There Is No World For ■■

[Player! I cannot allow you to twist the scenario any further!]

P-Player... What? What’s this now?

Yeomyeong’s mind, just awakened from within, couldn’t catch up with the situation.

However, his body had already completed its preparation for battle in an instant. Every muscle tensed, and mana in his veins pulsed.

It was an instinctive reaction. The instinct of Jukashibilly responding to kill.

Indeed, the red arm flying toward him was a massive bundle of killing intent.

What the hell is that, to carry such killing intent? Yeomyeong’s question didn’t last long.

The next moment, a huge shadow loomed above his head.

The falling palm, overflowing with killing intent.

Yeomyeong did not dodge.

Was it because there was no room to dodge? No, it was because he couldn’t risk Seti and the Saint behind him being crushed by that arm.

He braced his waist and legs, raising both arms to block the red palm.

Boom!

With the sound of the concrete floor cracking, Yeomyeong’s ankles were buried into the ground. The shock that weighed down his whole body made his joints scream.

[It’s surely your doing that ruined the scenarios of Manju and the Academy.]

Player? What the hell is this nonsense? Yeomyeong wanted to retort, but he gritted his teeth.

The moment his breathing faltered, he knew he would be crushed.

[Did you think you could become the protagonist by stealing the protagonist’s luck and ruining the prepared scenario?]

The voice boomed as if dozens of men were speaking at once.

[With the intelligence of a game addict like you, you couldn’t possibly understand! The countless sacrifices it took to get this far! The immense pain!]

As the red arm spoke those words with terrifying force, the crushing pressure intensified.

The moment Yeomyeong felt his lower body’s bones dislocating, he didn’t hesitate to use Jukashibilly.

Turning the killing intent into mana, and strengthening his body and regeneration.

Yeomyeong’s body was wrapped in red killing intent. Soon, not only his original killing intent but also the killing intent from the arm was sucked into his body.

[Jukashibilly? How dare you...!]

The arm’s reaction was violent. It roared like a dragon whose treasure had been stolen and clenched its fist.

And then...

Bang!!

It struck Yeomyeong down. The shock was far beyond simply being pressed by a palm.

Yeomyeong’s arms, which had blocked, broke, and the shock that he hadn’t been able to dissipate made the ground shake.

Yeomyeong immediately regenerated his wounds, but the fist continued to attack without care.

Once, twice, three times, five, ten...

Like a hammer driving a nail, the fist relentlessly pounded Yeomyeong’s head.

It wasn’t just a metaphor. Yeomyeong’s body was truly being slammed into the ground.

Over his ankles, past his calves.

With the nearly infinite regeneration of Jukashibilly supporting him, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could endure once his body was completely buried in the earth.

Yeomyeong struggled to find an escape. He tried using magic, twisting his arms to divert the shock.

But no resistance was enough to shake off the red arm.

If only he had a sword, it might be different, but with his bare hands, it was a struggle just to block.

‘...Right, the sword.’

Yeomyeong extended his senses, trying to locate his sword.

Unfortunately, the sword he had dropped when blocking the spear earlier was too far away.

A distance even telekinesis couldn’t reach.

As he helplessly gave up on the sword and turned his head, the sword blade glinted briefly.

It wasn’t a great light. Just a brief flash, a mere flicker.

But in that short flash, Yeomyeong suddenly recalled the Inventory.

The Player, how did he put things into his inventory?

He already knew how to take items out—by thinking of the item and grasping at the air.

Normally, putting items into the bag wasn’t much different from taking them out.

Then, how about putting items in...?

Between doubt and certainty, possibility and death, Yeomyeong reached out toward the sword.

And in the next moment, he grasped it.

****

The Inventory, the Player’s spatial pocket, opened, and the red arm intensified its pressure on the fist.

[You filthy rat. This pitiful resistance ends here.]

It aimed to crush Yeomyeong’s head with a strike.

But just before the fist could reach Yeomyeong’s head, light burst from his right hand.

The dazzling beam of light collided with the descending red fist.

[!!!]

The fist cracked, and a silent scream echoed throughout the control room. The scream rang out, beyond human eardrums, resonating through mana itself.

Yeomyeong, covering his ears, pulled his leg out from the ground.

Then, after barely planting his foot, he gripped the Mountain’s Tear he had retrieved from his inventory and thought.

‘...What’s this? Why is there suddenly so much power in the sword?’

Perhaps the red arm was having a similar thought, as it snarled at Yeomyeong and his sword.

[What the hell, how is that sword—]

But no matter what it said, Yeomyeong had no intention of giving it time or speaking.

He kicked off the ground and leaped up, striking down with his sword.

The waves of the Pyangyeok’s ripples led the charge, and the milk-white sword energy traced a long line behind it.

As the line passed, severed fingers fell to the ground with a dull thud.

Instead of blood, red killing intent spilled out.

The red arm did not scream. Instead, it calmly distanced itself from Yeomyeong.

The creature that had retreated was regenerating its severed fingers while speaking.

[Mana metal... So, it was a weapon from those disgusting fur beasts.]

Fur beasts? Yeomyeong furrowed his brows unconsciously. That was a derogatory term for the dwarves.

It was a slur that hadn’t been used in decades.

Even if he recognized that the Mountain’s Tears was a dwarven weapon, it was strange for something not «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» even human to use such a term.

Tsk, he clicked his tongue and raised his sword.

Now that he had confirmed that the sword was a direct counter to the creature, he intended to end it here...

[Cough!]

The red arm began to blur suddenly. Had Yeomyeong taken too much of its killing intent? No, that wasn’t it.

The cause of its diminishing killing intent was the darkness that enveloped the control room.

Yeomyeong recognized that darkness. It was Mignium’s darkness.

Each time the shadow, indistinguishable from the darkness, crept out of the control room, the red arm’s killing intent noticeably lessened.

[You dare use me...! Are you the same as the five gods?!]

The arm, screaming, suddenly changed direction and began flying toward the center of the control room.

The direction where Seti and the Saint were frozen. Yeomyeong immediately used the Bi-gak skill and pursued the arm.

A short chase ensued, and just as the red arm cast its shadow over Seti’s head, Yeomyeong’s sword narrowly made contact with it.

The sword cleaved through the arm in half, but the creature didn’t stop. Instead, it increased its speed, spilling killing intent.

As Yeomyeong attempted to chase it down, he saw the arm’s target and stopped his hand.

The target wasn’t Seti or the Saint.

It was...

‘The central monitor?’

Crack-! The severed arm fell onto the monitor, shattering all the surrounding equipment.

In particular, the keyboard for inputting the launch code was crushed beyond recognition.

...What’s going on? Yeomyeong squinted his eyes as he watched the glowing arm near the monitor.

Did it stop fighting just to break the monitor? Why?

Of course, the monitor wasn’t just an ordinary object. It was the central control computer for entering nuclear missile launch codes.

But that was only until the launch code was entered.

Since the launch code had already been input, anything connected to the central control in the control room...

‘...Could it be?’

As Yeomyeong raised his head with a feeling of doubt, the red arm turned his uncertainty into certainty.

[Vikoff’s missile, and the remaining ones in the armory... You won’t get either of them.]

“...”

[The scenario is steadfast. Player, you lose.]

The tone was a mix of disgust and mockery. Yeomyeong swallowed a bitter laugh.

‘...As expected, this bastard doesn’t know that I already entered the launch code. But why?’

Was it because entering the launch code wasn’t part of the ‘scenario’?

He didn’t know the exact reason.

But one thing was clear, there had to be a reason to stop the launch code from being entered.

And that reason was probably...

“...The Inventory retrieval ability.”

[...]

“The owner of the Inventory can assume that any item within sight can be placed in the bag...”

Yeomyeong’s mind raced, combining hypothesis after hypothesis until it reached one answer.

“When the launch code is entered, does the ownership of the missile transfer to that person? So, they broke the monitor to prevent the code from being entered. Isn’t that right?”

It was an ambiguous question, neither a confirmation nor an inquiry. Yeomyeong himself wasn’t sure.

The red arm didn’t give him an answer but instead mocked him.

[No matter what you realize now, it’s too late. The monitor that could input the launch code is already destroyed.]

Yeomyeong silently turned his gaze to the large monitor on the wall of the control room. More specifically, he focused on the nuclear missile displayed on the monitor.

Unlike the sword in the control room, the missile was hundreds, perhaps thousands of kilometers away.

Could he put that in his bag? He wasn’t sure.

But it was worth trying. As with all precedents.

After a brief pause, Yeomyeong extended his hand toward the large monitor and said,

“...It should have been the large monitor, not the central monitor, that was destroyed.”

As soon as he clenched his hand, an immense amount of mana surged through the space.