⁠‍‌ Geom-Ma let out​⁠ a short laugh.​ Then, as if​ offering praise, he‍ added.

“What‌⁠ a good emissary.⁠ Even went out⁠ of her way​⁠​ to tell her​​‌ enemy he’s handsome.”‌

Herya’s​ eyes trembled. In⁠ contrast, Kang Geom-Ma’s⁠⁠‌ smile widened.

That‌ was when Herya‍‌ understood—Kang Geom-Ma knew​‍ physical attacks had‌ no effect on⁠ her, so he⁠ had decided to‍​‌ humiliate her with⁠‍‌ words instead.

A first encounter. Her‍​​ first contact with‍ a true lunatic‍⁠‌ left her with​‌ an indescribable impression.‌

Herya⁠​ tried to respond,‍‌⁠ but before she‍‍⁠ could regain her⁠ composure, her body⁠ vanished completely.

Even⁠​ after her disappearance,‍‍ the resentment she​‍‍ left behind continued‌⁠ to linger in⁠ the air.

***‌

Just‍ as the meeting‍‌ reached a moment‍⁠⁠ of pause, Director‍ Sung appeared with‍‍⁠ perfect timing. He⁠‌‌ had come to​‍ announce the next​ item on the‍ schedule.

The‌ moment he entered,‍‍ his face twisted‍‍ strangely. He had⁠ only been gone​​ briefly, but upon​‌ returning, he sensed​‌ the thick tension​​ in the air.⁠⁠

He​‌‍ asked, puzzled.

“Did‍‌ something happen? Everyone⁠​ looks like they’ve⁠‌ seen a ghost…”⁠‍⁠

“It‌ wasn’t anything serious.”‌

It​ was Kojima who​‌ diffused the situation.‍‍ His expression was‍⁠​ the only one‍⁠ that maintained a sense of calm.‍

“…If‍⁠⁠ necessary, we can‍​​ postpone the next​ event until tomorrow.”​

Director⁠⁠​ Sung offered the⁠‌⁠ option with a worried look. But​​ Changseong firmly shook​⁠ his head in​ response.

“Postponing⁠‍ now would only‍ cause more anxiety.‌ Besides, it’s being⁠⁠‍ broadcast live worldwide⁠‍ via drone. It’s⁠ better to keep‍ things on schedule.”‌

Even‌‍ as he said‍‌‍ that, Changseong couldn’t⁠‌ hide his fatigue.⁠

He‌ was still shaken.⁠​⁠

‘Your‍⁠ face.’

A phrase more disturbing​‍ than any vulgar‍ insult.

“…I’d⁠⁠ just prefer someone​‍​ else give the‍‌ speech. If I talk right now,‌​⁠ I might blurt​‌​ out something like‌‍ ‘your face’ or⁠‌ worse.”

“Same​ here.”

“Can’t‌‌⁠ do it today.”‍‍​

“Me⁠ neither…”

Hands‍​ went up everywhere.‍‍​ In the end,⁠​‌ I was the‍⁠ only one who​​ hadn’t raised mine.‍ I was about⁠ to join in,‌ but they stopped‍ me.

“You​⁠⁠ have to do‌‌​ it.”

“Yeah,⁠⁠‌ Geom-Ma, it’s your‌ turn.”

“Heavenly‌​ Sword must speak.”⁠‌​

What⁠‌‍ was with their‌​‍ expressions? As they⁠ stared at me​ strangely, I could‍⁠ only scratch my⁠‌‌ neck. Was it‌‌⁠ just me, or‍ were they blaming​ me for the⁠ mood?

I stood alongside the‍‍‍ Seven Heroes the​​ Swordmaster, Changseong, the​ Sage Media, Kojima,⁠‍ Meain, Mao Lang,⁠‌ and All Mute.​​

***⁠

The⁠⁠ training field was‍‍ packed to capacity.⁠‍ Not only was‍‍⁠ it full, but‍‌ crowds encircled the⁠​ area like a ring.

And⁠​​ no wonder—the maximum‍ capacity was only⁠ a few thousand,​ but hundreds of​‍ thousands had gathered.‍‌ The fact that​‌​ it hadn’t collapsed⁠‍‌ was a miracle.‌‌​ Even though shoulders‍ bumped and people​‍‌ jostled unintentionally, no⁠ fights broke out.‍‌

Not‍ just on land—the‌‌‌ sky was equally⁠⁠ busy. Drones buzzed‍⁠ like swarms, capturing‍‌ the scene from​ every angle. Since​‍ only heroes were‍‍​ allowed inside, media‌​‌ outlets used drones‍⁠‌ to broadcast the⁠‌ speech live around‌‍ the world.

At​ the center of‍‌​ countless gazes, a young man stood​​‍ before the microphone.⁠‌​ Amid all the⁠⁠‌ bright, dyed hair,‌‍‌ his black hair⁠‍​ and eyes stood⁠⁠ out even more.​⁠‍

Ahem.‌​‌

The‌​⁠ young man cleared‍‍​ his throat. The‌​​ whole world, in‍​ every corner of​⁠ the globe, was‌⁠​ listening. Even a flock of migrating‍‌‌ birds quietly veered⁠‍ away.

Silence‌⁠​ spread like a backdrop curtain. It‌ was hard to​ believe millions of​‍‌ people were gathered⁠ there.

“‘Kang​ Geom-Ma, you are‍ the pride of‌⁠‍ our family.’ That’s‍⁠‍ what my parents​‌‍ told me when‍‍ I entered the⁠‌​ academy.”

The‍ young man’s voice‌ carried through the‌‍ cold winter air.​

“I‍ imagine I’m not‍‌⁠ the only one.‍ Everyone here has​‌‍ probably heard something⁠ similar. Because for‌‍ us, Joaquin Academy⁠ isn’t just a school.”

In‌​‌ that moment, everyone‍‌ seemed to fall‍​ into an illusion.⁠‌‌ As if the‍ whole world lit‌ up only the‍‍ young man, everything‌​ around him softened,​⁠‌ and his figure⁠​ came into clear​⁠‌ focus. The silence​ of the field⁠‍‌ allowed his voice‌‌ to reach even‌ the farthest corners.‌​

“Why‌‍ did the Founding⁠‌‍ Hero and the‌‍‍ Seven establish this​‌ academy? If the‍‌ goal was to‌ prepare for war,‌ it would’ve made​‌‌ more sense to‍​ reinforce the gates​‍‍ rather than raise‍ the next generation.”⁠‍​

A legacy left by⁠​ a master to⁠ his disciple.

“They​‌ knew that closing‍ off entry wasn’t⁠⁠‍ enough. They realized‌‍ it wouldn’t solve‌ anything. That’s why‍⁠ they chose to‌ place their trust⁠‍ in the next‌‍​ generation, in the‌ future—in us. At‍‍​ least for me,‍ I don’t want​​ to betray that‍⁠ trust. I want‌ to protect this‌‍‌ place, because to‌ me, it’s a home.”

There,⁠ the young man​ spoke with firm‌​⁠ resolve.

“Let’s​‌ do it together.”‌‌‌

Everyone‌ raised their weapons​​ high. Not with‍‌⁠ roaring cheers, but‍ by lifting their​​‍ sharp blades in‌‍‌ solemn support of‍ his words.

Just⁠​ then, heavy snow​ began to fall.⁠‌ White flakes descended⁠‌⁠ upon the raised​⁠​ spears and swords⁠‌‌ like thorns. On​‌​ this occasion, it⁠ was as if⁠‍ the sky itself‌​ were silently blessing‌⁠​ them.

The‌‍ young man suddenly⁠‌‌ thought that the​⁠ words always lingering‍‍​ in his mind​ might not have⁠‌​ been just his‌⁠ teacher’s encouragement…

“Upon⁠ us…”

And‍ so, with those​ same words, he‍​ encouraged all who​​​ were present.

“…May‌ the gods’ blessing​​ fall.”

After‌⁠ all, children are‌ the reflection of​‌ their parents.

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