Chapter 137
Academy’s Gumiho is a Magic Genius – Chapter 137
Academy Nine-Tailed Fox Is a Magic Genius Chapter 137
There was no place in this world for me to return to.
Realizing that fact anew, the Sword Saint couldn't help but agonize over his own life.
His parents and younger sibling were safe on the mainland.
He had lost too many loved ones, but a precious few, including his master, were still alive.
The military academy, where he had spent more than half his life, still stood strong.
The battlefield he had endured for nearly five years had merely changed locations; the hellish events continued unabated every single day.
The Sword Saint had many places in his life to return to.
"...Where should I go?"
Yet he had no idea where he truly belonged.
At an age approaching twenty, tormented by this belated wandering, he realized his body was bound to Jeju Island.
His original goal of carving the names of all those who died for himor were born on this land and met unjust endsacross the island to create a massive monument had come to an end.
No village brought him peace of mind anymore; they had all burned away.
The Sword Saint, needing to relocate, examined his footsteps, but nowhere felt like a place he could call home.
Where could he go to live truly as himself?
This late adolescence battered him mentally.
'Should I go back to my parents' house, eat warm home-cooked meals after years apart, and live off money that would last a lifetime?'
That didn't sound bad.
How many years had it been since he last ate his mother's cooking?
At least one or two years had passed without even a taste.
But if he chose that path...
The day the front lines broke, he'd have no choice but to flee with his parents and sibling.
Not that fleeing would guarantee survival forever.
'Or should I return to the battlefield.'
True to his title of Sword Saint...
He could march to where they clamored for his blade and exact vengeance carrying the regrets of all the dyinga noble pursuit.
But with endless hordes of monsters, such revenge would prove an empty, unattainable goal, crumbling swiftly.
No matter what he chose, no good outcome emerged.
Was there truly no 'home' where he could return with peace of mind?
Tormented and agonizing, the Sword Saint soon set aside his wandering.
He decided to return to the battlefield.
"I have to protect those I can."
He had lost far too many bonds.
Yet these blood-crusted, filthy hands still held unbroken ties.
At first glance, they seemed like grudges, but Eve was the first friend to ever reach out to him in his life.
His master, who taught him the sword and what it meant to love another.
His teacher, who provedeven through outdated scriptures and doctrinesthat one could force inner peace in this harsh world.
And comrades bound together under the absurd name of the Eight Saints.
Too few to fill even ten fingers.
But if he could protect what remained... he had to move.
There was still something he could do.
Though his mind had shattered completely, the Sword Saint offered a prayer to God as his saintly teacher had taught him.
That damn omnipotent being only bestowed trials.
No answer came, just acceptance of the prayerlike a thug. The thought arose unbidden.
Still, to protect those who remained, the Sword Saint rose.
From repeated deaths and tragedies.
To shield his frail self, he donned the mask of composure, only to realize how dull and fragile it truly was.
It took less than a day.
Around the time he submitted his return request to the military's highest echelons.
"...You dispatched my sister to the deepest depths?"
Sister.
Meaning his master, Yeomra, had been sent to the deepest depths.
Hearing the words from those seated at the grand round table, the Sword Saint doubted his ears.
"Yes, they've been reports of demons rampaging in some backwater frontier lately."
"Demons, huh. Never thought such inferior beings would gain so much ground. Their unified group is called the Demonic Cult, right...?"
"Haha, even if they've built their own sanctum in the deepest front lines. They won't stand a chance against , who wields hell's brimstone."
The elderly upper echelons chuckled, sipping their wine.
Did they even grasp the implications of their orders?
The deepest depths.
That deepest region meant within 100 km of where the Seven Calamitiesthe origin and womb of monsterscoiled.
The Seven Calamities were seen as natural disasters beyond human control.
Humanity had thrown in legions led by him and her time and again, barely slaying five.
"...You're all insane."
The Sword Saint muttered something.
Not catching it properly, the upper echelonsfaces flushed with alcoholleaned in.
"Hm~? My ears must be going, can't hear our great saint clearly."
"Must be the booze. I missed the start."
"What did you just say?"
Not everyone missed it, of course.
He had muttered it for them to hear.
"I said you're all fucking insane."
Out of your minds.
A screw-loose judgment.
Did they think he'd driven back the Seven Calamities all this time so she could return alone?
"Even for you, such insolence won't be tolerated!"
"Come now, General. Calm down. Another drink?"
"He's drunk and muddled. War hero or not, that kid's still below us. If we let that slide...!"
"What a laughable bunch."
The Eight Saints had purged the upper echelons once before.
Who would've thought they'd still be like this.
My mistake.
Ten elders at the round table.
Legends of the first-generation players.
Living history, legends, myths.
But their era had long ended.
Their bodies, stuffed with fat instead of honed muscle, proved it.
"You're like the native gods of old Canaan. Ever hear of the noble storm god of abundance and tempests, ?"
"Hadad...? What nonsense is that?"
"One great religion worshipped a monotheistic god, deeming all others demons or sins. Myths reduced to devils."
But knowing the truth, devils or not...
They were gods all the same.
Why bring that up now?
"What does that mean? And why are you approaching me now...?"
"Man-cheol! Get back!"
Squelch!
The sound of meat sliced just before butchering.
Common in slaughterhouses, now echoing in the military's most exalted chamber.
Then... pig squeals followed.
The wine-drunk pigs, perfectly aged, spewed red liquid from their bodies. From severed heads, from torsos cubed like steaks.
Perfectly matured wine spilled in hue.
"S-save me!! Guards! Please, he-help...!!"
Squelch!
Squelch!
Squelch!
The more he stabbed, the more aged wine the wondrous pigs spat.
By now, the Sword Saint's eyes had lost focus.
Did he know what he was doing? He stabbed mechanically, devoid of emotion.
'Pigs. I hate creatures fattened on greed like livestock, so I purged them all. Now I have to do it again. Oh, right. Got to find Sis quick. What was I doing again?'
The broken doll couldn't gather its jumbled thoughts, continuing the slaughter.
His mechanical motions, like a puppet with cut strings, blurred the line of broken human.
Where in the world was there such a strong doll?
His reputation was vast and solid, too.
The guards at the round table doors were stunned by the Sword Saint's atrocity but made no move to stop him.
They firmly believed that 'the Sword Saint' slaughtering the upper echelons would benefit humanity.
Clearly, the fault lay with the upper echelons.
Thus, the Sword Saint massacred the entire upper command, including commanders and chiefs of staff issuing reckless orders.
Snapping to, he was shocked at who could have done this.
But testimonies confirmed it was him; he merely nodded.
He rarely stained his hands with human blood over monster ichor.
Yet it didn't feel unpleasant.
Perhaps because he thought of it as butchering pigs.
The Sword Saint realized some humans weren't human at all.
From that moment.
Many noticed the Sword Saint had gone mad.
Yet no one confined him to the wards.
He was already the military's master.
A mad master's command? The iron-blooded nation of soldiers' guns and blades stood ready for any order.
The dream progressed swiftly thereafter.
Like fast-forwarded footage.
Centered on observer Andre Alpheus, the world spun rapidly.
The Sword Saint led the army to the deepest depths.
Buried his teacher there.
Hung her faithful rosary on his earhis neck already bore another comrade's gift.
Pressing on, his master had fallen half-demon to demon schemes.
His swordsmanship mentor broken by his sword.
Laid to rest in her beloved rose garden.
White roses dyed red by blood suited herinsisting red roses were far prettier than whitedrawing hollow laughter over tears.
Laughing madly.
He came to loathe all demons deeply.
He exterminated every monster from the world.
Unnaturally swift developments.
Stunned, the beautiful marquise froze rigid.
"No way...?"
Before her slumped a man's back.
Countless vengeful spirits clung to it.
Men and beasts intermingled, but even shea demonsensed thick demonic aura fitting their roles.
[You.]
A snapped neck gazed at her.
The grotesque sight made even Andre Alpheusnoble-class demon, strongest among them, far beyond ordinary humansstumble back.
Whether she did or not...
[You saw, didn't you?]
Bloodshot, hollow pupils held only her.
Reflected emotions: thick disgust and murderous intent.
Hostile to all demons, he vowed at first sight to tear her apart.
But having witnessed his tale...
No normal death for her.
This world brimmed with mysteries.
Summoning souls for talk wasn't impossible. Then, kill body and soul alike.
[Doesn't matter if you saw. Never planned to let you see that far.]
Whoosh!
Flames erupted over his body.
In ominous purple, they filled the sewer instantly.
Spreading into darkness, reflecting off sewer waters, the fire grew eerie and bizarre.
Then, as multiple fox tails unfurled...
It became a small light illuminating Baek Seung-woo.
His shadow-wreathed form was a fox more vicious than any demon.
The dream ended.
The curtain fell, but the master permitted no audience exit.
Because this time...
[No helping it. Now it's your turn to be the protagonist.]
His grotesque grin instinctively told her.
This world had been in his grasp from the start.
The dream hadn't ended.
Too late, though.
Even early realization wouldn't change a thing.
* * *
All teams but one had returned to reality.
1 hour 40 minutes left in the exam.
Guild scouts from outside should be leaving soon, yet they watched footage more intently than any time that week.
"That's a demon, right?"
"Were there demons in the reverse world too?"
"Does that mean another demon incursion? That possible?"
Chaos filled the auditorium.
With only one team left, the big screens broadcast solely Baek Seung-woo's team.
All eyes locked there.
"It's an incursion."
"Omi-nim?"
"Look closely at the priest beside the horned man. Those in the know would recognize him."
Students' uniform body cams.
Amid battles, gazes shook wildly, focus elusivebut at the edge of vision.
Two men stood atop the grandest mansion.
The demon was obvious from skin tone and horns, but his companion lacked distinct traits, delaying recognition.
"Simon...? Why's a Demonic Cult worshipper in a midterms-only dungeon?"
"Duh, idiot! He invaded it!!"
"Isn't this unfair?"
"Fairness be damneda wanted criminal invaded the dungeon? Then the demon beside him invaded too. Students' safety's at risk!!"
Confusion reigned.
Some demanded rescue; others asked where accompanying proctors were.
At the back, two watched it all.
"This is unpleasant."
"Unpleasant or not, nothing we can do. Right, Chairman?"
Nam Hwa-yeon smiled sweetly at the massive chairman, eyes vacant.
The chairman, unable to retort, rubbed his huge face.
He longed to shove through the noisy crowd and storm the dungeon, but someone had sealed the rift between reality and reverse world.
Forcing it open risked harming students inside.
As he suppressed his mana and anger...
Nam Hwa-yeon's lips curved watching the screen.
Right then.
BOOM!!!!
A blast louder than a bomb shattered part of the mansion.
The roar echoed through auditorium speakers into every ear.
"Ow, my ears!"
"What the hell? Did the mansion explode?!"
"...Insane."
The auditorium-shaking boom centered on Baek Seung-woo.
Those unable to look away grimaced, groaning.
"...Gotta apologize when he returns."
"Me too."
"Was that kid always this strong...?"
"Even rotten, a bonito's still bonito."
"Bonito? Bullshit."
Even an apocalyptic flick would feel serene by comparison.
Baek Seung-woo's presence was that overwhelming.
"That look like bonito to you?"
Fire rained from the sky.
Not flowing but burning rain clung to people, neutralizing them without burns.
His mana and [Flame Magic] control was insanely masterful.
Professors, TAs, and guild scouts watched silentlya feat daunting even for advanced mages.
One scout murmured blankly.
"The world... is burning."
A small city, perhaps.
But the reverse world was no pushover.
That world burned and melted.
Gushing blood-red flames.
And the arsonist who torched a world was the Heavenly Fox Baek Family's failure.
The overlooked youngest at work.
Baek Seung-woo.
Only his master, Nam Hwa-yeon, noticed his form differed from usual.