There Is No World For ■■

Rewind a little, to the moment Yeomyeong’s party followed the Right Thumb into the VIP room.

In a secluded room on the club’s upper level, necromancers watching the CCTV all wore expressions of irritation.

“Shit, they went into the VIP room.”

That space was reserved only if every guest turned out to be a superhuman.

If there were two, they’d be guided to a regular room. If just one, they’d be taken to the underground corpse storage.

The Ring Finger, seated in front of countless CCTV monitors, scowled as he picked up his pager.

“Business is fucking done for the day. Of all the damn times... Fuck! Do you know how much money this is!”

His tone was more like a merchant than a necromancer.

There were three necromancers in the room, but only one of them called him out on it.

“You’re really thinking about money right now? What if those bastards really are CIA agents?”

The stiff, gravelly voice belonged to the Middle Finger—an old man. Second only in age to the Thumb, he didn’t even bother hiding his fear of the U.S. government.

“This is why I said we should go to Mexico instead of the States...”

But the Ring Finger, who spoke first, remained unimpressed.

“Don’t overreact. Do you know how much money we slipped the L.A. mayor?”

“You dumbass! If the government sends Delta Force or SAC, you think that fucking mayor’s gonna protect us?”

“Please, old man. Why the hell would a special forces unit come here?”

The Ring Finger shook his head in disbelief.

Old geezers still thought it was the era when they had to dig up graves to hide from holy knights.

In a modern age where corpses were stored in state-of-the-art refrigeration units, maybe it was time they updated their thinking.

“Hmph. Anyway, I’m shutting down business for now.”

Grumbling, the Ring Finger pulled out his communicator and summoned his subordinates—specifically, the ghouls guarding the club.

–This is Ring Finger. Do you copy?

Through the CCTV feed, the men in suits all looked up in unison.

On the surface they looked human, but inside, they were packed with twisted mana and cursed flesh—undead through and through.

–Tell the guests they’ll need to leave. Business is closed for the night.

As soon as they received the command, they sprang into action.

First, the flashy lights shut off, and the music stopped.

Before the dancing guests could even start panicking, the ghouls stepped forward and explained the situation.

A few drunk patrons got angry, but it didn’t last long.

Was it because they were told they wouldn’t have to pay for entry or drinks? No—it was because of the overwhelming aura radiating from the ghouls’ bodies.

The Ring Finger sighed as he watched the guests pour out of the club.

His head throbbed thinking about the losses. Still, maybe it was lucky there weren’t any VIPs in attendance?

“What are you doing? Hurry up and arm the ghouls!”

Meanwhile, the Middle Finger, apparently gripped with anxiety, shouted with his beard trembling.

“Get all the weapons out of storage! Just in case, wake up all the Death Knights too!”

Weapons? The Ring Finger rubbed his temple and replied,

“...How about we just wake up the Death Knights instead?”

Do you even realize how much money it costs if there’s gunfire in the middle of the city?

He wanted to yell Do you know how much it takes to bribe off the cops and reporters to bury an incident like that?—but he held his tongue.

Old men weren’t exactly reasonable people.

“You idiot, you’re saying that after seeing the Thumb himself take the lead!?”

“...Yeah, yeah.”

Grumbling under his breath, the Ring Finger gave the command to arm the ghouls.

–Everyone, arm up. Suppressors mandatory. Minimize explosives.

The other young necromancers followed suit, raising their staffs and beginning to chant.

–You who are bound within the immortal flesh, show your loyalty.

A spell to awaken the Death Knights slumbering deep beneath the club.

It didn’t take long to complete. Moments later, the coffins in the depths of the underground opened with a loud creak, and seven Death Knights emerged, captured by the CCTV feed.

“...Isn’t this a bit overkill?”

They were prepared, sure, but the Ring Finger clicked his tongue.

Dozens of ghouls armed with guns, seven Death Knights, three necromancers of the Finger level, and apprentices—nineteen in total.

That was enough firepower to take down a small military unit.

Honestly, this was overkill for facing just three superhumans.

But even that wasn’t enough for the Middle Finger. He raised his staff and began activating the magic circles placed all around the building.

Poison fog, curse of senses, curse of weakness, bone traps, perception jamming...

Some of them were one-time-use magic circles that had to be reinstalled after each activation, and the Ring Finger panicked.

“Goddamn it! Could you calm the fuck down!? At this rate, if Delta Force really does show up, we won’t have shit left to fight them with!”

“...”

“What the hell are you so worried about? That bitch Dilla’s specialty is the spirit realm, not combat. So what if she brought them here...”

“...It’s a feeling.”

The Middle Finger continued, using up even the disposable magic circles.

“The Index Finger who went with Dilla said they saw not just one—but five Fallen Stars.”

“We already agreed he was senile. Five of them on one train? That’s not even remotely plausible!”

“The world’s full of implausible shit. If trucks are everywhere, frogs just have to be careful not to get unlucky and splattered.”

“...”

Frog? Truck? What the hell is he talking about?

Suppressing the urge to scream, the Ring Finger reached for the pager to call the Thumb.

...He tried to, anyway.

But the moment he touched the pager, the skeleton standing in the center of the room trembled and began to emit a crimson glow from its eye sockets.

“What, what the hell?”

Even as the Ring Finger reeled in shock, the skeleton’s mouth opened, and the Thumb’s voice came out.

[Three top-tier superhumans. Carrying the unicorn horn. Use all forces in the club. I repeat—this is a crisis...]

“Fuck! I knew it!”

Regardless of the old man shouting behind him, the Ring Finger, stunned, immediately ordered the ghouls to move out.

Moments later, dozens of ghouls equipped with modern firearms lined the hallway on the CCTV.

BOOM!!!

Suddenly, the door exploded, taking out over a dozen ghouls who had been rushing forward.

“Ah, son of a bi—”

He specifically ordered no explosives, and this bastard used one?

A vein popped on the Ring Finger’s forehead as a middle-aged man with golden eyes stepped out through the blown-apart door and looked directly up at the CCTV.

****

Yeomyeong, watching the CCTV feed, turned his head toward the dozens of gun barrels aimed at him.

They looked human on the outside, but inside, they were undead—rotten flesh laced with twisted mana.

Whether it was the Korean government that corrupted the brains of the living with mana, or these guys—it was all the same shit in the end.

Trash that needed to be eradicated from the world.

As that thought crossed his mind, Yeomyeong stepped forward.

The ghouls all pulled their triggers at once. The muzzles of automatic rifles flashed, and a stream of brass casings soared into the air.

It wasn’t a great choice. If they’d opened fire in a wide space, all he could’ve done was dodge.

But in a narrow hallway like this, Yeomyeong had countless ways to respond.

Pyroclastic Devastation.

The moment a spark ignited from his blade, the hallway, flooded with bullets, was split by a massive explosion.

!!!

The undead caught in the blast didn’t even have time to scream. What was left in the scorched aftermath were flying pieces of flesh and blood, and shattered weapons.

Yeomyeong walked forward over the debris, slow and deliberate—making sure the CCTV caught every step.

Drawing attention. That was his job while the Saint and Seti carried out their plans.

And maybe it was working, because the moment he stepped into the lounge, seven figures were waiting for him.

Each one with bluish skin, gleaming red eyes—superhumans, every last one.

Death Knights...

Not quite as powerful as the ones Kahal Magdu had summoned, but each carried mana on par with an academy instructor.

–State your name, knight.

And they could talk? Yeomyeong lowered his gaze from the CCTV and met the one who’d spoken.

The corpse of a middle-aged man. In his eyes, Yeomyeong saw something like yearning.

He answered.

“Sorry, I can’t introduce myself. Too many ears listening.”

The man smiled bitterly, as if he understood. Then a towering woman behind him stepped forward, leaning down.

So massive she nearly touched the ceiling, she cast a shadow over Yeomyeong’s head.

–I’m Belladiva Don Reda. What happened to the °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° Marcher Lord’s war? Oh, that’s not a name, so you can tell me, right?

As he raised his sword, Yeomyeong tilted his head and observed the Death Knights one by one. Judging by their attire, there was only one who seemed to be an Earthling.

The remaining six were all Ashans, and it looked like they had died quite some time ago.

“The Emperor handed over the Marcher Lordship in France.”

When Yeomyeong said that, Belladiva’s expression twisted in disgust.

–The Emperor? That can’t be.

“Probably not the same Emperor you knew. The throne changed hands during the war.”

–The Crown Prince wouldn’t do that either.

“The current Emperor is the younger brother of the former. All royal heirs were killed.”

–Lunge? That fucking bastard became Emperor? The Empire’s finished.

“....”

–Don’t tell me—it’s really fallen?

While the two exchanged words, the Death Knights adopted combat stances.

Their expressions moved separately from their bodies, which was a comical sight—but the skill glimpsed beneath the absurdity was nothing short of extraordinary.

–Hmph. Still, since you were honest, I’ll try to kill you without too much pain.

The first to step forward was Belladiva. She wielded a pair of hand axes—comically small for her massive frame.

Whoosh—!

Her first strike wasn’t a simple downward chop. With her right hand she aimed for his head, while the left hurled an axe—clearly a coordinated throw.

Maybe she’d trained in some kind of throwing-focused martial art, because Yeomyeong didn’t even sense the attack until the axe was right in front of him.

Thwack!

As he blocked the downward strike aimed at his head, the flying axe dug deep across his side.

It should’ve been enough to spill his guts then and there—but the axe only drew a little blood.

It was as if something had seized it mid-swing. The axe remained embedded in his side, stuck in place.

Yeomyeong yanked the axe out and tossed it to the floor.

“Do you feel pain?”

–Why? Planning to give me a painless death too?

“Well, I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”

The Death Knights—aside from the one in the U.S. military uniform—let out amused snorts.

Especially the middle-aged man who’d first spoken; he burst out laughing.

–Didn’t I say so? From the moment I woke up, I had a good feeling. Didn’t I tell these corpse dealers that someone strong enough to make ‘em sweat was coming?

Despite the casual words, his sword was swinging at Yeomyeong.

Familiar aura. Familiar movement.

CLANG—!

Yeomyeong blocked the strike with ease. As expected—the man’s sword style was the same as the Imperial Knights that Sancho had used.

–I knew it! You recognize the order’s style. Wait... are you a knight?

Yeomyeong slipped inside his guard and answered.

“No. I’ve just had some recent connections.”

Right after, Yeomyeong’s blade carved a long gash into the man’s chest. A fatal wound for any normal person.

The Death Knight’s skill was on par with Sancho’s—but his undead body was too rigid to keep up with the technique.

–The Vice Commander... no, the Marcher Lord—how’s he doing?

“He’s not in the best shape. Old age caught up with him.”

–Hah! So even he couldn’t outrun age, huh!

Black blood poured from the gash in his chest, yet the Death Knight roared with laughter.

Of course, his body was unleashing terrifying swordsmanship. It was so fierce that even the other Death Knights couldn’t get close.

As the lounge around them shattered like a cookie, he kept talking.

–What about the others? Oh, how’s Sancho? That bastard ever get married?

“No, the Vice Commander remained single—uh!”

Yeomyeong jerked his head to the side, narrowly dodging a blade aimed at his skull. A few strands of black hair fluttered to the floor.

–Vice Commander? Ha! Just like I said. I told him he’d never start a family if he took that desk job. Didn’t even listen to me!

“....”

–Ah, and one more thing—don’t let your guard down. I’m the second-strongest among us.

He wasn’t bluffing. The fact that he could casually chat like this during a fight meant he wasn’t someone to take lightly.

I’ll end this quickly. And painlessly, if I can.

Yeomyeong inhaled sharply and imbued his sword with killing intent. As red bloodlust rippled down the blade, his swordsmanship shifted.

Sharper. Faster.

The gap between the living and the dead wasn’t wide—but it was enough to decide victory.

Maybe he sensed the end approaching, because the middle-aged Death Knight spoke one final time, still smiling.

–Nameless knight, sorry to ask—but can you tell Sancho something for me? That promise... to name his firstborn after me. Make sure he keeps it.

“...If I get the chance, I’ll pass it on.”

–Good. That’s a vow, then.

With that, Yeomyeong severed the Death Knight’s head.

It fell to the floor without a drop of blood, wearing an oddly peaceful smile.

As he looked down at the head, Yeomyeong realized he never learned the man’s name.

But he shook his head to banish the thought.

If he brought that head to the order, Sancho would know who it was. More importantly...

–A deathbed message, huh? How romantic.

There were still six more Death Knights standing before him.

–Just so you know, I’ve got no final words.

“....”

–That kind of thing’s for people who died before saying what they needed to when they were alive.

Belladiva spun her axe as she closed the distance, followed by a beautiful woman clad in thick plate armor.

–That’s what savages like you say. I, on the other hand, have plenty to say. My daughter—she must be a grandmother by now, right?

–Say, are you single? When I died, my family was looking for a son-in-law...

–Sorry. Ever since we died, we’ve been full of nonsense.

As the Death Knights jabbered on, their mouths and bodies moving independently, Yeomyeong readjusted his stance.