Chapter 136
Academy’s Gumiho is a Magic Genius – Chapter 136
The Sword Saint had despaired!
He hadn't even returned from the battlefield yet, but whoever that embedded reporter was who leaked the news, the article had spread far and wide across the world via breaking bulletins, sending people into a frenzy.
Naturally, not in a positive light, but a negative one.
"Doesn't he have any sense of responsibility as a Player?"
"He got promoted to 'Your Excellency' at such a young age. Must be getting complacent now that he's fat and happy. Time to take it easy, huh."
"Wow, isn't this straight-up betrayal? Think of all the taxes we're paying."
Without knowing the full story or the truth.
People just gnawed endlessly on the hero's despair.
Of course, the cult-like followers calling themselves the Sword Saint's devotees firmly believed he would return someday and prayed fervently for him, but there was still no word after a full year.
And for good reason.
"Oppa, you doing that again today?"
"Hyung, that's boring. So boring."
"Let's play hide-and-seek together, okay?"
"...Just a bit longer, and I'll play with you in two hours."
"Promise? Then I'll help Mom pick fruit. You can't break it, okay?!"
"...Yeah, got it."
"Then I'll go help Dad too!"
"Me too!"
"G-Go, together...!"
The Sword Saint wasn't at the front lines to begin with.
Well, in a sense, you could call the area where he was a stretch of the front lines, but it was too ambiguous to truly qualify as such.
This land was far too peaceful to be considered a battlefield.
Children played, parents watched over them.
Even on this remote island, distant from the mainland where modern conveniences thrived.
There was a vibrant energy of people living their lives here.
...How many years had it been since he'd last seen something like this?
"Finish up today's work, play with the kids, then just do some cleaning, huh."
Maybe because it was an island cut off from the mainland.
Every night, swarms of sea monsters flew in from the ocean like schools of flying fish.
To stop them from causing chaos on the island, the Sword Saint wielded his holy sword like a broom every night for 'cleanup' duty.
Mostly rank 7 to 9 grunts, though the occasional rank 4 heavyweight showed up. But to him, they all dropped in one hitno difference whatsoever.
It was literally just light nighttime housekeeping.
"Excuse me."
"...Oh, it's the village chief."
"Yes, Your Excellency, Sword Saint."
"Drop the title and rank. I'm just Baek Seung-woo, the guy from the continent, dealing with you all. Speak freely."
Your speech makes it impossible to relax, sir.
The village chief of this remote island was an elderly man who'd lived here for 67 years. No infrastructure at all, and before he settled it, monsters infested not just the seas but the island itself.
Yet the chief had somehow become the island's top scholar past his sixties.
And precisely because he was a scholar, he was the only one who knew the Sword Saint's true identity.
"Anyway, what is it?"
"They're here from outside."
"Supplies? More annoying visitors. Can't you handle it?"
"They always insist on you specifically, not me..."
"Fine, no helping it. I'll be right back."
The Sword Saint, who had been carving something into a massive boulder with his holy sword, stood up. He headed toward the coastline where the sea stretched out.
There, a man in swim trunks stood on the sandy beach next to a large ship.
...Is he insane?
The coast here wasn't stable yetunless you were as skilled as him, armor was the sensible choice.
Seeing all kinds of weirdos these days.
"Um... Your Excellency?"
"Just drop the supplies and go."
"I haven't even started talking yet?"
"It's the usualbegging me to return to the front, right? Or maybe some new terms."
"...How'd you know?"
You lot show up once a month. Twelve times now. What's different this time?
This guy bringing the supplies he requested was new, but he was thinking the same old thing.
"Whatever demands you make, I'm staying on this island for the foreseeable future. If you really want me back, tell your superiors to listen to my conditions properly."
"I'm just doing my jobif I say that, I'll get fired, you know?"
"Then add that if you get fired, their bosses' heads will roll too."
"...Were you always this blunt? I heard you were pretty serious."
"What kind of personality do you expect from a 19-year-old? Ah, 20 now, I guess. Forgot since hardly anyone reminds me anymore. Anyway, what do you want from someone that age?"
The man was stunned.
19?
Too young to be called a war hero, isn't he?
He'd only ever cared about the hero's exploits.
First time hearing his agehe couldn't hide his shock.
The Sword Saint waved a hand a few times at the man's frozen expression, trying to continue the conversation, but soon gave up. He dragged the 500kg supply crate one-handed toward the island's interior.
The man just stared silently at his back.
'The hero we thought was so lofty... his back is actually this small?'
He was 19, but maybe because he'd spent his secondary growth spurt on the food-scarce front lines.
Compared to peers growing up safe inland, his build was on the smaller side. The man had a 17-year-old son himself.
His kid at 15 had been about that height.
Sure, tumbling around battlefields meant that build didn't stand out much.
And his son was unusually tall.
Even accounting for all that.
The hero's growth years had been bleak and unstablethat much was true.
The man no longer had the right to try persuading the Sword Saint. It was because of this hero's sacrifices that his own son could grow up tall and healthy.
"Well, I'll be off then. Make sure you relay my message. Though knowing your higher-ups, they won't leave me be."
As the beach faded from view.
The Sword Saint spoke to the man.
The tension eased from the man as he bowed his head.
This was all he could do for the weary young hero, body and soul exhausted. Expressing gratitude with his actions.
It was the best he could manage.
"...Understood. We won't bring it up again. But if you change your mind, please tell us next month's supply run."
"Won't happen. Get back to the inland safely."
"Yes, thank you."
Gripping the supply crate, the Sword Saint headed back.
First, finish his work. Then gift the chocolates and candies in the supplies to the kids.
He could already hear their joyful voices clearly.
They'd love it if he played with them first, then handed them out one by one.
Yeah, definitely.
Shing!
He drew the sword from his waist and resumed work.
His task was shaping the island's massive boulders into tombstones, engraving specific people's names, birthdays, birth dates, and dates of death.
Couldn't fill the whole island with graves.
So he packed as many lives as possible onto giant stones instead.
In one year, he'd inscribed about 120,870,5509 names on the tombstones.
Yet even after that many, mountains of names remained. And even now, new ones piled up by the moment.
"In that sense, Jeju Island really is better."
A land that had survived cut off from the world since monster attacks 70 years ago.
Everyone thought the Jeju locals had all died, but they'd kept a faint lifeline going.
If he hadn't stumbled on them last year while using the island as a supply route to kill the disaster's source in Japan, he wouldn't be here now.
Yes, better than the blood-and-death battlefield.
Even if the nightly cleanups got annoying.
Comforting the dying and living each day meaningfully was preferable.
Truly.
He really thought so.
But why did he keep failing to protect them?
"......"
Jeju's rocks everywhere.
As he carved them into tombstones and filled in thousands of names, it struck him as odd that the kids hadn't come by.
The uneasy feeling hit.
Before he knew it, the Sword Saint was running.
What he found was a ruined village.
People of all ages and genders slaughtered, their corpses devoured by miscellaneous monsters like hyenas.
He hacked the beasts apart, and as their blood soaked the flame-dried earth, everything turned to ash.
Who the hell did this?
For a moment, he wondered if it was the higher-ups desperate for his return, but no human handiworkhe felt none. Even Eve, called the Magic Saint, couldn't fool his senses.
No way some old fogeys outdid her.
Then who?
As his thoughts deepened.
"......"
In the end, to keep the corpses from becoming mere meals for the rabble, the Sword Saint dug pits to bury them.
No shovel.
He could mana-craft one, but wasn't in the mood. So he clawed the dirt with his hands. Tough going on the scorched, dry ground.
Even as nails and palms tore dozens of times, he dug.
One pit, two.
Over a hundred done when he realized the kids' bodies were clustered nearby.
The spot where he often played with them.
Village adults would chuckle indulgently when he played with the kids despite himself. The young women blushed watching him; the young men glared, jealous of his attention.
Honestly, it was a hassle.
But those moments let him feel like a living human, not a strategic weapon.
No more.
So he could say it bluntly now.
"Sorry... but I hated the kids."
He personally wiped the blood from them.
Mana-filled their broken bones and torn flesh, stitching them neatly.
Bury them in the earth, but send them off cleanat least that way, the kids and parents would be pleased.
"Hated how they yammered every day, whined for playtime."
No one left to hear those words.
The small, lively island became a deserted one.
So no one called out as the Sword Saint's mutter turned to scream, then wail.
Couldn't.
"I hate kids. Hate how their innocence turns cruel sometimes."
Kids killing dragonflies and ants without guilt.
To the Sword Saint, who knew death's weight bone-deep, that purity was burdensome.
"Sometimes seeing them play innocently, I wonder what it'd be like if I'd grown up that way. But I didn't, so I envied them. That's why I hated them."
And.
What else?
He racked his brain for more reasons he hated kids, but nothing came.
With an unreadable expressionsmile or frown?he buried them cleanly. For a moment, their closed eyes looked angelic.
As emotions swelled in his chest, the final pit's moment arrived.
This girl always called him oppa, leaned on him.
Orphaned, yet loved by all, grown bright and cheerful. If she'd just lived, she'd have become a stunning beauty that'd shock the mainland.
Someday grown elegant, taking a partner, lavishing love on a child just like her.
Seeing that would've been reward enough for his life.
"......Aaaahhh!!!"
The Sword Saint who'd claimed to hate kids, tried turning from their deathsnow sobbed openly.
Rain fell, washing his eyes, blurring tears from downpour.
But slamming his head on the dirt, bursting veins for bloody tearsthose stood out, unmistakable.
Wailing in despair, he poured out a lifetime's tears.
At dawn, the Sword Saint rose, opened a thick book from supplies.
Names of the war dead and missing, tallied by the military state.
He memorized all ~200 million.
For those who died on battlefields for him, who thought of humanity even in deaththat was all he could do.
Never forget them.
So within a week, he finished all the tombstones and left the uninhabited island.
And probably... from this point.
Maybe from slamming his head too hard.
His mind grew confused, objects blurred, inside/outside trivialities hard to distinguish.
But he learned to wear a nonchalant mask, hiding his raw turmoil from others forever.
When all wars ended.
Jeju became famous as the land the Sword Saint tended for a year.
Civilians and heroes' families found names on stones, wept thanks.
The deserted island became a sanctuary.
But one secret no one knew.
Among the ~200 million namesnearing 500 million by war's endabout 100 belonged to unknowns.
Only one person placed hands on them yearly, held rites. Forever just one.
* * *
Meanwhile, in Frontier Barony.
Riots erupted in the north's sole city.
Isabel hoped the ringleaders were revolutionaries, rebelsbut their pallor said otherwise.
"Tch, hit hard by mind magic."
She clicked her tongue.
This riot reeked of manipulation.
No sign of the so-called revolutionaries when chaos was perfect for them. A few mind-controlled residents stirred unrest among the masses.
A nagging thought.
'No way the viscount orchestrated all thisrebels and brainwashed locals alike?'
The mind-slaves' rampage.
Thatched roofs ablaze, arson and murder casual horrorsstudents averted eyes, but not her.
Isabel's blue eyes stayed calm as a still lake amid the brutality.
Even excited, perhaps.
She might not realize.
Her house Sirius's symbol: wolf, werewolf.
Ancestral love of night, moonlight, blood, huntflowed faintly in her veins.
Under full moon, blood scent thick, she grew colder, more calculating.
"D-Die, y-you...!!"
"Hey! What do we do? Just kill him?"
"Why dump it on me! Knock him out!"
"How do you knock out something this feral?!"
Suddenly, a man charged the students' group.
Mind-controlled, zombie-like, snapping at limbs.
But lightly blocked by Iji's shield.
Just an ordinary man, no great strength or power.
"It's a dungeon anyway. Killing's fine, right?"
"Makes... sense?"
"Then we kill? Better preempt these types before they cause worse."
Clack.
Axe swung for the man's neck.
That instant, Isabel yelled.
"No! Never kill! That's game over!"
Why?
No questions.
She was the teacher-appointed head.
Group leader. Her orders absolute.
"Iji, shield up, charge front."
"...Not bragging, but I'm shorter than the shield? Can't see to rush properly."
"Do it. Yu-ra, find a path."
"To where?"
"The viscount."
"Got it."
No Yu-ra loaded bullets into her firearm.
Guiding her, eyes scanned surfaces of minds nearby.
Reading locals' inners.
Skimming for viscount's whereabouts.
And found it.
The world can't be this cruel... Never imagined that smug viscount reduced to that. ...But as accomplice, gotta stay quiet. First, hide in Efots Viscount's manor basement.
Found him.
People knowing Efots Viscount's location.
No Yu-ra tailed slowly; other students followed her.
Their movements streamed to the academy via body cams.
And far off, two men chuckled at their trail.
"Haven't had appetizers of tender lamb belly in ages."
"That's your taste?"
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing. Heh heh... learned something fun."
"Why do I feel grossed out?"
Simon and the nameless red-haired fiend.