There Is No World For ■■

Namgung Jeongbaek’s court was the oldest building in this city.

Before the Soviet Union seized this land, it had been a small castle used as a villa for the emperor.

Despite its history of faded glory, surprisingly, there were almost no signs of battle around the castle.

As if the undead had deliberately avoided this place.

One-armed elf Pinel furrowed his brows at the sight.

“The east and the south... They’re not even trying to hide that they’re the real culprits.”

As he spoke, he raised his sword, the very blade that had hacked through dozens of zombies on the way from the fortified inn. The blade gleamed menacingly.

He looked ready to charge at the castle at any moment.

Then, someone standing behind Pinel cleared their throat and grabbed his shoulder.

“Pinel-nim. From here on, let’s proceed according to my plan.”

The one who stopped him was Balagu, the orc who had altered his appearance with illusion magic to take on the face of Namgung Jeongbaek.

“If my assumptions are correct and Namgung Jeongbaek has abandoned the castle... we can take it without shedding a drop of blood.”

“...”

Pinel stared at the castle for a moment, then lowered his sword and stepped back.

His stance made it clear—Fine. Show me what you can do.

“Thank you for your trust.”

With those words, Balagu led the group—Josef, his armed subordinates, and the dozens of women and children—toward the castle.

“Hey! Stop right there!”

The moment the crowd of dozens surged forward, a guard stationed on the small castle wall shouted.

“Haven’t you heard the lord’s proclamation? No one is allowed near the court for the time being! Get lost before I make you regret it!”

He must have repeated that line who knows how many times already, given how practiced his threatening tone sounded.

But none of Balagu’s group backed down. Instead, a few of the children started snickering at the guard.

The guard blinked in confusion.

“The hell’s wrong with these brats? Are they all insane? I’ll turn you all into pincushions—”

Just as he was about to give the order to the crossbowmen stationed on the walls—

Balagu stepped forward and lifted his head.

“You dumb bastard!!”

His voice thundered against the castle walls. The guard’s confused expression hardened.

“What? Dumb? You son of a—”

“Shut your mouth!”

“...”

“Even a damn mutt recognizes its master! And yet a worthless mutt like you, who doesn’t even recognize his lord’s face, dares guard my gate?!”

At last, the other guards peered over the wall. One of them recognized the face of Namgung Jeongbaek and swallowed nervously.

“...L-Lord Namgung...?”

The guards, especially the one who had first spoken, looked stricken.

Of course, not everyone believed it without question. Some muttered under their breath, "But he was just in his office...", "His voice sounds different..."

So, it won’t be that easy, huh?

Hearing their murmuring, Pinel placed his hand on his sword hilt, ready to leap onto the wall if things went south.

But before he could act, Balagu roared once more.

“Who the hell put an idiot like you in charge of security?! Was it Dovan?! No, it must have been Dovan!!”

Not stopping there, Balagu pulled a coin from his pocket and hurled it toward the wall.

“Go fetch him! I took in this halfwit and raised him, and this is how he repays me? Bring him here now! I will personally deal with him!!!”

Shouting the knight’s name so freely and throwing things around—

His actions were so exactly what Namgung Jeongbaek would have done that the guards couldn’t question him any further. They hurried to open the gate.

“...Damn, he’s a good actor.”

Watching the heavy gate groan open, Josef chuckled. He still had a tight grip on a grenade, clearly prepared to fight if things had gone sideways.

Balagu replied with a casual expression.

“They say the ones who’ve suffered the most know best how it works. This is nothing.”

“...”

“And we’re not done yet. Not until we’ve fully taken control of the castle. Josef, Pinel—you two will act as Namgung Jeongbaek’s guests. I’ll handle the rest.”

As soon as the two nodded, the castle gate finally opened with a long, grating creak.

Shortly after, a knight hurried out, hastily fastening his armor. Upon seeing Balagu’s face, he immediately bowed low.

“L-Lord Namgung... But weren’t you in your office...?”

The knight who bowed was Dovan, Balagu’s friend—the very same knight whose forehead Yeomyeong had cracked open not long ago.

“The situation was dire, so I went to rescue these civilians—no, these wretches myself.”

“...Excuse me?”

Did I hear that right?

Dovan furrowed his brows like he had just heard something incomprehensible.

Balagu, however, continued speaking smoothly—perhaps too smoothly.

“Do you not understand what I’m saying? Must I spell it out for you?”

“...N-No, sir!”

“The plan has gone to hell. Completely and utterly to hell! So I had no choice but to personally bring these wretches here... along with these two esteemed guests. Do you get it now?”

It was a sentence with neither a subject nor clear context. But when Dovan saw the stone in Balagu’s hand, he simply nodded.

Of course, Balagu had to make it all the more convincing—so he casually threw the stone aside.

“If you understand, then hurry up and escort our guests inside! Or will you have them waiting out here all day?!”

The moment the stone hit the ground and rolled away, Dovan straightened up and quickly led them into the castle.

****

The Saint’s rage as she chased Yeomyeong with a revolver didn’t last long.

Part of it was because she had drained herself performing healing miracles, but more than anything, the sheer relief of having saved millions of lives—and Seti—made the tension in her body collapse.

So, not long after she began her pursuit, the Saint ended up sprawled out on the control room floor.

Yeomyeong, still mid-escape, looked down at her and asked.

“Are you done venting now?”

Instead of answering, she hurled her revolver at him. Yeomyeong caught it effortlessly.

“...Wow, you bastard. You really couldn’t let me land even one hit?”

“Well... I didn’t do anything wrong, so why should I?”

His casual response made the Saint start to shout, but she stopped herself and just shook her head.

“...Forget it. I’d rather die than nag you.”

She let out a deep sigh, then stretched out her arms toward him—a silent request for help getting up.

Instead of helping her as she wanted, Yeomyeong simply used a light touch of telekinesis.

A movement subtle enough to be impressive, but rather than admiring it, the Saint crossed her arms and pouted as she floated into the air.

“Not like this. Carry me properly.”

“...Seriously? You’re a grown woman.”

Using telekinesis, Yeomyeong pulled her closer, then turned toward the direction where the two sisters were waiting.

Just then, the Saint whispered in a voice quiet enough that Seti wouldn’t hear.

“...I’m gonna tell Seti about last time, when you slapped my ass.”

“...Hey.”

“I’m gonna tell everyone. Corvus, Neti, and who else... Oof—!”

Before she could continue her blackmail, Yeomyeong flicked her forehead.

She clutched her forehead with teary eyes, but Yeomyeong ignored her and used telekinesis to shift her onto his back before finally releasing the spell.

“Huh?!”

She gasped in surprise, clearly not expecting him to actually carry her.

A brief silence.

Yeomyeong deliberately ignored the weight on his back and said,

“What happened to Seti... isn’t your fault. So stop agonizing over it. And stop taking it out on me.”

“...”

“I promise, Seti doesn’t blame you.”

“How can you be so sure? You weren’t the one who got stabbed trying to save me... Seti was.”

“I just know.”

His answer left no room for doubt.

Before the Saint could argue, Yeomyeong added,

“If she won’t forgive you, I’ll help.”

Yeomyeong didn’t know if his words comforted her or made her feel worse.

Because instead of answering, the Saint just buried her face against the back of his neck.

For some reason, the tear-soaked blindfold on her face felt just a little warmer.

****

Contrary to the Saint’s worries, Seti accepted her apology without hesitation.

"Um, Seti... I’m sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

"For getting stabbed instead of me... If I had just been more careful—"

"Oh, that? Don’t be. You don’t need to apologize."

Seti didn’t bother explaining that even if she hadn’t been kneeling, she still wouldn’t have been able to dodge. Nor did she mention that saving the Saint over herself had simply been the more rational choice.

She just looked at Yeomyeong, who had carried the Saint all the way here, with an unreadable expression.

Sensing her older sister’s irritation, Neti subtly stepped back.

Meanwhile, Seti pinched the Saint’s cheek, her voice light but firm.

"Geez, I’m really fine. Thanks to you, I even got to drink an Elixir. And most importantly, I didn’t die, did I?"

"Wait... how did you know it was an Elixir—?"

"Shh. It’s a secret."

"..."

After briefly patting the dazed Saint, Seti turned to Yeomyeong ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) and poked his side.

"So, Mister Savior, it’s time to clean up. What’s first?"

Cleanup.

Yeomyeong glanced around the control room.

The major battle was over, but there were still things left unfinished.

Vikoff, who had fled while Yeomyeong was stashing the nuclear warhead in his Inventory.

Namgung Jeongbaek, who had run away far earlier.

And... the remaining nuclear weapons.

The nukes were the top priority.

Yeomyeong turned, scanning the room for an intact monitor.

Fortunately, one in the corner was still in relatively good shape.

Without further explanation, he moved toward it, then glanced back at the three following him.

“...Whatever you see here, keep it to yourselves. Got it?”

Their reactions were mixed.

Seti simply smiled.

Neti’s eyes sparkled at the word secret.

And the Saint stared at the monitor, her expression screaming You wouldn’t—.

Then, Yeomyeong activated the nuclear missile system.

The program had been designed for use in a post-nuclear war scenario, so it wasn’t particularly difficult to navigate.

"Yeomyeong, you’re not seriously—?"

The moment the monitor displayed a count of twelve remaining nuclear missiles, the Saint grabbed the hem of his coat.

Anyone could see that he was initiating the launch sequence.

"You have nothing to worry about. Just trust me and wait."

"..."

"I swear."

After hearing those words, the Saint reluctantly released his coat and nodded.

The next moment, the underground missile silo appeared on the large screen covering the control room wall.

Twelve nuclear missiles lay dormant beneath preservation magic circles, ready for immediate launch the moment liquid fuel was injected.

Yeomyeong took in the sight and thought to himself.

"I am become Death, destroyer of worlds..."

A verse from the Bhagavad Gita, the very words that had come to Robert Oppenheimer’s mind when he witnessed the first nuclear detonation—Trinity.

Recalling that line, Yeomyeong made a decision.

He would never use these nukes.

Because of Namgung Jeongbaek’s and Vikoff’s madness?

Because he was reminded of how America’s expansion in the Second Western Frontier had wiped out the World Tree?

No.

It was neither of those things.

What truly made him decide... was the sudden, overwhelming sense of dread.

A certainty, close to prophecy—that the moment he relied on nuclear weapons and killed millions, he would no longer be himself.

That realization made Yeomyeong turn toward his companions—Neti, Seti, and the Saint.

Faced with them, rather than with the looming threat of nuclear fire, the chill creeping down his spine vanished.

"Need a hand?"

Seti asked, meeting his gaze.

In her blue eyes, Yeomyeong saw his own reflection.

Slowly, he shook his head.

"...No. I’ve already been helped enough."

With that, he reached for the monitor.

As Seti’s eyes curved into crescents and the Saint gulped—

The twelve nuclear missiles disappeared into the void of his Inventory.