Conquering the Academy with Just a Sashimi Knife (Novel) - Chapter 127 - The King of the Dead (6)

Chapter 127 – The King of the Dead (6)

===================

Translated by Jinmu

Read only at Novelbyu.com & Utoon.net

======================================

Chapter 127 – The King of the Dead (6)

Abel recognized him immediately.

Despite being clad in luxurious armor, his body was gaunt and darkened.

His hair, completely stripped of its original color, was as white as paper. His face was that of the dead, devoid of even the slightest trace of vitality.

However, beneath the crown, his golden eyes shone with a serene intensity.

Her father, Orion von Nibelung.

She had long abandoned the hope that he was still alive. It had been ten years. If he were still breathing, he would have undoubtedly returned.

Until eight years ago, she still held onto a sliver of hope in her heart. She told herself there must be some reason for his delay. She consoled herself with rationalizations and self-deception.

But hope and reality rarely align.

When five years had passed since her father’s disappearance, Abel stopped clinging to illusions and buried her parents deep in her heart. She did not allow herself the weakness of denying reality.

Instead, she clung to her grandfather’s words, telling her to take up the sword and wait for the day she would find her parents.

…And yet, what was this situation?

That being, bearing the appearance of her father, radiated a sinister energy. But if he was not her father, then how could she explain those golden eyes, gleaming with unmistakable clarity?

Only his eyes shone with that persistent brilliance.

Her mind was in chaos. Her breathing grew unsteady. Her heart pounded with an erratic rhythm, as if it were broken.

Grab!

Shail grasped Abel’s shoulder, seeing her turn pale. Abel looked at her with vacant eyes.

“Sha-Shail. What the hell was this? That’s not my father, right? Tell me it’s not. My father couldn’t be like this.”

“…Miss.”

Shail bit her lower lip hard. Her teeth sank into her skin, allowing blood to seep through.

She, too, was shaken. With a slight movement of her eyes, Shail looked up at the top of the temple.

She also wanted to deny Abel’s desperate cry. But… she only had to look at those eyes.

Even in death, they still shone with a unique brilliance.

They were eyes reserved only for the descendants of the Sword Saint family.

If those golden irises were there, then that monstrous creature could only be the man they once knew.

‘Sir Orion…’

To Shail, Orion was also a special person. He was the one who had taken her in, who had protected her, who had funded her education without hesitation.

In a noble society plagued by arrogance and supremacy, there were few people like him.

There were even those who criticized him behind his back, saying his actions stained the dignity of nobility.

Yet, Orion stood as a shield against that hostility. He remained steadfast in his convictions and led by example, showing what it meant to be a true adult.

He dispelled the darkness of that society with the warmth of his humanity.

Shail stared into the Draugr’s eyes.

His sunken pupils gazed upon the world with disdain, as if looking down from above.

His cold eyes were so sharp they seemed capable of cutting through flesh.

On the outside, he retained a human form. But inside, his body had already turned to stone—a grotesque magical beast ruling over a hell of captive souls.

The man who had given Shail a new life was dead, and in his place, a magical beast had taken over.

Anger consumed her.

She wanted to flee with Abel.

But when she looked beside her, she saw that Abel’s eyes were already burning with determination.

I could’t leave Orion like this.

If the inscription on the tombstone was true, then Orion was also trapped in this hell.

Worse yet, his body had been taken over, turned into a puppet for a magical beast.

Crack.

The sound of gold clinking together.

The Draugr began to move, his joints creaking with a mechanical, unnatural sound.

His movements were incredibly slow, yet Abel could not move her feet.

An invisible pressure crushed her body. Despite being in an enclosed space where there should have been no wind, a current swirled around her.

Crackle—

Kang Geom-ma clenched his teeth.

The situation had deviated far from his expectations.

‘Damn it.’

Who would have thought there would be such a messed-up twist?

It turned out the Draugr was Abel’s father.

Of course, his mind had been completely eradicated.

Kang Geom-ma had exceptional perception, and to him, that was nothing more than a magical beast.

Not just any magical beast—but an S-rank.

A walking catastrophe. And unlike the incident in Agor, they were now in the Draugr’s own domain.

To make matters worse, the Staff of the God of Death was inexplicably absent.

But worst of all—Abel was trapped in panic.

Shail seemed to have regained control, but the rest of the plan had crumbled, and there was no clear strategy.

The best option was to flee.

“……”

But he felt no desire to do so.

Kang Geom-ma was filled with pure rage.

Against the King of the Dead, the Draugr, who had desecrated a child’s dreams for ten years.

Kang Geom-ma was not a man driven by justice.

His only reason for being here was the mana stone.

He had always suppressed unnecessary emotions to achieve his goals.

But that did not mean he tolerated injustice when he saw it.

He recalled the way Abel spoke of her father, her face filled with deep nostalgia.

And now, before his daughter, this being dared to defile the memory of the deceased.

It had to be some kind of parasitic magical beast.

Some video game bosses fell into that category.

‘Of all things, the Draugr had to be one of them…’

If he had known, he would have stopped Abel from coming at all costs.

Not even the strongest mind could endure something like this without breaking.

The fact that Abel was still standing was proof of her strength.

Anyone else would have already collapsed unconscious.

As the atmosphere filled with despair, Michelan raised his voice.

“Snap out of it, all of you! This was no time to freeze up!”

His voice rang out with force—something unthinkable for an undead.

Michelan looked at Abel, who was trembling violently, and spoke to her firmly.

“Even though my body was in this state, my heart was still that of a human. I understand exactly how you feel, Abel. But if you were a descendant of the Sword Saint, you must remain composed in moments like this. That… was no longer your father.”

Abel lifted her head at those words.

Michelan offered a faint smile and reassured her gently.

“Goodness… You look so much like the first Sword Saint. If he were here, he would undoubtedly be proud.”

“…Sir.”

“‘When you feel lost, grip the hilt of your sword and you would find courage.’ Those were the words the first Sword Saint always told me. So, take up your sword and move forward. I was sure your father would want that as well.”

Michelan’s face reflected the wisdom of the ages.

“……”

Abel looked down at her right hand. Her palm, hardened by calluses, bore witness to the effort and dedication she had put in up to this day.

She slowly closed her eyes. The atmosphere was already in chaos, the crisis on the verge of erupting.

At that moment, the Draugr, who had risen from the throne, drove the tip of his sword into the ground. A dark energy seeped into the blade and began to spread through the earth.

Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack.

Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack.

Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack.

An unsettling sound echoed everywhere. From the temple built with human bones, the undead began to crawl out.

“Graaaaaargh!”

Holding rusted and chipped weapons in their hands, the undead roared in fury. There were about a hundred at first. But within seconds, their numbers would spiral out of control.

The specters advanced with clumsy steps. A dark mist seeped from their empty eye sockets.

Finally, Abel opened her eyes. Everywhere she looked, there was only death.

Wretched souls yearning for eternal rest. Among them… was also her father.

If that was the case, only one option remained.

Abel clenched her hand with determination, feeling every groove of her sword’s hilt with precision.

She turned to Kang Geom-ma.

“The Draugr was yours, just as we planned. Shail and I would handle the rest.”

“…Were you sure?”

At Kang Geom-ma’s question, Abel nodded slightly.

She knew she didn’t had the strength to face the Draugr. Only Kang Geom-ma could.

Of course, the desire to save her father burned in her chest. But if she let herself be consumed by unnecessary emotions, all she would achieve was ruining everything and dying.

Now she must suppress her desire and trust Kang Geom-ma. With that conviction, Abel spoke again.

“Just promise me one thing. That my father…”

“I know.”

Before she could finish her sentence, Kang Geom-ma responded.

He loosened the cord securing Murasame, revealing a steel blade that gleamed fiercely.

Meanwhile, the undead advanced howling, approaching with heavy steps. Their formation was disorderly, but their ferocious, death-defying charge was terrifying.

Swish.

Finally, Murasame was fully unsheathed.

[The Blessing of the Sword God manifests.]

Flash—!

[▷ NEW! The required number of activations for the Blessing of Painlessness has been reached. Activation time has been adjusted as follows.]

[※ Activation time: (50 ► 60) seconds.]

Kang Geom-ma’s eyes widened.

High above, standing like a monarch, was the magical beast in human form.

The king of the undead. Draugr.

“No matter how much they call you the Immortal King.”

The red line etched into the golden armor was engraved in his retina. Kang Geom-ma smirked mockingly.

“…If I cut you down, you’ll die like any other.”

++++++++++++++++++++++

《Might the blessing of the gods be with you.》

++++++++++++++++++++++

* * *

The number of undead was growing at a terrifying speed. At first, there were about a hundred, but within seconds, the count was nearing a thousand.

The entire temple was now a heap of corpses. Every time the Draugr drove his sword into the ground, wandering spirits clung to decaying flesh. No matter how many they cut down, the army continued to multiply endlessly.

But then—

Slice!

A sharp flash severed the neck of an undead.

Thud-thud-thud.

Heads hit the ground as Kang Geom-ma propelled himself forward again.

Bang—!

Compressed air exploded from his starting point, and in the next instant, his figure stretched like an arrow, tearing through the enemy formation.

“Graaaargh—!”

Thud.

A strangled cry. Another head falling. Arms wielding rusted weapons floating in the air before collapsing.

Michelan’s eyes darted in all directions, watching the massacre in astonishment.

Meanwhile, Permafrost, Kang Geom-ma’s sword, rang out with a new chime of death.

The sound that had filled the temple since their arrival—

Huff… hoo… huff… hoo…

—Had been completely replaced by a single noise.

Slash. Stab. Slice!

Abel and Shail, assisting Kang Geom-ma from behind, also performed excellently.

Shail struck with her steel rapier, targeting only the tendons at the back of the undead’s legs to immobilize them.

It was useless to pierce their hearts, vital pointed, or solar plexus; the undead could not die that way.

Instead, she preferred to cut their legs, breaking their ranks and disrupting their advance.

An instant of observation. Zero hesitation. Immediate action.

She moved among the enemies with the flexibility of a gymnast, her body sliding with elegance.

The clumsy undead could not keep up with her movements and fell one after another.

Michelan turned his gaze to Abel. She remained firm in her stance, cutting down enemies with every strike.

Each arc of her sword engulfed the undead in a devastating wave. Their headed rolled as if they were corn cobs harvested in a single swing.

At a glance, her cuts seemed simple. But in reality, each one was flawless, without unnecessary movements.

Without a doubt, it was proof that the heritage of the first Sword Saint lived on.

If Abel reached her peak, she would undoubtedly approach the absolute domain of swordsmanship.

‘…However.’

Michelan looked ahead again.

The ocean of corpses continued to grow ceaselessly, like a giant wave about to crash. It showed no signs of stopping.

“Graaaargh!”

And in the midst of that maelstrom, Kang Geom-ma remained standing.

He raised Permafrost, and light coursed along the blade. Energy spread through his entire arm.

An aura.

At his age, manifesting an aura meant not only mastering the essence of combat but also grasping the fundamental principles of the sword.

‘What the hell had been happening in the outside world these past 700 years…?’

“Hah.”

Kang Geom-ma let out a faint sigh and watched the tidal wave of corpses surging toward him.

“Sir Kang Geom-ma!”

Michelan shouted, alarmed.

In response, Kang Geom-ma swung his aura-cloaked sword downward.

Slaaaash—!

“By the gods.”

Michelan stood frozen in shock.

The words caught in his throat.

The undead, who had been advancing in an unbreakable formation, were split in two. The wave of rotting bodies was cleaved open like a parting sea, leaving behind a trail of thick, sticky blood.

Michelan felt the hairs on his arms stand on end.

Perhaps this was the most astonishing scene he had ever witnessed in his entire life.

“…….”