There Is No World For ■■

Yeomyeong slowly lowered his hands and pulled out the handle of Uragan from his coat, raising it above his head.

Even in the dim sewer light, the ivory handle gleamed beautifully.

It was the most expensive item Josef had sold Yeomyeong in the Incheon black market—and the very item that had first connected him with Seti.

Josef’s eyes twitched slightly as he recognized the handle.

“...Wait. Are you the one Old Man Jang brought that time...?”

“...It’s been a while.”

The moment Josef heard Yeomyeong’s voice, he let out a short laugh.

“Damn. The world really is disgustingly small.”

By then, even Josef’s men started glancing back and forth between their boss and Yeomyeong, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere.

As the silence dragged on, broken only by the squeaking noises of the rat-people growing louder in the distance, Josef finally spoke.

“Lower your guns. They’re acquaintances.”

“But, boss, they’re transcendents—”

“He’s a friend of someone I respect. When I say lower your guns, you do it.”

Though hesitant, Josef’s armed men lowered their weapons.

Only then could Yeomyeong and Seti relax.

Bang!

But before they could fully let their guard down, one of Josef’s men fired his gun.

Not at Yeomyeong or Seti, but into the sewer floor.

It was an obvious accident—an ordinary misfire.

Unfortunately, the results were far from ordinary.

“You dumbass—!”

Josef cursed and struck the shooter over the head, but it was too late.

—Sound! Chit! Smell!

The rat-people perked up, their noses twitching and ears flicking toward the noise.

They quickly spotted Yeomyeong’s group and began screeching in unison.

—Human! Ah, female!

—Female! Female! I—I eat!

—Eat! Eat!

Dozens of eyes gleamed like wild beasts, and the high-pitched sounds of their breath filled the sewer.

“Shit.”

Josef’s muttered curse was the signal. His men scrambled to raise their guns again, but Yeomyeong was already moving.

His sword flashed in the dim sewer light, its edge so sharp it seemed to hum.

Josef looked at it with admiration, while the rat-people bared their oversized teeth.

—I—I like males too!

Compared to Corvus, they were nothing but beasts.

That was Yeomyeong’s first thought as something whizzed toward him from the crowd.

A steel marble—launched from a slingshot—shot straight for his forehead.

Yeomyeong caught it with his bare hand.

—Chit?

The rat-thing with the slingshot cocked its head, clearly not expecting him to block the shot.

Yeomyeong returned the marble.

With a full swing.

The slingshot-wielding rat didn’t even have time to scream.

Its head exploded with a dull thunk, leaving a gaping hole in its forehead.

It collapsed instantly.

Not only the other rats but even Josef’s men—still holding their guns—froze, wide-eyed, unable to process what had just happened.

—Chit? Chit? What? What’s that?

Yeomyeong didn’t bother answering.

Instead, he kicked off the ground, aiming for the one that had been drooling at Seti.

The rat slashed its claws reflexively, but no claws could stop Mountain’s Tear.

Its hand and torso were severed in the same motion.

Splatter!

Blood sprayed as its body was cleaved apart, unable to withstand the sword’s aura.

Flesh, blood, and filth splattered across the sewer floor, painting it in a familiar shade of carnage.

Standing atop the remains, Yeomyeong flicked his hand, beckoning the others.

“Let’s finish this quickly.”

The rat-people didn’t hesitate to respond.

Instead, their eyes turned red as they howled.

—Human! Knight!

—Eat! Eat!

—Kill!!!

The sound of their charging footsteps echoed through the tunnel.

And as Yeomyeong’s sword erupted with light, it flooded the sewer with a deadly glow.

*****

About two hours after Yeomyeong had slaughtered dozens of rat-people—

A small inn on the high ground of Drayterial.

Yeomyeong was drying his wet hair with a towel.

It felt strangely liberating to finally be clean after so many days.

‘No—of course I should feel relieved.’

He’d been dropped into the desert after trudging through the filth and blood of the Academy’s sewers, only to be drenched in even more filth and blood in another sewer.

It had taken an entire bar of soap to scrub away the layers of grime clinging to his skin.

And above all—

The Player.

The moment that name crossed his mind, Yeomyeong froze.

Before the heavy silence could take over the room, he stood and opened the window.

Outside, the sun shone over the city, no different from what he’d seen back on Earth.

The Emperor’s beloved court city.

A city of trash.

The largest city in the South.

As if trying to prove it embodied all those names, Drayterial was steeped in chaos.

Abandoned buildings, left unfinished after the economic collapse, dotted the city like scars.

It looked like a post-apocalyptic wasteland straight out of a movie, yet the residents made full use of those skeletons of concrete and steel.

Most unfinished buildings were patched with crude tin roofs, while others had been turned into makeshift markets or rooftop gardens.

And beneath them, mismatched grid-like buildings sprawled across the ground—an uneasy blend of Earth’s architectural techniques and the aesthetic sensibilities from beyond the dimensional gates.

It was all too familiar.

Just like the poorest slums in Incheon—

“What are you doing?”

The bathroom door opened, and Seti’s voice jolted Yeomyeong out of his thoughts.

She stood there, fresh out of the shower, drying her hair in casual clothes.

“...Just looking outside.”

“You look too grim for someone just looking.”

“Try looking outside yourself. You’ll feel grim too.”

When Yeomyeong said that, Seti smirked and joined him at the window.

After scanning the city, she let out a dry laugh and muttered,

“...The dramas really sugarcoated it, huh?”

Yeomyeong, unfamiliar with the crime dramas she referenced, shrugged vaguely.

Seti snapped the window shut with a loud thud.

Then she threw herself onto the bed and sprawled out with a sigh.

“...We actually made it here somehow.”

She stretched, revealing a glimpse of her stomach beneath her clothes.

Yeomyeong cleared his throat and turned away.

“We could just take the train back to Earth.”

“That’s an option, but doesn’t it feel wrong to leave like this?”

“True... we need to figure out why Korea’s government lackeys are poking around in this city.”

Interrogating Dagal—the desert’s phantom—had given them some hints.

Yeomyeong couldn’t ignore her suggestion.

Now that the Player was dead, his greatest enemy was the Korean government itself.

As he fell silent, Seti suddenly sat up and asked,

“Oh, right. What did Josef say?”

The weapons dealer from Incheon, who they’d run into in the sewers.

Before Yeomyeong could even ask what he was doing here, Josef had shown them to the inn and left.

Apparently, Yeomyeong’s quick handling of the rat-people had given Josef some free time.

Josef’s parting words were simple.

“...He said he’d send someone tonight. Wants to treat us to dinner.”

“Then we’ve got time to kill?”

“Why? Planning to explore the city?”

“No way. Absolutely not.”

Seti rolled her eyes and patted the bed beside her, gesturing for him to sit down.

When Yeomyeong ignored her, she dropped the playful act and spoke firmly.

“Sit.”

“...Why?”

“Just sit.”

Yeomyeong opened his mouth to protest but sighed when he saw the determined look in her eyes.

With no real excuse to refuse, he sat down beside her.

And the next moment—

Seti pulled him into a tight hug, burying her face in his chest.

Yeomyeong’s thoughts scattered.

Images from the desert flashed in his mind—specifically, a certain creative use of water pouches.

“...Seti?”

Her grip on him loosened.

Her breathing slowed, turning soft and steady.

Her body slumped against his, completely relaxed.

“...You were exhausted.”

Yeomyeong held her gently, patting her back.

For some reason, the Saint’s face came to mind—but he brushed the thought away.

Matching his breath to Seti’s, he focused on her soft, even breathing.

And in the small, sealed room, their shared breaths filled the space.

Until evening arrived—

And the silence lingered.

*****

As night fell and the city lights flickered on, Josef’s envoy finally arrived.

It was none other than the same lackey who had caused the accidental gunshot in the sewers.

Perhaps intimidated by Yeomyeong’s display of skill against the rat-people, the man bowed deeply before explaining,

“My boss has invited the two of you to the most expensive restaurant in this city.”

He added that the high-end restaurant required proper attire, presenting Yeomyeong with a crisp white suit and Seti with a sleek black dress.

It was troublesome, but neither of them refused.

Maybe it was because the lackey’s pleading expression made it hard to turn him down—or maybe it was curiosity about why Josef was here instead of Incheon.

Dressed and armed, they followed the lackey through the streets.

Their destination, which they reached by carriage rather than car, stood in stark contrast to the rest of the city.

Grand statues guarded the entrance, dazzling lights glimmered, and soft music hummed in the background.

“Reservation for Table 11. Confirmed.”

The interior was even more extravagant.

Crystals floated mid-air, glowing with magical light as they adorned the ceiling.

Yeomyeong let out a dry laugh at the stark inequality.

Outside was nothing but slums, yet this place exuded wealth and luxury.

Even Seti shook her head at the absurdity.

Still, the meeting was the real reason they were here.

Spotting Josef seated at the largest table in the room, both of them immediately dropped their smiles.

“Ah, guests! Finally, you’re here!”

Josef, noticing them at last, opened his arms wide in greeting.

“It’s been a while, Josef.”

“First time seeing you since I got chased out of the black market.”

After a brief exchange, they took their seats across from him.

Josef called a waiter to place an order before folding his arms and asking,

“So, the two of you—were you the Sun Mask and Dog Mask I saw at the black market back then?”

He was referring to the first time Yeomyeong had visited the black market with Old Man Jang.

Yeomyeong nodded. There was no reason to hide it.

“What a small world. Or maybe we should call it fate?”

Josef’s casual charm didn’t faze Yeomyeong, who decided to cut straight to the point.

“Josef, why are you here instead of Incheon?”

“Well, a smuggler’s still a merchant at heart. And merchants move for one reason—money.”

“...Money?”

“After the North Manchuria incident, business in Incheon dried up faster than you’d think.”

Josef scratched his head, almost embarrassed to admit it.

“I couldn’t just sit on my hands, so I decided to take a gamble and set up here. Rumors say this city’s about to go to hell.”

“...Go to hell?”

Josef smirked knowingly.

“They say three treasures have been found here. And they’re big ones—a World Tree Crystal, a lost artifact from the previous Tower Master, and... a nuclear warhead.”

Yeomyeong’s eyes narrowed.

The crystal and artifact were one thing, but a nuclear warhead?

“Are you serious?”

Josef grinned as if he’d expected that reaction.

“Never seen it myself. The nuke’s probably just a rumor.”

“...Even so, rumors like that are bound to cause conflict.”

Things like that always attracted chaos—and where there was chaos, there was always demand for weapons.

“Exactly.”

“....”

As Yeomyeong studied Josef, Seti leaned in with a sharp question.

“And why are you giving us this information for free?”

“...Out of the kindness of my heart, of course.”

“Bullshit.”

Josef chuckled at her bluntness and added,

“To be honest, I’d like to hire the two of you as my bodyguards.”

“Hm?”

“I wasn’t thinking much of it at first, but after seeing what you’re capable of, I changed my mind.”

“And how are you supposed to trust us?”

“That young man sitting there—Old Man Jang personally brought him into the black market. That’s enough trust for me.”

Seti raised an eyebrow and glanced at Yeomyeong, but he neither confirmed nor denied it.

Instead, he stared straight at Josef.

Their gazes locked for a moment before Yeomyeong suddenly pulled out a small pouch of coins and tossed it onto the table.

Clink.

The sound of gold echoed in the room.

“Forget bodyguard work. I’ll hire you instead.”

“...With this?”

Josef tilted his head at the pouch, which couldn’t have held more than fifty coins.

Yeomyeong rapped his knuckles on the table and answered.

“No. I’m offering a hundred times that amount.”

“....”

“If that’s not enough, I’ll throw in a chest of gold ingots too. Satisfied?”

Josef’s lips curled into a long smile.

He recalled the masked man Yeomyeong had been in the black market.

Bold. Just like now.

After mentally calculating his profits, Josef suddenly asked,

“Just curious—are you related to Old Man Jang?”

“...No.”

“Huh. Could’ve fooled me. You’re the spitting image of his younger self. I’d almost believe you were his son.”

Before Yeomyeong could respond, Josef lifted the pouch.

“I’ll take the deal. Consider this an advance payment.”

Of course, he checked the coins.

Business was business, after all.

Fortunately, they were genuine—gold coins circulated beyond the dimensional gates.

Each one could easily fetch a thousand dollars.

But as Josef counted them, his face suddenly twisted.

“What’s wrong?”

Yeomyeong frowned as Josef pulled out one particular coin.

Unlike the others, this one had a faint, translucent symbol etched into it—a magical seal.

“Is this... a tracking spell?”

Before anyone could react—

BOOM!

The restaurant’s ceiling exploded.

!!!

The deafening roar swallowed all sound as debris, glass, and shadowy figures rained down.

“Yeomyeong! Catch!”

Seti ripped a sword from beneath her dress and threw it.

Yeomyeong caught it just as a man with bright red hair and ears far longer than any human’s lunged at him, sword raised to strike.