The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master — Chapter 392: The Master (1)

Chapter 392: The Master (1)

Ryozo⁠‍ and Abel normally‌ call me “Geom-Ma.”‌‌ We’ve been together‌⁠ since academy days,⁠ so changing the‍ way they address⁠ me overnight would⁠ be quite difficult.‍

Besides, the two of them are proud‍‌‌ heroines, strong women.‌⁠‌

‘And⁠‍ now, just because⁠‌ we’re married, are⁠‍ we supposed to‌‌ start calling each‍‍ other “honey” or⁠‍‍ “my love” like‍‍ we’re in some⁠‌ romantic comedy?’

That would be ridiculous.⁠‍‌ In a world⁠‌‍ of heroes full‌‌ of blood and‍ steel, a youthful⁠⁠‍ rom-com is like‌ a tumor out‌ of place.

Although,‌‍ to be fair,‌ it’s not like‍‌ they’ve never spoken⁠ to me that‍⁠⁠ way.

Every⁠‌⁠ now and then,⁠ when the situation‌ was too intense,⁠‍‍ they did.

Whether‍ it was about⁠ adult matters impossible to mention, or‌⁠ when they were extremely worked up.⁠‌ Like now.

“…Husband.”‍‌

Abel⁠⁠ looked at me‍‍ as she said‌‌‌ it.

The‍‌ golden stars in her pupils pierced‍‍ through my skin,‌ digging into some⁠‌ corner of my consciousness.

“……”⁠⁠

Ryozo, on the other‍‌⁠ hand, simply stared‌ at me in‌‌ silence. She said‌ nothing.

That⁠ muteness was suffocating‍⁠‌ me. I wished she would say⁠ anything, “husband,” “dear,”‌ “idiot.” Anything.

Whip.‍

I averted my eyes⁠ toward Meian Poison.‍‌ It was a plea, half resentment‍ and half a call for help.

“Hmm~.”⁠‍

Meian‍⁠ let out a strange nasal sound⁠ while finishing getting‌‍ dressed.

She‌‍ tied a ribbon‌ over her navel‌⁠ and dropped herself onto the sofa.‌‌

‘With‌⁠ that outfit, don’t cross your legs.’‌

The‍ image became far‌‌ too indecent, damn‌ it.

The‌ cold was biting‌ into my bones.⁠‍ I could almost‌‌⁠ see my own‍ breath in the‍ air.

And‍ Meian, completely at⁠ ease, rolled ice⁠‍ cubes in her‌⁠ glass, still wearing⁠‌ that light clothing.‍

And⁠‍ then she drops‍‌ this.

“I‌⁠ didn’t do anything.”

“…That‌⁠ doesn’t help at‍ all…”

“Huh?‌ Why are you⁠‌ making those faces?‍⁠ What I mean⁠ is, I didn’t⁠‍ use the Blessing‌‌‍ of Metamorphosis. That’s‍‍ why I’m dressed.‍ If I had‍‍ completed the transformation,‌ I’d be naked‌ right now.”

I wanted to scream.‍‍⁠

But‌ for Meian, that‌ was the cleverest‌ way to cover‍ up the situation.‌⁠ She had to⁠‌ see how Ryozo‍ and Abel reacted.⁠⁠

“If the professor says⁠⁠‍ so, I suppose‍ it must be‌⁠‍ true.”

Ryozo dropped into the‍⁠ sofa with a sigh.

But⁠ she shot me‍⁠ a look that‌⁠⁠ said it all—she‌ was upset, very‍⁠ upset.

Her‍ gaze clearly conveyed,‍‍‌ “I’ll let it go for now,‌ but later you‍‌⁠ and I are‍ going to talk.”‌‍

I got nervous.

What⁠‌ day was it‌‍ today? Day of‍‌ Wrath? Day of‌⁠ Jealousy? I wished, at the very‌‌ least, it was⁠ one of Abel’s‍ usual days.

Not‌ that Abel was‌ any less dangerous.‍

She‌ too was radiating‍ a chilling intensity.‍⁠

But‌⁠ what truly scared⁠ me was Ryozo’s⁠‌ coldness. Her silence‌ was far more‌⁠ terrifying.

“All‌‌ I want is⁠ for my disciples⁠ to live in‍ peace, without conflict. I don’t want‍ there to be any reason for‍‌ discord because of‌ me.”

Meian‍‌‌ winked at me.‍ Hypocrite. What shamelessness‍⁠ she had to‍⁠ slip away from‍⁠ everything like that.⁠

All my masters were⁠‌‍ the same. What bad luck I had with them.‌

***⁠‍⁠

After⁠‍ the commotion, the⁠ meeting continued without major delays.

Though‍‌ ice was slowly‍ piling up on‍⁠ the walls, scraping‌ with a crunching‌‌ sound—anyway.

The‌⁠ main topic was‌‍ the management of⁠‌ the graduate program.⁠‍

I,‌‍ of course, was⁠ sitting like a criminal, with my‌ hands on my‌‍ knees.

I thought of leaving,‍ but Ryozo and⁠⁠ Abel held me‌ firmly by the‍ arms, like anchors.⁠ I couldn’t even move.

I wondered if perhaps‌ the old counselors‍ of the kingdoms‌‌‍ weren’t like that—two guardians at your‌‌‍ sides, preventing you from escaping.

In‍ any case.

The‌ air was so‍ dense and sharp⁠‍ it seemed full⁠‌ of hedgehogs. In‌ that atmosphere, Meian‍ spoke.

“The professors are setting‌‍‍ up new facilities⁠ to research magic.”‌

At⁠⁠ Joaquin Academy, the professors were all masters of magic.‌ Well, calling them⁠⁠ masters was an‍ understatement.

‘The⁠ Dragon Lord, ancients,‍ metamorphs…’

Each‌⁠ had left a mark in their‍ time. And now⁠ they all researched⁠ under one roof.⁠‌

The‌⁠‌ focus was magic,‍ naturally.

And‌⁠ the spiritual energy‍⁠ of the human‌‍ world.

More‍⁠ and more mana⁠‍‌ was flowing into‌ this plane.

A dangerous phenomenon.

After‍ the past catastrophes,⁠ we couldn’t look away. It had‍‌ to be faced.⁠‌

That’s⁠ why Ryozo and‌ Abel often met⁠ with the professors.‌‌

To‍‌ lighten the weight‍ I carried on‌ my shoulders.

Though right now, ironically,‌⁠‌ they were the⁠ ones who had⁠‍‍ me tightly pinned‍ by the arms.‌‍‍

“The‍‌ interesting part is‌ this.”

Meian‌ raised her index‌ finger.

“While‌‌ researching magic, we‌‍ learned something new about the Awakening of Blessings.”

Ryozo‍ arched her eyebrows.‌

“The‌‌ Awakening of Blessings⁠ and magic are‌⁠ connected?”

Meian‍‍ had been hired‍‍ as a professor‌⁠ precisely because of her Blessing.

She⁠ was the person‌‍ who had survived‍‌ the longest after‍⁠ awakening a Blessing,‌⁠‍ thanks to her‍⁠ Ancient heritage.

“I just found out‍ that in magic‌⁠ there’s something called‍ formulas. From the‍‌ first level to the ninth. Hard⁠⁠ to explain—wait a moment.”

She⁠ got up from‌‌⁠ the sofa and‍ walked to the⁠⁠ blackboard.

The⁠ edge of her‍‍ robe swayed, revealing‌‍ part of her⁠ legs.

Zzt.‍

“Ugh.”‍

Ryozo‍⁠‌ and Abel’s stares⁠‍ pierced me like blades.

I lowered my head and closed my‌ eyes.

Meian,‍‌‌ unfazed, tapped the‍‌ board with the⁠ chalk.

Her⁠ rhythm hinted at‍⁠ concentration.

“Good.”⁠

She hummed and began⁠‌ writing with a smooth stroke.

The‌ sound of the⁠ chalk on the‍‌ board rang vividly.‍

Crack.‍⁠

The‌ chalk broke and⁠‌ the sound stopped.⁠‌

I carefully opened one eye. She had‌⁠ drawn several geometric⁠⁠ figures.

Then‌‌ Meian Poison’s lecture‍⁠ began.

“As‍‌ you know, magic is based on‌ attributes—fire, air, water,‌‍ earth, etc.”

“Yes.”‌⁠

Abel‍ nodded.

“By⁠ talking with some⁠ demons, I discovered‌‌‍ that each attribute has its own⁠⁠ formula. I represented‍ it with figures.⁠⁠‌ Fire, earth, water,⁠ and air, in‍ that order.”

We‌ looked where the‌‌ chalk pointed. Her‍⁠‍ clear handwriting filled‌‌ the board.

Fire‍⁠ (火): △

Earth‍⁠ (土): □

Water‍‍‍ (水): ○

Air‍ (空): ☆

Ryozo‌‍ raised her hand.‍‌

“Formula,⁠‍ as in mathematical‌ operations?”

“Exactly.‍ Very well spotted.”⁠‌

Meian‌ smiled, genuinely impressed.⁠

Ryozo continued.

“Then,‌ the first formula‍‍ would be water.‍‌ A single stroke.”‌

“Ah!⁠ And fire and⁠ earth would be‍ third and fourth⁠‍ formula.”

Abel‌⁠ clapped her hands⁠ in realization.

Meian‍‌⁠ smiled, satisfied.

“My⁠ students always stand‍⁠ out. Correct. The‌ number of steps in the formula⁠‌‍ defines the complexity of the spell.”‍

For⁠ example, fire. If⁠ we divide it‌⁠‍ into three steps.⁠⁠

Friction‌⁠ → Mana concentration → Ignition.

Three steps, three formulas.

“And,‌⁠ of course, the‍‍ more complex the⁠ formula, the rarer‍ and more powerful‌ the mage who‍‍⁠ can use it.”‍‍

To me, it was‌⁠ like dalgona—the more‌‍ complicated the shape,⁠ the harder it‌⁠⁠ was to break‍ it intact, but the more satisfying‌‌ when you did.‍‌⁠

‘Now I understand why‌ the only user‍‍ of air with‍‌‌ an eighth-level formula⁠⁠ was Corps Commander‌‌ Kuarne.’

That’s‍‌ why humanity had‌ such a hard‌ time facing him.‍

Myself⁠‌ included.

Without‍ the Blessing of‌‍ the God of⁠ the Sword, I never would have⁠‌⁠ caught him.

“Magic,‍‍ in the end,‌‍ is pure mystery.”⁠

“The more it is‍‌‌ mastered, the more it loses strength,⁠‍ don’t you think?”

I replied. Meian smiled‌ at me more⁠‌‌ brightly.

“You‍‌ married well, Kang⁠‍ Geom-Ma.”

“True.⁠‍ But because of you, another thought⁠⁠‍ occurred to me.”‌‌

“First, let’s not misunderstand‍ just because a spell is of⁠ a lower formula‍‍‌ doesn’t necessarily mean⁠‌‌ it’s weak or‍‌ useless. It also‍⁠ depends on who‍ casts it.”

Scrr—r.⁠

The chalk scratched the⁠ board.

△

The symbol of water‍‍ was split in⁠‍ half.

“The‍‍‍ simpler the formula,‍ the more room‌ there is to‍‍⁠ add strokes. That⁠ means more room‌⁠ to play. And‌ then you can‌‍‍ do this.”

Her‌‍ next target was‌ fire. But Meian‍‌ didn’t stop at a single modification—she‌⁠ went further.

△

“Thus,‍ with this kind‌‌⁠ of alteration, much⁠ more complex fire‌ spells can be‍ created. The important‌‌‌ thing is not‍ to forget the‍ original form. Think⁠⁠ about air, for‍⁠ example. From the‍ start it’s already⁠ a complex symbol.⁠ If you alter it even slightly…”

“It would lose its‍⁠‍ essence.”

Ryozo⁠ answered firmly.

“But⁠⁠ then, what does‌‍ that have to⁠‍ do with the‌ Awakening of Blessings?”

“How can you say‌⁠ nothing? There’s something⁠⁠ very similar in⁠ Blessings.”

“Ah…”⁠‍

Without‍ meaning to, I let out a sigh.

“Say⁠ it, student!”

Meian⁠‌ pointed at me⁠⁠ with the chalk.⁠‍

“Ah…⁠ I mean, the‍‍⁠ hierarchy of Blessings‍ is quite similar,‍⁠ right?”

“Exactly.”⁠‌

Lesser‍‍ Spirit, Guardian Spirit,‍‍ High Spirit, Ancestral‌ Spirit… and divine.‌

“Blessings‍‍ work the same‍ way as magic.‍ If we put⁠‍‍ them in terms of formulas, there’s⁠⁠ no contradiction. You⁠⁠⁠ even know that‌ there are heroes⁠ of Warrior rank who only possess⁠ Lesser Spirit-level Blessings.”‌

“Of‌ course.”

The⁠ best example was⁠‍ Shail. He stood⁠ out even among‍ Warriors, without having‍‌ a single Guardian‍ Blessing.

“This⁠‌ is just my‍‌‍ opinion.”

Meian‌‍ set down the‌ chalk.

“Magic⁠ is human calculation.⁠ Mages make the‌‍ calculations themselves using‌ the flow of⁠ mana to intervene‌ in the world.”

“And⁠ Blessings, then…”

“…Are‍ calculations done by a god, forcibly‌⁠‍ injected into humans.”⁠

That’s⁠‌‍ how it was⁠ before. Today, probably,‍⁠‌ that gap had been filled with control mechanisms.

“When the amount of‌ information surpasses the limit, the Awakening‌ of the Blessing⁠ occurs.”

According⁠ to Meian, magic‌ and Blessings were‌⁠‍ siblings from their⁠ origin. Both were operations of calculation.‍‍

“But⁠ think about it—have‍‍ you ever seen⁠ a mage have‍‌‌ an Awakening?”

“I‌‍ haven’t, at least.”‌

“Normal.‍ Because they make⁠‍‌ the calculations themselves. They can regulate⁠‍ the amount of energy they receive.”‌‌‍

“Then…”‍

“Yes.”‍

Her⁠ tone dropped, heavy.‍

“If‍⁠ we combine magic⁠ and Blessings, perhaps⁠ we could perform‍‍ the calculations on‌‍‌ our own.”

A bold idea.

Blessings‍‍‌ were, by definition,⁠⁠ gifts from unknown‌ beings.

But‌⁠ Meian was proposing‌⁠‌ to stop depending‌ on the gods,⁠ to place oneself⁠⁠ on an equivalent‍⁠‍ plane to them.‍‍

I froze. That theory‌‌ wasn’t even close⁠ to being established.‍⁠

But‍ the lesson didn’t‍ end there. A fragrant scent suddenly‌ surrounded me.

“And‌⁠ do you know‍‍ who’s closest to‌‌ achieving it? Your‌ husband. That’s exactly‌ why…”

When⁠⁠‍ I looked up,⁠ Meian was already‌⁠ right in front‍ of me. Ryozo‍ and Abel opened‍ their eyes wide⁠⁠⁠ in surprise.

“Would‍ you lend me‍⁠ your husband for‌ a moment?”

Ah,‍⁠‍ fuck.

What‌ a disaster.

***⁠

Joaquin‍ Academy was striving⁠‍ to establish itself‌‍‌ as an elite⁠⁠ institution.

It‌‌ didn’t just teach‍‍ practical combat or⁠‍⁠ Blessing theory.

It‌‌ also required graduate‌‌ students to take courses in arts⁠ and humanities literature,‌ music, painting, theater—you⁠ had to pick⁠‌ at least two.

At‍⁠‍ the beginning, everyone‍‍ protested.

They⁠‌⁠ came to study magic, not to‍‌‌ become influencers.

But‌‌⁠ after a month,‌ even the proudest lowered their heads.‍‌

They⁠ started taking those classes without complaining,‌‌‍ some even enjoying⁠ them.

More‌‌‍ than one discovered⁠ a hidden talent.‍⁠‌

For‍ many, those hours‍‌‍ of art were‍‍⁠ like rain in⁠‌‍ the desert.

Scritch,⁠‌ scritch.

The‌ pencil scratched the⁠ canvas in the‌⁠ painting classroom.

The⁠ light streamed in‍⁠‍ obliquely.

The‌‍⁠ easels were aligned,‍ and the students‌ drew in concentration.

“……”⁠⁠

Victoria‌ pressed the charcoal⁠⁠ hard against the‍ blank sheet, almost⁠‌‍ tearing it.

She‍ had erased and⁠ redrawn so many‍ times that her‌‌ hands were black.⁠

She‌⁠ hadn’t wasted time;‌⁠ she was simply struggling with herself.⁠

The⁠‌ painting instructor looked‍‌ at her with⁠ compassion. At last, he spoke cautiously.⁠⁠‌

“Your‌‌ Highness, is the⁠‍ theme too difficult?”⁠

Victoria⁠‌ turned her eyes‍ away from the‍⁠ board and looked‌ at him.

“It’s⁠⁠ not difficult. The‍ problem is that⁠ I’m interpreting it⁠ too much. That‍⁠ worries me.”

“It’s‌⁠‍ a very aesthetic‍ approach. But still,⁠ it’s an assignment⁠ with a time⁠‌ limit. I’ll give you a hint.”‌‍

A hint for that‌ theme?

Victoria‌‍⁠ looked at the‍‌⁠ board again.

The‌‍‌ professor smiled and⁠ added.

“When⁠‌ you want to⁠ evoke a scene,⁠ think about who‍‍ was with you‍ in that moment.‍‍ If the scene‌ is a post-it‌‍ note, the person‌ is the nail⁠⁠ that holds it.”⁠

“A‍ person…”

“Well,‍ I won’t say⁠‌ more. The rest‍‍‌ I’ll leave to your imagination, Your⁠ Highness. I look‍‌‍ forward to your⁠ result.”

He‌⁠ moved away, reviewing⁠ the other students’⁠⁠‍ canvases.

Victoria was left alone,‌‍ playing with the‌ piece of charcoal‌⁠ between her fingers.⁠‌‌

And‍⁠ suddenly she understood.‌‌ She realized why,‍‍ among so many⁠‌ materials, she had⁠ unconsciously chosen charcoal.‍

She⁠ pressed it to‌ the canvas. She‌ didn’t need colors.‌⁠‍

“The happiest moment of⁠⁠⁠ my life.”

To‌‌ paint a white‌ world, black was‍‌ enough.