There Is No World For ■■

Between the downtown of Drayterial and the underground armory, a concrete bunker lay hidden.

As the thick iron door opened, a Rat Beastman clad in what was commonly known as Soviet people's clothing, a stalinka, entered the bunker.

"Comrade First Secretary, the battle has been decided," the Rat Beastman reported, saluting. Unlike typical Rat Beastmen, his tone was exceptionally smooth.

"Already? Who is the victor?"

The old man seated at a large desk in the center of the bunker, known to the city's citizens as the Eastern Court Lord, received the report.

"The Red Dragon."

"The skeleton lost? This is contrary to all our predictions."

The old man slightly furrowed his brow, prompting the Rat Beastman to quickly add, "An outsider's intervention was decisive."

"An outsider?"

"The Liberator of Dragons, Yeomyeong, slew the skeleton dragon’s heart. We believe that the Red Dragon is the one Yeomyeong saved in Manchuria... from the Orsei Tabul."

"Hmm... Anything else?"

"We also spotted a priest armed with an anti-material rifle and a crow beastman, but their identities are still unconfirmed."

The Eastern Court Lord paused, clenching and unclenching his fist in contemplation, while the Rat Beastman watched him carefully.

"We are retrieving personal anti-air missiles from the armory to intercept the dragon. Within the next 30 minutes..."

"Strela."

"Pardon?"

"The name of that weapon is not just an anti-air missile; it's a Strela, which means 'arrow' in Russian."

"..."

"We should call Soviet weapons by their Soviet names, shouldn't we?"

Realizing his mistake, the Rat Beastman hurriedly bowed deeply.

"My apologies, I misspoke."

The Eastern Court Lord nodded slightly at the Rat Beastman.

He had never held high hopes to begin with. After all, no matter how intricately forged they are, fakes could never replace the real army of the people.

Perhaps only a superhuman leader is reliable, the Eastern Court Lord thought as he stood up.

"I will forgive the slip of the tongue. However, delay the deployment of the Strelas."

"But, sir, if we allow the dragon to dominate the skies..."

"What does air supremacy matter at this moment?"

"..."

"What's important is not above but below. If we can control the control room below, the dragon becomes irrelevant."

The Rat Beastman offered no counterargument. It was simply the truth. The Eastern Court Lord began making preparations to descend underground.

"Call all troops to the armory. I’m heading to the control room."

****

Even as the magical barrier that obscured the sky dissipated, and the streets filled with bodies collapsed, the city did not regain peace.

Was it because of the massive Red Dragon casting a shadow over the city?

No, it was because the Rat Beastmen army still occupied it.

[These are as good as dead, fake beings created with Earth’s technology and magic.]

Orsei Tabul narrowed his eyes at the Rat Beastmen surveilling him from various city spots.

Though their numbers had diminished in the fight against the undead, thousands remained.

[Kahal Magdu and the Rat Beastmen... I see why the saint asked for my help.]

Yeomyeong, sitting on the dragon's shoulder, smirked bitterly, having not expected to receive help in such a manner.

Should he offer his thanks at this juncture?

As he contemplated while overlooking the city, the Red Dragon spoke first.

[No need for thanks. Gratitude to a dragon is as precious as gold, Yeomyeong. I have not forgotten your kindness.]

"..."

[Of course... I did not expect the saint to seek the payment up to the Dragon Scale Mountains.]

Orsei Tabul said this as he launched a fire spell toward the gathered Rat Beastmen.

The magic, dropping like massive artillery, turned the Rat Beastmen gazing up at the dragon into charred remains.

Terrified, some began to flee into the sewers, while others started running towards where the citizens were gathered.

‘...Using the civilians as shields?’

Disgustingly cunning. Yeomyeong furrowed his brow.

Of course, he could easily sweep them away without caring for the civilians, but he was not shameless enough to ask the dragon to massacre innocents.

And more importantly, the Rat Beastmen army was not the immediate priority...

"Orsei, there, I found her."

Yeomyeong’s gaze shifted downward.

At the end of his sight, on the ruins of a building, sat Seti, looking as if her battery had run out, probably drained from fighting consecutively on her own.

[Should I descend to the ground here?]

Yeomyeong shook his head at the dragon's suggestion.

"No need for that. I can go down by myself."

With that, Yeomyeong wove an Ice Spike spell. Realizing what he intended, the dragon slowed down instead of descending.

[Call if you need help. I will deal with the remaining fake beastmen and the bodies.]

The next moment, Yeomyeong leapt from the dragon’s shoulder.

He then moved the Ice Spikes below him, grasping them tightly with telekinesis to create steps.

Thump, thump, thump.

A mana application that would astonish other mages. Yeomyeong swiftly descended using dozens of Ice Spikes.

When Seti's figure grew larger than a palm in his view, he leapt up and landed beside her. The light footsteps alerted Seti, who turned her head.

“Did you seriously jump from the dragon?”

She glanced between the retreating Orsei Tabul and Yeomyeong and asked. Yeomyeong shrugged instead of answering, stepping onto another Ice Spike.

“How long have you been learning magic to...?”

A strange silence ensued, then both chuckled almost simultaneously.

“So, that dragon is the one you met in Manchuria? The guardian of the Dragon Scale Mountains, friend of the dwarf king?”

“Yeah. That’s Orsei Tabul.”

“Wow... How did he end up here? And at such perfect timing? You didn’t call him, did you... Was he nearby, like fate?”

“Ah, that...”

As Yeomyeong began to answer, a lively voice echoed from afar.

“Seti!!!”

The definite answer. Seti’s finely arched eyebrows furrowed deeply.

She turned to see the saint and Neti approaching with an anti-material rifle and then rubbed her eyes.

“The saint? Why is she here... ah, right, prophecy.”

Having found her own answer, Seti sighed deeply and pressed her forehead. Yeomyeong sat beside her, watching the saint approach.

Moments later, the saint reached the ruins where they were, tossed the rifle aside, and flung herself at the two.

With no words, she just tightened her arms around them—a definite gesture more than any greeting.

Seti silently hugged the saint back, and Yeomyeong, caught between them, raised his arms.

“What’s this?”

It was a heartwarming scene, but for Neti, who arrived last carrying the saint’s bag, it was a baffling sight.

She scowled and scanned the trio.

“What am I looking at, brother-in-law?”

“...”

Too overtly affectionate for a reunion among friends, Yeomyeong found himself without words and looked away. Seti’s reaction was no different, but the saint abruptly turned her head.

“Brother-in-law? Why is Yeomyeong your brother-in-law?”

“Shouldn’t a brother-in-law be called brother-in-law, what else?”

Neti’s brazen reply made the saint’s arms tremble.

“Wait, don’t tell me... you, you guys got married while I was gone?”

“...”

“No, right? It’s not that, right? It’s a joke, right? Ha, our Neti is such a joker.”

A more violent reaction than even seeing the dragon.

Yeomyeong struggled to hold back laughter as he tried to escape their embrace, but the saint wouldn’t let him.

“Hey, Yeomyeong! Why are you running away!?”

****

After a short rest and clarification, the group headed towards the underground armory, specifically towards the entrance to Namgung Jeongbaek's underground storage where they were originally meant to go.

Despite encountering Rat Beastmen along the way, no battles ensued as the Rat Beastmen fled in terror upon seeing Yeomyeong.

“There might be a big fight. Anyone low on energy should head back to the base camp,” Yeomyeong said, standing in front of a staircase leading underground, squeezed between crushed containers.

Naturally, no one in the group turned back.

Together, they proceeded downward. The air grew chilly and musty as darkness swallowed the stairs.

Neti then pulled a flare from her weapon bag, lit it, and handed it to Yeomyeong who was leading the way. Her preparedness was unmatched.

At the bottom of the lengthy staircase, they found a small basement.

The room was cluttered with electronic devices, scattered military radios, severed wires, and small monitors—likely a communications room. Namgung Jeongbaek's underground storage was probably intended as an emergency escape route for the communications staff.

Without much sentiment, the group moved on and soon came across a familiar corridor.

Neti ignited another flare and scanned the corridor, saying, “It looks like a side path from the bunker, near the armory and alchemy lab we visited last time.”

Indeed, there was a bustle of Rat Beastmen activity beyond that point. Yeomyeong chose not to engage them, instead turning in the opposite direction.

Towards the deepest part of the bunker.

As they walked cautiously, Neti asked quietly, “Brother-in-law, what exactly is down here?”

Despite the saint’s chagrin at the term ‘brother-in-law’, Yeomyeong answered calmly, feeling it was time they knew.

“Soviet nuclear weapons.”

“...What?”

“Intercontinental ballistic missiles loaded with nuclear warheads, at least a dozen. If they’re MIRVs, then over fifty.”

Neti was [N O V E L I G H T] too shocked to speak.

Seti, perhaps having anticipated this, continued quietly, “So... the launch codes Namgung Jeongbaek mentioned are for these nuclear weapons. Yeomyeong, you know them, right?”

“Yes.”

The response was without hesitation. A heavy silence followed.

As they approached an incline leading deeper underground, Seti posed another unexpected question, “Yeomyeong, are you planning to fire those nuclear weapons at Korea?”

Neti hiccuped in surprise.

What kind of question was that? Unaware of Yeomyeong and Seti’s plans for revenge, cold sweat ran down Neti’s forehead.

At that moment, as sweat dripped down her chin, Yeomyeong responded calmly.

“No. I’d rather not use them if possible.”

If possible? The saint and Seti interpreted his words differently—either as a reluctance to use them or as a readiness to do so if necessary.

Amid tangled thoughts and Neti’s continued hiccups, a massive iron door appeared in front of the group.

Apparently designed to be opened only from the inside, it had no keyhole or handle. Up close, it seemed impenetrable even to missiles, if done conventionally.

“Everyone, step back,” Yeomyeong directed.

He set down the flare and pulled out a golden seal from his coat.

After taking a deep breath and channeling mana into the seal, a golden magic circle enveloped the door.

Flash!

A moment passed, and a screeching sound came from beyond the door—the sound of locks disengaging.

Soon, the door swung open, releasing a puff of dust. Yeomyeong led the way through the dust into the interior.

Inside was a space as large as the tank storage they had seen before, easily dozens of square meters. However, it was not a silo for missiles.

Instead of missiles, a huge monitor hung on the sturdy central wall.

And in front of it, rows of computers and desks lined up, resembling...

“A control room...?” Yeomyeong muttered, recognizing it from documentaries about spacecraft or aircraft control centers.

‘...A missile launch control room.’

His judgment was swift, and his actions were immediate.

Yeomyeong walked straight towards the center of the control room, to the only monitor that was lit.

Or at least, he tried to.

But as he took a step forward, someone suddenly rose up beside the monitor.

“This makes the third time. Good to see you again, Yeomyeong.”