There Is No World For ■■

After China became an inaccessible zone, Incheon went into a steep decline.

Corporations, caught in the wave of economic recession, either sank or fled to other cities.

Half of the port was shut down, and a significant portion of the population moved to larger cities like Kaesong or Busan, leaving behind empty houses and growing slums year after year.

The title of "Korea’s third brightest city after Busan and Kaesong" had long since become a crude joke, mocking a bygone era.

At least, on the surface.

From the inside, Incheon was actually flourishing even more than it had before.

"Weapons smuggled from the Manchurian rift, monster remains, goods smuggled across the Kaesong dimension gate, and drugs and arms flowing in from Southeast Asia and Australia... There’s nothing you can't find on Incheon’s black market."

Jangman added that with a caveat.

"You can’t exactly call this 'prosperity.'"

He went on to explain that the current state of Incheon was like that of a dead animal whose belly had swelled.

What should have been blood and flesh was instead filled with filth, maggots, and gas, making it appear bigger.

One day, the rotting skin would burst, spilling out all kinds of grotesque horrors.

The first victims, of course, would be the citizens of Incheon.

"...That’s horrible."

"Yeah, it’s horrible."

As they talked, Jangman and Dung Beetle walked through the logistics complex of the closed port.

Jangman led, while Dung Beetle followed, but Jangman kept glancing back whenever he had the chance.

Not for any particular reason, but because Dung Beetle’s large sports bag, which he had picked up at some point, caught his eye.

The bag was stuffed full of something, with rectangular bulges poking out here and there. Anyone with a bit of sense would know it was filled with bundles of cash.

By the time they reached their destination, Jangman couldn’t hold back his curiosity any longer and asked.

"Where did you get that money?"

"It’s the supervisor’s money."

"...Supervisor? The one from the Cleaners Guild?"

"Yes."

Jangman shook his head as if finally understanding the weight behind Dung Beetle’s simple response.

'So, the revenge had already begun long ago.'

With that thought, they arrived at their destination.

It was a warehouse in the far corner of the logistics complex, its roof half-collapsed and abandoned.

"This place...?"

"A secret entrance to a secret market. Just a warning, don't come here alone. You might lose your head."

Jangman entered the warehouse without hesitation.

Inside was just as overgrown as outside. Jangman stomped through the weeds as he crossed the warehouse.

He approached the far wall and began feeling around its surface.

"It was around here somewhere... Ah, found it."

He pressed a spot in the middle of the wall, and with a grinding noise, the wall beside the button slid open.

Beyond the opening was a crude staircase leading underground.

"There’s more rust than last time I was here. Be careful on your way down—it might collapse."

With that, Jangman led the way down the stairs. Dung Beetle adjusted the bag on his shoulder and followed.

-Creak, creak.

Each step on the rusted metal staircase produced a groaning sound as if the stairs were on the verge of giving out.

They descended about a hundred steps, roughly the height of a three-story building.

'...A warehouse?'

Contrary to Dung Beetle’s tense expectations, what awaited them at the bottom was a cluttered storage room full of boxes.

Everything from famous brand snack boxes to crates marked with the U.S. military insignia.

It was impossible to discern the nature of the warehouse, but without offering any explanation, Jangman began rummaging through the boxes.

After about a minute, he approached Dung Beetle with a box full of masks.

"Pick any mask from here."

Jangman then chose a snake-shaped mask from the box and put it on.

"A mask? Is this some kind of black market rule?"

"More of an unspoken rule. After all, this isn’t the kind of place where you'd want to show your face."

That made sense. Dung Beetle picked up a sun-shaped mask from the top of the pile, dust covering its surface.

"...Are there any other unspoken rules I should know?"

Dusting off the mask, Dung Beetle asked, to which Jangman shrugged and replied.

"No killing, no stealing... but given the nature of this place, not many follow the other rules."

"...Sounds like a mess."

"It is a mess."

Once Jangman confirmed Dung Beetle had put on his mask, he opened the door to the warehouse.

-Creeeak.

The rusty metal door screeched open, and the first thing that greeted them was the bright light and the scent of the sea.

Next came...

-Clink.

"The hell are you two? Who gave you permission to come in through the back door?"

Three gun barrels pointed directly at them.

The moment Dung Beetle came face to face with the three men in black suits pointing guns at him, he instinctively hurled the bag of money.

"Dung Beetle! Wait!"

Jangman’s shout came just a fraction too late. Dung Beetle was already rushing forward.

Thwack! The first man went down, hit by the bag. In that split second, Dung Beetle was already past him and charging toward the second man.

Though Dung Beetle moved at a speed beyond that of an ordinary person, not even he could move faster than a bullet.

However, the brief distraction from throwing the bag, combined with the guards’ shock at being ambushed, bought Dung Beetle a few precious moments.

In that short time, Dung Beetle struck the second man’s chin. Crack! His eyes rolled back, and his legs buckled.

Dung Beetle grabbed the collapsing man’s head, using him as a shield as he lunged toward the third man. It was a smooth, fluid movement.

"Stop! Dung Beetle! Stop it!"

What halted Dung Beetle from charging at the last man with his human shield was Jangman’s voice.

Jangman glanced between Dung Beetle, who had knocked out two of the guards, and the third guard, who was now pointing his gun with trembling hands, and let out a sigh.

"Hoo, let’s just talk this out...."

"Who the hell are you?! Do you think you can attack us and walk away unscathed?!"

The remaining guard, regaining his composure, raised his gun and yelled. Jangman’s expression darkened once more.

"Shut up, you idiot! Is that how Josef taught you to greet customers?"

Josef.

At the mention of that name, the guard’s demeanor immediately changed. Glancing nervously at Dung Beetle, he stammered.

"Y-you’re guests of Josef, sir?"

"Do you think we’re robbers? Now go call Josef."

"But sir, Josef doesn’t meet with people unless they’ve made an appointment..."

Slap!

Jangman strode forward and slapped the guard across the face. It was a slap filled with pent-up frustration.

The guard, stunned by the blow, clutched his swelling cheek, too confused to react.

"I’ll let that slap settle the matter of your earlier rudeness. But there won’t be a second chance."

"...."

"Now go tell Josef ‘there are guests at the back door.’ You don’t get to decide who Josef meets. Got it?"

The guard, still bewildered, nodded. He quickly pulled out his phone and made a call, during which Dung Beetle overheard a string of curses from the other end of the line.

The guard’s face turned pale after hearing the insults. Fortunately or unfortunately, the call didn’t last long.

As soon as he hung up, the guard hurriedly bowed to Jangman.

"Josef will see you now, sir."

"And the location?"

"The Weapon Market, sir. I can personally escort you there."

The guard’s tone was desperate, but Jangman was cold.

"I know the way to the market, so no need for an escort. Take care of your fallen idiots."

With that, Jangman turned to Dung Beetle.

Dung Beetle picked up the bag of money next to the unconscious guards and followed Jangman toward the black market.

After turning into a narrow alleyway and through a small passage, the black market revealed itself.

True to its name, this was no ordinary market.

Instead of food, the street vendors sold monster remains and weapons.

At the entrances to the shops, armed guards with machine guns stood watch.

And most notably... there were non-human beings.

Dwarves and orcs—races Dung Beetle had only seen on TV—caught his attention.

‘Is this really Incheon?’

A few days ago, he had seen elves, but they were all corpses.

This was his first time seeing living non-humans. They were shouting and haggling, just like the humans around them. It wasn’t something you’d expect to see in Korea, let alone America.

As Dung Beetle gawked at the unfamiliar scene, Jangman, who was walking beside him, spoke up.

"You’re a good fighter. Did you train in martial arts?"

It was a loaded question. Dung Beetle shook his head.

"I haven’t formally trained in any martial arts."

"Then all those moves were instinctual? Haha, a superhuman is a superhuman, I suppose."

A superhuman.

Dung Beetle didn’t think that was the only reason for his actions.

In that moment when the gun was pointed at him, his body moved on its own.

From the tips of his hair to the soles of his feet, every cell in his body had acted before his mind could think.

Was that something a superhuman could do on sheer instinct?

What echoed in Dung Beetle’s mind was Mignium’s voice.

—“I will grant you a talent beyond the reach of any human. A talent for revenge, for taking lives.”

Was this the talent Mignium had given him?

But to possess the power to bestow such talent... even the gods beyond the dimension gates had never displayed such a miracle.

If this talent was truly Mignium’s doing, then what exactly was Mignium?

As Dung Beetle pondered, Jangman came to a halt.

Following Jangman’s gaze, Dung Beetle turned his head. In the distance, at the entrance of a large building, someone was staring straight at them.

Though no one had introduced him, Dung Beetle instinctively knew that this man was the ‘Josef’ that Jangman had mentioned.

It was because Josef had a characteristic that set him apart from everyone else.

He wasn’t wearing a mask. He stood confidently, face exposed, leading over ten armed men.

"Old man! It’s been a while since you’ve come through the back door!"

By the time Josef had reached them, he had already opened his arms wide for a reunion hug with Jangman.

"Josef, you look even better than the last time I saw you. How’ve you been?"

"Don’t even get me started. Last month, there was a terror attack at Lord Howe Academy in Australia, so all our arms smuggling from that region is on hold. At this rate, I can’t even feed my boys!"

Josef, exchanging such words with Jangman, subtly glanced at Dung Beetle.

"Is this the old man’s new errand boy? Looks pretty scrawny."

Jangman cleared his throat at the blatant remark.

"Ahem, not an errand boy. A client."

"A client? So, you personally brought a client..."

Josef’s expression shifted. A moment ago, he had looked like a simple town thug, but now his eyes gleamed like those of a seasoned merchant.

"What are you here to buy?"

"...Weapons."

The answer didn’t come from Jangman, but from Dung Beetle. Josef grinned widely.

"Weapons, huh? You’ve come to the right place. The best arms dealer in Incheon is none other than Josef! Guns, bombs, mana weapons from beyond the dimension gates! Just say the word, and it’s yours."

Josef spoke confidently. For someone who dealt in lethal goods, he had an unusually upbeat demeanor, but Dung Beetle wasn’t bothered by it.

He’d seen plenty of lightweight fools before.

After a brief pause, Dung Beetle spoke his request.

"I need something to take on..."

No, that wasn’t quite right.

"Do you have any weapons for fighting necromancers?"

The interruption came from a clear, crisp voice.

As Dung Beetle frowned at the sudden interruption, everyone else turned their heads in unison.

"Are you Josef? The best arms dealer in this market?"

Behind the row of burly guards, a woman wearing a black dog mask stood with her arms crossed, facing them.

"I’ve been waiting for two days with an appointment, but you’re impossible to get a hold of."

While the unexpected interruption left everyone speechless, Josef answered with his usual friendly smile.

"Ma’am, there are plenty of other excellent arms dealers in this market besides myself."

"But you’re the only one selling smuggled weapons from beyond the dimension gates. I’m not interested in standard military goods."

Her casual tone and behavior, along with a hint of immaturity, led Dung Beetle to guess that the woman in the black dog mask was quite young. At best, in her early twenties, perhaps even younger.

"I’m sorry, but mana weapons are only sold to verified individuals."

"And I suppose those line-cutters over there are your ‘verified’ clients? An old man and a fool with a bag of money?"

It was a cheap provocation. No one here was foolish enough to take the bait. If anything, her taunts had just given them an excuse.

"Ma’am, starting conflicts in the black market is grounds for expulsion."

At Josef’s snap, the nearby guards all raised their machine guns. A clear signal for her to leave.

The woman in the dog mask neither panicked nor fled. She glanced between Josef and the guards before lowering her voice.

"Is this how the black market treats its customers?"

"That’s how we treat troublesome customers."

"Troublesome? And what would you call a shopkeeper who keeps me waiting for two days just to serve other customers ahead of me? A son of a b*tch?"

Son of a b*tch? Dung Beetle couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle. Josef, too, rubbed his forehead in disbelief.

"Hah, boys! I think the lady’s had a bit too much to drink this morning. Why don’t you escort her to the exit?"

At Josef’s command, three of the burly men stepped forward, pressing their gun barrels against the back of her head.

They looked ready to shoot at any moment. The woman didn’t resist, raising her hands in surrender.

"There’s no need for an escort. I’ll walk myself out."

Leaving behind that final remark, the woman disappeared into the crowd without looking back.

'...What was that?'

Watching her vanish from sight, Dung Beetle felt an odd sensation.

Something in his chest was tingling, as if a part of his mind had tangled. It was an uneasy feeling—one that felt strangely like a premonition.

A premonition that he would cross paths with that woman again soon.

"Now, let’s put that unpleasant incident behind us and return to business. What kind of weapon are you looking for?"

Despite Dung Beetle’s growing sense of unease, Josef shifted back into his salesman persona and resumed their conversation.

Dung Beetle took a moment to suppress the strange feeling, then looked at Josef and replied.

"I’m looking for the same thing that woman was asking for."

"Oh?"

"A weapon to fight necromancers. Do you have one?"

Josef raised an eyebrow. Two customers in a row asking for weapons to fight necromancers?

The merchant’s instincts were piqued, but he kept his curiosity hidden. A merchant’s priority is the deal at hand, after all.

"Hmm, sir, I must warn you, such weapons come with a hefty price tag..."

Before Josef could finish his sentence, Dung Beetle lowered the bag he had been carrying and unzipped it.

Zzzzip.

The bag opened, revealing a pile of 100-dollar bills with Benjamin Franklin’s face staring back.

"I have another bag just like this one. Is that enough?"

As Dung Beetle zipped the bag shut, Josef flashed a wide grin.

"A bag full of cash, huh? I see you’re a man who knows how to do business."