The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master — Chapter 298: Joaquin Academy (2)

Chapter 298: Joaquin Academy (2)

The⁠‌ return of the‍‌ hero, Leon van‌‍ Reinhardt, spoke volumes.⁠‍

Leon‍‌ had killed Saki‍ Kojima, the Absolute‌ Archer. Everyone present had seen it with their own eyes.

In‍‍‌ life, Kojima wasn’t particularly well-liked due‌‍‌ to his arrogant⁠‍ personality.

However,‍ had he perhaps‍‍ experienced a change of heart in⁠‌‍ his final moments?⁠ He shot his‍‍ arrow into the⁠‍‍ sky and saved⁠ many lives.

It⁠ was a sacrifice.‌‌

His‍‌ final image was‍⁠ that of a hero, so he‌ would surely be reevaluated after the war.

Moreover,‍‌ given people’s love‍ for stories with‌ twists, many praise-filled‌ anecdotes about him⁠‌ would likely emerge.‍⁠‌

“Well,‍‌ Kojima had a bad temper, but he wasn’t rotten‌ to the core.”‍

Things like that.

And⁠ on the other‌⁠‌ hand, there was‍‍‌ Leon van Reinhardt.‍

The‌‌ boy who inherited⁠‌⁠ the burden of‍‍‍ the hero, but‍ became humanity’s enemy.⁠

A traitor who betrayed⁠‌‍ every hope placed⁠‍ in him. His⁠‍ list of actions⁠ would make him⁠ the textbook definition⁠‍ of a traitor.⁠

There⁠ would be no‍⁠ escaping the cold⁠ stares and harsh⁠⁠‌ criticism he would‍ receive.

That‌‍ was what everyone⁠ expected.

Boom!‌

The⁠⁠ Swordmaster widened his‍⁠⁠ eyes at the‍‍ epicenter of the⁠ explosion.

But⁠⁠ the epicenter was⁠ in the sky.‍‍

Leon,‍‍ with wings of‍‌ ivory feathers, and‍ Kuarne, with black bat wings, faced‌ each other.

“Nephew!⁠⁠ Have you betrayed⁠ my expectations too?!⁠‌ Ah, what an‌ incomplete hero! Unable‍‍‌ even to awaken⁠ the Demon King!‌ After this war,‌⁠‌ you’ll be an enemy to both‍ humanity and the Demon Realm. That will never change.”⁠⁠

Kuarne⁠ spat mockingly, sticking‍ out his tongue‌ like a hyena.⁠‍‍

“Is⁠‍ that all? Then die here, shattered‌‌ to pieces, weeping⁠⁠ blood for the‍‌ generosity I once⁠ showed you.”

His‌‍ rusted voice sounded⁠‌ like that of‌ a jackal.

His⁠ face had taken‍ on the form of a black goat, with jagged,‍‍ sharp teeth. Like‍⁠ a drawing of⁠‍ a demon straight⁠‍ from hell.

“…This⁠‍ is all part‌ of my karma.”⁠

Leon⁠‍‍ thought as he‍⁠ wielded Balmung. Just‌‍ as Kuarne said, there was no⁠ place for him‌ in this world.‍

In death, he would‍‍‌ be remembered as‌ everyone’s enemy.

‘If I hadn’t returned…‍‍ I could’ve lived‌‍‌ quietly somewhere.’

But‌‌ he chose to‌ come back. Leon‍⁠‍ chose to face‌‌‌ his sins.

Even⁠ if everyone hated⁠⁠‌ him, he was‍ willing to accept⁠‍⁠ it.

‘This duel with Kuarne⁠ isn’t about redemption.’⁠‍‌

It⁠⁠ was something he‍‍⁠ had to do‌‍ from the beginning. Only now, freed‌⁠ from anger, was he fulfilling it.‍

He‌ didn’t do it‌ expecting anything in return.

“I’m⁠‌ not going to‍ ask the gods‍⁠⁠ to forgive my⁠‍ sins.”

He‍‌ opened his eyes.⁠‌⁠

A golden halo spun‍⁠ at the very‌⁠‌ center of his⁠‍⁠ pupil.

“Foolish and irreverent hero.‌‌ You won’t beg⁠‍‌ the gods… You’ll‌⁠‍ beg me to‌ kill you!”

Kuarne’s‌‌‌ eyes glowed with⁠ madness.

He didn’t suppress his pleasure or laughter. Each word was‍ filthy and repulsive,‍‍ like they could‌⁠⁠ rot the ears.‍

But‌‌‍ those demonic whispers didn’t reach Leon.‍‍‌ With a soft⁠‍‌ flap, his feathers⁠ scattered, melting into‍ the clouds.

Rumble!‍

The‌‍‍ two entwined in‌ the air, spinning‍‌ in circles like‌‍ the symbol ∞ or the number⁠ 8. At their⁠‌ ends, light and‍ darkness stretched like⁠ ribbons.

This‍ wasn’t just for‌‌‍ show. They were⁠‍ fighting with all‍⁠‌ their might.

Their‌ aura and magic⁠ clashed with murderous‌‌‍ intent.

Each‌‌ collision sparked flashes‍⁠ and thunder that⁠⁠ shook the sky.‍‍⁠

Boom!‍⁠ Crash! Thunder…

The⁠ Swordmaster, along with‌⁠ heroes and demons,‌⁠ watched the battle‌ like a grand⁠ aerial spectacle.

Among⁠ them stood Metatron, who had been⁠ rampaging like a beast.

Metatron opened his mouth,‌ saliva drooling from‍‌ his lips.

His‍ tongue was stiff,⁠‌ his pronunciation slurred.‌

“Le…on…”‍

He‍ murmured the name‍ clumsily, as if‍‌ savoring it. Clarity‌‌⁠ was slowly returning‌‍ to his clouded‌ eyes.

His‌⁠ fists, once tightly‌ clenched, began to‍‌⁠ loosen.

“Ah… li…sten…”

Metatron‌ was all but⁠ dead. The cruel‌ torture of the‌ gods had shattered‍ his mind.

Only his body remained⁠‍ strong—a hollow shell,‌⁠ manipulated like a puppet.

Pulse.‌

His⁠ arm muscles trembled. Warm blood began⁠‍‌ to flow through⁠‌‌ his body again.‌‍‌

Crack.‌

With‌‍‍ his left foot,⁠⁠ Metatron crushed the‌ shackle that bound‌⁠⁠ his other foot.‌‍⁠

It‌ was that easy⁠ to break free.‍ Freedom had never⁠⁠‌ been that far‌ away.

The⁠⁠ aerial battle raged⁠ on. Blades and‍⁠ magic clashed relentlessly,‌ sometimes leaving wounds.

It⁠⁠ looked like an‍⁠‌ even match.

But‌ those at a higher level could‍‍ see it clearly. Those who had‌⁠‍ grown through this‌‍ war could follow⁠‍ the battle’s flow‍ with their eyes.⁠

‘The‍ balance tilts toward‍ Kuarne.’

Meain⁠⁠ watched with concern.‍‌ As a human⁠ without wings, all‌ she could do⁠‍ was look up⁠ helplessly.

‘Kuarne‍‌‍ can regenerate on‍ his own. But‍ he’s not doing it. He’s saving‌ energy, planning for⁠‍ the next battle.’‌

A cunning bastard. Even‍ as he babbles‍‍ non-stop, he manages‍ his energy.

He‍ pretends to be⁠ mad, but in‌⁠ combat, he’s cold⁠ and calculating. His⁠ offense and defense‍‌ were perfectly balanced.

‘He’s not just a loudmouth. There’s a reason he led⁠‍ two great forces.’⁠‍⁠

Grigori⁠⁠‍ and the Demon Realm of Gehenna.‍

They‍‍ didn’t follow him‍⁠ for ideals. They‍⁠ followed power.

In⁠ the face of‌⁠‍ strength, there’s no‍ distinction between angels⁠ or demons. Absolute⁠ violence commands respect.‌‌

‘But‌⁠ if abused, no one follows in⁠‍ the end.’

Power‍⁠⁠ must be used‍ at the right‌‍‌ time to earn‌ devotion. Otherwise, you’re‍‍ just a brute.‌

Kuarne⁠ understood this well.‍

Even⁠ with his reputation,‌‌ demons followed him.‍‍‌

Had‍ he not slaughtered‍ his own kind,⁠ they would’ve followed‍⁠ him to death.‌

“If this continues, Leon’s going to lose.”‍‍

Unlike‌⁠ Kuarne, who fought⁠‌‌ shrewdly, Leon’s attacks⁠⁠ were too straightforward.⁠‌ It looked like‍‍‍ he had the upper hand, but⁠ none of his‍ strikes were decisive.‍‌

‘It‌ must feel like‍‍ fighting underwater.’

Though‌‍‌ Leon had awakened‌ in a short‌‌ time, he was‌ still only eighteen.‍‍

While‍‍‍ Kuarne was a monster who had‍‌ lived for thousands⁠⁠‍ of years.

Even‌ if their powers⁠‌ were similar, the‌ experience gap was massive.

Unless‌ he had a battle sense that made up for⁠ it.

“Like‌‍ Kang Geom-Ma…”

The‍ words slipped out⁠‍ unintentionally.

Precise use of strength,‍ power management, combat‍⁠ instinct.

Kang‍ Geom-Ma had it‌ all. Sometimes he‍ teetered on the‌⁠ edge between swordsman⁠‍ and demon, but⁠ he never crossed‌‌ the line.

That‌ was the difference.⁠‌

While the demons only⁠ wished for Kuarne’s‍‍ defeat, the heroes‍ longed for Kang⁠‌ Geom-Ma’s return.

Then,‍‌ the ground shook.

Surprised,‌ all eyes dropped—then‌‌ rose again.

At‌⁠ the center of⁠ all attention, Metatron⁠‌ bent his knees, ready to leap.‌

The‌⁠ muscles in his‍ lower body were⁠ tensed.

“No!”⁠

Changseong,⁠‍ who was nearby,‌‌ tried to stop‍ him.

He‌‌ thought Metatron was going to join Kuarne.

Metatron‌ glanced at him.‍‍ There was no⁠ hostility in his‍‍ gaze.

“Step⁠‍⁠ back a little.⁠‍ You might get⁠‌ hurt.”

And‍‍ with those words,⁠ he leapt into‍⁠‍ the air with‌ a boom.

Changseong‍‍‍ was swept away‌‌ by the gust‌ of wind.

The‌ ground was briefly‍‌ engulfed in dust.‌‍⁠

Falling⁠‍ backward from the‍ shockwave, Changseong looked‍ up through the floating debris.

And in that moment,⁠‌‌ his pupils dilated‍ and contracted repeatedly.⁠

He rubbed his eyes⁠ and opened them‌ wide.

His⁠ eyeballs burned.

‘M-Metatron‍ is helping the⁠ hero!’

As‌⁠ soon as he‍ grabbed Kuarne from‍‍ behind, Metatron began‌‍ pummeling him with⁠ his fists. The‌‍ residual images of‍ his punches rained down, blurring vision.⁠

From the front, Leon⁠‌ advanced, wielding Balmung.‌

The‌ reunion of father⁠ and son was‌‌ skipped. Instead, they‍‌‍ both held Kuarne‌‌ firmly. The noble⁠‌⁠ blood of angels‌‌ flowed through them‍‍‍ both.

“Feeling paternal now, brother?”‌‌

Kuarne‌‌‌ muttered with a scowl. Since Leon’s‌‌ appearance, he had⁠ already anticipated this,‌‌ which was why⁠ he hadn’t exerted‌ himself fully.

“Now⁠‍ that it’s come⁠ to this, there’s⁠‍⁠ no reason to‌‍ hold back.”

Surrounded⁠‌ by his older brother and nephew,⁠‍‍ dozens of black‍‍ arms tore through‌‌ his armpits to⁠ emerge.

Amid‌ scattered hair, they⁠ were coated in‍‍ coagulated blood and⁠ chunks of flesh.‌‌

The‌‍ joints of these‍‍ black arms bent⁠ in unnatural directions‌ and retaliated with‍‍ a flurry of⁠ blows. But Metatron’s⁠⁠‍ fists were heavy,‍⁠ so powerful the⁠‌⁠ black arms burst‍ apart.

However,‌ each time one‌ fell, two more grew. The same‍ occurred in front.⁠⁠ No matter how many Leon cut‍‍‌ down, they multiplied.⁠ In an instant,⁠⁠ there were over‍ two hundred pairs.‍‌

“Damn‌‌ you, Kuarne! What⁠ the hell did‌ you do?”

Metatron‌‍ roared in fury.‌‍‌ His mind and‍⁠ body were disconnected.⁠

He‍ had only been⁠ fully conscious for a few minutes.⁠

His‌ mind was still‌ foggy, like under the effect of⁠⁠ poison, and his‍⁠ limbs felt like‌⁠ lead.

Though⁠⁠ the shackles around⁠‍‌ his ankles were⁠⁠ gone, his mind‌ was still bound.‍

“Why so surprised? When‌‍ I sold you,⁠ I made a contract with the‌ gods.”

This‌ strange ability was‌‍ called “Unbreakable.” The‌‌‍ power of the‌ gods was nearly⁠ abstract, beyond physical‍ law. You can’t‍ destroy a concept⁠‍ with physical weapons.⁠

“The contract required the‌ body of the‍ ‘hero’ Leon. And‌‌ they accepted without‍ hesitation. Isn’t it‌ laughable? Signing a deal with the‌ servant who once‍ betrayed them. I felt such shame‌‌⁠ for having served‍ those avatars of⁠ greed. That’s when⁠ I realized—only He‌⁠ can be the⁠⁠ true master of⁠ this world.”

“You’re⁠ insane, Azazel. You⁠ accept their power‍ just to avoid‌ being their dog?⁠ And you think‍‌ that justifies what⁠ you’re doing?”

Black‍ veins bulged on‌‌‍ Kuarne’s temple.

“Justify?‍ Don’t talk nonsense. I only want⁠ to offer this⁠ world to Him.⁠⁠‍ Everything I am belongs to Him.‌ It’s not my‌‌ place to judge whether my actions⁠⁠ are right or⁠ wrong. Only He‍ can decide that!”⁠

“Azazel…”‌‌

Seeing his brother, consumed⁠‌ by madness, having‍ even abandoned his‌ angelic form, was‌‌ a blow to‍‌ Metatron.

There‍‌ was a time‌ when he too⁠‍‍ admired the “God⁠ of the Sword.”‌ Gods who only‍ cared for their‍‍ desires were a cancer to the‍ world. Even Metatron,‍ who served them,‌⁠⁠ came to feel‍ deep disgust.

One⁠⁠ day, the God‌ of the Sword‌‍‍ appeared and excised⁠‍‍ the gangrene—the gods—from‌‍ the world.

‘Though‍‌ he was my⁠‌‍ enemy, He was⁠‍ the only true‌ god.’

Yet⁠‍ Metatron couldn’t renounce⁠‍‌ his nature. He was created as‍⁠ an angel incapable‍⁠ of rebelling against‍‌ the gods. That’s‌‌ why he was‌‌ granted the greatest‍‍ power.

‘Azazel⁠ didn’t change because of the God⁠‍ of the Sword.’

All of this was⁠‌ the result of⁠‍‍ Kuarne’s madness. No⁠ one forced him.⁠‍ He chose this‌‌ path himself. He⁠ interpreted the Sword⁠ God’s teachings in⁠⁠ his own way‌‍‍ and idolized Him blindly.

Metatron‌‍ looked past Kuarne.⁠

Leon‌‌ was desperately fighting⁠ the endless black⁠⁠ arms.

‘My⁠⁠ son… Leon, you‍‌ did everything you‍‍‌ could.’

Metatron⁠‌ closed his eyes.‌ When he opened⁠⁠‍ them, they were⁠‌ filled with resolve.‌⁠ He intended to⁠‌ burn all his‌‌ inner energy and‌‍ die with Kuarne.

‘This‌‌ damned chain of‌ hatred ends here.’‌⁠

Just‍ as he was‌‍ about to throw‌‌⁠ himself into the abyss, a mystical‍‍ light pierced through‍ the clouds.

Like the dawn after⁠ night, divine energy⁠‌ warmly enveloped the‍‌⁠ exhausted battlefield.

In‌ the sky above‍ the sky, a dark figure rose‌⁠ silently.

With the glow at‍ his back, he‌ pointed his sashimi‍ at Kuarne.

“Yo…‌‍ you… you’re…”

The‍‌ sneer on Kuarne’s⁠ lips vanished. His⁠⁠⁠ face turned pale.⁠‍ He understood his‍ fate.

It‍ wasn’t death. It⁠‍ was “erasure.” Kang‌ Geom-Ma’s sashimi was⁠‍‌ a sword that⁠‍ eliminated existence. It‍ knew neither mercy⁠‍ nor compassion.