Chapter 17: A Transfer Student Being a Singularity Is an Unwritten Rule (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 17: A Transfer Student Being a Singularity Is an Unwritten Rule (5)
A raw fish restaurant brimming with a quaint, rustic charm.
A potbellied middle-aged man, a regular customer, dropped by for a drink before heading home after a grueling day at the office.
“Boss, I’m here.”
“Welcome. What can I get you?”
“Haha. As if you don’t already know.”
“Just being polite. Please, take a seat.”
As always, he left the choice of dish entirely up to the owner.
Sitting at the counter and chatting casually while the owner dressed the fish had solidified into a weekly ritual over the past three years.
The middle-aged man watched the preparation in a daze, utterly mesmerized. Then, he brought up a long-standing question once more.
“Boss, seriously, why are you stuck in a backwater place like this?”
“They say countryside hospitality is cold, but aren't you being a bit harsh on someone just trying to scrape together a living?”
For a split second, dark eyes reflected off the sashimi knife before disappearing. The middle-aged man frantically waved his hands in denial.
“N-no, it’s not that…! I just mean your skill is way too wasted here. With talent like yours, if you operated in Seoul, you’d own a few high-rises by now.”
“Thank you for the kind words, but it’s hardly a skill worth showing off. Just enough to put food on my table.”
“Unless my eyes are fish eyes, anyone can tell right off the bat that your skill is extraordinary.”
“……”
“D-did you just look at me like I’m a fish?!”
“It was a joke.”
The owner smirked and slit the fish’s belly open. The trajectory of the sashimi knife drew a smooth, clean arc.
“Boss… you weren’t actually a gangster in the past, were you?”
“If I were a gangster, would you stop coming?”
“O-of course not. I’m already addicted to your craftsmanship. I ate raw fish at another place a while ago, and I genuinely couldn’t choke it down. Raw fish doesn’t even use seasonings, right? Yet the fish you touch tastes completely different from any other shop. And above all…”
The middle-aged man trailed off. His eyes drifted toward the side opposite the hand holding the knife. As the customer swallowed nervously, the owner spoke up offhandedly.
“Having only one hand doesn’t interfere with living.”
“…I didn’t mean to ask about that…”
“It’s only a bit inconvenient in the bathroom—when reaching for the toilet paper.”
“Look at you, saying that as someone who sells food.”
The awkward conversation fizzled out. The owner resumed his work, and the customer merely sipped his liquor.
Just then.
“Hmm?”
This time, the customer’s eyes shifted toward a corner of the counter. A single photograph sat there. Looking closely, it was a picture of the owner in his younger days alongside some boy.
I don’t think I’ve seen that photo before. Was it always there? More importantly, this gangster-looking guy was actually married?!
Sensing the man’s shocked gaze, the owner glanced at the photo as well. Then, a subtle smile touched his lips. In all three years of frequenting this place, it was a smile the customer had never seen before.
“He’s my disciple. My last one.”
“You actually had a disciple? But he couldn’t have been easy to teach. Just looking at his face, he looks fierce as hell.”
“It wasn’t easy. There were times I thought raising a wild beast would be easier. Still, well…”
The corners of the owner’s mouth curled up in pride.
“The boy wielded a blade like nobody else.”
“Oho. How was he compared to you? Did the pupil surpass the master?”
The owner slid a plate forward. On its pristine, glossy surface, the middle-aged man’s face was mirrored. It was a skill bordering on the divine.
“Comparing him to me is an insult.”
“I figured as much. I mean, whatever your reasons were for opening a shop in a backwater like this, I’d dare say your skills are among the best in the entire country.”
The owner shook his head as he wiped his knife with a cloth.
“I meant it’s an insult to him, not me.”
“…What?”
“That kid was the best in the nation. The finest swordsman across all eight provinces. If you like saltwater fish, you’ve probably heard of him at least once.”
“The Nation’s Best Swordsman…?”
Lightning flashed through his mind.
He vaguely recalled hearing about it.
The Nation's Best Swordsman—the man called the God of Sword. For a modern chef, a title straight out of a martial arts novel felt a bit grandiose, but anyone who had experienced his blade work even once couldn't spare enough praise.
Furthermore, he was said to never stay tied down to a single restaurant. When the time came, he would leave behind a resignation letter and vanish into thin air. Rumors spread far and wide across all eight provinces that just as his fame peaked, he would move on to another establishment.
A literal swordsman.
However, about ten years ago, his whereabouts became a complete mystery, leaving his name as a quiet legend passed around by word of mouth.
“You raised quite a remarkable disciple…”
“The harder the iron, the finer the blade when hammered. I had a tough time raising that brat, but his skill was the real deal.”
“Did you have any disciples after him?”
“He was my last, so naturally not.”
The customer nodded knowingly.
“Makes sense. With the God of Sword as your disciple, how could anyone else satisfy your standards?”
Saying so, he placed a piece of fish in his mouth. Ah, no matter when he ate it, his jaw thrilled with a tingling sensation. It was a flavor that utterly overwhelmed the palate.
“Before him, there were 'seven others'.”
“So you ran a big operation back then too!”
The owner merely smiled in silence.
“Anyway, where is the God of Sword now? I think the last time I heard news of him was ten years ago.”
“That kid is currently…”
The owner caressed the edge of the picture frame with his thumb.
“…studying abroad.”
“…Studying abroad? What kind of study?”
“He held nothing but a blade his entire life, so his character education was lacking—”
Stagger.
The owner’s vision wobbled. As if wearing 3D glasses, the background scattered into multiple overlapping layers. Utensils and objects clattered noisily onto the floor.
Thud!
Clutching his forehead, he slid down the wall. Startled out of his wits, the middle-aged customer rushed over and shook his body.
“Boss! Boss!”
Damn it. Is my lifespan already up?
This blue star called Earth, where he had come by even utilizing the 〈Evil Eye of the Loop〉. The backlash of abusing his liver because Earth's liquor suited his taste so well had seemingly returned without a single warning.
‘That brat always nagged me to tone down the heavy drinking. Impudent bastard, trying to lecture his father.’
The owner, Ho Ak-hyeon, reached out his sole remaining hand. His desperate touch pointed toward the counter table… toward the photo taken with that boy…
“…Ah…”
Soon, the curtain call descended upon his life.
* * *
His surroundings were pure white.
It was so blindingly pale that he couldn't tell whether his eyes were open or closed. In that realm of milky white, the owner slowly sat up. He muttered blankly to himself.
“…Is it finally over?”
The Hero of the Origin, Balor Joaquin. The possessor of a destiny forced to run an eternal treadmill. He was an 〈Infinite Regressor〉.
Time and again, he woke after finishing a life. Cruel fate never allowed him to rest in eternal peace.
He lost count of how many unfamiliar ceilings he had stared at. He counted up to his 666th regression before giving up entirely. If he included the regressions where he died by accident, he felt it would easily cross into four figures.
“This is a first.”
Perhaps this blank-sheet void was the final destination he had so desperately yearned for. Ever since having that dream ten years ago, he was secretly certain that the kid had saved the world. Was it thanks to that? The shackles of infinite regression—which had reduced Balor Joaquin to a mere tool for saving the world—seemed to have been 'severed.'
“You actually achieved a myth, you brat.”
What a praiseworthy bastard.
Yet, part of him couldn't help but worry. He was afraid Kim□□ would drift too far from humanity. The boy was barely human to begin with; one wrong step, and there was a high chance he would turn into a monster wearing the name of a god…
“Aren’t you worrying too much about your kid?”
The moment anxiety crossed his mind, footsteps approached. Someone else is in a place like this? The moment he turned his hostility-filled gaze, his pitch-black eyes widened in shock.
“You… from back then…”
“It’s been ten years.”
A figure defined only by outlined contours flashed a smile of bright white front teeth. Though it was a void where nothing existed, the dimension around him was warping.
“Father.”
He—the God of Sword—sat down across from him.
“What on earth is…”
A god who was both a fragment of an Outer God and his true self—put as simply as possible, a god who served as 'a component of an Outer God governing a universe.' That very entity had revealed himself.
“I’d love to give you plenty of time to process this and enjoy our reunion, but there’s no time. This space was barely constructed by making a slight incision into the Counterforce’s domain. Since we have very little time left, I’m going to speak unilaterally, so listen carefully and remember.”
“I’ll listen for now… No, very well…”
The God of Sword smiled softly and spoke.
“First, just as Father intended, that world reached a 'happy ending.' Truly couldn't be better.”
“I see.”
“However, a problem arose. The Counterforce won’t leave a concluded universe alone. It deletes completed stories from the worldline and attempts to insert new universes into the blank spaces. To use a metaphor, the worldline has a maximum capacity, so it cuts away the worlds that consume the most storage while yielding no further story.”
As Balor Joaquin’s complexion grew pale, the God of Sword continued in a cool tone.
“As you know, there is no distinction between good and evil in the enforcement of the Counterforce. It simply acts without any inherent will. However, the world where Father laid the foundation and 'that guy' brought it to a close was not erased from the worldline. Everyone is living happily ever after.”
“……”
“Because 'that guy'—who insists on remaining human despite transcending divinity—is holding off destruction.”
“…I understand…”
In short, the total capacity of the worldline had reached its absolute limit. Yet his son was somehow holding the line and blocking it. Because of that, the core entity known as the worldline was on the verge of exploding.
Balor Joaquin groaned inwardly. Having lived through countless ages, he thought he had drawn close to the ultimate truth.
‘I was careless.’
All creation must have an end. A natural law that even entities wielding omnipotence cannot escape.
It was absurd.
Absurd, and yet…
There must be an end for a beginning to exist. Just as the Joaquin Academy was founded after the 1st Human-Demon War came to an end.
Crack.
Fissures began to split open across the pure white space. Flakes and debris crumbled everywhere in complete chaos.
“What do you want to do, Father?” asked the God of Sword. “Do you wish for your world to be erased as ordained?”
“I…”
His lips trembled.
An instinctual truth learned through infinite regressions: the actions of the Counterforce ultimately serve the greater benefit of the entire cosmos. Opposing it would inevitably backfire, regardless of when.
And yet.
“…I.”
They say no parent can win against their child.
“I respect my son's wishes.”
Balor Joaquin raised his banner against the Counterforce.
“Hahaha, as expected!”
The God of Sword clutched his stomach and laughed. Most of the dimensional space where the two entities conversed crumbled into dust.
“Will you try to prevent the apocalypse?”
“Yet what is there that I can do…”
“What is your title, Father?”
Origin.
Hero of the Origin.
“Heroes existed even before you, Father. Yet people specifically call you the 'Hero of the Origin.' Do you vaguely know the reason why?”
“……”
“Victorious as you were in the 1st Human-Demon War, that alone doesn't quite fit such a title.”
As regressions repeated, memories of past lives gradually faded. The further a regression was from the present, the finer its memory fragments were shattered.
“Because there is a beginning, there is an end.”
The God of Sword embraced Balor Joaquin. The smooth, egg-like outer shell peeled away, revealing dark black hair.
“Please start anew.”
A surge of emotion welled up inside Balor Joaquin. Partially because the dimension held together by the God of Sword was collapsing, giving way beneath his feet.
But more so…
“Go and save me.”
Because he realized. The God of Sword intended to transfer all his divinity to Balor Joaquin.
The Counterforce's infinite regression—which had been severed when Kim□□ saved the universe—was about to be stitched back together for 'just one time' by the God of Sword burning himself out. Which meant that from this moment on, he would never see the God of Sword again. The god who had watched over him ever since he was bestowed the name Balor Joaquin would be permanently erased.
“To Father.”
The God of Sword stepped back slightly and smiled.
“May the Blessing of God be with you.”
Light enveloped Balor Joaquin’s eyes.
* * *
[The Counterforce has detected an anomaly.]
[※⚠️※Interference from an Impurity Detected※⚠️※]
[The Counterforce initiates investigation into the cause...]
[Loading… ■■■■□□□]
[...]
[...]
[Complete! ■■■■■■■]
[Investigating the truth of Impurity 〈??〉]
* * *
〈Character Information〉
Name: Balor Joaquin
Age: —
Abilities Held: Blessing of □□, Evil Eye of the Loop
Titles: Hero of the Origin, One-Armed Swordsman, One Who Learned the Truth, One-eyed Swordmaster.
Achievements: Founder of Valhǫll, Nurturer of Einherier, Father of □□
Unique Traits: Human Trapped in Karma, Mortal Blade Severing Immortality, Father of All Creation.
True Name: Identifying Name of the 1st Life (...)
...
[GX-Rank figure shrouded in mystery.]
[Thus, identification requires additional time.]
[...]
[...]
[True Name identification complete.]
—Flash!
[One who abandoned Balor's evil eye to become one-eyed.]
[One who became the origin by signaling the start of the Völsung saga.]
[One who provided the meeting of heaven-defying ravens.]
[One who shall obstruct the Apocalypse, the act of the Counterforce.]
.
.
.
[True Name: Odin (ᚹᛟᛞᚨᚾᚨᛉ)]
* * *
* * *
『Proceeding with Ragnarøkk』