There Is No World For ■■

As Yeomyeong stepped into the base camp, he was greeted by a thick cloud of cigarette smoke. The suffocating haze made him scowl as he took in the scene beyond it. Several mercenaries, seven or so, were seated around a long table made up of smaller ones pushed together.

Each one of them exuded a presence unlike typical mercenaries. Most of them possessed mana, and even those who didn’t had a sharpness in their eyes that wasn’t to be underestimated. Among them were some familiar faces—Deputy Leader Kim Mansu and the heavily scarred man from the trial, Mansuk Chul.

“Ah, our proud rookie has finally arrived,” a voice boomed.

Yet only one person dared speak in that room, seated at the head of the table. He looked every bit the part of a mercenary leader, rough and rugged. His massive frame, unkempt beard, and thick fur coat gave him the look of someone whose life had been one of constant battles.

But Yeomyeong was no longer a mere janitor; he could sense mana better than anyone in this room. And from the man seated at the head of the table, he detected a cold, precise mana—sharp, like the scalpel of a surgeon.

A man whose exterior belies his true nature.

At that moment, Yeomyeong understood why Tenlin had described him as “tough.”

“Oh, pardon my manners. I haven’t introduced myself, have I?” The man affected a hearty friendliness that felt anything but genuine. The others chuckled along, but none of them spoke.

“I am Kwon Mongju, leader of the Seonjook Mercenary Corps. You may call me Commander Kwon,” he announced, his voice booming as though he owned the room.

“....”

“No need to be so tense. Take a seat,” he said, gesturing to a chair directly across from him. It was the seat closest to the entrance, the least prestigious one, but also the one that drew the most attention.

Yeomyeong took the seat without protest. Tenlin, who had been watching his back, found his own seat at the table.

“Well then, now that the main party’s here, let’s get on with it,” Commander Kwon cleared his throat, and the mercenaries put out their cigarettes, focusing intently.

“The first order of business: How will we divide the dragon’s rib recovered from last night’s battle?”

Straight to the point, huh? Yeomyeong hid a smirk as he watched the commander lay out his intentions.

“The Saintess has already claimed half, so that leaves the other half for us,” Commander Kwon said. His choice of words made his intentions clear.

The same story everywhere—greed is inevitable.

As Yeomyeong shook his head slightly, the commander continued.

“But don’t be disappointed. Even half of it is an enormous amount. I’m told it could make at least three swords or two breastplates,” he said, baiting the others with visions of weapons. Some of the mercenaries’ eyes glinted with interest.

“But we won’t be making any weapons. We’re not dwarves, after all. Our priority is strengthening the corps’ overall power, understood?”

“....”

“And with the international elixir prices dropping, this is the perfect time to recruit a few more superhumans.”

As silence fell over the table, the commander looked directly at Yeomyeong, waiting for him to speak.

“Rookie, got something to say?”

“What about my share of the rib?” Yeomyeong asked directly.

The commander wagged his finger, grinning as if Yeomyeong had asked a foolish question. “Share? I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding. During your probation, all spoils go to the corps.”

“....”

“It may feel unfair, but that’s the law of the mercenary world. Don’t worry, though. I promise, the best elixir is yours. That’s my word.”

The commander’s patronizing tone and self-assured smile grated on Yeomyeong’s nerves. He glanced at the other mercenaries. Most appeared indifferent, while Kim Mansu and Tenlin avoided eye contact.

This leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

He mulled over his options. The first thought that came to mind was violence. He could kill everyone in this room and eliminate Team 3 outside, leaving no witnesses.

...What am I thinking?

Yeomyeong chuckled at the absurdity of his own thoughts. Murder would be the worst option, after all. He hadn’t come to Manju to become a killer but to build a reputation.

And it wasn’t just about the rib; if there were a mass killing within the military base, the authorities wouldn’t just stand by. They’d investigate thoroughly, and he’d be at the top of their list.

So, if murder is out of the question, what other options do I have?

Negotiation was next. But he remembered what the commander had said about the corps’ policy on probation. Whether true or not, it would lead to a protracted standoff—a battle of wits that could last days or even months.

Waste of time.

He only had six months before entering the academy—time he could hardly afford to waste wrestling over a rib with the corps.

And so, only one option remained.

To simply give up the rib.

He could avoid pointless conflicts with the Seonjook Mercenary Corps and rid himself of any interest from the other vultures circling around.

The rib was valuable, sure, but if it hindered his goals, it wasn’t worth it.

Having made up his mind, Yeomyeong looked the commander in the eye and spoke.

“Commander Kwon. I’m resigning from the corps.”

The mercenaries exchanged looks of shock and disbelief. Some watched with interest, while others scowled.

“Rookie, you seem to misunderstand. Even if you resign, the rib still belongs to us,” Commander Kwon said.

“That’s fine. The rib is yours to do with as you wish.”

“....”

“All I ask is that you announce to Manju Base that I no longer possess the rib. That’s all I want.”

Commander Kwon’s eyebrow twitched, and Kim Mansu looked distraught, while Tenlin turned his head away. Yeomyeong stood up from his seat.

“I’ll submit my resignation papers later,” he said, turning to leave. He’d long since let go of the rib in his mind.

As he thought about which mercenary group or bounty he should pursue next—

“Wait,” Commander Kwon said, stopping him. He swept his gaze around the room.

“Everyone, leave.”

“Commander?”

“That includes you, Deputy Leader. Out.”

Kim Mansu looked like he wanted to protest, but the commander’s stern look and gesture toward the door silenced him. Reluctantly, Kim Mansu and the others filed out, each wearing a variety of expressions.

Ironically, Yeomyeong, who had been the first to want to leave, now found himself alone with the commander.

“What is this about?”

Yeomyeong’s question was met with a shift in the commander’s demeanor. Gone was the jovial mask of the mercenary leader, replaced by a cold, calculating stare.

The next moment, the commander inclined his head.

“My apologies. That was unbecoming of me.”

“....”

“As mercenaries, it’s not always easy to refuse the ones with money. Even if that means playing along with these petty tests.”

What is he talking about? Yeomyeong wondered, noticing someone approaching from the back entrance between the camp and the barracks.

Thud.

The steps were heavy, more so than an average human’s. Naturally so, as this was no ordinary person.

“Petty tests, you say? Quite harsh, Commander Kwon.”

Short, stocky, with piercing eyes, a bulbous nose, and a beard that flowed down to his belly, the newcomer was a dwarf clad in a luxurious suit.

“...And you are?”

“What? You don’t know me?”

The dwarf looked at Yeomyeong, surprised, as if incredulous that someone might not recognize him.

“Well, surely you’ve heard of Dungan Heavy Industries?”

The mention of Dungan Heavy Industries—a global conglomerate next to the dimensional gate in Chicago—rang a bell for Yeomyeong. He’d seen them in the news often, especially since they were rivals with Korean steel and shipbuilding industries.

“Ah, so you do know of Dungan Heavy Industries. I’m Darulma Dune, a high-ranking executive.”

“...Dune family? As in, a conglomerate?”

“Yes, though we clansmen prefer the term ‘clan.’ But if ‘conglomerate’ suits you better, so be it,” he said, shrugging before walking over to the table and seating himself in the head chair.

“Now that introductions are out of the way, let’s talk business.”

He slapped a stack of documents onto the table.

“Commander Kwon, shall I take over from here?”

The commander silently stepped back, ceding the floor. Watching this, Yeomyeong remembered what Tenlin had mentioned about an investor being involved.

So the mercenary corps’ backer is a dwarf conglomerate?

The dwarf took a document from the top of the stack and held it out to Yeomyeong.

“Mr. Cheon Yeomyeong, I apologize for the crude test earlier, but we needed to be sure of you.”

Yeomyeong glanced at the document and immediately recognized it.

Seti’s forged job application.

“We couldn’t just trust someone hiding their abilities and falsifying their way into the corps.”

The dwarf shook the document, and Yeomyeong raised an eyebrow.

“...So what’s your point? I said I’d resign.”

“You’re free to resign if that’s your wish. We’re not asking you to stay with the corps.”

“...Then what?”

“To put it bluntly, we have a job for you.”

A job? What are they talking about? Yeomyeong glanced between the dwarf and the commander.

“It must sound sudden. I understand,” the dwarf said, stroking his beard.

“Where should I begin... Yes, I suppose this is the place to start. Commander Kwon and I have long sought a particular treasure hidden within Manju.”

“....”

“After years of searching, we’ve nearly pinpointed its location, but there’s a problem. A dragon guards it.”

There’s a place like that in Manju? Ridiculous. Yeomyeong frowned.

“If that’s the case, why not just bring in a helicopter and take down the dragon?”

“A helicopter? Do you want the world to know we’re hunting dragons? Surely you’ve seen the greed of Manju’s soldiers.”

Yeomyeong involuntarily thought of the army that had laid claim to the dragon’s rib. Yeah, they were greedy all right.

“We need a few select individuals capable of slaying a dragon. Someone who can cut through bone would be ideal.”

The dwarf scanned Yeomyeong’s face with a greedy, expectant look.

“To be honest, it’s almost hard to believe someone like you would appear before us just now.”

“...Is that so?”

“Only two explanations fit. Either this is fate, or you’re a very dangerous con artist.”

“....”

“But watching you casually renounce the rib just now convinced me. You’re no con artist. A fraud wouldn’t give up such a valuable piece so easily.”

It wasn’t quite as simple as that, but Yeomyeong didn’t bother correcting him.

“So, our meeting must be fate.”

Hearing the dwarf’s confident tone, Yeomyeong couldn’t help but inwardly scoff. Regardless, the dwarf looked at him with a fiery gaze.

“So, Mr. Cheon Yeomyeong. My offer is simple. Will you join us to hunt a dragon? Or will you miss the opportunity of a lifetime?”

The dwarf extended his hand, adorned with gleaming rings on every finger—truly the hand of a tycoon.