There Is No World For ■■

Step.

This time, the one who stepped forward was a woman clad in thick armor.

Beneath her short-cut red hair was a deathly pale, corpse-like face.

Her beauty was so refined she felt more like a doll than a Death Knight.

If not for the terrifying heat radiating from the sword in her hand, even Yeomyeong might’ve had his gaze momentarily stolen.

“—Do you happen to know someone named Sepallie? She’d be an old woman by now, but she’s a girl who looks just like me—from hair color to face.”

It was the distinct cold voice of the dead, yet her tone was nothing short of desperate.

Yeomyeong shook his head, though a strange sense of déjà vu stirred inside him. That hair color, that face—he was sure he’d seen it somewhere before...

That’s when the figure standing behind—Belladiva’s right arm—blurred.

And in the next instant—clang!—a shower of sparks burst before Yeomyeong’s eyes as metal clashed with metal.

Just barely deflecting the hand axe, Yeomyeong frowned as the stinging impact made his hand throb.

“Fucking corpse-thieving bastards. Not even gonna give us time to talk, huh.”

“Talk while fighting!”

Belladiva’s shout echoed as six Death Knights began to move.

The first strike came from the armored woman’s sword. At some point, it had grown so hot it shimmered with heat distortion.

“You look Asian—are you by any chance Korean? ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) My daughter’s last known location was a place called Seungman City.”

Yeomyeong cleanly deflected the blade, but it didn’t lead to a counterattack. Another sword came thrusting in from his right.

“Idiot. You can tell he’s not from Earth just by looking at his eye color.”

It was the same old man who had earlier mentioned something about a son-in-law. With slow yet unorthodox swordplay, he covered the gaps in the armored woman’s technique.

“Don’t discriminate by eye color. It’s already been decades since Earthlings were forced to interbreed.”

“Tch, how likely is it he’s from that Korea or whatever? Why don’t you shut up and let someone else talk for once!”

Despite the bickering, their coordinated assault was nearly flawless.

A thrust, then a vertical slash, then a horizontal strike.

Each and every trajectory of their blades showed no overlap.

When the heated sword drove in, the old man’s followed right behind to close the opening. The two swords pushed Yeomyeong relentlessly, like fire and wind strengthening one another.

Yeomyeong clenched his teeth as the searing heat of the blades closed in on him.

He’d never faced a combo like this before. It wasn’t just two people—it felt like being attacked by three.

The only silver lining was that the remaining four could do nothing but keep him in check, unable to slip into the barrage between the two attackers...

At that moment, an invisible axe slammed into his thigh. His balance crumbled in an instant.

Yeomyeong rolled to the ground, dodging the two blades aiming for his head and chest.

“Don’t get distracted. You can’t sense my axe in time—it’s too late once you feel it.”

As he got up from the floor, he heard Belladiva murmur in a regretful tone.

But her necromancer-owned body was already preparing the next axe, and the attacks from the two Death Knights hadn’t stopped.

...I can’t afford to go easy on them anymore.

With his decision made, Yeomyeong steadily blocked their strikes and asked,

“By any chance, do you die if your limbs are severed?”

It was a bizarre question, but the old man who had mentioned son-in-laws burst out laughing, understanding what it meant.

“No! Unless you cut off our heads, we won’t die—so don’t hold back!”

The moment that answer came, Yeomyeong’s demeanor shifted dramatically.

This wasn’t like when he casually exuded killing intent earlier after cutting down that knight.

Now, like a fire igniting, red mana shaped like feathers began to scatter above his shoulders.

“—Jugasibili?”

The man in military uniform recognized it and looked shocked, but Yeomyeong didn’t care. Mixing Jugasibili with Black Wing Flow, he lunged forward.

“An offensive push now?!”

The armored woman cried out in surprise, and Yeomyeong swung his blade in a wide arc.

It looked like a reckless attack that completely ignored defense, and the Death Knight’s body reacted as if it had been waiting—swinging its sword straight for Yeomyeong’s vital point.

Three swords crossed in the air—two undead and one human brushing past each other.

A short silence.

“Oh...”

The old man’s voice carried a note of admiration.

The result was astounding.

With a shrrrip—, both Death Knights’ arms, still holding their swords, fell to the ground at once.

In exchange, Yeomyeong had taken two blades—one to the abdomen, one to the thigh. But he pulled them out as if they were nothing and tossed them aside into the corner of the lounge.

“His regeneration is damn near monstrous. His combat sense is even sharper. The twist at the end—was that telekinesis?”

Yeomyeong nodded as he severed both their legs.

Belladiva’s axe came flying again, but he wasn’t about to fall for the same trick three times.

Easily deflecting it, Yeomyeong remained composed as the limbless old man spoke up.

“Magic and martial arts... You sure you don’t want to marry into our family? We’re a well-known house in Hilaria.”

“Sorry. I already have a lover.”

“What’s wrong with a man having just one woman? Bring her into the family too. Even on Earth, polygamy’s not that rare, is it?”

“...”

“Wait, don’t tell me—you’ve already got multiple?”

Yeomyeong didn’t answer.

Because right then, Belladiva’s axe and the remaining Death Knights all charged at him at once.

****

“Apologies. This body, you see...”

This time, it was an unarmed old man and a man gripping a spear who approached.

As if not wanting to burden Yeomyeong, neither of them spoke much.

Of course, they simply didn’t open their mouths. Their bodies, bound by the necromancer’s command, faithfully aimed for Yeomyeong’s life.

Fortunately, unlike the previous pair, these two didn’t coordinate attacks. It was partly due to the difference in weapons—bare hands and a short spear—but mostly because their martial arts styles were too distinct.

The first move came from the spearman.

Having lingered on the outskirts due to the weapon’s length, he now thrust his spear the moment space allowed.

And the speed of that thrust was no joke. In terms of raw speed, it was either equal to Yeomyeong’s reaction time—or possibly even faster.

The power seemed a bit lacking... but with someone of this caliber, there were plenty of ways to make up for that.

The moment sword and spear clashed, Yeomyeong’s prediction proved true.

Ziiing—!

From the clenched fist gripping the spear’s shaft, a violent spin exploded outward. In the blink of an eye, that rotation surged up along the length of the shaft, reaching the spear’s tip—and the sharpened point shoved aside the sword, aiming straight for Yeomyeong’s neck.

Had he not anticipated the backlash of force, it would’ve taken his head clean off. But Yeomyeong had already accounted for the recoil. He tilted his sword flat and shoved the spearshaft away.

As sword and spear tangled and pushed against each other, both men’s torsos were exposed for a brief instant.

Without hesitation, Yeomyeong slammed his opponent’s torso with a Bigak Art strike.

Boom—! With the sound of a leather drum bursting, the man’s body flew backward through the air and crashed into the wall—but Yeomyeong had no time to check the result.

“—Watch out.”

Because the unarmed old man had already rushed in.

Hup!

The old man’s outstretched fist glowed white. The twisted mana around it seemed to be recreating some martial art from his lifetime, and the force behind it felt oddly familiar.

When he’d wrestled with Hoana Tule back in the Academy—that exact kind of punch.

Was this man a Holy Knight while alive? If so, it was a tragedy beyond all others. A man who once served the gods, now a Death Knight in undeath.

Yeomyeong swallowed his revulsion toward necromancers and swung his sword.

Clang—!

Sword and fist—or more precisely, the mana layered over them—collided in a rippling shockwave. The debris piled up in the lounge was swept away in all directions, but it was Yeomyeong’s sword, dyed in red, that gained the upper hand.

Yet, the sword vibrated under the strain. If this had been regular mana instead of that twisted kind, Yeomyeong might’ve been the one pushed back.

Perhaps the old man realized the same, for he spoke in a deeply regretful voice.

“—If only we’d met while I was alive.”

As if agreeing, Yeomyeong summoned Paralyzing Blade Ripples and swung again. The old man responded with swift movements of his limbs, and the two launched into a brutal melee.

Fists blocked swords, and blades knocked away punches.

As Yeomyeong slipped in another Bigak Art technique, the old man instinctively countered with his shoulders, elbows, knees—even a headbutt.

Blood and mana splattered through the air. Only Yeomyeong’s breathing, rough and alive, grew harsher. But even the undead old man moved so intensely it almost felt like he was panting for breath.

As the spearman stirred where he'd collapsed, and Belladiva watched from the side, unable to find a window to throw her axe—

The old man suddenly opened his palm instead of punching.

“—Be careful.”

Even without the warning, Yeomyeong had already pulled up a wave of sword energy. The twisted mana emanating from that palm felt anything but ordinary.

And just as the sword and palm were about to collide—

Bang—!

A gunshot rang out from behind the old man. The bullet tore through his body—and struck Yeomyeong square in the chest.

Friendly fire?

No—it wasn’t. The undead old man wasn’t fazed by a mere bullet, and his palm continued its trajectory, slamming into Yeomyeong.

!!!

A powerful impact. Two luminous forces clashed. Mana exploded outward.

As the lounge quaked and fragments flew in every direction—the one left standing in the wreckage...

Was not the old man who’d extended his palm, but Yeomyeong.

Crash—! The sound of the old man’s body slamming into the wall echoed, just as Yeomyeong turned his head toward where the bullet had come from.

“That punch. So it really was Jugasibili!”

A Death Knight in a U.S. military uniform spoke, watching as Yeomyeong coughed up blood.

The one who hadn’t yet joined the fight until now raised an automatic rifle, still smeared with flesh and gore.

“Commie bastard, just like you learned Jugasibili, I mastered sharpshooting.”

“...”

“The fact that I moved means I’ve already analyzed everything—so stay sharp. Don’t end up a Death Knight yourself.”

Yeomyeong, not a “commie,” had no idea what the hell he was talking about—but the rifle, packed with enchanted bullets, didn’t give him time to ask.

...Hand axe, sword, spear, bare fists—and now finally, guns?

Feeling the evolution of civilization hit him in real time, Yeomyeong rolled to the ground, dodging the hail of bullets.