There Is No World For ■■

Over the past few days, absurd rumors had begun circulating throughout Drayterial.

[Somewhere in the sewers, there’s a secret vault left behind by the Soviets.]

From back-alley taverns to the industrial districts of the East, even to the bustling theaters of the West where mages and merchants roamed—

The rumor spread like wildfire, as if someone were deliberately fanning the flames.

Naturally, those with common sense dismissed it outright.

The Soviets abandoned this city ages ago. Why would such a thing suddenly matter now?

And even if, by some miracle, a secret vault did exist, the previous Court Lords would have looted it dry long ago.

There was nothing to debate. Nothing worth looking into.

But, as always in this city, common sense never spread as quickly as rumors.

There were far too few rational thinkers—

And far too many drunks willing to spread gossip in exchange for a single drink.

[That legendary Artifact of Vision from the Tower Master? The World Tree Crystal? They all came from the vault, you know?]

[Those treasure hunters looking for it? They’re all ex-Communists! That elf who wrecked a whole building? Proof!]

[They say the Court Lords blew up the Northern Station on purpose—to stop someone from smuggling an Artifact of Vision out. Evidence? Who cares.]

Was it just a series of uncanny coincidences? Or were the drunks simply too imaginative for their own good?

No one knew for sure, but the rumor had snowballed out of control—so much so that even the one who had started it would have been shocked at how big, and how fast, it had spread.

By the time people began muttering “What if...?” and discussions of the vault echoed in every gathering of three or more citizens—

Those in power took action.

[As the Court Lord responsible for the city's security, I cannot tolerate such nonsense.]

The first to move was Jo Pantoriano, the Western Court Lord.

Commanding the city’s most powerful mage corps, he declared that anyone spreading false rumors—regardless of rank—would be severely punished.

For a moment, it seemed like the rumors had been stamped out.

At least, until the next wave of gossip.

[The Western Court Lord is trying to hoard the vault for himself.]

[Under Pantoriano’s building, monsters are digging tunnels every single night.]

The new rumors were even more ridiculous than the first.

But truth had never mattered to the citizens of Drayterial.

Some spread it because they found it entertaining.

Others, because they lost their jobs in the railway bombing.

And some—simply because they hated the Court Lord.

Together, they united in their shared hatred of Pantoriano.

"Why’s he acting like this all of a sudden? Normally, he only cares about the West and doesn’t blink an eye even when serial killings happen elsewhere."

"The rich always want more. He’s probably trying to keep the vault all to himself!"

"Someone actually saw a monster with a pig’s head, I swear!"

Pantoriano had never been popular to begin with.

So, suspicions quickly turned into certainty.

Even his own mages started subtly asking him whether the vault was real.

And once it reached that point, Pantoriano stopped playing nice.

Under the guise of "maintaining order," he ordered his mage corps to seal off the western sewers and deployed guards to arrest those spreading rumors.

Some citizens protested the blatant oppression—

But in this city, fists always outweighed reason.

Especially when the ones throwing the punches were the law itself.

After a few unfortunate souls were dragged away, no one dared to publicly wonder what was happening beneath Pantoriano’s building.

But in their minds—

One certainty had taken root.

[The Soviet vault... what if it’s real? If it weren’t, would Pantoriano be acting like this?]

And when rats smell food, they scurry fast.

It took less than half a day for suspicion to turn into action.

Unemployed workers. Drunks. Thugs. Vagrants. Even mages.

Mocking the absence of the railroads, they flooded into the sewers like it was the Second Western Gold Rush.

Pantoriano warned the other Court Lords to keep their citizens in check—

But Nam, the Southern Court Lord, and Vikoff, the Eastern Court Lord, responded by throwing open their sewer entrances in open defiance.

And so—

The underground of Drayterial turned into an unprecedented battlefield.

All of this... had unfolded in less than a week.

****

BANG!

The gunshot rang through the sewers.

Neti instinctively ducked.

Another lunatic shooting their gun?

As if on cue, a battle erupted right where she stood.

Drunken vagrants, waving shattered bottles and screaming profanities.

Rat Beastmen, squeaking as they lunged.

Thugs, armed with cheap pistols they bought from Josef.

A chaotic brawl, straight out of a war movie.

And the cause of this madness?

A small pouch of gold coins that had been discovered in the sewer.

To be precise—

A pouch of gold that she had secretly scattered.

"Are there no sane people in this city?"

Neti frowned.

She had no right to complain, considering she was the one who had planted the coins—

But still, the people of this city had no restraint.

The moment they laid eyes on that pouch, every single one of them turned on each other.

Murder was commonplace. Backstabbing was expected.

Wasn't the whole point of coming down here to search for the Soviet vault?

Why are they killing each other the moment they see some gold?

The coins were meant to be consolation prizes—a way for people to leave the sewers with something instead of nothing.

She had asked her sister the same question earlier that morning.

Seti’s answer had been simple.

Loss aversion.

They’ve come all this way. Leaving empty-handed would feel like a defeat. But splitting the gold with others? That would feel even worse.

And just as if proving her sister right—

The people of Drayterial slaughtered one another without hesitation.

"This gold belongs to the Black Eyepatch Gang! Get the fuck out!"

The same lunatic who had fired the first shot yelled as he emptied his gun into the air.

He didn’t even aim—he just fired wildly, as if trying to drown out the chaos with sheer noise.

But the vagrants didn’t budge.

They had been the ones who spotted the pouch first.

To them, those gold coins meant the difference between life and death.

Even as bullets struck them down, even as Rat Beastmen mauled them, they did not flee.

"Can’t you see the fucking gun? BACK OFF!"

The thug with the pistol shouted, sweating profusely.

That sweat—more than his words—betrayed his panic.

A Rat Beastman, in the midst of tearing out a vagrant’s throat, laughed.

"Ch-chik! Bullets! How many left, thief?"

"Enough to kill all of you rat bastards!"

"Gun... ch-chik! Fifteen rounds max! Run out... and you’re dead!"

The Rat Beastman grinned as if he were some kind of Earth-born soldier.

Neti narrowed her eyes.

Something about that was... odd.

And then—

Click. Click.

The unmistakable sound of an empty chamber.

The pistol had run dry.

"Chik! Bullets gone! Get him!"

The moment the Rat Beastman cried out, the vagrants and rats swarmed the thugs.

But even without a gun, thugs were still thugs.

Backed into a corner, they held their ground.

...Not that it would last.

Neti wrapped herself tighter in her invisibility cloak.

How much longer do I have to keep this up?

Her sister had said: Until brother-in-law wakes up.

But it had been a week since he entered his trance.

The pieces were set.

The stage was ready.

And yet, the one meant to flip the table—

Had not awoken.

And as she watched more scavengers approach from deeper in the sewer, she sighed.

More vagrants?

Neti turned her head—and immediately stiffened.

The group approaching them was not a bunch of vagrants.

No vagrant drooled uncontrollably with bloodshot eyes.

And, more importantly, no vagrant walked alongside creatures with pig and bull heads.

"Shepherds and zombies...?"

Her body instinctively took a step back, like a lamb before a shepherd.

If not for her invisibility cloak, she would have already bolted in terror.

I need to warn my sister. The Shepherds have finally left the West.

As she quietly retreated, the fight between the vagrants, Rat Beastmen, and thugs was reaching its end.

Most of the thugs were either dead or unconscious, while the Rat Beastmen and vagrants were locked in a silent standoff over the pouch of gold.

That was when the bull-headed Shepherd spoke.

"Bring the guns. Kill all witnesses."

The eerie voice of the Shepherd echoed through the sewers.

And at that instant, the zombies began to sprint.

A thunderous chorus of footsteps rumbled like war drums.

"W-What the fuck are those?!"

The vagrants, only now noticing the zombies, recoiled in shock.

The Rat Beastman who had been ranting about guns just moments ago shrieked in terror.

"Ch-chik! ZOMBIES! THEY'RE FUCKING ZOMBIES!"

"Zombies?! Shit—run!"

Panic erupted in the sewers.

No one knew what had created these zombies, but one thing was clear—

The Shepherds controlled them, and they were fast.

Faster than the fleeing vagrants.

Faster than the Rat Beastmen.

And then—

A ghastly shriek tore through the tunnels.

Kyaaah—!

The zombies lunged.

Neti squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the sound of flesh being torn apart.

But—

It didn’t come.

Instead, an eerie silence settled over the sewer.

Frowning, she cautiously opened one eye—

And saw a stranger standing between the zombies and the Rat Beastmen.

Kyaaah—!

The silence didn’t last long.

The zombies, drooling like rabid dogs, charged at the man.

Neti didn’t look away this time.

That sword—

Without a word, the man swung his blade in a smooth arc.

A familiar glint flashed—

And five zombies were beheaded in an instant.

The bull-headed Shepherd barked in alarm.

"That one—he’s an Earthling! A superhuman!"

Of course, he is.

Neti swallowed hard as she watched the man leap toward the horde.

Rather than avoiding the zombies, he stepped on their heads, crushing their skulls as he ran.

And in that moment, Neti realized—

He isn’t after the zombies.

He’s after the Shepherds behind them.

"STOP HIM! HE KNOWS WHO WE ARE!"

The pig-headed Shepherds panicked, but the bull-headed one reacted instantly.

His mouth stretched wide—

Mana twisted—

A crimson glow gathered in his throat—

Shit!

Neti’s heart sank.

She knew what was coming.

A red death beam—a mid-tier curse magic that incinerated its target.

If he jumps now—!

Before she could even finish the thought—

The man jumped.

And at the exact same time—

The bull-headed Shepherd fired.

Kyaaah—!

The red beam struck the man directly.

He's dead—

Or at least, he should have been.

Instead, a radiant burst of color flared from his waist—

Deflecting the beam entirely.

"...A unicorn’s horn?"

The bull-headed Shepherd faltered.

The pig-headed ones hurriedly began casting new spells—

But they weren’t fast enough.

The man landed before them.

And with a single, fluid motion—

He swung his sword.

A golden light flickered—

Shhk—!

The head of the first pig-headed Shepherd flew.

Blood sprayed. The body collapsed.

Before its blood even hit the ground—

The bull-headed Shepherd threw a punch.

The second pig-headed one drew a pistol.

But—

The man had already moved.

His sword arced again.

Precise.

Effortless.

As if he knew their every move.

His blade severed the bull-headed Shepherd’s arm—

Then cut straight through the second pig-headed one’s waist.

A severed forearm spun through the air.

The second Shepherd’s body split open.

The pistol clattered to the ground.

"Ghhkk—!"

And then—

The last of the three Shepherds collapsed.

Only one remained.

"Wh... Who are you?!"

The man didn’t answer.

Instead, he flicked his sword, shaking off the filth of Shepherds and zombies alike, and stepped forward.

The fight was already lost, but the bull-headed Shepherd refused to give up.

His bloodshot eyes gleamed with desperation.

He began his final spell.

It was simple, yet effective—

A corpse explosion.

Using his dead comrade’s body—

And his own—

To detonate everything in a violent blast.

It was obvious. Even Neti, hidden under her invisibility cloak, could see it.

But speed was the issue.

All he had to do was open his mouth.

"Die—!"

He never finished.

Because at that instant—

An ice spike—waiting behind him all along—pierced his skull.

...Holy shit.

Neti swallowed hard.

The Shepherds... just like that?

Who is this guy?

Has there ever been someone like this in the city?

Before she could answer her own question, the man suddenly turned.

And his gaze landed directly on her.

No way.

Neti pressed herself against the sewer wall, holding her breath.

She couldn’t run—the zombies still blocked every exit.

And the man—

He walked toward her.

How?

She was invisible.

Had he seen her?

Should she fight?

Or run?

Neti’s mind raced, but before she could decide—

The man calmly sheathed his sword.

Then, he wiped his hand across his face.

Like he was erasing something.

And as soon as he did—

His face changed.

Into someone she recognized.

"...Oh my god, Brother-in-law?"

Neti’s voice was a mix of disbelief and exasperation.

Yeomyeong started to answer, but—

Something made him freeze.

He raised a finger to his lips, pressing it firmly—

A silent order to stay quiet.

And, like the obedient younger sister she was, Neti shut her mouth instantly.

In the next moment—

Yeomyeong’s face shifted back into a stranger’s.

Just as Neti tilted her head in confusion, trying to understand why, a voice called out from the direction the Rat Beastmen had fled.

A voice she knew.

"I’d like to take those corpses off your hands."

"How much do you want for them?"

It was Vikoff, the Eastern Court Lord.