The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master

In recent days, Joaquin Academy had been full of life.

Naturally, it was vacation season.

The irony was that it wasn’t the cadets who filled the academy with activity, but adults.

And not just any adults—they were the so-called “Golden Generation,” the brightest since the era of the Seven Braves.

They were rolling around on the dirt floor of the training ground. Sweat soaked their faces into a complete mess, and their fingernails were blackened with earth.

“Again!”

“Yes, sir!”

And even so, their faces shone brighter than the clear midday sky.

Who would’ve thought that an adult could wear such a radiant expression while rolling in the dirt like a child?

What a contrast with modern subway commuters, who scowl just from brushing against another passenger’s arm.

That contrast made it clear—this was another world.

And that sweat was proof they weren’t mere adults, but heroes.

***

“Haap!”

Leon let out a shout as he attacked with his wooden sword.

Balor Joaquin dodged lightly and countered with crushing weight.

Boom!

Leon crashed into the wall again, decorating it like a mural—just as had become routine lately.

The difference was in his recovery.

Where he once stayed coughing on the floor, now he was back up and charging again almost immediately.

Swoosh—

Abel wasn’t far behind, charging in as well.

Though her Blessing wasn’t activated, her movements were visibly faster.

The reason was clear—she had trained her body with consistent discipline, unlike many heroes who neglected physical condition after reaching a certain level.

In her case, it was habit—almost an inherited inertia—passed down from the Nibelung family tradition.

Now she was reaping the fruits of that consistency, and even from a distance, the radiant joy on her face was visible.

Of course, that didn’t mean she could overpower Balor Joaquin.

“Kugh!”

She could only hold out a few seconds longer than before.

But even that was impressive.

From Kang Geom-Ma’s point of view, Balor hadn’t even used his full strength on the first day.

‘Not anymore. He’s starting to take it seriously.’

He knew because Balor’s right eyebrow was twitching—that was the signal he was entering “serious mode.”

“Father!”

Rachel’s roar echoed across the training field, rebounding off the walls like thunder.

She stretched her shoulder and hurled her spear, lunging forward at full speed toward Balor.

She was running nearly side by side with the spear.

Such a surprise attack made Balor show a moment of surprise.

But only that.

Thump, thump, thump.

The very air vibrated. Balor Joaquin released his combat aura.

It wasn’t a metaphor—he activated his muscles to such an extreme degree that the air began to ripple and bend.

Was it possible to generate a physical field with just muscle contraction?

With him, yes. After all, he was the Founding Hero.

The space distorted as if a natural barrier had formed from the vibration of his muscles alone.

Thunk—

The spear struck the air layer and sunk in with a dull sound. Rachel hit her forehead and started bleeding from the nose.

Balor grabbed her by the neck and slammed her into the dirt ground.

Boom!

A massive crater opened in the training field. Rachel lay sprawled on the ground, spitting blood in torrents.

“…Haa.”

Balor finally exhaled and turned his gaze to a sky-blue-haired figure.

“And you’re not going to attack?”

“I already did.”

Saki Ryozo replied with her deep eyes.

Balor smiled, baring his teeth.

“So the ferocity of their attacks had a source… it was you, Ryozo.”

“I thought each of us should fulfill a different role. We have different talents—what sense is there in doing the same thing? That would be inefficient.”

“Haha!”

Balor Joaquin burst out laughing.

“True. Everyone’s given a role from the heavens—some are arms, others legs, others the head.”

“I believe that too.”

“Good perspective. But it’s not perfect.”

“…?”

Balor gave a direct lesson to the group’s leader.

“In battle, you can’t always rely on logic and efficiency.”

“…I’d appreciate it if you explained.”

“Consider it homework. I’m more used to giving tests than lectures, so don’t take it personally.”

Ryozo nodded, her face dimmed slightly.

“…Yes.”

“Then eat something and we’ll continue in the afternoon. Ah, Ryozo, you’re exempt—you’ve got other work. If you want to come back later, I’ll be here.”

With that, the group dispersed.

Though they shuffled out of the training field like zombies, their bodies were intact.

‘Subspace is cheating like that.’

Kang Geom-Ma, watching them head out, noticed that only Ryozo remained in the now-empty field.

He walked through the dust toward her. She still had her back to him, motionless.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke.

“The boss tends to be harsh. You know how elders are—even when they say something nice, they mix in a scolding so you don’t get spoiled. Don’t take it too hard.”

“I’m not. And I don’t feel any injustice toward Father, so don’t worry, Geom-Ma.”

Ryozo gently shook her head and took his hand.

“I’m just thinking a little.”

“About what?”

“About seeking efficiency in combat. That made sense when our enemies were demons. But the ones we’re up against now are tied to the very roots of the world… and I think I understood what he meant.”

“True.”

Ryozo turned to him with a faint smile.

“If you fight an entity born from the origin of the world and seek efficiency, isn’t that actually what benefits that being the most?”

“Ah.”

“On the other hand, the more inefficient your approach seems, the higher the chance you’ll find a crack in it. I think that’s what he meant.”

“…You’re really smart.”

“Why?”

“Because he gives you one exercise and you already solve it. Makes the teacher look bad.”

“Bah, it was just a compliment. Thanks, Geom-Ma.”

In moments like that, Ryozo had the clarity of a clear sky.

“But I also don’t think that’s a definitive answer. Nor should it be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s talk while we eat.”

Ryozo clung to his arm.

“Let’s talk about it over lunch.”

***

The place Ryozo called her “dining room” was usually her office.

Contrary to what the cadets imagined, the professors were busy even during vacation.

When classes started, who welcomed the students? Were the Seven supposed to do it?

Even in a world saturated with AI, there were things only human hands could do.

And education, more than any other field, was a sanctuary far removed from the influence of artificial intelligence.

Even more so at Joaquin Academy, the most prestigious institution in the world, where they remained faithful to human-led administrative procedures, all under the banner of tradition.

“…I told you to leave this to Secretary Kim (Choi Seol-Ah) or the rest of the staff. They earn a more than generous salary. That’s what it’s for.”

“I don’t trust them enough.”

I frowned, and Ryozo, chewing on a rice triangle, answered while signing the towering stack of documents with ease.

“If they’re not trustworthy, then…”

“No. They have the capability. It’s just that my standard of trust is higher. It’s a matter of expectations.”

It gave me déjà vu.

That line could’ve come straight from my father’s playbook.

“Besides, I’m the one who earns the most money. It’s only fair that I work the most too.”

“I never thought you cared about money.”

“I don’t.”

Of course—ever the princess.

“I just say it to remind myself to stay a little grounded now and then.”

“I wish the rest of the faculty would remember that too.”

She kept chewing.

“These documents were prepared by the professors. But the final decision rests with me. Reviewing and approving them is my job. Who else could I delegate it to?”

“I think out of all of Joaquin’s directors, you’re the smartest, Ryozo.”

“And yet in Father’s training, I’m still in last place.”

“Last place? You said it yourself—everyone has a different role. Yours is to use your head. Sure, in emergencies you can play other roles, but that’s your strength.”

Ryozo didn’t reply immediately.

She put down the half-eaten onigiri, grabbed a bottle of green tea, and cleared her throat.

“Geom-Ma, I think there’s a clue in what you just said.”

“In what I said?”

I didn’t recall saying anything noteworthy.

Ryozo moved her lips, still with a grain of rice stuck on them.

“Father didn’t just ask us to hurt him. What he really wanted to see was what each of us would do in an emergency. He wanted us to think about our survival exits.”

“That makes sense.”

That had been the purpose from the beginning—his way of training the Golden Generation. He had concluded that by taking on everything myself, I had suppressed the heroism of my companions.

But the approaching end could only be faced together.

The Apostles of Suppression would learn from their past failures and come prepared.

‘They’ll bring ways to tie my hands and feet.’

My companions were brilliant.

There was no need to say it aloud—we all understood the message. Their grueling dedication to training wasn’t just for themselves, but ultimately for me.

“I was wrong in how I thought about it,” Ryozo said.

“Until this morning, I thought my role was to design team strategies and positioning. But it’s not. My job is to bring each one of them to a level where they can react on their own, no matter what sudden situation they face.”

That, Ryozo said with a gentle smile—

“That’s my true role.”

“Wow…”

“Yes. That’s precisely my area of expertise.”

“Ugh… but that’ll be tough. It’s not just teaching them academically—it’s practically reprogramming the minds of already-formed adults. I couldn’t do that.”

“Maybe it’s not so hard.”

Ryozo gently touched her lips.

Or rather, the grain of rice that had been stuck there for a while.

I thought she hadn’t removed it because she hadn’t noticed.

“If you see a grain of rice on the lips of someone you love, what do you do?”

“I take it off.”

“Correct. Now, Geom-Ma. Considering our relationship, the place we’re in, and the time—no one’s going to walk in. Between using your hand and your lips, which would be the more appropriate method?”

“You’re really…”

I stood up from the couch with an awkward laugh.

At that moment—

Crash!

Just as I stepped in front of Ryozo, the door burst open.

“Director!”

Choi Seol-Ah stormed in, panting with her hands on her knees.

“A message just came in from Auditore! It’s about Miss Chloe, remember? She just—!”

Ryozo glanced at her out of the corner of her eye with an enigmatic expression.

I half-turned, focused on every word.

Because of the emperor’s schemes, I’d nearly lost that information.

And since it was an object tied to the imperial lineage for so long, Auditore didn’t know how to use it. Misapplying it could’ve had the opposite effect.

So, as the holder, I gave them instructions.

Though, honestly, I did it very cautiously—I barely remembered having seen it in old wiki records.

‘I couldn’t go use it myself.’

Auditore’s internal regulations forbade it. Sicily strictly prohibited the entry of outsiders—even the emperor himself.

“They haven’t finished the process yet, but it looks like everything’s going well. And if any problems arise, they promised to notify us immediately.”

Perfect.

The cement-like weight pressing on my chest lightened a bit.

“I was just worried. Thanks for the update, Secretary Kim. I appreciate the quick response.”

Ryozo gave a smile.

“Hehe. And look, Lord, you’re here too. Ah, you were eating. I brought lunch—we can all eat together.”

“Secretary Kim.”

“Yes!!”

Her sky-blue eyes weren’t smiling at all.

“Your salary is docked as a penalty.”