The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master

When I was still a cadet, the Church of the Outer God wasn’t an organization with much power.

They were monks who, in secrecy, dedicated themselves to researching the truth of the world.

The very name of the church, “Outer,” already alluded to entities beyond the world.

The Church of the Outer God was a group that deliberately avoided public attention.

The person who played a decisive role in bringing the Church to the surface was the current Pope.

***

‘According to what Yu Sein told me, until then the Church of the Outer God…’

The radicals—let’s call them gently “extreme progressives”—had total control of power.

That’s why the moderates were always treated as leftovers.

And the one who flipped that power dynamic was the current Pope.

Ten years ago, in our first meeting, he told me about his past.

I, who had only heard a superficial version, thought his life had been uneventful.

The result was the opposite.

Looking at him now, it was clear that he would be remembered as one of the Popes who had suffered the most in history.

A moderate Pope, something almost unheard of.

Due to the opposition his coronation stirred among the radicals, the Church had nearly fractured multiple times.

And each time that happened, he managed to mend the torn public sentiment with his unique capacity for inclusion.

During his term, he endured many hardships.

At first, the radicals conspired against him, but by now, they no longer raised their voices.

Because the more disputes they tried to incite, the stronger the bond between the Pope and the faithful became.

As often happens, an organization that fragments and then reunites ends up with stronger ties.

“He’s a much more incredible person than we think. Some say that without him, the Church would have ended with the previous Pope.”

That was a comment Abel whispered to me.

She, always well-informed in high society, heard many of those hidden stories.

Even about the Church, which had grown quite a lot recently, stories reached her ears.

“…We’d better step aside for now.”

Abel, still affected by the earlier impression, suggested that.

I looked around and nodded.

Soon after, she and I left the crowded hospital lobby.

It wasn’t because of the noise; quite the opposite.

Even with so many people, the atmosphere of mourning had seeped into every corner of the place.

I, who had so often forced silence with the edge of the sword, felt incapable of withstanding that heaviness.

Abel took off her mask.

Freed from the suffocation, she murmured with a somber expression.

“They say His Holiness the Pope has only two hours to live… I don’t know whether to call it good or bad timing…”

“At least we still made it in time.”

My mouth also felt bitter.

“…But like this, it’ll be very hard to see him.”

The Church’s radicals were practically monopolizing the lobby.

Had they exercised that occupation as direct pressure on the hospital, Abel and I would’ve intervened.

I had the authority and the force to sanction not just an organization, but even a country.

And Abel had the prestige and power to support me.

She glanced at me and asked in a low voice.

“Did you notice they all looked sad?”

“Yes. It looked like, if someone touched them, they’d burst.”

I thought the Pope and the radicals were irreconcilable enemies, but—

“From what I saw, it looks like the Church’s top officials will say goodbye first. I don’t think a couple of outsiders like us will be allowed in.”

Abel added.

“…With a few days I could use my contacts to get us at least a short audience, but with only two hours, it’s impossible.”

“……”

Was there really nothing to be done?

‘And yet…’

I couldn’t move my feet.

The time I shared with His Holiness wasn’t much.

But he knew who I was, where I had come from.

Until the chief appeared, he was the one who understood my identity the most.

‘I have no lingering debts with my past life.’

But he was the only one who truly understood the “Kang Geom-Ma” destined for solitude.

‘I’m not expecting much…’

My original plan was to talk to him about the Church’s future.

And still…

“It seems his health was worse than we imagined.”

“It was inevitable. He must’ve endured too much. In a way, his situation was similar to yours, Geom-Ma. Within the Church, he was always treated as an outsider, and perhaps for being too close to the people, many radicals saw him as an eccentric.”

“I see.”

The Pope’s life had also been a lonely battle.

‘Ha…’

The Swiss sky was absurdly clear.

The sun shone indifferently, casting a shadow over our faces.

Whine, whine.

“There, there.”

Sköll and Hati rubbed their snouts against our legs.

They had shrunk down to the size of small dogs.

Then it happened.

“……!”

The two turned their heads at the same time.

A moment ago they seemed playful; suddenly, they bared their fangs and growled.

I, sunk in sorrow, had lost my sharpness, but they replaced my eyes and ears.

Abel and I followed their gaze.

A group of people from the Church was approaching, led by a man with a hard stare.

‘Maybe it’s because I was used to seeing Welter, with his gentle expression…’

The image I had of the Church of the Outer God matched these faces more.

The man walking in front bowed toward me.

“It’s an honor to greet you, Heavenly Sword. I’m Priest Bedivere.”

I thought about feigning indifference, but let it go.

They already knew who I was.

As I removed my mask, Abel whispered only to me.

“That Bedivere is famous for being the most radical in his speeches. Among the radicals, he’s almost considered the next Pope.”

So it was him.

That courteous attitude could easily be a disguise.

“His Holiness’s message is this: if by chance the Heavenly Sword comes, escort him without objection to my room.”

“……?”

We were surprised.

We didn’t expect that.

‘I thought they would block our meeting.’

To the radicals, it would be uncomfortable.

They couldn’t be stupid enough to expect that I—of all people—would support those who brand their believers with hot irons.

‘They wouldn’t even dream of it.’

If I were a radical, I would’ve done everything possible to keep myself from approaching the Pope.

“I’m Abel von Nibelung.”

Abel regained her composure before I did and introduced herself politely.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Master Bedivere.”

“Thank you for your honesty.”

“A member of the Church cannot lie. That would go against our doctrine.”

Her phrases seemed to have hidden thorns.

Suddenly, I remembered what Welter had told me.

— The radicals are extremely conservative. Everything is based on doctrine. They never show flexibility. If you ever deal with them, Heavenly Sword, they’ll seem unbearably rigid.

Exactly that.

Abel felt like she was conversing with a golem.

“We appreciate the message. But what is your personal opinion, Mr. Bedivere?”

“I would prefer to stop you.”

The response was dry, emotionless.

Like something out of a vending machine for phrases.

And he added.

“If I could, I would do everything in my power to prevent you from meeting with His Holiness.”

“……”

It was my turn to speak.

I took a big step forward.

“Even by force?”

“As I said. If it were possible for me, I would.”

The Church of the Outer God had significant combat strength.

Their training wasn’t limited to the spiritual.

The stronger someone was, the more they were praised as a true believer.

“But…”

Bedivere made a complicated expression and unintentionally sighed.

“As long as His Holiness is still alive, disobeying his will would also be heresy.”

He then turned on his heel and showed us his back.

His followers trailed behind him with martial discipline.

“To the faithful, His Holiness is the person closest to the heavens. There are so many who wish to see him one last time, so I beg you to economize your time.”

“In that case…”

“Yes.”

Bedivere spoke without looking back.

“I will guide you to where His Holiness is.”

***

‘Is this it?’

At first, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

The room where the Pope was hospitalized had nothing special about it.

It wasn’t even a private room—it was a ward for twenty people.

Except for one bed, all the privacy curtains were drawn back, and it was obvious that until that very morning, other patients had been there.

Abel and I walked in, still disoriented, when Bedivere added suddenly.

“We also begged him to accept a private room on the top floor, but His Holiness insisted on staying here.”

“I see.”

I felt my face grow hot.

It reminded me of the countless times I’d been admitted to VVIP rooms.

Bedivere stopped near the bed covered by a white curtain.

He hesitated for a moment, then stepped aside to let us through.

“The command His Holiness gave me was only to guide the Heavenly Sword and his companion here. We were not authorized to approach further.”

What a rigid man.

With that sunken gaze, Bedivere seemed to be warning me that the Pope had little time left, so please don’t take too much of it.

That was, in essence, the meaning behind his silent plea.

I nodded, pretending to understand.

Once Bedivere and the other believers withdrew, Abel and I drew back the curtain.

An old man lay in the bed.

His hands were crossed over his chest, so thin and bony they would break the heart of anyone who saw them.

Abel, without realizing it, covered her mouth.

The Pope slowly opened his eyes.

He may not have had the strength to turn his head, barely managing to move his pupils.

A faint smile appeared on his lips.

“…Oh, Heavenly Sword. If the one who comes to take this fool’s life didn’t look so much like a sword… then I suppose I’m still alive in this world.”

“…Don’t say that. You still look strong.”

“Ha… haha.”

His laugh was faint.

“Haha, it’s been so long since I had a reason to laugh, but the pain in my chest reminds me that I’m still alive.”

“That’s right. You’re still here.”

Though in truth, he was weakened to the extreme, like a candle about to go out.

“I feel sorry, Heavenly Sword, for stealing the youth of someone so valuable.”

“You can take all of mine, if you wish. I have plenty to spare—too much, even.”

“Haha. How admirable, that spark is still the same as when I first met you ten years ago. I thank you, but I’ve already enjoyed my youth. To take someone else’s would be mere greed.”

“I could never win with words against you, Your Holiness.”

“Thanks to that, someone as lacking as I was able to sit in a seat far above my worth. I’m afraid… when I leave this world, I’ll have to collect all the words I’ve spoken in life. I have much to atone for.”

“You’ve atoned enough—I’m sure of it.”

Abel barely managed to speak.

At that moment, it was painful for her—the figure of the Pope overlapped with her own father in his final days.

“Your Holiness is a role model for the entire Church. If anyone deserves to go to the paradise of heroes, it’s you.”

“The paradise of heroes… that sounds nice. And yet…”

Cough, cough.

The candle flickered compassionately.

“I would rather be able to go to the outer world…”

My pupils trembled in sync with that flame.

I composed myself and politely asked Abel for permission.

I wanted a moment alone with the Pope.

Of course, she agreed, drew the curtain, and stepped aside.

Soon, a sob brushed the back of my neck.

At last, I spoke.

“You must be suffering greatly, Your Holiness.”

“Could it be worse than the bloody path you’ve walked, Heavenly Sword?”

“No. I can see it—I can see the pain you’re enduring right now.”

It was true.

The Pope’s body was covered in countless red lines.

Those innumerable marks represented the physical agony afflicting him.

With just a cut to those lines, I could clear a red path for him to pass on in peace, one last time.

“I believe I can ease your pain, Your Holiness.”