Indra Translations
Navigation
The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master Chapter 309: Kang Geom-Ma, the Star Instructor (2)

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.”⁠‌

What did you think of this chapter?
0 reactions

0 Comments


There are no comments yet. Be the first!

Reader Settings
Page mode
Timer
Text Indent
Auto scroll
Tap to read
Pin menu
Translate page
Select language to automatically translate chapter content.
Audio & AI Voice
This chapter has pre-loaded audio
Ads Blocker Image Powered by Code Help Pro

Ads Blocker Detected!!!

We have detected that you are using extensions to block ads. Please support us by disabling these ads blocker.