There Is No World For ■■

"I’ll take the Golden Seal."

[...Suddenly?]

The Dwarven king, who had been preparing something else, froze. He looked at Yeomyeong for a moment, then, as if realizing something, raised his thick eyebrows.

The slightest shift in Yeomyeong's posture and gaze, triggered by the mention of breaking bindings.

He was trying to hide it, but his subtle reaction didn’t escape the eyes of a king accustomed to reading people.

[Aha, so that’s it.]

Dabarl chuckled as he handled the Seal. Was it because the negotiation had turned in his favor? No, not quite.

It was a smile of relief.

He was relieved to see that, even in the face of treasure, Yeomyeong was someone who thought of others rather than just himself.

“He may not be a hero who’ll save the world... but he’s not a selfish bastard either.”

After a brief pause, Dabarl extended the Seal toward Yeomyeong, who was watching him.

[Did you know that Dwarven artifacts have a secret?]

Yeomyeong tilted his head slightly, giving Dabarl a look that seemed to say, "What nonsense are you spouting now?"

[If a magical tool crafted by a master of the bloodline isn’t handed over properly, it can’t exert its full power.]

“...That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

[Well, it makes sense. Nowadays, they just churn out mass-produced items; there’s no reason for anyone to know about history and tradition.]

As Dabarl raised his other hand, an object familiar to Yeomyeong flew toward him from the direction of the watchtower.

[Let’s take this Uragan’s Handle you’ve been using as an example... Originally, this handle was designed to purify all curses and malignant magic. But you’ve likely used it merely as a rod that channels mana, right?]

What was he talking about now? Yeomyeong glanced back and forth between Uragan’s Handle and the Dwarven king.

“...If you’re talking about the handle, I’ve been using it just fine.”

[What? That can’t be.]

Dabarl’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked Yeomyeong up and down, from head to toe, as if trying to understand something. Then he opened his mouth, as if he’d realized something.

[Ah, don’t tell me...]

Though he didn’t finish, the unspoken word was easy enough to guess. Virgin.

[Well, romantic matters are up to the individual. I understand. I died without leaving any descendants myself.]

In a playful tone, Dabarl offered his condolences—or rather, a form of consolation—then added with a shrug,

[Though, of course, I didn’t die as a bachelor.]

"Yes, yes, I’m sure you didn’t,” Yeomyeong replied with a deadpan expression, prompting Dabarl to laugh heartily.

[Anyway, if you don’t intend to live your entire life a virgin, you need to receive this handle properly. And the Seal as well.]

“...Properly?”

[That means being acknowledged by its creator, or certified by a previous owner. Or... receiving recognition from the rightful king of the mountains.]

No sooner had Dabarl finished his explanation than golden mana surged from the Seal.

Though it couldn’t compare to the light of the magic circle drawn by the dragon, it filled the frozen warehouse with radiant brilliance.

Yet, as the Seal’s light grew brighter, the Dwarven king’s figure became fainter.

Yeomyeong silently observed him.

The mystery of how a dead soul could disrupt his senses was now clear... Seeing the light of the Seal made everything make sense.

Just as the unicorn in Uragan’s Handle had its soul embedded within, the Dwarven king had poured his own soul and mana into the Seal.

However, unlike the unicorn, who had its essence encased in its own horn, the Dwarven king’s soul was bound to the Seal by only a sliver of mana.

Once the Seal’s mana was depleted after this ritual, the king’s soul... would vanish.

Realizing this, Yeomyeong felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for the Dwarven king.

Not only had he spent decades trapped within the Seal in service of some "fate," but he’d also been forced to watch his friend descend into madness beside him.

What sort of fate could justify such a sacrifice?

As Yeomyeong pondered this, the Dwarven king completed his preparations and extended the Seal toward him.

[Yeomyeong, would you... Ah, kneeling is probably difficult on these stairs. Just stand and receive it.]

Facing the golden brilliance of the Seal, Yeomyeong rose and cautiously took it.

The cool touch of metal combined with the warm pulse of mana flowed through his hands. Yeomyeong closed his eyes briefly, feeling the mana within the Seal.

After a moment, the king spoke again.

[I, Dabarl Hylin, as the rightful king of the Dragon Scale Mountains, hereby grant the ownership of the Golden Seal to Cheon Yeomyeong.]

In the next instant, something within the Seal connected to Yeomyeong’s mana—a strange and unfamiliar sensation he couldn’t quite describe.

[Additionally, in place of the late Ma Uragan, I transfer to you the ownership of the last weapon crafted by the Uragan bloodline.]

The last weapon? When Yeomyeong looked up, Dabarl smiled and placed the handle on top of the Seal.

[The body, head, and pommel aside from the handle... you’ll have to find those yourself.]

“...Other parts? But this weapon...”

[It’s incomplete. The workshop was bombed a day before assembly. It’s unfortunate.]

Dabarl spoke lightly, but Yeomyeong, aware of the history contained within, held his tongue.

[The handle found its way to you by some twist of fate... Please take care of the rest.]

With that, Dabarl began tracing something in the air with his finger.

What was he doing now? Watching in silence, Yeomyeong kept his eyes on the image the Dwarven king was sketching.

Dabarl’s drawing, using mana as his paint, was... a map.

A map as detailed as any military map.

The blue glow of mana illuminated an unfamiliar mountain range and a hidden spot deep within.

“...What’s this?”

[This is the route to the royal vault. A place only accessible with the Seal.]

A treasure map? Yeomyeong looked at Dabarl with a suspicious gaze.

“Why show this to me?”

[If you’re going to defy fate, you might as well do it thoroughly, right?]

Before Yeomyeong could respond, Dabarl pushed the map toward him.

Whoosh—

The mana-made map collided with Yeomyeong’s body and then dispersed like mist.

Or, more precisely, the mana that had formed the map flowed into Yeomyeong’s mind.

[Ah, it’s been a while since I’ve transferred memories. Took quite a bit of mana.]

As Yeomyeong absorbed the sudden influx of memories, Dabarl spoke with a nonchalant tone. Yet his form had grown even fainter—a sign his time was running out.

Looking down at his fading hand, the Dwarven king said,

[Now, my role is complete. It’s your turn now... to save my poor friend.]

Holding the Seal, Yeomyeong turned his gaze toward the fallen dragon.

Orsse Tabul—the dragon whose wings he had sliced, legs he had severed, and eyes he had pierced.

After a moment’s contemplation, Yeomyeong turned back to the Dwarven king and asked him a question that seemed to catch Dabarl off guard.

“...Is there anything you want me to tell your friend?”

Perhaps Yeomyeong was more thoughtful than Dabarl had expected. With a bright smile, the Dwarven king offered his final words.

Time, which had been frozen, resumed.

Or rather, Yeomyeong’s senses, which had been bound by the Seal’s magic, returned to normal.

Bang!

The moment his senses returned, Colonel Jung’s bullet ripped through the air.

But Yeomyeong simply tilted his head slightly to dodge it.

The shooter himself, as well as Darulma beside him, stared in astonishment.

“You crazy bastard! What if that bullet had hit the Saintess?!”

Just as Darulma processed what had happened, he shouted in anger, and Yeomyeong spun around, sprinting toward the watchtower.

With mana from his Blood Flow Acceleration technique fueling his steps, he reached Colonel Jung before the man could even raise his gun again.

Smack!

Yeomyeong moved like lightning. He struck Colonel Jung’s left arm, which held the alarm remote, then grabbed and twisted the wrist holding the pistol.

Colonel Jung lacked the strength or skill to withstand the pressure applied to his joints. His arm twisted behind his back with a sickening crack. Jung screamed.

“Agh!”

It all happened in an instant. Not even the soldiers who had turned at the sound of gunfire, nor Darulma down below, could fully follow Yeomyeong’s movements.

“Let... let me go! You bastard! Do you think you can just—urk!”

Colonel Jung sputtered angrily, but Yeomyeong reached out with his other hand and clamped down on Jung’s throat.

At that moment, a soldier in the watchtower pulled out his pistol and yelled.

“What... what are you doing?!”

It was the same soldier who had brought the [Secure Storage] box earlier. With a steady gaze, Yeomyeong glared at him and replied.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m restraining this lunatic who tried to assassinate the Saintess.”

Assassinate the Saintess? Colonel Jung struggled, looking aggrieved, but Yeomyeong only tightened his grip on the man’s throat.

The soldier’s expression twisted.

'Assassinate the Saintess? Why would Colonel Jung...?'

His mind raced, but he couldn’t find any argument. After all, he’d only seen Colonel Jung shoot downward from the tower, without knowing who the target was.

“If you’re not planning to shoot, bring that box over here.”

As Colonel Jung’s body went limp, Yeomyeong gestured to the corner of the watchtower.

He pointed to the [Secure Storage] box the soldier had brought moments before.

The soldier looked between the box and Yeomyeong, eyes darting.

'Should I fight? Or just obey?'

It didn’t take long to decide. He had no desire to die in such a senseless situation.

He lowered his pistol and picked up the box.

“...Please understand that the army had no part in this.”

His hands were shaking as he set down the box, the gears in his head audibly turning as he tried to think of a way out.

“You can make that excuse to the Saintess, not me.”

Though he doubted the Saintess would care.

Yeomyeong held back from saying this, retrieving the Golden Seal from the box. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

“What in the world... Yeomyeong? Why are you holding the Seal?”

Darulma finally made his way up the tower, voicing his confusion. Without answering, Yeomyeong looked from the Seal to the dragon.

“Might as well strike while the iron’s hot.”