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The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master Chapter 296: Blessing of the Miracle (2)

Chapter 296: Blessing of the Miracle (2)

People​‍ in this world​ grow up listening‍ to myths from‍ childhood.

They​​⁠ dream as they​ hear tales of‌⁠ those who carry‌ out the judgment​‌ of the gods.⁠⁠‍

‘I‌ want to be‍​⁠ like them, like‍‍ the angels!’

Innocent‌​‍ children feel a pure admiration.

They⁠​‍ liked the angels⁠ more than the​‌ gods themselves.

After⁠⁠‌ all, angels had⁠⁠ more elements to‍​⁠ spark the imagination.⁠⁠⁠

With‍⁠ wings as white​⁠⁠ as snow, they⁠​‌ soar freely through​ the skies and‍ annihilate evil. They⁠‍​ bring justice.

They⁠ shatter the night⁠‌​ and announce the‍ dawn. Ivory feathers​⁠ fall as if​‌⁠ embracing those seeking‍ salvation. The morning‍‌‍ sun casts its​⁠‍ light, hiding their​‌ facial features.

But‍‍‌ beneath the shadows​‌​ of that face,⁠ their eyes emit⁠ a sublime glow.​‌‌ They extend a warm hand and⁠⁠⁠ speak to humans.⁠​

— Do not fear⁠‌ the darkness. We‍⁠‍ have come.

Romanticism.⁠⁠‍ It is the‌ essence of heroes⁠ and the legacy⁠ of angels. Even‍ if they were⁠​⁠ once irreconcilable enemies⁠‍⁠ to the ancients,‍⁠ the modern world‌⁠ doesn’t know those​⁠⁠ stories.

History​ is written by‌ the victors. And‌‌​ the angels always‍⁠ were. That’s why‌​⁠ they are the‍⁠ protagonists of myths.‌⁠ They are the‌​ symbol of the​​ sacred. People revered⁠‍‌ them.

Among⁠‌ them, Metatron was‌ called the most‌ radiant. He was‌​​ an angel in‍​ a league of​‍ his own, considered⁠‍ almost a demigod.​​‌ Speaking of his‍‌⁠ power and nobility‌‌ tired the tongue.⁠‌

That‍ was, at least,‍​ until he broke‌ the coffin and⁠‌ appeared.

“Grrrrrr…”‌‍

Metatron‍‍‌ bared his teeth‌‌ fiercely and drooled‌‍​ uncontrollably. His growl‌‌ was more like⁠‌‍ a bear’s or‍‍⁠ a beast’s. And‍‌ it wasn’t a metaphor. The man‍⁠‌ truly seemed like​⁠ a wild animal.​

“Let⁠ me present! This​ is my older​​‍ brother, Metatron!”

Kuarne​‌​ spread his arms‌​ as he introduced‍‍ him. He openly‍ declared that this‍ man with clouded​ eyes and inhuman‍ growls was Metatron.‍​

The‌ crowd was baffled.​‍‍ Thousands of eyes‍‍​ shook.

‘Metatron…?’‌‍

It‌‌⁠ was a figure⁠‍ entirely opposite to⁠ the one they​⁠ admired in childhood.​⁠‌ Metatron had shackles​​‍ on his ankles.⁠ They’d been there‌​ so long the‌ skin had torn,⁠‌‌ leaving bloody scabs.⁠‌

The⁠ air grew tense.‍⁠ Heroes and demons‌​​ swallowed hard.

Whooooooosh.‌‍

The‍‌⁠ energy Metatron radiated⁠​ weighed heavily on‍‌ their shoulders. Their⁠⁠⁠ hearts beat so‌‌‌ hard the left⁠ side of their‌‍ chest ached. The⁠​ being they so⁠ respected as children‌ now resembled a god of death.‍⁠

Metatron​ turned half his‍‍⁠ body. His right​‍‌ shoulder trembled. A storm erupted instantly.‍⁠ And it wasn’t‌​⁠ a metaphor, but‌‍ a true storm.⁠​

A sonic boom. The⁠ leader of the‌⁠ dark elves, Rog,‌​ only moved his‌‌ eyes. His pupils​​‌ shrank. It was⁠‍ a bodily reaction​ to an incredible​⁠ spectacle.

“T-this…”​‍⁠

A punch. A simple‍ punch. With just‌‌ one blow, dozens⁠ of demons were‍​‍ annihilated. And they⁠ weren’t even in‍​ direct range.

It​​ was the air‍⁠‌ pressure. The whirlwind⁠ generated by the‍⁠​ punch tore through⁠ the enemy formation​ like a train‍​‌ through a tunnel.‌​

‘…Is‌​ this even possible​‍ through brute strength​​ alone?’

Rog⁠⁠‌ glanced sideways at⁠⁠ Kuarne, who smiled‍‌​ sweetly. His half-hidden​‌‌ eyes glinted mischievously.⁠⁠

‘Kuarne​‍‍ did something strange.’‍​

And⁠‍‍ indeed, he had.‌‌‍ Kuarne had manipulated‍ the air to‍⁠⁠ make it lighter,‌ amplifying the power⁠ of the blow.​‍‍ It was a technique the brothers⁠​ used when they⁠⁠⁠ were both angels.⁠⁠‍

“Just‍​⁠ as I expected…‍​​ you’re amazing, brother.”​

Kuarne⁠‍ said with admiration.‌​ Although he had‌‍ supported with his​‌⁠ magic, in the​‌ end, it was‍ only auxiliary. The‌ true destruction was⁠⁠‌ purely Metatron’s doing.‌‌ If an ordinary​⁠⁠ hero had thrown⁠‌ that punch, it‌ would have been⁠‌ just a breeze.⁠

Time,⁠ which had seemed‌⁠​ frozen, resumed its‍ flow. At the‍​‌ same time, heroes​‌ and demons aligned⁠⁠‌ precisely. The demons⁠⁠ conjured magic shields,‌ while the heroes​⁠ raised steel barriers⁠⁠ with their shields.​⁠​

Metatron’s​‍ bare feet crushed​ the ground. The‍‍⁠ earth sank like‌​ clay.

Boom!​

He‌‍‍ charged at full⁠⁠ speed. A battle⁠ of one versus⁠​ many—a war between‌ man and army—had‍ begun. One attacked,⁠ many defended.

“Damn‌ it. What kind⁠​‌ of strength is⁠ this?!”

Thirty​‌ tanks held up‍‍ their shields with​​ all their might.‍ They were warrior-class​‍ heroes. All were​ renowned experts, even‌ blessed with multiple‍‌ boons.

Even⁠‍​ so, it was⁠⁠ overwhelming. The shield​​ wall deformed under‌‌ the pressure of‍‍ the punch. The​⁠ impact penetrated not⁠​ only the shields​⁠‍ but also muscles‌ and bones. They⁠⁠‌ couldn’t relax a single muscle. Their⁠⁠ bodies remained tense,‍‍‍ sweat and blood‌​ flowing equally.

And​​‌ the demons were‌ even worse off.‌‌⁠ Unlike the heroes,‍ they were taking⁠‍ the punches directly.‌​⁠

“Why⁠ are we the‍​ ones doing close⁠‍ combat?!”

Metatron’s⁠‍‌ muscles were etched‍‍‍ with runes of‍⁠‌ annihilation. Perhaps his‍⁠ brutality toward the⁠ demons was part‌​​ of his very‍⁠​ nature.

Crash!​‌

The​ barriers were continuously⁠‌ shattered. Many demons‍‍ who tried to⁠​​ counterattack instead of​ defending exploded on‍ contact.

Metatron​‌‍ rampaged wildly among⁠​⁠ the dust clouds.​ He moved at​ subsonic speeds, alternating‍ punches between magical‌⁠ barriers and steel‍ shields. His drooping​⁠ arms swung like‍⁠ scythes, reaping lives.‍‌​ The muscles in‌⁠ his arms, layered​⁠⁠ and visible, moved⁠ clearly.

Groups‌ of hundreds fell​ with a single⁠ blow. The back​​⁠ of his fist​ crushed the demons.‍⁠‌ His hands were⁠ soaked in blood.⁠​ The blood that‌ hadn’t yet dried⁠ dangled like whips⁠​​ from his fists.‌‌ It was a violent dance with​ no intent to⁠​ defend.

Metatron‌​ was strong. His‌‌​ mythical strength was​⁠⁠ felt vividly. That‌‍‌ he had massacred‌ Gregory alone was​‍ no exaggeration. And‍⁠ even so, he​‌ was weakened. Both⁠​⁠ feet were chained,⁠⁠ so he was​‌⁠ only using his⁠‍‌ fists.

Just‍‌ punch, crush, and​ destroy. Metatron’s attacks⁠​‌ were destruction incarnate.⁠⁠ They had no​ name. They weren’t​‍‍ techniques.

Craaaaack—⁠

That‍⁠ alone made him⁠‍⁠ invincible. Not even‌‍‌ elemental magic could‍⁠ pierce his hardened⁠ muscles.

Fire,​‌ which should burn​‌ like lava, barely​ singed his skin.‍‌ His strength and‌​ endurance were off⁠ all charts.

‘To‌ face this guy,‌​ you’d need at‌‍ least a Corps⁠‍‌ Commander.’

Changseong‌ gritted his teeth.‍‍ He was holding​‍⁠ the shield with‌‍ his back alongside⁠ the tanks. He‍ couldn’t resist using​‌⁠ only his arms.‍ His feet were‌‌‌ sinking deep into⁠ the ground.

‘Kuarne…’⁠⁠​

Through‍ the narrow gaps⁠⁠ between shields, he⁠‍ observed him. That​ bastard was just‍​⁠ watching the chaos‍⁠ from afar.

“Why‍⁠ isn’t he joining‌ Metatron?”

If‌‌​ Kuarne joined in,‍‌ the balance would‍‌ shift instantly.

Both⁠​‌ heroes and demons⁠‌ had already lost​⁠ many of their⁠‌‌ top fighters after‌‌​ the previous battle.⁠⁠⁠

While​ they were still‍ standing as best‌ they could, the⁠​‍ survivors were exhausted.⁠

‘If⁠​‌ Metatron and that‌‌​ guy work together⁠‌ in this situation…’‌⁠

Just‌‌‌ imagining it was‍‍ chilling. But Kuarne​‍ merely cast spells​​ to support Metatron.‌‌

‘Something’s​​‌ off. Even if‌ he used a massive spell, just⁠⁠ watching like this…⁠ something’s definitely going​‌‍ on.’

After‌​ watching him for‍⁠ a while, Changseong⁠ made a decision.‌​‌ He shouted at‍⁠​ the Swordmaster with​​ all his might.‌⁠⁠

“Nibelung!”​

Even⁠‍‌ amid the uproar,‌‌ his voice reached⁠​ the Swordmaster’s ears.‌‍‌ Upon seeing him,‌ Changseong smiled.

“Wanna‍ dance a sword‍ dance with me?”⁠‍

Leaning‍‍‍ on his shield,‌‍⁠ Changseong raised his‍‍ spear. A fierce‍‌​ smile spread across‍‌‍ the Swordmaster’s face.​

“Sure.‍ My hands were​‌‌ itching anyway.”

Without⁠ hesitation, he drew⁠‍‌ his sword. The​ sound of metal⁠‍⁠ was crisp.

“The⁠ best defense is​ a good offense,‍‍ don’t you think?”​

“Exactly.‍​‌ That definitely sounds‌ like something a friend of mine‍‍ would say.”

Changseong‌​ stepped away from‍​⁠ the shield. A gap just wide⁠​‌ enough for one‍‌⁠ person opened in⁠⁠ that wall of​⁠⁠ steel.

He​​ inhaled deeply as​ he saw the‌⁠ battlefield before him.​⁠‌ His chest swelled.‌‍​

‘Metatron‍ is fighting the​ demons for now.’‍​​

His⁠ heart pounded hard.⁠‌‌ Oxygen sped up‌​ his brain activity.‌‍​ He began to‌⁠‌ read the overall⁠‍ picture.

‘Meanwhile,‍ we need to‍ get to Kuarne.’‌

Changseong‌⁠‌ was the first‌‍ to charge. The‍‌ Swordmaster followed. Mid⁠‌ Sage, Meian, Mao⁠⁠ Lang, and All⁠‌​ Mute joined too.‍

As‍‍ soon as they‌​‌ left, other tanks⁠‍⁠ closed the gap‍‍‍ with their shields.​‍

From​ between the shields,⁠ the tanks watched‍⁠​ the backs of‍⁠ the six heroes.‍‍⁠

“They’ve‌⁠‌ offered themselves as​ bait.”

The‌ moment they crossed‌⁠​ the defensive line,‌‌‌ they accepted their‍‍​ possible death. In⁠ the most dangerous⁠‌ situation, they chose‌​​ sacrifice. The mark​​‌ of a true‌‌ hero.

“Yaaah!”‍​⁠

One⁠ of the tanks​‌​ roared. The shout,‌​⁠ legless but full‌‍ of strength, spread‍ quickly. The tanks,​ who had only​‍ been retreating, began⁠​ to advance. The‍‌⁠ dealers pushed them​ from behind, sharing​‌ the burden.

The​​ heroes advanced slowly​ but steadily.

Six​‌​ heroes were running.⁠⁠⁠ Changseong led the‌‌‌ front. To his‌‌ right were the⁠ Sword Master, Mao​⁠ Lang, and All‌‍ Mute. To the​​ left, the Poison⁠⁠ twins.

“I​​ think Metatron is​‍‍ being controlled,” said‍‍ Changseong, not looking‌ back. Meain added,‍⁠⁠ “Which means Kuarne‌ is the parasite.​​‍ Got it.”

Meain​‍ signaled to her‌‌⁠ sister. Media nodded.‍‌

The‍ twins split to⁠⁠‍ either side, as‍⁠ if one had⁠‌‌ turned into two.⁠⁠‍ That’s how twins‍⁠‌ are.

“All⁠‌ Mute, come with‌ me. All you​ need to do⁠‍ is disrupt Metatron’s⁠⁠⁠ five senses with⁠ your blessing. Even‌‍‍ if it’s just​⁠⁠ for a second.”‌​

Changseong​ said. Instead of​ replying, All Mute‌‍‌ opened her hand,‍​​ then clapped loudly.​‌

A buzzing sound echoed⁠ outward like a shockwave.

Metatron’s‌ fist faltered. He⁠‌ raised his clouded‍ eyes and started‌ glancing around, as‌​​ if he had‌​‍ just awakened. All​ Mute’s blessing had​ temporarily robbed him‍‍ of vision.

With‍‌ that, they gained⁠⁠‌ time to approach‌‍⁠ Kuarne.

Changseong‍ shifted his gaze⁠ from Metatron, bracing⁠ for any emergency.​⁠⁠

“Mao​ Lang, you’re with⁠‍ me. Kick that​ model face of‌⁠ his, I’ll stab‍‍ him in the⁠​ gut.”

Said⁠​⁠ the Sword Master.‌‍‌ Mao Lang flexed‍‍ her calves.

“I’m⁠‍​ gonna turn that‍‌​ pretty face real‌‌‍ ugly.”

Legends‌ of the past​‍ and the new‌ generation understood each‌​‍ other perfectly. The⁠‍ distance to Kuarne​ closed instantly. One​​​ of the Poison‌‍​ twins struck first.‌

“How‍‍ useless.”

Kuarne⁠ frowned and deployed‌‍​ a barrier. It⁠‍‍ was a slimy⁠ membrane like a soap bubble that‍​ deflected the point‌ of impact.

But‍‍‌ it burst. The‌⁠ Poison twins ripped‌​ through it with​ their claws.

It‌⁠ was Media’s [Blessing‍​​ of the Poet].‍‌‌ It allowed her⁠​‍ to foresee the‌ immediate future. Seconds‌‍​ earlier, she had⁠‍⁠ predicted what kind‌ of barrier Kuarne‍⁠ would use and‌​ informed her sister.​‍

At⁠ that moment, Meain‌ provided the solution.‌​ She was the‍‌ only mage among‍ the heroes, deeply​‌ versed in sorcery.‌‍⁠ During the fight,​​​ she had been⁠​ analyzing the weaknesses‌ in air-element magic.​ She finally found‌‍⁠ a breach. Now​​ they could respond⁠ flexibly to barriers.‍​‍

The⁠‌ barrier was broken.‍​ The Poison twins⁠‌ moved to the‌‍‌ sides. It was‌⁠‍ the next group’s⁠ turn.

The​​ Sword Master’s blade⁠⁠​ left his hand​‍ and flew freely.​​ A supreme technique⁠⁠‌ of telekinetic sword​ control.

Its​​ hum carved a chaotic path before‍ plunging down like⁠⁠​ lightning. The edge⁠‌ targeted Kuarne’s face.‌

Kuarne​‍ turned his head.​⁠ A bloody line​‌​ drew itself across⁠‌ his left cheek.⁠⁠

On‌ the right side​ came the metallic‌​ sound of Mao​ Lang approaching with‌​ a kick to⁠‌ the temple.

Kuarne​‍ caught his leg‍‍ and flung him‍‌​ away. But Mao​​ Lang landed without‌ issue. Kuarne’s martial‌‍ arts level wasn’t‍ very high. He⁠‌ was manageable.

Kuarne’s​​‌ face didn’t look‌⁠ good. He was‍​​ pouring his magical​ power into mentally‌‌‍ controlling Metatron. Just‍‍​ maintaining control of⁠‌​ his brother was‍ already exhausting him.‍

“…Now​ that I think‌ about it, this‍‌ is your fault.”‍

Kuarne‌ looked up with‌​ a hardened expression.‍ A ray of⁠⁠‍ light burst from​ the corner of‌‍ his eye.

“You​‍ were the one‌ who corrupted that‌ being.”

He​‌ laughed coldly as‍​⁠ he muttered.

“This‌ all… ends here.”⁠‌​

Kuarne’s‌​‍ skin began turning‌ black. Two horns‌ sprouted from his‌‌⁠ forehead, and his‌‍ pupils slit vertically.⁠‍

Ten⁠ pairs of bat⁠‌‌ wings emerged from‍⁠ his back, covered‌⁠ in blood and⁠‌‍ mucus.

A demon.

The⁠​ six heroes paused.‌‍​ Kuarne gave a twisted smile and​‍ declared. His appearance​‌ was more monstrous⁠ than any demon.​‌‌

“With⁠​ your skin, I’ll‍ weave an offering​ for Him.”

At⁠‌⁠ that moment, a comet descended with‍‍ a trail toward‌⁠ the ground. Gazes‌ split between Kuarne⁠ and the falling⁠​‌ star. Two phenomena⁠ occurred simultaneously, confusing‌ everyone.

— Fear not the‌​‍ darkness.

A voice echoed, as​ if to calm⁠‍ them.

— I have come.⁠

Ivory​ feathers touched the‌​⁠ ground. A young‌⁠⁠ man with radiant‍ blue eyes.

[The⁠​‍ Blessing of the‌ Miracle manifests.]

…Leon‍ van Reinhardt. Heroes,‌​ demons, and even​​‍ Metatron were left‍​‌ speechless at the‌ sight of the‍‌ hero.

From‌⁠ a blind spot​‌⁠ on the field,⁠ Kang Geom-Ma smiled‌ in satisfaction.

Then​‌⁠ closed his eyes.‌‍

‘The​ protagonist always appears‌⁠⁠ at the end.’⁠‍

Now‌​ it’s time to‌ look toward the‌ abyss. The true‌‍‍ protagonist is still⁠‍ there.

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