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.