Chapter 309: Kang Geom-Ma, the Star Instructor (2)

All the students looked as if their souls had left their bodies. Like toys with dead batteries, their eyes were lifeless.

While exclamations of awe slipped from their parted lips…

Slide.

I gave Murasame a light shake and sheathed it.

The reverent stares pricked at my skin. But all my focus was already on Murasame, hanging at my waist.

‘I’m a bit rusty.’

As I mentioned before, lately I’ve only been using lightning attribute magic.

Maybe that’s why I felt my sword technique had dulled a bit.

Of course, that’s by my own standards.

‘I didn’t like how it felt.’

My slash—one that maximizes the potential of the Sword God’s Blessing—had grown so powerful that it could wound the world itself.

‘That’s precisely why I’ve been avoiding using the blessing.’

I guess I’ll need to practice on my own from now on.

As I thought about that, I shifted my gaze from my waist to scan the students.

They were eagerly waiting for me to speak.

‘Their eyes are about to pop out.’

I let out a small chuckle and spoke.

“Sorry, but forget what you just saw. I’m a little rusty, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Huh? What do you mean…?”

“The last class is in a week, right? I’ll show you properly then. So pretend you didn’t see anything today.”

After my words, their expressions changed in strange ways.

***

Kang Geom-Ma left the classroom just like that. His classes were always this brief.

Though a lesson is supposed to include explanation, he wasn’t very good at talking.

Besides, he knew that this wasn’t something that could be explained with words.

For him, the true value lay in making students experience—albeit indirectly through pocket subspace—things they couldn’t normally live through.

Kang Geom-Ma was aware that this was a form of evasion.

But he believed that walking away silently was better than giving a mediocre lesson. He didn’t mind making a fool of himself, but his mistakes might negatively affect his wife and the director, Saki Ryozo.

That’s why he left without looking back.

However, the students’ interpretation of his class was very different.

“Wow.”

“He’s seriously insane.”

They all remained frozen, as if possessed.

The dropouts who couldn’t handle the Heavenly Sword’s class were peeking through the window.

No one cared. Those inside didn’t pay them the slightest attention.

A total silence, as if cold water had been poured over everything.

“You.”

A student murmured to the boy beside her.

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah. I’ve never seen a slash like that.”

“Pocket space is supposed to be beyond the reach of physical force, right? And he cut it? What was that?”

“That’s why they call him the Heavenly Sword.”

Fun fact she was a special student, and he was from a noble family.

Ten years ago, a conversation between them would’ve been unthinkable.

That change was thanks to the former directors, Media Poison and Saki Ryozo.

And above all, to Abel’s influence, who pushed for reform within noble society.

“I don’t know who gave him the nickname, but it was perfect.”

It was given by the current president of the Association, Sung.

“But, can that be imitated?”

“Are you stupid? How would you imitate that?”

“Then why did he show it to us…?”

The boy seemed confused, and the girl gave him a cold look.

“It’s not for imitation. It’s to imprint it in your eyes and use it as inspiration. Could you create pocket space just because the founding hero, Balor Joaquin, did?”

“No… no.”

“It’s the same. Even if you can’t do it, seeing it with your own eyes and turning it into something real is completely different from just imagining it.”

The girl slightly lifted her chin.

She was the same one who refused to acknowledge Kang Geom-Ma on the first day.

But now, she praised him more enthusiastically than anyone. She even joined the fan club called the Cult of the Sword God.

“The Heavenly Sword is the very origin of swordsmanship,” she said proudly.

“It’s like math. Knowing the answer doesn’t mean you know how to solve it, but it sure helps a lot.”

“But… the Heavenly Sword also said he was rusty, that we shouldn’t use him as a reference.”

“That was also a lesson. Even someone who has mastered the logic of the sword holds himself to a higher standard. It’s a message for us—mere students—not to get arrogant and to keep working hard with humility.”

“And the fact that he left without an explanation? Is that a lesson too?”

The girl nodded proudly.

“He gave us space to reflect.”

“God… he’s ridiculously cool. Too sexy.”

“He really is incredible,” said the student, staring in awe at the door.

“If it were me, I’d be bragging all day about how good I am.”

“Humanity’s hero teaches on a whole different level from the start.”

Thus, Kang Geom-Ma’s reputation continued to rise.

“…My ears are tingling. Is someone talking about me?”

***

The sun of Gehenna had such a gloomy color it was unsettling.

Its texture was thick like oil, and so black that not a single ray of light could pierce through it.

Looking at it felt like you were being sucked in. Yes, like a black hole. The tilted sunlight of Gehenna illuminated the surface.

On the vast white land, shadows were cast.

A world where only black and white existed.

Leon van Reinhardt walked across Gehenna. His body was equally covered by the white of the land and the shadows of the sun.

Son of an angel and a demon. A Nephilim. It was as if Gehenna itself were revealing his true nature.

Crunch. Crunch.

The weeds under his feet crumbled without resistance.

The edge of his tattered cloak struck his calves with each step—until he came to a sudden stop.

“What is it, Leon?”

A middle-aged man walking beside him looked over.

His muscles were cracked like dry earth, and the scars across them formed a checkered pattern.

“Ah, it’s… Father.”

“Hahaha. Still feels good to hear that. Even if this hell is a barren place, just walking with you like this… makes me happy for no particular reason.”

The man let out a hearty laugh.

“It’s all thanks to him.”

“Yes… thanks to him. That we can walk like this, father and son.”

His name was Metatron, Leon’s father.

He had been betrayed by his younger brother, Azazel—also known as Kuarne, former commander of the Second Corps—and tortured by false gods for countless ages.

But during the Second Human-Demon War, he regained his sanity and freed himself from those false gods.

The chains that bound his mind to the abyss had been broken.

His son, Leon van Reinhardt, who nearly became an enemy of humanity because of it all, was also freed.

Thanks to the efforts of Kang Geom-Ma.

“But what’s troubling you?”

“Ah, right.”

Leon raised his hand to point at the sun.

“Doesn’t it look like the sun’s gotten a bit grayer?”

“Mmm…”

Metatron also shaded his eyes with his hand and looked up at the sun.

“It does seem a little less black… but why does that bother you?”

“The truth is that…”

Leon explained the strange phenomenon he and Meain Poison (also known as Sah Ha-na) had discovered days earlier.

At first, Metatron listened with interest. But as the story went on, his expression grew more serious.

Metatron had been the brightest and most powerful among the celestial wings in the mythological era.

Now that the false gods were gone, except for Kang Geom-Ma and Lycan, he was the being closest to the origin of the universe.

“This isn’t normal.”

“Really…?”

“Yes, but you don’t need to worry too much, son.”

Metatron affectionately ruffled Leon’s hair.

Though a bit embarrassed to be treated like a child at his age, Leon didn’t push his father’s hand away.

These were the days he had longed for—like a warm, sweet dream he never wanted to wake from.

“…!”

Just then, Metatron’s hand stopped. Leon also sensed something strange.

They looked at each other and instantly kicked off the ground.

The white earth sank deeply, and a boom echoed an instant later.

Running faster than sound, they arrived in a breath.

Leon’s cloak flapped violently in the wind.

As they drew closer, they saw a massive crater.

The landscape of Gehenna was always changing.

However, that change was always a rearrangement of existing elements. New formations like this never appeared.

So, even for Leon and Metatron, who had lived there a long time, the crater was entirely unfamiliar.

Whooooosh.

The crater exhaled wind rhythmically, as if breathing. It was like a living creature inhaling and exhaling and had the same shape as the sun in the sky.

Leon and Metatron stood at the edge of the cliff, peering down.

Even with their transcendent vision, they couldn’t see the bottom.

They exchanged a glance, closed their eyes, then reopened them.

Just then, feathers fell onto Leon’s shoulder.

A pair of wings unfurled from his back.

“Let’s go, son.”

“Yes, Father.”

The angel and the Nephilim plunged into the crater.

All that remained where they stood were feathers floating in the air.

***

Safe Room, Joaquin Academy.

The Swordmaster and Media were having tea as usual.

Changseong Richard Mura had left the country a week ago due to workload.

“Old man, why haven’t you gone?”

“Can’t I stay where I want?”

Media’s delicate eyes narrowed.

“You can. But I don’t remember you sticking around this long since you asked to become an instructor ten years ago.”

“Ahem.”

“You always clear your throat when you’re nervous. Anyway, an old man with no tasks has nothing to do but kill time, right?”

“Can you stop calling me old already?”

“I didn’t lie…”

Normally, he would’ve refuted firmly, but this time, Media left the sentence hanging.

And that’s because the Swordmaster looked younger now than he did ten years ago.

The life expectancy of heroes was around 140 years, due to the effect of their blessings, which slowed aging.

The average life span hovered around 60 because being a hero meant constant combat.

Back to the point.

‘Is this old man taking something weird?’ Media thought.

She could accept it in her case, since she was an ancient. But the Swordmaster was just a (supposedly) human.

Even as a descendant of the Swordmaster, his life span shouldn’t change.

Yet, he was rejuvenating.

His wrinkles were visibly softer. The same was happening to Changseong.

Both, nearly eighty years old, were too energetic for their age.

As a friend, she was happy… but also worried.

‘I’ll need to verify this with the Poet’s Blessing.’

The Poet’s Blessing was Media’s special ability.
It allowed her to see the future.

As she pondered this, the Swordmaster set down his cup and changed the subject.

“By the way, isn’t the Heavenly Sword teaching classes? What do the students say?”

“After the first day, many dropped out. But those who stayed value it a lot. Word’s reached me too.”

“Looks like he’s good at teaching as well.”

“Yes, seems like there’s nothing he’s bad at.”

“Maybe I should give it a shot too.”

The Swordmaster’s eyebrows arched mischievously.

“Give what a shot?”

“What else? Becoming his third wife.”

“……”

“What, huh?”

Media flared up at the Swordmaster’s silence.

“I’m an ancient! Age differences mean nothing to me! What a ridiculous man!”

Age wasn’t the issue, woman…

You’re proposing marriage to Kang Geom-Ma, whose wife is your friend—and your granddaughter!

Even in this world, where marriages were flexible, that would be an abomination beyond precedent.

‘Media, you’re insane.’

The Swordmaster thought of replying, but held his tongue.

He simply closed his eyes, overwhelmed by a chilling shiver.

***

That weekend, Yu Sein contacted me.

She normally doesn’t send messages, so she called directly, and with urgency.

I went to her apartment right away.
For some reason, I was nervous. I turned the doorknob with a slightly tense hand and stepped in.

“Oh, you came.”

Yu Sein greeted me. She didn’t seem too serious.

At least not judging by the way she was chewing on some soggy chips.

She probably even bought those with Abel and Ryozo’s blood. A dark red emotion burned in my throat.

“Should I kill her?”

“What?”

“Don’t mind me. Just thinking out loud.”

“That’s what worries me more. Anyway, come in. I’ve got something to tell you.”

Yu Sein spoke as she licked her fingers.

I dropped sideways onto the living room sofa, feeling a bit tired, and asked,

“Why did you call me on this golden weekend?”

“I’ll get straight to the point.”

Yu Sein’s black eyes turned somber.

“Let’s say this world is like this bag of chips.”

She sealed the opening of the bag with her fingers. It puffed up completely.

“Imagine that the concept of ‘perfection’ is like this bag, fully inflated.”

“That thing’s 80% nitrogen.”

“Ugh, it’s just a metaphor, a metaphor!”

She snapped, frowning, and continued.

“In any case, this chip bag represents the current state of our world. It couldn’t be better. Everyone’s satisfied, and nothing seems to be missing.”

“Nice metaphor.”

“But it was just an illusion. Or rather, the initial assumption was wrong. Think about it. Geom-Ma, you killed the false gods, right?”

I nodded.

“But isn’t it strange? Blessings come from gods, so how are heroes still able to use them? That shouldn’t be possible.”

“That’s…”

An undeniable truth, with no room for rebuttal.

“The current blessings aren’t blessings anymore. A true blessing is like a plug that covers human flaws. But now, humans—including you—no longer have any noticeable flaws. So what remains? The power of blessings just keeps growing without restraint. And what do you think happens if that continues?”

Yu Sein opened the other hand that was holding the bag.

Then smacked the bottom of it forcefully.

Boom!

A pop that made the eardrum vibrate.

“With just a small impact, it can explode like this.”

The saint, Yu Sein, issued a warning to the world.

“That’s exactly what the Force of Suppression is aiming for.”