There Is No World For ■■

Lunch hour at Rod Howe Academy.

The ‘Author’ sat in the uninhabited grassy patch between the trash dump and the sports field, opening a notebook.

It was the notebook where he had written down the original story of this world as he remembered it.

A secret weapon, no less, but the first page of the notebook had a giant X drawn over it.

‘What the hell, it’s already off from the prologue?’

The prologue of this world. The insane necromancer and the swarm of zombies that should have attacked never showed up.

There were no zombies, nor any trace of a necromancer to be found.

‘Shit.’

The tragedy that should have claimed countless lives had passed without incident. It was something that should have brought him joy, yet the ‘Author’ felt nothing but anger.

The prologue had been an opportunity for him. A chance to eliminate the side characters he didn't like and find out who the 'protagonist' was.

The carefully prepared assassination dagger and poison darts were now useless. The 'protagonist,' who should have stood out by eliminating the hordes, hadn’t even appeared.

With the first button sewn wrong, how could anything that followed go right?

The key character of Chapter 1: the Saintess.

Not only did she skip the entrance ceremony, but she had also completely disappeared from the academy.

Her actions after that were even more baffling.

The Saintess had appeared, not in her homeland of the Holy Kingdom or in one of the tourist spots she always dreamed of visiting, but in Manchuria. Why?

When he saw the article in the newspaper with the two severed hands and the invisible cloak, the 'Author' had been so stunned he’d thrown his phone across the room.

‘How much has the future changed?’

The ‘Author’ flipped through the pages of the notebook, deep in thought.

Manchuria, which in the game had been known as a “leveling ground,” was no longer a hunting ground but a functioning region holding off the monsters from Siberia.

But that wasn’t the end of the problem. A dragon that wasn’t supposed to appear until Chapter 5 had already made the news, leaving behind its ribcage after a fierce battle.

Manchuria and a dragon’s ribcage—how much more was the snowball going to roll? He couldn’t even begin to predict.

The ‘Author’ closed his notebook and massaged his temples. Even if he wanted to come up with a plan, he didn’t have enough information.

What was happening in this world? What were the damn supporting characters doing? He needed to know before he could make any moves.

‘Damn it, I really need to form a connection with an information guild soon.’

The ‘Author’ got up and considered the two major information guilds he could turn to.

The Blue Rats and The Secret Society.

According to his original plan, he was going to reach out to the Blue Rats.

It would’ve been easy to make contact through the Saintess, and there were plenty of things to gain from it.

But with the Saintess absent from the academy, and the Blue Rats' guild members who were supposed to be keeping an eye on her also missing, that option was off the table.

Which left him with only one choice.

‘Starting off by getting involved with criminals... fuck.’

The ‘Author’ cursed under his breath as he trudged out of the grassy area.

His mind understood that he had no choice, but his lips couldn’t stop from spitting curses.

Damn it, damn it.

After grumbling for quite some time, the ‘Author’ finally arrived at the academy’s trash dump.

Like many other parts of the academy, the dump was a strange mix of old, traditional structures and the latest cutting-edge facilities.

The trash dump was quiet, not even a single fly buzzing around. Of course, it was lunchtime, so no students would be there.

In truth, even outside of lunchtime, very few students ever came to the trash dump... which was a good thing for the ‘Author.’ After all, he wasn’t looking for students.

He picked a spot in the corner of the dump, sat down, and started contemplating how to start the conversation.

‘I want to buy information?’ Too obvious.

‘I want to share a secret?’ Too old-fashioned.

‘I know what you did last summer?’ That’s plagiarism.

So then, the most reliable line would be...

‘I hate Earth too.’

‘Yeah, nothing brings people together like a common enemy...’

Just as his thoughts were drifting, footsteps approached from the distance.

Step, step.

And it wasn’t just one pair of footsteps.

The ‘Author’ quickly got to his feet and hid behind a pile of trash bags.

Peeking out from behind the garbage bags, he saw two figures entering the dump.

The first person was the spy from the Secret Society he had been waiting for.

Dressed in a spotless cleaner’s uniform with a neatly tied triangular kerchief and pink rubber gloves—an undercover agent who had spent the last 10 years disguised as a janitor at the academy.

Her name, or at least her codename, was Aiva Ajumma.

The person trailing behind her, however, was someone both unfamiliar and all too familiar—a girl who the ‘Author’ had been keeping an eye on for some time.

Hong Seti.

The roommate of the famous ‘Ear Elf Princess’ and a person that Jeon Yunseong, the protagonist candidate, had an awkward relationship with.

She was one of the ‘Author’s’ key individuals to watch.

It was no wonder, really.

Despite being connected to key figures, she didn’t appear in the novel or the game. She was a mysterious character.

And more than that... there was her appearance.

It was hard to dismiss her as just a background extra, given her striking looks.

A face so beautiful that even her cold expression seemed attractive, paired with a well-toned body, long black hair, and eyes the color of deep blue sapphires...

She was on par with the protagonist candidate, the Elf Princess, in terms of beauty.

There were already several male students calling the two the "Black and Gold Sisters" or the "School's Top Beauties," so there wasn’t much more to say.

‘...Of course, she’s not just an ordinary extra.’

While the ‘Author’ was convinced of this, the two women began their conversation in a secluded part of the dump, out of the reach of CCTV cameras.

Aiva’s voice was as calm and gentle as ever, but her expression and tone were sharp.

A promise? Was Seti also part of the Secret Society? The ‘Author’ focused his scant mana on his ears to listen closely.

And then Seti’s voice sent a shiver down his spine.

Seti’s voice was colder than he had ever imagined. It was nothing like the quiet, reserved image she usually portrayed.

Before Aiva could raise her voice, a fierce wave of mana crushed down on the trash dump.

While Aiva merely broke into a cold sweat, the ‘Author,’ barely skimming the edge of superhuman ability, could sense it clearly.

That killing intent, that mana.

Seti was serious. If Aiva crossed the line just a little further, Seti would truly kill her.

Aiva tried to retort, but Seti spoke first, her voice faster.

Seti gently placed her hand on Aiva’s shoulder. A hand that rippled with terrifying mana.

Only then did Aiva’s body begin to shake like a leaf.

Aiva, who had been struggling to finish her sentence, collapsed to her knees. Her body trembled as if struck by lightning.

Seti watched her with a cold gaze and replied.

With that brief threat, Seti left the dump.

The ‘Author’ and the spy remained silent until the sound of her footsteps faded away.

In the vast plains of Manchuria, with the Xing'an Mountains in view.

One unconscious dwarf, one dying horse-head, and two people staring each other down as a cold wind blew between them.

After a brief silence, the figure in the black winter coat spoke.

“You’re not from Sumiworld, are you?”

Sumiworld? It wasn’t a place Yeomyeong recognized. He shook his head.

“No. I’ve never heard of it.”

“...Really?”

The figure’s eyes gleamed with mana.

As if trying to see through everything—Yeomyeong's facial expressions, his body language, even the flow of mana itself—those sharp eyes probed him.

“Then where did you learn Pa Yang Gyeol? Do you have a master, or did you find a secret manual... or a relic yourself?”

“For someone who tries to stab from the back, you ask a lot of questions.”

“...”

“What, are you scared?”

It was a low provocation. The figure smirked incredulously.

“You damn... I was going to go easy on you because I thought you were one of us...”

“Going easy? Why don’t you hide your bloodlust first?”

“...Ha.”

The figure threw Darulma off their shoulder and glared at Yeomyeong with a stiff expression.

“Whether you’re from this world or another, there are always idiots who only learn their place after getting beaten to death.”

“I agree.”

Before the figure could respond, Yeomyeong charged. In a blink, he closed the distance.

He unleashed Pa Yang Gyeol with a swift slash of his sword, while the figure countered with a mana-infused punch.

!!!

The clash wasn’t just between a sword and a fist, but between two surges of mana.

The rippling waves of Pa Yang Gyeol clashed against a similar but distinct form of mana.

An explosion of force erupted, sending Darulma flying.

As the sword and fist pushed against each other, the figure spoke.

“You’ve got plenty of mana, but your technique lacks precision. I take it you never had a proper teacher?”

This wasn’t just a taunt. The figure was proving his point by summoning a massive wave of mana throughout his body.

Clang!

The overwhelming force of his mana pushed Yeomyeong back—no, it sent him flying.

When Yeomyeong landed, he saw the figure’s body enveloped in a shimmering, transparent, blood-red mana. Like a heatwave.

“Let’s see how you like this.”

Now the figure charged. His movements were entirely different from anything Yeomyeong had faced before. The punch he launched as he leaped was so fast it was nearly invisible.

The mana accelerated his movements, heating the surrounding air as delayed shockwaves shattered the atmosphere.

Clang!

Yeomyeong’s sword rang as it blocked and deflected the flurry of punches.

When the figure’s fist finally outpaced Yeomyeong’s sword, a grenade fell at his feet.

“You trickster...!”

Boom!!

A simple explosion separated the two of them once again. Both had moved beyond the blast zone almost instantly, assuming new stances.

“You walk around with bombs strapped to you? Aren’t you ashamed to call yourself a martial artist?”

“...Not really.”

Yeomyeong replied, counting the remaining grenades at his waist. Thanks to the corpse explosions earlier, he had lost most of them. Only two remained.

‘Damn, if I had a few more, I could drag this out a bit longer.’

As he looked at the figure cloaked in heatwave-like mana, Yeomyeong felt a deep sense of regret.

There was so much to learn from this opponent. Their way of releasing mana throughout the entire body, their subtle control over each movement—every aspect was like a living textbook.

If he could fight this person for even an hour longer, it could elevate his own skill.

But despite all their impressive martial prowess... the figure’s attacks weren’t particularly threatening to Yeomyeong.

When it came down to it, they were evenly matched.

‘Why is that?’

Yeomyeong wondered as he parried another punch, blocked another blast of mana, and threw another grenade.

And then, in one moment, when the figure deliberately slowed their movements, Yeomyeong realized the reason.

‘It’s the difference in our bodies.’

For some reason, the figure’s body was no different from that of a child just beginning puberty.

The muscles, the cartilage, every part of them fell short of what an advanced superhuman should possess.

Martial arts were ultimately an extension of strengthening the body with mana.

No matter how skilled one was, a weak body imposed limits.

Though the figure was bridging the gap with overwhelming martial ability, there was a clear difference compared to Yeomyeong’s own body, which had surpassed ordinary superhumans.

‘...Who are they?’

As Yeomyeong’s thoughts deepened, the figure let out an exasperated yell.

“Damn it, what kind of monster are you?”

The figure widened the distance between them, looking thoroughly fed up.

“You’re regenerating even after taking direct hits from Pal-Gyeong. Are you even human?”

“...”

“Is your mom a monster, and your dad a human, or something like that?”

If it was a taunt, it was ridiculous. If it was sincere, it was laughable. Yeomyeong shook his head, flicking his sword clean.

“...Who are you, anyway?”

“Don’t answer a question with a question! Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to—”

Before their banter could continue, something pierced the figure’s shoulder.

Bang!

A bullet wrapped in pure white mana. Yeomyeong and the figure both turned to the source of the shot.

Riding in on a motorcycle was the Saintess, one hand on the handlebar, the other aiming her rifle.

“...A bullet blessed by the gods. A Saintess, huh.”

The figure glanced at their bleeding right shoulder before kicking off the ground.

Instead of pursuing, Yeomyeong leaped toward the unconscious Darulma Dun.

After securing the dwarf’s safety, he saw that the figure was fleeing in the opposite direction.

The dwarf wasn’t their target—so then...

That suspicion was confirmed. The figure scooped up the one-armed Horse-head, and then began stepping on the air once more.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The Saintess fired several more shots from a distance, but the figure didn’t fall for it this time.

Instead, they used the Horse-head as a shield to block the bullets.

“Arghhhh!!!”

The Horse-head screamed as bullet holes ripped through him, but the figure didn’t seem to care. Whether he lived or died didn’t matter to them.

Ascending into the sky, the figure shouted down at Yeomyeong.

“You, you freak of nature! What’s your name?”

“...Aren’t you going to introduce yourself first?”

Yeomyeong’s sarcastic remark made the figure scowl.

“My name is Pasun. Pasun of the Six Heavens. Now, what’s your name?”

For a moment, Yeomyeong considered holding off on giving an answer. But seeing the fire in the figure’s eyes, he changed his mind.

For some reason, he had the feeling they’d meet again.

“...Cheon Yeomyeong.”

“Cheon Yeomyeong, I’ll remember that.”

With that final exchange, the figure ran off into the sky.

Yeomyeong watched their retreating back for a moment before slinging the unconscious dwarf over his shoulder.

The sound of the Saintess' motorcycle engine grew closer.