There Is No World For ■■
Chapter 124: Crossroads of Revenge (2)

* * *

[O Master, take caution. The foul stench is getting stronger.]

The moment the unicorn’s voice echoed in his head, the sound of gunfire beyond the sewer intensified.

Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat!

The sound of a pistol being fired faded and was replaced by the sound of a proper automatic rifle letting loose.

Struck by an ominous premonition, Yeomyeong channeled more mana. His body surged forward with every step as he splashed through the sewer water.

After turning two corners, something came into view through the darkness.

…A Beastfolk?

A towering figure large enough to make Yeomyeong tilt his head back to look up at it, covered in gray fur, with a grotesquely thin body, so emaciated that its bones were visible.

Did it notice the light coming from the Handle of Uragan? The monster slowly turned its head.

Only after their eyes met did Yeomyeong realize it wasn’t a normal Beastfolk.

After all, no Beastfolk could possibly remain alive with half of its face melted and its skull exposed.

[A Beastfolk zombie? What kind of idiotic sorcery is this…]

The moment the unicorn expressed its disapproval, Yeomyeong swung his sword.

The Tear of the Mountain cut through the darkness, intending to cleave the wolf-like zombie’s head in half. Almost immediately…

“Kyaaaaaaaccckkk!!!!”

The monster let out a strange sound that was impossible to tell whether it was a scream or an outcry.

Though the odd sound wasn’t laced with any magic or curses, its effect was immediate.

Beyond the now-bisected Beastfolk zombie, dozens of pairs of eyes gleamed from within the shadows.

And then…

- *Awoooooo!!*

Dozens of zombies hidden in the veil of darkness howled in unison, their cries reverberating through the sewers.

So damn loud. Yeomyeong scowled, the gunfire drowned out by their cries. Pushing all hesitation aside, he then rushed toward the horde of zombies.

Not to be outdone, the zombies turned and charged at him as well.

The moment they entered each other’s range, the Beastfolk at the front swung its claws. Its hand, longer than the average height of an adult woman, came crashing down at Yeomyeong’s head.

A simple but effective attack that took advantage of their long reach.

However, reach didn’t matter to Yeomyeong.

He slashed, severing the creature’s entire arm with a single strike. His surging mana-infused sword carved through the decayed flesh, and Yeomyeong pressed two steps forward. Ṝ𝒶ℕÖ𝐛Ę𝒮

Two down.

As his sword sliced through not only the arm but the entire torso, more claws and fangs targeted and dug into his body.

Yeomyeong didn’t try to avoid them. He simply inhaled sharply, focused his strength on his shoulders, and drew a crescent with his sword.

The sword, illuminated by the light of the Handle of Uragan, traced a beautiful arc. And in its wake, it left a trail of blood and decayed flesh behind, and the zombies in its range all chopped to pieces.

Five down.

Yeomyeong didn’t stop, nor did the Beastfolk zombies.

Claws and swords clashed. Blood and flesh splattered and mingled with the sewer’s foul water.

Like a raging torrent in a flood, like waves crashing against the shore.

The sewer was soon filled with the disorderly onslaught of corpses.

Five became ten, ten became thirty.

Like a slaughtering machine, Yeomyeong cut down the zombies in silence, just like how he did in Incheon and Manchuria.

Even when their claws scraped his thighs and their fangs sunk into his flesh, he didn’t falter.

His near-inhuman regeneration, faster than even a living Beastfolk’s, kept him going.

Just how many had he killed? By the time he felt it was meaningless to keep counting them, Yeomyeong suddenly realized that the gunfire he had heard in the background was now clear and sounded closer than ever.

Just past the corner of the sewer and he would be able to meet the owner of the gunfire.

Pressing down on the tingling feeling in his chest, Yeomyeong swung his sword again.

* * *

A boy resembling ‘The Butcher’ spoke from the deep, darkened sewer beneath the stone altar where a black wisp was rising.

“Damn it. Why are they so weak?”

His gaze was directed at the skins scattered around the stone altar, which displayed the images of various places in the sewer in real-time.

It was a scene reminiscent of CCTV, and its actual purpose wasn’t much different.

Anyway, the butcher kept sighing in annoyance as he watched the hides.

“…Or is that bastard just too strong?”

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze focused on the scene displayed on the skins—The image of the boy reducing the Beastfolk zombies to chunks and advancing forward.

This wasn’t some cheap horror movie; the boy showed no hesitation or fear as he ground the zombies to mulch in real-time.

And most importantly…

…Why is his stamina not dropping?

The butcher, or rather, the Player, snapped his fingers to check the stamina bar.

Snap.

Soon, a translucent window appeared—something visible only to him in this world. It displayed all the information about the world, organized into objective figures and numbers.

Displayed on the window, the boy’s stamina was…

100%/100%

As expected, not a single point had been deducted.

While the stamina did see the occasional slight decrease when the Beastfolk zombies managed to land an attack, it returned to its original state in the blink of an eye.

“What is this Regeneration ability… Is he Half-beast? Or did he drink a dragon’s blood? That might be possible since he fought a dragon in Manchuria…”

After muttering something only he could understand, the Player turned his gaze back to the altar.

More precisely, he was looking at the large mass of flesh placed atop the stone altar.

“Hey, can’t you make anything other than zombies?”

At his question, the mass of flesh stirred and responded. Soon, the face of a wolf emerged amidst the writhing flesh.

The wolf’s eyes darkened as he answered as if panting.

“I can… make… a Fiend—”

It was the typical dazed voice of a mentally unstable person.

Tsk, the Player clicked his tongue. Even though this wolf was a boss, he was only able to do this much after consuming such a large corruption stone. Was it because he was only a first-chapter boss?

“Then make a Fiend instead of zombies. I don’t think you will be able to kill the Saintess at this rate.”

“The… Saintess… can’t… be killed?”

As soon as the Saintess was mentioned, the whole mass of flesh trembled. Glimmers of corruption stones began to appear sporadically from behind the writhing flesh.

“Black Sheep…! I need… her blood…!”

“Black Sheep?”

“Blood…! A sacrifice…!”

The Player glanced at the rambling Priest for a moment before dusting himself and standing up.

“Damn, why can’t we have a proper conversation?”

As he said this, he tapped the empty air a few times, and a blue potion appeared in his hand.

A strange technique that was neither magic nor a miracle.

However, the priest showed no reaction to that sight.

“Sigh, damn it. Guess I can’t help it then.”

Since he wasn’t really expecting a reaction anyway, the Player popped the cap and gulped down the potion in silence.

As a refreshing scent, out of place in the sewer, filled his throat, his eyes turned green—like the gaze of a beast piercing through the darkness.

“…I need to confirm it myself.”

The Player blinked for a moment to check his vision and then gave the images on the skins one final glance.

To be more precise, the two boys reflected on the skins.

* * *

At the narrow intersection of the sewer…

Boom—!

As the Saintess fired her shotgun, a large hole appeared in the chest of the Beastfolk that had gotten too close, splattering blood everywhere.

“Gah, gah—!”

And almost immediately, another Beastfolk zombie took its place.

She pulled the trigger again, but clack, she confirmed that the magazine was empty.

“Arggh, seriously!”

Tossing the shotgun aside, the Saintess immediately picked up another firearm from the ground. In her hands was a slightly larger automatic rifle.

Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat!

Precise shots followed as the charging zombies fell one after another, but the damn magazine was the problem.

The magazine began looking empty even before she could take down ten.

Bang!

The Saintess drew out a pistol in the middle shooting and placed the rifle upside down between her legs.

I never thought I’d need to reload with one hand in a place like this.

Was it the result of all her practice? After successfully reloading the rifle, she unleashed another barrage of bullets.

Shoot, reload, shoot, reload.

Countless shell casings fell into the sewer, and even more Beastfolks were swept away, but there seemed to be no end in sight.

Fortunately, they didn’t regenerate as well as the living Beastfolk, but that was only relevant when there were just a few of them.

Glancing at the bullets that were starting to run low, the Saintess bit her lip.

“Damn it.”

If only she had the time to cast a blessing, she could have saved more than half her bullets.

However, the zombies permitted her no respite.

They kept pouring in, almost as if they were determined to kill her.

And by the time their corpses piled up around the Saintess like a barricade…

I can’t hold out like this for long.

She clenched her teeth.

What should she do? Should she abandon her magazines and weapons and flee?

Or should she endure it and wait for someone to come?

Just as her worries began to spiral, she noticed that the number of zombies were decreasing rapidly.

If the first wave of zombies was like a flood, it now felt like a gentle stream (?).

Huh? What’s going on?

Even as the questions continued to arise, she didn’t miss the short moment of respite.

She immediately cast a blessing on the magazine and blew off the heads of the remaining zombies.

Then she reloaded her weapon.

Just as a short silence began to fill the sewer, she could hear footsteps from beyond the darkness.

Patter.

The sound of human footsteps, completely distinct from that of zombies. The Saintess blessed the reloaded magazine and aimed it in the direction of the sound.

A moment later, what emerged from the sewer was…

“Yeomyeong?”

Though he was drenched in blood from head to toe, she recognized him immediately because only one person in the world had eyes like that.

The Saintess immediately set her rifle on the ground and ran toward him, stepping over the corpses. She spread her arms, intending to embrace him in a reunion hug, but…

“Stop.”

Yeomyeong stopped her mid run. The Saintess tilted her head, her arms still spread wide.

“Why?”

“…Do you really want to make physical contact with me in this state?”

Yeomyeong said while alternating glances at her and his blood-soaked clothes.

The Saintess laughed instead of responding and pulled him into an embrace. What was there to worry about?

He smelled of blood, but she didn’t care.

After all, she was also drenched in zombie body fluids, and more importantly, Yeomyeong’s body was warmer than she had imagined.

The embrace, full of relief, lasted for a moment before the Saintess asked while gently touching Yeomyeong’s back.

“Do you know where we are?”

“How would I know? I actually wanted to ask you.”

Yeomyeong said that while glancing at the weapons piled up on the other side of the sewer.

“Those weapons are from Darulma’s plane, right? How did you bring them?”

“Oh, those? A little while after you left the plane, I suddenly felt something strange…”

“…So you grabbed the weapons first?”

“It’s basic knowledge a lady should have, right?”

After Yeomyeong chuckled, the Saintess released the hug and dragged him toward the pile of weapons.

Though no one asked them to, they then began sorting through the firearms and ammunition as if they had made a silent agreement.

“Anyway, there must be a reason we were summoned here all of a sudden… Do you have any idea, Yeomyeong?”

“There’s one thing that comes to mind…”

“What is it?”

Yeomyeong began his explanation while inspecting the shotgun the Saintess had thrown away.

He recounted the story of tracking down the terrorist along with Corvus and how the cornered enemy shattered an unknown black gemstone.

As soon as he finished speaking, the Saintess tapped at her temple repeatedly.

“…So, it’s a corruption stone.”

“Corruption stone? Do you know what that is?”

The Saintess hesitated for a moment, wiggling her fingers before continuing.

“Hmm, Yeomyeong, have you heard of the Church of the Apocalypse?”

“…Just to the extent that others know.”

“So you don’t really know much.”

Clack, the Saintess reloaded her rifle and continued speaking.

“Those from the Church of the Apocalypse… believe that this world is a false one and that everything should be destroyed to create a new world… They’re a bunch of lunatics spouting that sort of nonsense.”

“…A false world?”

He hadn’t come across this information in Baonic’s notes. Yeomyeong narrowed his eyes and paid close attention to her words.

“They claim that all the gods of this world are fake gods of a false world. Yet, what they actually worship is unclear, whether it is demons or monsters—just heaps of filth.”

“…”

“The corruption stone… is something you can obtain by making human sacrifices to those heaps of filth. I think it’s said to be the best catalyst for Black Magic. So I guess… this place might be a barrier made from corruption stones or something similar?”

The Saintess said as she took off her outerwear.

Yeomyeong coughed when he saw her half-soaked blouse, but she paid him no heed and used her outer garment to wrap up the bullets and weapons

“Ahem, you seem to know a lot about them.”

“They were the main enemy of our Church of Five Gods until the Dimensional Portal opened. Around 30% of the historical records displayed at the temple are about killing them.”

Having said that, the Saintess also took Yeomyeong’s outerwear to use as a wrap.

And if that wasn’t enough, she even hung some firearms around her waist.

Click.

After loading the last pistol, she stared intently at the weapon at the very bottom of the pile.

A massive War Hammer reminiscent of a construction hammer.

“Why did you bring this? You don’t even know how to use a hammer…”

Yeomyeong asked with a puzzled expression, but the Saintess interrupted him.

“Seti.”

Ah, Yeomyeong suddenly remembered Black Sheep and frowned.

“…Was Seti also dragged in here? Are you sure? Did you use Foresight?”

“No, I can’t use Foresight in a place filled with twisted mana. But… it’s an intuition born from love. Seti is definitely here.”

“What is born from… love?”

“Can’t you feel it too, Yeomyeong?”

Just as Yeomyeong was about to say she was spouting nonsense, he felt a tingling sensation in his chest and shut his mouth.

Seeing him suddenly fall silent, the Saintess smiled knowingly.

“…So shall we go find Seti?”

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