The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master — Chapter 285: Decisive Battle (1)

Chapter 285: Decisive Battle (1)

High⁠ elf. Age stopped⁠‌‌ counting after 200.⁠

Undeniably‌‍ regarded as the⁠ most outstanding mage⁠ among the youth‍ of her race.‌‌

Tap.‍‌

The‌‌⁠ moment she landed,‍ she looked around.⁠‍ The metallic stench⁠‍ of blood hung‌ in the air.‌‌

‘Many⁠ have died.’

Because‌ of Fear, numerous mages who carried‍‍ the future of‍‌ her race were‌⁠ annihilated.

They‌‌‌ tried to defend⁠‌⁠ themselves with magic,‌‍ but it wasn’t⁠‌‌ enough.

Kang‍‍ Geom-Ma’s sword was a novel technique⁠ that even sliced⁠‌⁠ through spells.

But⁠ that didn’t matter‍‍ to her. As‍ long as she‍ survived, high elves‌ would not vanish‍‍ from history.

‘Even‍‌ after so many‌ deaths, many still⁠‍‌ live.’

The⁠ vitality of high‌ elves was tenacious.⁠⁠ They weren’t immortal,‌ but they were‌‌ eternally young.

At‍ roughly 200 years,⁠⁠⁠ she had only‌ recently completed the⁠‍ coming-of-age ceremony of‌ her kind.

And⁠‍ those who live‌‌ that long learn⁠ to survive in any environment.

Those‌⁠‍ who were banished⁠‍ centuries ago due to internal conflict—the‌‍ so-called “dark elves”—had⁠ prospered with pride.‍

‘We‌‍ high elves will‌‌ attain even greater glory in the‌ human world.’

A greedy smile formed‍ at the corners⁠‌‍ of her lips.‌ If her performance‍ stood out, Lord‌ Kuarne would grant her land. She⁠ clenched her fist⁠‌ tightly.

“Kill‍ them, kill them!”⁠‌

“Form‌ up! Take cover‍ after each spell,⁠‍‍ then push forward‌ after a second!”‌⁠‍

All‌ around, the clash‍⁠ of steel and⁠‍ magic blended violently.⁠ The demons generally‍⁠ cast spells, and‌ the humans desperately‍⁠⁠ defended.

Yet,‍ the heroes’ defense⁠ was astonishingly firm.⁠‌⁠

Even⁠‍ as limbs were‍ blown off, they‌ held their shields‌⁠‌ to the last‍⁠ breath. Some died‌ standing, weapons in‍⁠ hand.

In⁠ their final moments, they whispered parting‍ words to comrades.‌‌

“Remember‍‌‍ me…”

“Damn it, Joseph the Swift. I’ll remember⁠ you!”

Those⁠ who witnessed such‌ valor were filled‌ with courage and‌ continued fighting.

Die‍‍ and die again.‌ An endless cycle.

The‌‌ boundary between life and death, light⁠ and dark, blurred.⁠

The‍ high elf’s lips⁠⁠ curled into a wicked smile.

The‍‌ spectacle she had‍⁠‌ longed to see⁠⁠‌ lay before her.‌‌

Her‌ body burned with⁠ excitement.

“Yes.‍ The more they⁠‍ despair, the more⁠‍ fun it is.‍‌‍ If they just‌‌⁠ waited quietly to‌ die, it wouldn’t‌‌ be any fun.‌ Come on, fight‍⁠ harder, you miserable‌ humans!”

Suddenly, her long ears‍ twitched like antennas.‍‍⁠

She‍ sensed a presence.⁠⁠ The high elf‌‌‌ turned her head.⁠⁠‍

Step.⁠‌

An⁠ elderly, frail elf‌ approached. With so‌ few high elves,‌⁠ all faces were⁠⁠ familiar. Yet she‌⁠ had never seen⁠ this one before.‌‍

‘Oh…⁠‍ don’t tell me…’‍‍

She quickly bowed.

“Are‍⁠ you an elder?”⁠

This‍ was no ordinary elder. He had to be at‌‍ least a council⁠‌ member. Elders usually‌‍‌ resided in the‍ temple of Nephilim and were rarely⁠‍ seen.

“……”

The‍‌⁠ old elf glanced⁠⁠‌ at her briefly, then turned his⁠‌ gaze to the battlefield.

‘They‍ fight better than‌ I expected.’

Demons‍ snapped their fingers to cast magic,‍ humans shouted in⁠ response.

Human⁠⁠‌ blood was red,⁠⁠⁠ demon blood blue.‌

On‌⁠‍ the ground, it mixed into a violet slurry.

‘Blood⁠‌ mixes so easily…’‌‍

Yet‍‌ those whose blood spilled could not‌‍ mix, and were⁠ killing each other.

“…Haa.”‌

He‍ sighed with conflicted‍‍ feelings. The young high elf cautiously‍ looked up.

She⁠⁠ was convinced he‌ was an elder.‍⁠

His‌‌⁠ well-nourished flesh and‍‍ skin, glistening as‍ if oiled, confirmed‍ it.

“Is‍‌ something troubling you,‍ elder?”

“To‍‍⁠ kill or not⁠‍ to kill. That‍‌ is the dilemma.”⁠‍‌

The⁠ old elf murmured as if savoring‌⁠ the words. The‌⁠‌ high elf smiled‍ coquettishly.

“Don’t‍‌ you thirst for‌ blood after being⁠‌ cooped up in⁠ the temple? The‌⁠⁠ great Lord Kuarne⁠ has granted us this opportunity. Drink⁠ blood and quench‍‍ your thirst!”

“The⁠ benevolent Kuarne, you‌‍‌ say…?”

The⁠‌⁠ elder looked up⁠ to the sky.‍ There sat Kuarne‌ in lotus position,⁠ as if waiting⁠⁠ for everything to‍ ripen.

‘That⁠⁠⁠ bastard doesn’t seek‌⁠ war. His gaze looks beyond this‍⁠‌ conflict.’

He turned back to‍‍ the high elf⁠ and asked again.⁠

“Do‍⁠‍ you truly believe⁠‌‍ in the benevolent‌‌ Kuarne?”

“Of‍‌‌ course! He’s opened‌‌⁠ the path to⁠ the human world⁠⁠ to liberate our‌ race! And not⁠ just that—he’s promised⁠ land based on‍⁠ merit after the war ends! He’ll‌ also eradicate the‍‌ traitors among us!‌ Like dragons and⁠‍ dark elves, for instance.”

The‌‌ high elf clenched‍‌ her teeth in‌ fury.

‘Dark‍‍ elves.’

That‌ name struck a particular nerve.

Other‍‌‍ demons grouped them⁠⁠ with dark elves just for sharing‌‌ the term “elf,”⁠‌‍ and so they⁠‍ sharpened their blades.‍‍

Her‍⁠ goal was to sever the head⁠‍‍ of Heavenly Sword‌ and erase that‍‌ stigma.

“Well⁠‌ then. Elder, I’ll‌‍⁠ go join my⁠‌ brothers. May Kuarne’s⁠ grace be with‍‌ you.”

The‍ elder gave a slight nod.

“Thank‍‌‌ you. Thanks to‌‌⁠ you, I’ve made⁠ up my mind.”‌

Hearing⁠⁠‌ this, she quickly‌⁠ departed. Her steps⁠‌‍ were light. She‍‌ was eager to‌‍‌ bathe in crimson‍‍ blood. While others‍ saw this as‌ a life-or-death struggle,‌ to her it‍ was just a walk in the park.

Whirl!⁠⁠

A sudden jolt struck‍‍ her gut. A spurt of blood⁠‌ rose in her‍‌ throat.

Her‍ eyes widened as‌‌ she looked down.

There⁠⁠‌ was a hole‌‌‍ of scorched air⁠ in her chest.⁠‍ Fire boiled around‌‍ the rim, forming a circular edge.‍⁠⁠ Through it, the‍‌ battlefield lay visible.‍‍ The old elf‍ she’d just spoken⁠⁠ to approached calmly.‌

“Until⁠‌ I spoke to‌⁠ you, I was‍‍ still torn on‌‍ which side to⁠⁠ join. Honestly, I was leaning toward‌ the demons.”

Her⁠ knees buckled. The‍ old elf looked‌ at her coldly.‌⁠

“But you made it‍‍ clear. Even on the demon side,⁠⁠⁠ Kuarne would eventually‍ execute me. So‌‍ now I have‌ no choice. I’ll‌‍‍ join the opposite‌‍ side.”

“You…‌⁠ you… bastard… who are you…?”

The‍ high elf forced‌ out her voice.⁠ As if waiting‍‌ for that, the‌ elder showed a savage smile.

“Rog.‍ The leader of‍‍ the dark elves‍⁠ you so despise.”‌

Rog’s‍ next move sealed‍‍ the high elf’s⁠‍ fate. She collapsed, pink intestines spilling⁠ out. Her gaze⁠‍ lost focus, her‍ breath faded. Only‍‌ then did the screams and chaos‍⁠ reach her long‍ ears.

“Phew.⁠‌ So this is‍ how it ends.”‌⁠

Rog‍ exhaled and gestured‌‌⁠ with his chin.‍⁠ That was the‍ signal.

Dark‍⁠ elves hidden among‌‍ the high elves‍‌ launched an ambush⁠‍ on the demons.‌

Masters‍⁠⁠ of stealth, they‌‍ struck precisely at⁠‌⁠ vulnerable points.

“Kyah!”⁠

Having⁠ fed on fortified‍ soy meat, their‌ skin was as‍‍ pale as milk.‍

Outwardly, they looked nearly‍ identical to high elves. Only with‍ close inspection could⁠⁠‍ one see subtle‌ differences. But in the chaos of battle, no one‍ had time for‍ such scrutiny.

The‌ demons, drunk on bloodlust, were thrown⁠ into confusion. Enemy⁠ and ally blended.‍‌‌ High elves who’d‌ fought beside them‌ now stabbed them from behind.

From‌ the front, heroes‌ advanced furiously. Demon‍⁠ eyes darted wildly.⁠‍

The front line had‍ split. They had⁠‌ to watch both‍⁠ front and rear.⁠⁠‍

“Damn⁠ pointy-eared rats! Betrayed‌‌ us in the end!”

An‍ orc shouted as⁠‍⁠ he smashed a high elf’s skull‌‍‍ with a mace.‍ Blood sprayed his‌‌ protruding tusks.

Crunch!‍‍

A brutal blow. Orcs‍⁠ and elves had never gotten along.⁠ This was a temporary, fragile alliance.⁠⁠‍

“W-wait!‌‌‌ We’re not the‌ traitors…!”

The‌‍ orc crushed another‍‌‌ head. His eyes,⁠ now blood-red, puffed‍⁠ steam from his‍‌‍ nose as he⁠ roared.

“GRAAAAH!‌‍ Pointy-ears! I’ll kill‍ you all!”

That‍ orc was the first. The others‍⁠ followed, hunting long⁠‌‌ ears like a whack-a-mole game, smashing skulls left and⁠‍ right.

“Damn‍ it, you idiots!”⁠

With‍‍ no choice, the‌‍‌ high elves fought⁠ back. If they‍ didn’t, they’d be⁠ slaughtered by those‍‌ stupid pigs.

“Who…⁠ did this?”

An‌ old high elf glared furiously, scanning‍‌ for the instigator.⁠‌ Then he saw figures with their⁠ ears wrapped in⁠ cloth.

“Them!”‌‌

Dark‍‍ elves. They wore⁠⁠ earmuffs issued by‍ the association to hide their ears‌‌‌ from orcs.

The‌⁠ old elf tried⁠‌‍ to shout. But⁠ a crude mace⁠‍ crushed his skull.‍ Teeth flew, pressure⁠ popped out his‌ eyes. He died‍‍ instantly.

One⁠ of his eyeballs‍ rolled to a stop at Rog’s feet. Though the optic nerve had‍‌ snapped, Rog’s mocking smirk seemed to‍ stare back.

“You’ve‌ got to know‍ who to side‌ with.”

Dark⁠‌ elves. Born traitors.‌‌ Today was no exception.

***‍

Recruiting‌‌ the dark elves‌ was a personal‍ gamble. Their history of betrayal is⁠ well known.

As⁠⁠⁠ far as I know, that’s why⁠ they were expelled‌‌⁠ from among the‍ elves.

Because‌‍ of this, Director‌ Sung tried to‍⁠ dissuade me until‍ the very day⁠⁠‌ before the war.‌

They‍ can’t be trusted.‌ They’re a variable.‍ We should lock‍‍⁠ them in the‍ dungeons. That was‌ his argument.

But⁠ I insisted. Even‌ if we gathered⁠‍ all the heroes, the war wasn’t‌ in our favor.⁠‍ In that case, better to take‌‌⁠ a gamble. I’d‌ figure out later⁠‍‌ whether it yielded‌ fortune or poison.‍

It‍‍‌ might’ve seemed like‌⁠⁠ an irresponsible decision.⁠‍⁠ But so what?

From‍ the start, the‍‍‌ demons were never‌‍‍ a united front.‍‍

I took advantage of‌‍ that fact, and⁠ in the end,‍‌⁠ my bet paid⁠‍ off. The results⁠⁠ proved it. I made the right choice.

Their⁠⁠⁠ alliance is like‍‌ a time bomb.⁠ All it takes⁠ is a spark⁠ to light the⁠‍‍ fuse.

Clop⁠‌‌ clop.

Hooves⁠⁠‍ struck the ground. A group of⁠ centaurs kicked up‌⁠⁠ dust as they‍ charged furiously.

“Hyah!”⁠⁠

They were, in short,‌⁠ the demon cavalry.‌ Mobility was their‍⁠ pride.

Being trampled by them⁠ would be like‍‌⁠ being ground into⁠‌ mincemeat.

But⁠ when it came‍ to speed, they‌ had no edge⁠ over me.

I kicked hard off‍⁠ the ground and‍‌ accelerated, charging straight‌ at them.

The‍‌‌ centaurs paused momentarily.‌‌ They hadn’t expected⁠‍ me to charge⁠‍ directly.

But‍‍ only for a moment. Instead of‍⁠ stopping, they neighed⁠ louder and quickened‌‌ their pace, accepting‍ the challenge.

Just‍ before impact, I flung myself backward‍ as if lying⁠ down, sliding across⁠‌ the ground. I lowered my posture‍ to the limit,‌‌ and the hooves‍‍‍ whizzed just inches⁠ above me. Hundreds‌ of hooves thundered‍ overhead.

The dust blurred vision,‍‌⁠ but it didn’t⁠ matter. With “mental⁠‍ dominion,” I maximized‍ my senses.

While⁠‌ sliding, I slipped into the midst‍⁠ of the group.‌ They reacted half‍‌⁠ a second too‌ late. They couldn’t⁠⁠ control the inertia⁠ of their charge.⁠‍

I sprang up suddenly,⁠‌ using my core‍‌ like a spring,‌‌ and simultaneously gripped⁠ Murasame’s cord tightly.‍

I drew an arc‌ along the ground‍‍ in the shape⁠ of a full‌⁠ moon.

The‍‌‌ blade struck the‌ hind legs like‍ a venomous viper.‍‌ Screams erupted and⁠‍ blood sprayed like‍⁠ fountains.

Neigh!‍‌

Their‌⁠ front hooves rose. Losing their back‍‍ legs, they lost balance and toppled⁠‍ over.

About‌‌⁠ thirty fell. Enough‍ to tangle up‍‍ their advance.

Some,‍ with severed front‍ legs, thrashed and‍ created chaos within‍‌ their own ranks.‍ It was like‌‌ watching wild horses‌‌ possessed.

“Stab!⁠ Stab them!”

They⁠ tried to respond,‍ clumsily. But in‍ the crossfire, their own bodies got‌ in each other’s‌ way. The disorder‍‌ was so great it would take⁠ time to regroup.⁠‌ That’s the great weakness of cavalry.‌‍

I drew Eternal Frost⁠‌ from my waist.‌

Took‌⁠‍ a short breath.‌ Then I lunged⁠⁠ at the downed‌ foals like a tiger. The blade⁠‍ gleamed like a fang under the‌‍ sun’s light.

Slash!‌‍⁠

The⁠ massacre continued. My‍ body soaked in⁠‌ blood. The centaurs⁠‌‌ were cleaved into⁠⁠ polar halves—half human,⁠ half horse.

The‍‌ more I killed,‍‍ the more alive‌‍ my soul felt.‍⁠

My⁠‍ heart pounded fiercely.‍‌

My⁠‍‌ blood boiled. Today,⁠‍‍ the sashimi blade‍ felt especially at⁠‍ home in my‍ hands.

The⁠ more blood it‍‌ absorbed, the more‍ vitality it exuded.‍

Ah,‌ truly, sashimi is⁠ a knife made for cutting flesh.⁠⁠‌