Chapter 20: One of Us Dies (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 20: One of Us Dies (1)
“Heavenly Sword!”
Seong Yu-chang chased after me in a hurry. The naturally gaunt man’s cheeks were hollowed out, making him look pitifully haggard.
Dear Lord...
It was pitiful to watch him run over without even taking a moment to catch his breath. This was all because of Parsi Academy—those wicked bastards.
Because those arrogant fools didn't know their place, Seong Yu-chang—a man who had already sacrificed an arm and a leg for the future of the cadets—was pushing himself past his limits.
This wouldn't do. As his acquaintance, it was my duty to go beat the daylights out of the main culprits causing Seong Yu-chang all this stress.
They must have taken him for granted just because Seong Yu-chang tried to solve things peacefully through dialogue.
‘I'm a different story.’
Not content with sullying the Boss’s legacy, they had to torment my friend. They would pay dearly for it. I would make an example of them, thereby reducing the crushing workload on Ryozo and Abel.
Three birds with a single swing of my blade. It was bound to be an extraordinarily cost-effective strike.
“If you must goooo!”
Seong Yu-chang grabbed my waist and clung to me. When I ignored him and kept walking, his hands slid all the way down to my ankles. Honestly, this old guy’s acting when playing pity was top-tier.
“Over my—no, cut through my dead body first!”
“...”
“...”
“I didn't think this through.”
As expected of a non-hero. He clearly wasn't prepared to lay down his life.
“Wise decision.”
“...Were you seriously going to cut me down?”
I nodded and took another step forward.
“I will let you go.”
However—
“In exchange for letting you go!”
Seong Yu-chang was also a man who held significant sway in society. Had he not risen to become the Hero Association President despite being a non-awakener?
He was by no means an ordinary man. Absolutely not.
Seong Yu-chang had undoubtedly anticipated this reaction of mine and prepared a bargaining chip of his own.
This was why I was certain he was acting. Behind the facade of an awkward middle-aged man obsessed with morning soap operas hid a seasoned politician.
“You must take the Sword Princess with you!”
Seong Yu-chang delivered his trump card. I froze in place like a weighted toy righting itself. As I slowly turned my gaze down upon him, he cowered.
The Sword Princess, Abel von Nibelung.
My wife was a high noble reigning at the absolute pinnacle of the aristocratic caste. Currently, the Nibelung family split high society in half alongside the pro-Victoria Imperial Family faction.
It was impossible to secure such a standing through sheer martial force alone. It required political tact, and usually, those matters were resolved through dialogue.
Verbal communication.
The very thing I found bothersome and loathed to do.
‘A single slash solves everything, so why bother?’
Whenever I showed such an unhuman moment, Abel would step up to speak on my behalf. Seong Yu-chang must have dropped Abel’s title precisely for that reason.
“You’ve turned into quite the sly fox over the past ten years.”
“I’d prefer you say my political tact has improved.”
“It certainly has. It really has, but—”
However, I decided to stick to my guns this time.
“Not right now.”
I brushed Seong Yu-chang off lightly.
“H-Heavenly... Sword...?”
“I'll call you.”
“HEAVENLY SWOOOORD!!”
“Adidas, Association President.”
I vanished into thin air.
My blood was boiling. Times like this reminded me that this body belonged to the 1st Corps Commander of the Demon King’s Army. Whenever my emotions surged, a destructive urge welled up right to the brim.
“If you act up, you pay the price.”
Parsi Academy, I will cut you down.
Episode: One of Us Dies
Association President Seong Yu-chang. He really was no easy pushover. As expected of the head of the Hero Association, he was meticulous.
“I’m coming with you.”
Abel was waiting for me at the entrance with her arms crossed. Her dazzling beauty was practically stealing the souls of the men passing by. I attempted to blend in among those mindless zombies.
“Excuse me, black-haired gentleman. Mind looking over here?”
Let's try feigning ignorance first.
“You’ve got the wrong person.”
“Save the jokes when you’re on your way to erase an academy.”
“...”
“I can't let you go alone, Geomma.”
I had no choice but to resign myself.
‘That old guy.’
To think he had already given Abel a heads-up before the meeting. I hereby retract my silent disrespect.
Seong Yu-chang had risked his life to grab my leg. That dramatic performance was a ploy to stall me for even a few seconds—calculating the exact time it would take for Abel to arrive at the entrance.
‘No choice then.’
Scratching the back of my head, I approached Abel. Her dazzling golden eyes, captivating as always, pierced right through me.
“I think you’re misunderstanding something. I’m not here to stop you. I’m not some frustrating, blood-pressure-raising killjoy.”
Saying so, Abel lifted the edge of her coat at her waist. Unadorned and plain, a single sword hung at her hip.
“You brought Nothung?”
“I told you. I’m not here to stop you.”
Abel crossed her arms even tighter.
‘If she brought Nothung... doesn't that deviate completely from Seong Yu-chang's plan?’
Nothung.
An heirloom handed down through generations of the Nibelung family. Its rank was, needless to say, S-rank. In high-level gaming terms from my Earth days, it would be an EX-rank armament.
Nothung was the weapon of the Sword Saint, one of the Seven Champions. Grouping it with ordinary S-rank armaments was an insult to Nothung.
As all this exposition suggested, a member of the Nibelung family carrying Nothung meant they were essentially geared up for battle. The Sword Emperor himself had slaughtered demons with Nothung during the Human-Demon War.
It sure would be great if the armament I requested from Wieland turned out to be at least on par with Nothung. I should bring it up next time I visit him. While I could vividly picture him yelling at me to cut the nonsense, the man did owe me a debt.
Ten years ago, I hadn't forgotten the day he turned my Murasame into absolute scrap.
The onlookers whispered among themselves. The subtle tension between us seemed to give them a surge of dopamine.
Abel didn't pay them any mind.
“So, let’s go together.”
She linked her arm in mine. Right on cue, envious glares rained down upon us. Having been on the receiving end of such looks every single day since marrying Abel, I was thoroughly used to it by now.
“Shall we go via Subspace Warp?”
“Hmm... considering how urgent things are today, I’d prefer if we could get there even faster.”
Which was her way of asking me to give her a lift.
“Your wish is my command.”
I immediately wrapped my arm around Abel’s waist. The jealous stares intensified even further. At the very center of all that attention...
Rumbleeeee!
Leaving behind only a spray of sparks, we shot up into the sky.
* * *
Nobles have a lot of money.
Once, I asked Abel where the nobles got all their wealth. Apparently, they didn't pay taxes. Not income tax, not VAT, not inheritance tax—nothing.
Because they were exempt from every tax imaginable, it was a structure guaranteed to leave them swimming in excess money. Yet, collecting taxes from them was tricky—after all, they were heroes, when all was said and done.
Their public image might be terrible, but the reason for their existence remained firm.
Demons were still rampaging. A common enemy stood loud and clear. Thus, people simply turned a blind eye.
Other complex circumstances were tangled together as well. As a result, the nobles’ tax-exempt privilege had become the baseline social norm.
It felt overstepping for me to try and change it. I figured it wouldn't look good for an outsider like me to overturn how this world naturally functioned.
Above all, my current state was half-stepping into the realm of gods. It was hard for me to meddle deeply in mundane affairs. The fallout would be far too immense—literally on a cosmic scale.
So, I really preferred if people didn't get on my bad side. If they pushed it any further, I’d have to resort to violence.
My steps toward Parsi Academy carried the weight of such a warning.
And yet...
“...Yeah, we definitely need to collect some taxes here.”
The moment I laid eyes on Parsi Academy, my honest thoughts slipped out.
“We really should...” Abel replied, tilting her head back alongside mine. “A lot... a whole lot.”
Parsi Academy was demonstrating just how far nobles could go when they resolved to flaunt extravagant luxury. The level of it far exceeded even the expectations of a high noble like Abel.
* * *
“I heard Joaquin Academy is a total dump these days?”
“It went down the drain the moment they introduced the Special Admission Student system.”
“Parsi Academy has much more legitimacy. At least we don't have lowborn trash here. Hohoho!”
“Totally agree, totally agree.”
The cadets didn't even pay attention to us as they kept running their mindless traps.
“What pathetic standards...” Abel clicked her tongue in disgust. I chimed in with my honest opinion.
“Joaquin Academy ten years ago was cute compared to this.”
“Seriously. The facilities are state-of-the-art, yet the kids' mindsets are regressing back in time... Sigh, the dissonance is just embarrassing.”
Proof that she was the Sword Emperor's granddaughter, Abel's vocabulary was steadily boomerizing. But at this moment, I wholeheartedly agreed with her.
The cadets' chatter was bad enough, and the signs at the entrance were ominous, but that was just the appetizer.
The real masterpiece was the architecture. Parsi Academy’s entrance certainly made a memorable first impression.
Gold leaf was plastered so aggressively across every inch of the main gate that it made my eyes sting. They had decorated literally everything with luxury trinkets.
The cadets' uniforms were excessively flashy.
Even the gatekeeper's uniform design was over-the-top. To my eyes, it looked like a desperate attempt to cover up their flaws—or perhaps an inferiority complex.
“I feel like I'm experiencing the commoner life.”
“Coming from someone with an actual commoner husband, that doesn't sound very convincing, Lady Nibelung.”
Standing amidst all this, our clothes suddenly felt downright shabby.
“Would anyone actually dare treat you like a commoner?”
“Fair point.”
Abel and I were currently disguised. Not to the point of looking blatantly suspicious, but just enough to blend in without drawing attention.
“Who goes there?” a guardian asked imperiously. When I flipped up the brim of my hat with my thumb, his face turned into quite a sight.
“W-Why are you...!”
Being the only person in this world with black hair and black eyes had its convenient perks. I didn't even need to show identification.
“We’re heading in. Are you going to stop us?”
“Y-Yes... I mean, no...!”
“And you won't be calling your superiors either, right?” I pressed.
“...”
“Answer,” Abel threatened.
“I will take this secret to my grave.”
“So you're saying you might spill the beans once you turn into an undead?”
“Th-That’s...!”
The guardian trembled, and even I flinched.
Considering that her father was Draugr, the King of the Dead, it was quite a dark joke. I took it as proof that Abel had overcome her past trauma.
Furthermore, the Catacomb where my father-in-law was laid to rest wasn't far from Parsi Academy. It might be a coincidence, but Abel clearly found it distasteful. Perhaps that was why she was acting even more sharp-edged toward the guardian than I was.
“I saw nothing today...”
“Do you swear?”
“I swear to God!”
Swearing an oath to the guy he almost turned away at the entrance... I almost burst out laughing.
In any case, Abel and I made a fantastic duo. We breached Parsi Academy's security effortlessly.
“Out of the way.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
We went through a similar routine a few more times. Infiltration was absurdly easy. As soon as anyone recognized my face, they panicked and parted like the Red Sea.
Thus, the only time wasted was the physical walk to the main building.
A statue stood outside, advertising the main building in all its glory. The face looked vaguely familiar, yet not quite...
‘Was there a famous ancient hero who looked like that?’
Even in the historical paintings I’d glanced at here and there, no hero gave off that kind of vibe. Even if it were a hero I didn't know, erecting a statue violated an unwritten rule of hero society.
Hero society tabooed idol worship. Even at Joaquin Academy, the most they had were portraits. There was no statue of our Boss standing around. Just who on earth was this hero to stand in my way?
“That’s the founder of Parsi Academy,” Abel said, sounding thoroughly appalled.
“...Isn't the founder of Parsi Academy still alive? And he erected a statue of himself?”
Has he lost his mind?
My breathing suddenly faltered.
While Ryozo was losing sleep because of the nobles pushing her around, the principal of Parsi Academy was busy erecting a fucking statue of himself. Rage hammered against the inside of my skull.
“Let’s go inside first.”
Reading my mood, Abel stepped forward without hesitation. Walking up, she opened the main building doors and gestured for me to follow. Suppressing my fury, I walked in behind her.
Describing the interior would be a waste of breath—it was extravagantly opulent. Everywhere the eye fell hung portraits of a stern-looking man.
In the center of a dual spiral staircase, a fountain spewed water into the air. Let me repeat: this was indoors. What kind of nonsense was an indoor fountain?
“Security was so tight until we reached the main building. But inside, there aren't even guardians or anything. I thought there’d at least be iron grates inside.”
“...”
Abel simply walked in silence.
Having no intention to dawdle either, I quietly walked beside her. Hmm, for some reason, I couldn't sense any human presence.
Even if they were busy, they should have left standing security personnel behind, yet there wasn't a trace of human scent. Only the heavy stench of fresh paint from a new building filled the air.
We climbed the spiral staircase over and over until our calves felt ready to burst. Moving via lightning would have been far easier, but I wanted the sound of my bootheels ringing out to announce our presence.
Shortly after, we reached the heart of the building.
Sure enough, a gaudy, glittering door greeted us once again. Sighing, I reached for the handle.
Just then—
“Uggghhhh...!”
A groan sounded from the other side. Had someone beaten us to the punch? I felt as though my prey had been stolen right from under my nose.
BOOM!
The moment I kicked the door open—
“Long time no see.” A woman with a voluptuous figure smiled faintly. “Master Geomma.”
The iron skewer in her hand was pointed at the liver of the man who resembled the statue outside. The maid of Castle Sigurd—Shail, who had now risen to the rank of Warrior-class hero.
“You look wonderful.”
A middle-aged man standing right beside her greeted me. It was Rakshasa Karon. Every time he flicked his hand, men who appeared to be security guards let out painful groans. A loose net held them completely immobilized.
Familiar, missed faces.
The two giants of Castle Sigurd. They stood over the greedy-looking Academy Principal Yang-gak like guardian statues.
“How did you two... wait.”
“The Young Lady called us.”
“It's been a while since we earned our keep, after all.”
Before I could even turn around, Abel brushed past me. As she approached with calm, composed strides, the principal of Parsi Academy threw a fit.
“Sword Princess! You are making a huge mistake! This is an act of terrorism against Parsi Academy! The Heavenly Sword is one thing, but as a Nibelung, you cannot do this! Do you have no thought for all the mouths depending on you?! To think you would be so irresponsible!”
Abel removed her hat and scarf.
SLAP!
She then pulled a white glove from her pocket and slapped him across the face. The flabby flesh on the principal’s jowls quivered vividly.
The principal was stunned. The security guards also looked completely dazed, as if they themselves had been struck by a hammer. They seemed startled first by Abel's beauty, and then utterly shocked by her actions.
“I accept this Exchange Meet.”
The ring of a drawn blade sliced through the silence of the room. Unsheathing Nothung, Abel pointed its tip inches away from the principal’s nose.
“In return, whichever side loses shuts its doors forever.”
Pushing seventy, the Sword Emperor had once sparked a fierce competitive spirit against me when I was just a mere cadet. And his granddaughter inherited the Sword Emperor's blood thicker than anyone else.
Seong Yu-chang had overlooked one crucial fact:
The martial spirit of the Nibelung family.
