The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master — Chapter 290: The Founding Hero (1)

Chapter 290: The Founding Hero (1)

Meain‌ collapsed to her⁠‌ knees on the‍⁠‍ spot. Her knees‍ were bleeding, bruised‌ from the blows.⁠‌

She⁠ covered her lips with both hands and murmured.

“This⁠ can’t be… Leon,⁠ was this your⁠‌⁠ plan…?”

Though⁠⁠ she didn’t show⁠ it, the hero’s‍ betrayal had deeply⁠‍ shaken her.

After⁠‌‌ all, she was‌‌‍ the one who‍‍ had brought Leon to Joaquin Academy.‌‍ Even if his⁠‌ intentions had been unclear, Meain felt‍ a personal sense‍‍ of responsibility for‍ him.

That‍ made his betrayal‌‌ all the more‍ painful—and confusing. Though‍‌‍ they hadn’t spent‍ much time together,‍‍ Leon hadn’t seemed‍⁠ like someone who would act out‍ of self-interest.

‘Leon⁠‍ carries the blood‍⁠ of the archangel‌⁠ Metatron. By nature,‍‍ he couldn’t do⁠‌ something like this.’⁠

There had to be‌ another reason. Throughout the entire battle,‍‍ Meain had kept⁠‌⁠ turning that thought‍⁠‌ over in a corner of her‌ mind.

And⁠‌ now, at last,‌⁠ she understood why‍‍ Leon had acted⁠ as he did—and⁠ what the prophecy‍ really meant.

“Akashic⁠‌⁠ Records…”

If⁠‌ the prophecy was‍‍ true, then the‌‌ hero had come‍‌⁠ here to die.⁠

At⁠‌ the hands of⁠ the Demon King’s⁠ sword.

***‌

The‍⁠ gods wanted to‌ uncover the origin‌⁠ of the universe.‌‍ So, they ordered‌‍ their servants, the‍‌ angels, to investigate.‌

The⁠⁠ gods considered themselves‍⁠ omnipotent and omniscient.⁠ And indeed, they‌ were—at least until⁠ He appeared.

The⁠⁠‍ God of the‍ Sword.

He‌⁠ changed everything. He stood alone against‌ the omnipotent gods‍‌ and shattered even‍ truths that seemed‍⁠⁠ absolute.

In‍‍‍ later generations, that conflict would be‌ grandly named “Ragnarok”… but in truth…‌‍

It‌ was a massacre.‍⁠ It couldn’t even‍ be called a battle.

From‍ that moment on,‌‍ the gods lost⁠⁠ their physical forms⁠‌ and wandered through the cosmos as‌ spirits. Perhaps that‌‍ form was the‌‌ most divine—but they⁠‌⁠ didn’t see it‍‌ that way.

It‍ wasn’t enough for⁠‌ them to give⁠‌ formless commands to‍‍‌ the angels. They⁠ wanted to exert‌ direct influence over‌⁠ the universe. But‍ to act immediately‌ was impossible—The God of the Sword protected the universe.‌‍

So‍‌ they decided to⁠‌ wait for the‌ right moment. To⁠ prepare thoroughly for⁠‌ the day they‍‍ could take their‌ revenge.

During‍ that time, a strange incident occurred—The‍ God of the‌ Sword committed suicide.⁠‍ It took the‌ gods eons to‍ understand why.

〈This⁠‍‍ universe was too‍ weak for him‌⁠ to inhabit.〉

In⁠ other words, the‍ universe they thought⁠ was “everything”… was‍‍ only one of⁠‌ many.

〈The‍⁠ universe is one,‍ but also all.〉⁠

And‌⁠ they wanted all of it. Their‌ nature was greed.⁠‌

〈To‌ have everything beneath‍‌ them, to control it all—that is‍‌ what it means‍ to be a god.〉

So⁠ they ordered the⁠ angels to record‌‍ every corner of⁠‌ the universe. And‍ the first to‍‍ lead that task‌‍ was the archangel‍‍ Metatron.

During‍ that process, many⁠ angels fell to corruption and rebelled.‌ They became fallen⁠ angels—the Grigori. Metatron‌ suppressed them alone.

After⁠ that, the gods‍‍‍ ordered Metatron to‌‍ write only the‌ truth of the⁠‍ world. They no⁠ longer trusted even⁠‍ their own creations.‌

And Metatron obeyed. He‍‌ swore to dedicate‍⁠ his existence to‍⁠ the Akashic Records.⁠

Eras⁠⁠‍ passed. So much‍⁠ time that numbers⁠ lost meaning. Finally,⁠ only one planet remained to complete‌⁠ the Akashic Records.‍

Metatron⁠ disguised himself as‌‌ a human and‌⁠ wandered that world.‌ Warrior, scholar, noble, beggar, commoner—he lived⁠‌‍ many lives, listening‍⁠ to the voices‍‍ of both humans‌‌ and demons.

Perhaps⁠⁠ because of that‌ effort, in the‍ end, only one‌‌‌ blank remained in‌ the record—emotion.

‘Specifically…⁠ what is love?’⁠

That‍ was his greatest‍ dilemma. Angels were‌ puppets of the gods. And puppets weren’t made to feel emotions. An⁠‌‌ angel with emotions?‍‍‌ It was absurd.‍‌⁠ What seemed like‌ feelings were just‌ simulations.

And⁠ yet—

Metatron‍ loved. Even though⁠⁠ Leon had been‌ created as part of his mission,‍⁠ he truly loved⁠‌ him. With all his being.

He wanted to be⁠‌ with him. He⁠ wanted to give⁠‌‍ him everything. If it was for‌⁠‍ Leon, he would‌⁠‍ give up eternity‌‍⁠ without hesitation.

‘But‍ the gods won’t‍⁠‌ allow that.’

Even‍⁠‍ if they changed‌ their minds someday,‍ as long as‍ the Akashic Records‌⁠ weren’t complete, it was impossible. There‌‍ was only one⁠ option left.

‘Complete‌ the Akashic Records⁠ as soon as‍⁠ possible.’

With‍ that decision, Metatron‍‍⁠ accelerated his work.‍‍ That’s why he‌⁠ could only be‍‍ with his son‍ one day a year.

Not‌ just because there‌‍ was so much‍ to record, but because if the‌ gods found out,‌⁠ they wouldn’t let⁠‌ Leon live.

The‌‍⁠ gods were incarnations‌ of greed. To them, Leon—with his⁠‌ limitless potential—was the‌⁠ sweetest fruit.

Metatron,‍ who had served‍‌‌ them at the⁠⁠‍ front lines, could⁠⁠ already see the‌‌‍ end.

‘The‍ gods will try⁠ to seize Leon’s⁠ body.’

Then,‍⁠ Leon would lose⁠ his identity and‌⁠ become their puppet.⁠⁠ As a father,‍ he couldn’t allow‍‍ that.

‘I‍ must act more‌ carefully. With absolute‌‍ precision.’

Compared⁠⁠ to that, kneeling⁠ before a former‌‍⁠ enemy meant nothing.⁠‍‍

Metatron⁠ went to see⁠⁠‍ Kuarne, once known‍ as Azazel. He‍ was ready to⁠⁠ go again and‌ again if rejected.

Not‍ because he trusted‍‌ Kuarne. Nor because of “the enemy‍‍ of my enemy‍‌‍ is my ally.”

But‌ because they were⁠‍⁠ brothers by blood.‌‌ He knew his‌⁠ brother better than‍ anyone. His cunning was enough to‌ deceive even the⁠⁠ gods for a time.

Kuarne‌⁠ didn’t think like‌‌ an angel. He‌ knew how to‍ exploit the weaknesses‍‍‌ of the immortals.⁠ If he could‍‍ be intrigued, he‌ might become the‍‍‍ best ally.

Even⁠⁠‌ as brothers, Metatron‌ knew his visit⁠‌ might not be‍ welcome. He was‍ prepared to offer⁠ anything Kuarne asked⁠ for.

“Alright.”‌

Kuarne accepted without hesitation.‍ Metatron was stunned⁠ by the unexpected⁠ response.

“The⁠⁠⁠ past is behind⁠ us. As you⁠ can see, I’m⁠⁠‌ very satisfied with⁠ my current situation.”⁠

Kuarne‌⁠ smiled, as if⁠ mocking everything, and said.

“I’m⁠ rather glad you‌‍‌ came. That our‌ virtuous Metatron is‌ finally rebelling against‍⁠‍ the will of‌ heaven—that’s the true⁠ path of defiance.”⁠

“…Do‍⁠ you truly want⁠ nothing, Azazel? If⁠‌‍ you wish, I can even give‍ you a copy‌‍ of the Akashic‌ Records.”

“I⁠ couldn’t care less‌⁠ about a product⁠ of those losers.‍ We’ve already seen⁠‍‌ the true source‍⁠‍ of this world,‌ haven’t we? And you want to⁠‌ reach it through‍⁠ written words? As⁠ their servant, I consider that utter⁠⁠ blasphemy.”

Even⁠‌ so, Metatron couldn’t⁠ shake his distrust‌‍ of his brother’s‍⁠ wicked grin.

“I swear by the‍‌‌ Path of Defiance.‍‌ I, Kuarne, swear‍⁠⁠ to protect your‌⁠⁠ son. Moreover, without‌ any personal interference,‍ your nephew will⁠ act according to‍⁠⁠ his own will.⁠ I ask only‍ one condition.”

“Tell‌ me.”

“It’s‌‍ nothing major. I just want your‍ nephew to be‍⁠ there when that being returns. That’s‍‍ all.”

That‌ “being” his brother‍ referred to time‍ and again was‍ the God of‍ the Sword. Metatron‍ had witnessed his⁠ suicide with his‍ own eyes and⁠‍ recorded it in‍‍‌ the Akashic Records.‍‌‍

A return? Absurd. The‍⁠ God of the‌‌‌ Sword could no⁠‍ longer exist in‍ this world.

“Alright.”‍‌

But‌‌ Metatron said no‍ more. After all,‍⁠‍ Kuarne had sworn‌ by the name⁠ of the God⁠‍ of the Sword.⁠

That‌ carried weight. Breaking such an oath‌‌ would mean forfeiting‌‌ his very identity.‌⁠

“Thank‌ you, brother.”

Those‌ were the last‍ words Metatron spoke‌‍‍ before leaving Kuarne’s‌‍ sanctuary.

“Thank‌ you for coming,⁠ brother.”

“Yes…”‌‌

That‌⁠ had been a mistake. A rash act, blinded by‍ love.

The‌‌ following year, Kuarne‌ sold Metatron out‍‌‌ to the gods.‌⁠⁠ And yet, he‌ faithfully upheld the‌ oath.

He‌‍ carefully hid Leon from the gods’‍‌ gaze until he⁠‍⁠ had “ripened,” and respected his will—his‍⁠ vengeance.

Up‍‌‍ to that point,⁠‌⁠ everything was going according to Kuarne’s‌ plan.

***‍

The⁠ heavens and earth‍ roiled in chaos.‌ Each time Leon‌ took a step,‌‌ the ground cracked‍‌ like a spiderweb.⁠

It‌‍ was as if the land itself⁠‍ couldn’t bear his‌‌‌ weight. Space was⁠ so distorted it seemed to boil⁠⁠‌ red.

Clutching⁠‍ someone by the⁠ hair, a dull‌‍ sword stabbed into⁠⁠‍ their abdomen and⁠‌ their guts spilling‌ out, everyone else‍‍⁠ had stopped moving.⁠‌

And⁠ all eyes locked‌ onto Leon. That’s when his figure‍‌‌ vanished.

Whoosh!⁠

Leon closed in on Kang Geom-Ma. It‌⁠‌ wasn’t a movement—it⁠‍ was like he⁠ folded the concept‍‌⁠ of time itself like a piece⁠ of paper.

Kang‌ Geom-Ma was still⁠‍ bound by physical⁠ laws. He wasn’t‍ fully awakened yet.⁠‍ That’s why he⁠‍‍ reacted a second‍ too late.

Leon’s fist struck him squarely in the‌ jaw.

Bang!‍‍‌

The‌ sound was more‌ explosion than impact.⁠‌ Kang Geom-Ma’s body‌ launched skyward, easily piercing the stratosphere.⁠⁠⁠

Gravity⁠⁠⁠ faded, his body‌‌ floated.

A bluish arc came⁠‌⁠ into view. The‍ clouds drifted like‍ boats in the⁠ sky.

‘The⁠ Earth…’

The⁠‍ planet beneath his‌‌ feet shrank rapidly.‌ He could now⁠ see entire continents.‍

A majestic sight that⁠ would steal anyone’s‌ breath—though this was⁠‍‌ no time to‌ marvel.

The‌ air was so‍⁠ thin he could‍ barely breathe. The‍‌⁠ sun’s unfiltered rays‍‌ scorched his eyes.⁠⁠

Kang Geom-Ma looked down,‍⁠‍ his eyes trembling.⁠ Leon was speeding⁠‌⁠ toward him, tearing⁠‌ through the air.‍⁠‍

Though‍‍ there was no‌ sound, it felt‍‍ like a sonic boom had struck‌ his ears.

Leon⁠ stared straight at⁠ him—or rather, something‍ behind Leon did,‌‍ grinning maliciously.

Kang‌ Geom-Ma’s jaw quivered.‌ His cheek trembled.‍‌ Blood crystallized into‍⁠ crimson pearls.

It‌‍ was more of‍‌ a blast than‌‌ a blow. And‌⁠ he was at ground zero. Kang‍ Geom-Ma’s body, free from gravity, flew‌ like a beam⁠‌ of light toward‌‌ a distant point.‌ At the same⁠ time, Leon propelled‌ himself again from‌⁠ the stratosphere.

The‌ scenery changed at‍⁠ incredible speed. Fixed‌ stars fled like⁠ meteors. The Earth‍⁠ and Sun faded‍‌ into the distance.‌⁠⁠

Floating‌ debris struck his‌ back.

‘Ah…’⁠⁠

Finally,⁠‍‍ reason returned to‍ him. That thing charging at him⁠ like a demon—was⁠ his enemy.

He had to cut‍ it, split it.‍ He felt unity‌⁠⁠ between his hand and his sashimi.‍

‘That’s‌⁠ enough.’

Kang‍ Geom-Ma smiled. And, mid-flight, crashed into‌ the Moon. Its‌‍ surface shattered.

From⁠‍ the pile of‌ gray dust, a gleam emerged. His‍‍‍ pupils were white,⁠⁠ the contours of‍⁠⁠ his eyes black.⁠

Kang⁠ Geom-Ma rose from‌ the crater. Pieces of rock slowly⁠ fell from his‌ body.

Something⁠⁠ roared inside him.‍ It was his⁠‌ humanity, still clinging on.

“If‍‍⁠ I cut.”

He‍‌ blew on that fragile flame and⁠ extinguished it.

“It‌‌ shall be cut…”‍

The‌ round Moon split⁠⁠ like an apple⁠ cleaved in half.‍

***⁠⁠⁠

Consciousness‌‌ dipped briefly into⁠‍ overwhelming darkness.

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《Activating the Demon⁠ Eye of Defiance‍ Against the Heavens.》‌

***⁠‌⁠

A dust-covered lamp gave⁠⁠ off a dim‌⁠ light. Red lanterns‍ with massive Chinese‍‌ characters hung from‍‍ the ceiling, along‌‌ with oriental-style dolls.⁠⁠

The⁠ sweet scent of liquor and the‌‍ smell of raw‍‍ fish filled my⁠ nose. It was⁠‌ a familiar, yet‌ oddly foreign sensation.‍

“Where⁠ am I…?”

I held my forehead‍⁠⁠ as I sat‌‌ up. Just then,⁠ my elbow accidentally knocked something over.‌

The⁠⁠ table shook. A green bottle rolled‌ off, shattering with‍⁠ a sharp crash.⁠

“Hey,‌ you idiot!”

The⁠ sharp rebuke yanked‍⁠‌ me back to‍ reality. I blinked‍ in confusion and‌ looked to the⁠ side.

The‍ first thing I saw were the⁠ swollen, balloon-like eyes‌⁠‍ of a furious‍ man. His expression‍ was irritable, one⁠‌ sleeve rolled up‌ and flapping.

“Are⁠ you gonna snap⁠ out of it⁠‌ or what!?”

It‌‍ was the first⁠ boss who existed‍‍ only in my‌ memories. The founding⁠‍ hero, Balor Joaquin,‌‌ stood right in⁠⁠‌ front of me,‍ wielding a sashimi‍ knife.