Chapter 320: One of the Two Will Die (1)

“Heavenly Sword—!”

Sung Yuchang came running after me, gasping for breath.

He was already a skinny guy, but now his cheeks were so sunken it was chilling to see.

Wow…

Watching him arrive without even catching his breath was touching. And it was all the fault of those damned Parsy Institute bastards.

Because of them—because they didn’t know their place—Sung Yuchang had ended up sacrificing his arms and legs, figuratively, for the cadets’ future. They had pushed him to the brink.

This couldn’t go unpunished. As someone close to him, it was my duty to settle the score with those responsible for Sung Yuchang’s stress.

I had clearly underestimated them, thinking this could be resolved with just words.

‘With me, it’ll be different.’

Sullied the president’s legacy and made my friend suffer? It was only right they paid the price.

I’d make an example out of them to lighten the burden on Ryozo and Abel a little.

A single slash of my knife would accomplish three goals. The ultimate efficient strike.

“If you’re going to go…!”

Sung Yuchang clung to my waist. Since I kept walking, his grip slipped all the way down to my ankles.

This guy… always good at acting the martyr.

“Then step over me—no, cut me down and go!”

“……”

“……”

“That was a dumb idea.” I knew it. He wasn’t a hero.

He had no intention of risking his life.

“You made the right call.”

“…Did you really think about cutting me?”

I nodded and kept walking.

“I’ll let it go.”

But then…

“In exchange for that!”

Sung Yuchang was a seasoned man of the world. Hadn’t he become president of the Hero Association without ever Awakening?

He wasn’t just any ordinary person. Not in the slightest.

He had anticipated my response. And had prepared a trump card to persuade me.

That’s why I knew this was all an act. That bumbling old-man persona who watched morning dramas hid a veteran politician underneath.

“You’ll have to go with the Lady of the Sword!”

Sung Yuchang declared it boldly. I came to a screeching halt. As I slowly looked down at him, he shrank.

The Lady of the Sword, Abel von Nibelung.

My wife belonged to the highest ranks of the aristocracy. Her family, the Nibelungs, split the noble class in two alongside the pro-monarchy faction of Victoria.

It wasn’t a position one earned through strength alone. Political skill was essential—and that usually involved words.

Verbal communication. Something I loathed.

‘Wouldn’t a single slash solve it all?’

Every time I voiced that inhuman thought, Abel stepped in to speak on my behalf. Sung Yuchang knew this, which is why he mentioned her title.

“After ten years, you really do look like a raccoon.”

“I’d prefer you say I’ve improved my strategy.”

“Fine. You’ve improved… but.”

This time, I’d do things my way.

“Not today.”

I gently shook Sung Yuchang off.

“H-Heavenly Sword…?”

“I’ll contact you later.”

“Heavenly Sworrrrrd!”

“Goodbye, Mr. President.”

I left without looking back.

My body was heating up. In times like this, I remembered that this body once belonged to the First Commander of the Demon King’s Army. When emotions surged, the desire to destroy bubbled up to my throat.

“If they crossed the line, they must pay the price.” Parsy Institute… I’ll cut you down.

***

President Sung Yuchang wasn’t an easy man to deal with. As the leader of the Hero Association, he was meticulous.

“Let’s go together.”

Abel was waiting at the entrance with her arms crossed. Her dazzling beauty could steal a man’s soul. I tried to blend in with the walking corpses around us.

“You, with the black hair. Could you look over here?”

I denied it instantly.

“You’ve got the wrong person.”

“This is your idea of a joke before eliminating an academy, huh?”

“…”

“I’m not letting you go alone.”

I had no choice but to resign myself.

‘That guy…’

Had he met with Abel ahead of time? I take back the disdain I showed earlier.

Sung Yuchang, ready to die, had clung to my pants. That act had all been part of his plan to buy more time.

He had even calculated the exact moment Abel would arrive at the entrance.

‘No helping it now.’

I scratched my neck as I approached Abel. Her golden eyes, as radiant as ever, pierced me.

“I think you’re misunderstanding. I didn’t come to stop you. I’m not one of those frustrating characters who give you pancreatic cancer.”

As she said that, Abel slightly raised her hip. She was carrying a single sword, unadorned.

“You brought Notung?”

“I told you I’m not here to stop you.”

Abel crossed her arms more deeply.

‘If she brought Notung, then this goes beyond Sung’s intentions.’

Notung.

A relic passed down through generations in the Nibelung family. Of course, its rank was S. Technically speaking, on Earth, it would be called an EX-rank weapon.

Notung was the weapon of the Sword Master, one of the Seven Stars. To lump it with other S-rank weapons was an insult.

If a member of the Nibelungs was carrying Notung, it meant only one thing she was ready for battle.

Even the Sword Master had slaughtered demons with Notung during the Great Human-Demon War.

If only the weapon I commissioned from Volundr was even half as good as Notung.

I’ll have to mention it next time I see him. Though I’m sure he’ll curse me out, he still owes me.

I’ve never forgotten the day, ten years ago, when he turned my Murasame into a rag.

People around us whispered. Like the tension between us was pumping them full of dopamine or something.

But Abel remained unfazed.

“That’s why, we’re going together.”

She clung to my arm. As if waiting for that moment, envious stares rained down on me. I’d gotten used to those since marrying Abel.

“Shall we use a subspace warp?”

“Hmm. Today’s a special case, so the faster the better.”

That was her indirect way of saying, “Take me with you.”

“No need to ask.”

I immediately wrapped my arm around her waist. The jealous glares intensified even more. In the midst of that whirlwind of envy—

Crackle—Ruuuumble!

We shot into the sky, leaving only sparks behind.

***

The nobles have money.

I once asked Abel where nobles got all their wealth. She told me they didn’t pay taxes—no income tax, no value-added tax, no inheritance tax.

Since they’re exempt from all taxes, it makes sense they’re wealthy. But taxing nobles isn’t simple, because after all, they’re heroes. Their public image may suffer, but the value of their existence remains intact.

Demons continued wreaking havoc. The common enemy was still there, steadfast. So people looked the other way.

Besides, there were many complicated factors behind that. For all these reasons, noble tax exemption had solidified into social norm.

I thought about changing it, but felt it wasn’t my place. That’s how this world worked, and I didn’t think it appropriate for an outsider like me to shake things up.

Especially considering that, right now, I’m partly wrapped up in the realm of gods. It’s hard for me to get involved in worldly affairs. The repercussions would be immense. On a cosmic scale, more or less.

So, please don’t do anything that drives me crazy. If you keep provoking, I’ll be forced to resort to violence.

That was the unspoken message behind my stride as I headed toward Parsy Academy.

But then—

“…I think we should start taxing them here.”

The words slipped out the moment I saw Parsy Academy.

“We absolutely must tax them…”

Abel next to me threw her head back in response.

“And plenty. A lot.”

Parsy Academy was showing just how far a noble could go when indulging in unchecked luxury.

Their display of ostentation exceeded even what Abel, a major noble, had ever imagined.

***

“They say Joaquin Academy’s in a mess lately, right?”

“Ever since they installed that special admission system, everything’s gone to hell.”

“Parsy Academy is more legitimate. At least there’s no riffraff from low birth. Hohoho!”

“Totally agree, totally.”

The students were babbling like they didn’t even notice us.

“What a class…”

Abel clicked her tongue in disgust; I offered my honest opinion too.

“Ten years ago, Joaquin Academy was a joke by comparison.”

“Exactly. The buildings are state-of-the-art, but the students’ mindsets are medieval… What a horrible dissonance.”

As the granddaughter of the Sword Master, Abel spoke antiquatedly—but this time, I agreed completely.

The students’ chatter was bad; worse was the entrance.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

The real spectacle was the building itself. Parsy Academy’s entrance made a staggering impression.

The gate gleamed so brightly from gold plating that it hurt to look at. They’d decorated it with every luxury imaginable.

The students’ uniforms shimmered excessively, too.

Even the doorman’s uniform was over the top—like he was trying to hide some insecurity.

“I feel like I’m doing a living-history experience as a commoner.”

“I don’t think you’re the one to talk about that, Miss Nibelung, considering your husband is literally a commoner.”

Inside, our clothes felt ridiculously understated.

“Do you think anyone would dare treat you like a commoner?”

“Well, you have a point.”

Abel and I were dressed in disguise—not enough to stand out, but enough to go unnoticed.

“Who are you?”

A guard interrogated us with authority. When I lifted the brim of my hat with my thumb, his expression shifted to something more tolerant.

“You… how…?”

In this world, me being the only person with both black hair and black eyes had its uses. No need to show ID.

“I’m going in. Are you going to stop me?”

“…N-no…”

“You’re not going to call your superiors or anything, right?”

I pressed him.

“…“

“Answer.”

Abel intimidated him.

“I’ll take it to my grave…”

“So if you turn undead, you’d still say that?”

“T-that’s it…!”

The guard trembled—and so did I.

Considering Abel’s father was the undead king Draugr, that was a bold joke. But I took it as proof she’d overcome past pain.

Also, her father’s crypt wasn’t far from Parsy Academy. Maybe coincidence—but from Abel’s perspective, it stung. Maybe that’s why she was sharper than me with the guards.

“Didn’t see anything today…”

“You swear?”

“I swear on God.”

I nearly laughed at someone swearing over a near-stop at the gate.

Anyway, Abel and I made the security checkpoint as if we were invisible.

“Move along.”

“Yes, sir.”

We passed several checks similar to the gate. But once they saw my face, everyone softened and let us through.

So it only took the length of the walk to reach the main building.

A flashy statue marked our arrival. The face seemed vaguely familiar—but unknown.

‘Was there a famous ancient hero that looked like that?’

No such aura in any historical records I’d seen.

And even if it were some unknown hero, statues violated a societal norm no hero worship.

At Joaquin Academy, there were only portraits.

Not even our president had a statue. So who the hell was this hero, blocking my path?

“He’s the founder of Parsy Academy,” Abel said with a mix of mockery and resignation.

“…The founder? But he’s still alive, isn’t he? And they already made a statue?”

Are they insane? I felt rage hammer in my skull.

While Ryozo barely slept over noble affairs, the director of Parsy Academy had the audacity to statue himself. I felt rage slam into my crown.

“Let’s go in.”

Maybe Abel sensed my anger. She stepped ahead without hesitation, calmly opening the main building’s door, and gestured me inside. Containing my fury, I followed.

The interior was so lavish words fail me. Every corner adorned with portraits of stern-faced men.

In the center of the split spiral staircase, a fountain spouted water. Again—inside a building. What kind of logic is that?

“Security was tight at the entrance. Inside, there’s not a single guard. I thought at least there’d be an interior gate or something.”

“…”

Abel walked on in silence.

I followed, too. Oddly, I couldn’t sense human presence. They should have permanent staff, but there was no scent of people—only the overpowering smell of fresh paint in a new building.

We climbed the winding stairs until my calves felt like they’d burst. I could’ve teleported there, but I wanted my footsteps to mark my presence.

Finally, we reached the heart of the place.

Another lavishly decorated door greeted us. I took a deep breath and grabbed the handle.

And in that moment—

—Uuuuuugh…

A groan came from inside. Had someone beat me to it? I felt like my prey was stolen from before my eyes.

BANG!

I kicked the door in and stepped inside.

“Long time no see.”

A voluptuous woman offered a slight smile.

“Mother–nim.”

She had a metal rod pointed straight at the stomach of a man who looked almost identical to the statue outside. It was Shail, the Sigurd Castle servant, now a Warrior-class hero.

“You look radiant.”

A middle-aged man beside her greeted me. It was the ogre Karon. Every movement he made caused the men, who seemed like security staff, to moan in pain. A loose net held them pinned down.

Familiar faces.

The two Sigurd Castle giants occupied the director’s chamber like guardian statues.

“How are you both…? Wait, what?”

“The lady asked for our help.”

“It’s time to earn our keep, right?”

The moment I spoke, Abel walked ahead of me. She strode toward Parsy Academy’s director, who began shouting in desperation.

“Heavenly Sword! This is a mistake! It’s terrorism against Parsy Academy! I don’t care about Heavenly Sword, but you’re from the Nibelung family! Don’t you care about your family’s reputation?! How irresponsible!”

Abel removed her hat and scarf.

Slap!

She pulled a white glove from her pocket and slapped him across the face. The director’s chubby cheeks quivered grotesquely.

He stood stunned. The guards were in shock, as if smacked with a sledgehammer. Maybe they were first stunned by her beauty, then by her action.

“I accept this exchange challenge.”

Her declaration cut through the silent chamber. Abel had drawn Notung, pointing it right at the director’s nose.

“Loser closes the doors.”

The Sword Master, at seventy, had wanted to compete against me when I was just a student. His granddaughter carried his blood more than anyone else.

Sung Yuchang had overlooked that.

The martial spirit that ran through Nibelung blood.