There Is No World For ■■
Chapter 143: City Of The Wretched (6)

* * *

“I believe I can prove this young man’s innocence.”

Upon hearing the unfamiliar voice, both Yeomyeong and the elf turned their heads almost simultaneously.

The sound of footsteps approaching from beyond the rubble of a collapsed building could be heard clearly.

Noticing how light the steps sounded, Yeomyeong frowned slightly.

This was a subject beyond just footwork or mana. It was impossible for a person with flesh and muscle to produce such light footsteps.

“Who are you? Reveal yourself.”

As soon as he finished asking, a figure cloaked in rags emerged from beyond the darkness.

And after closing the distance between itself and Yeomyeong, it threw off its ragged cloak to reveal its face.

“It’s been a while, Earthian guided by the stars.”

Surrounded by burning blue flames, a skeleton with empty eye sockets and without a trace of flesh or muscle revealed itself.

The simplest kind of undead, animated by twisted mana.

“A necromancer using blue Necromancy? Did one of them really manage to survive against the U.S. army…?”

While the elf murmured in disbelief, Yeomyeong felt a familiar mana emanating from the skeleton’s flames.

A will-o’-the-wisp he had seen somewhere before.

“Could it be…”

As suspicion turned to certainty, the skeleton cut him off.

“Earthian Cheon Yeomyeong, even if that elf acts ignorantly and violently, does that mean you should reciprocate in kind? Humans should never stoop down to the level of mere beasts.”

“…”

“You should just cut off the arm of that foolish elf who can’t even differentiate between the crystal sold to Dungan Heavy Industries and the one that was stolen—this is practically animal cruelty.”

“Dungan Heavy Industries? Cheon Yeomyeong?”

The elf looked up in shock upon hearing that, but Yeomyeong only raised his sword toward the skeleton.

The Sword Aura, infused with the mana of the Surging Wave technique, trembled, ready to strike at any moment.

“Oh, it looks like your instincts have improved.”

The will-o’-the-wisp in the skeleton’s eye sockets curved into a crescent shape, as if it were smiling.

Upon seeing that smile, Yeomyeong was now certain.

How could he ever forget? That arrogant undead’s sneer, always looking down on humans.

“…Kahal Magdu.”

The skeleton dragon who had slaughtered his fellow mercenaries back in North Manchuria before coming after his life.

The skeleton before him was undoubtedly one of the undead created by that creature.

Yeomyeong didn’t bother asking how the creature had ended up in Dreitherial or why it was here.

After all, Kahal Magdu was an international criminal who roamed the battlefields for profit. What Yeomyeong needed to exchange with it was not words but violence.

Having made up his mind, Yeomyeong unleashed his Sword Aura, shattering the skeleton to pieces.

“Stop lurking around and come here personally.”

Even though bone fragments scattered and the skull was split in half, the skeleton dragon’s voice continued to flow out.

“I simply dropped by to say hello, yet it seems that your personality still hasn’t caught up with your skills. Is it because you’ve been hanging around the Saintess?”

“…Shut up, you worthless pile of bones that can’t even produce broth.”

It was the same expression the Saintess had once used to insult Kahal Magdu.

On hearing Yeomyeong repeat it, the remaining half of the skull burst into laughter.

“Your tongue has indeed improved. But what about the rest? The Saintess won’t be here to help you this time.”

“…”

“If you’re scared, you can flee by catching a train tomorrow. Just like in Manchuria, I’ll show you special mercy…”

Crack—

Before it could finish speaking, someone stomped on the skull.

The one who did so raised their foot again and ground the skull into powder before shaking off the dust and looking at Yeomyeong.

“This has become more complicated than I expected.”

Upon seeing Seti smile wryly, Yeomyeong nodded.

And after noticing the short-haired girl peeking from behind her, Yeomyeong couldn’t help but wear the same wry smile as Seti.

“He…hello, brother-in-law?”

* * *

The sight of the burning city was beautiful.

The flames roaring under the night sky looked like the flames of purification burning away the old trash.

However, the ‘Chicken’ knew that the fire wouldn’t last long.

The fire would only affect a portion of the city, and more importantly…

“There isn’t enough fire to burn those who should be burned.”

With yellow eyes more beastly than that of a human, it pierced through the firefighters, staring directly into the darkness of the city.

At the edge of his vision were numerous Superhumans.

Mages under the command of the Western Count Palatine, knights of the Southern Count Palatine, and… a witch wielding a giant spear.

Shrouded in the darkness of the night and the flames, they watched the disaster caused by the elf and the mysterious human superhumans while hiding amidst the people and buildings.

Not only did they avoid taking a direct approach, but their behavior of subtly keeping each other in check was utterly ridiculous. However, the Chicken did not laugh at them.

That just showed how great of an item the World Tree’s crystal was. Leaving the burning city behind, it was a priceless treasure, one so precious that no one could hide their ugly greed.

If it weren’t for the orders from the Patriots… he would have probably been standing with them, searching for traces of the elves.

If I had known about the crystal, I would have brought more troops along… How unfortunate.

As Chicken continued to ponder, he suddenly remembered the fight that had just taken place and raised his index finger.

“Shepherds, I have a question. Those who are to be sacrificed, step forward.”

As soon as he said that, three strange figures wearing pig heads jumped out from beyond the darkness and knelt before him.

There were no explanations, no conversations.

After glancing down at the pig heads briefly, Chicken gathered mana in his fingers and poked them in the forehead.

“Your sacrifices will become the foundation of our strong nation.”

Almost immediately, an unbelievable sight took place as the pig-headed figures shuddered and began vomiting an enormous amount of black blood.

Standing in the puddle of black blood that rose to his ankles, Chicken drew the twisted mana from the blood.

As the black blood bubbled and responded to his mana, Chicken asked a question to the being beyond the blood puddle.

“O King of the Undead… Did you see the lightning strike similar to the Solar Thunderstrike earlier? Is what I saw the Solar Thunderstrike?”

To his surprise, the black blood puddle split open and replied as if from the mouth of a living creature.

[No, what you saw was not the Solar Thunderstrike technique.]

After the chilling voice replied, one of the pig-headed creatures fell to the ground.

Two pig-heads were left.

“Then, is it a martial art from the same root as Solar Thunderstrike?”

[It is a fruit that bloomed from the tree of Solar Thunderstrike, so it can be said to have the same root.]

The second pig-head collapsed. Instead of asking another question immediately, Chicken chose his final question carefully.

After contemplating deeply for a while, he asked his final question with great caution.

“If I am able to acquire that martial art, will it be of any help to my country?”

The blood puddle didn’t reply immediately.

Only after the last pig-head trembled and slumped to the ground did it give the answer that Chicken had been waiting for.

[It will be of help. If you can obtain it.]

It sounded unclear whether it was a taunt or advice.

* * *

‘The Camel’s Tears’ was a tavern as old as the city of Dreitherial.

Even amidst the economic depression, when all the Earthian construction companies fled and three Count Palatines divided the city, the tavern had steadfastly kept its place, quiet like all old things.

The only people who visited were the elderly with little time left or fools lost in the back alleys.

Moreover, today, due to the fire downtown, not even a shadow of a customer could be found.

Since it seemed unlikely that anyone would come, the tavern keeper tried to close the door quickly.

However, just as he moved his creaking back to lock the door, four hooded figures barged into the tavern without any warning.

“We’re done for the day…”

After saying that, the old man was about to close the door when the first customer flicked a golden coin, making him frown deeply.

“Elven gold coin? Finel, is that you?”

At the mention of the name Finel, the customer raised their hood, revealing their face—an elf with striking red hair

The tavern keeper wondered why he hadn’t recognized the elf until he noticed the missing left arm.

He simply stared at the elf and the other customers in silence for another moment, then opened the door and ushered them inside.

Once the group was inside, he took one last look outside before locking the door.

“What brings you here at this hour? And where’s your arm?”

The old man naturally reached for a bottle of alcohol as he asked. Finel, the elf, answered indifferently.

“It was a minor misunderstanding.”

Was losing an arm a minor misunderstanding? Damn pointy-ears.

The tavern keeper clicked his tongue and stoked the fire at the stove, then suddenly paused as if remembering something.

“Don’t tell me… the fire downtown is your doing?”

“That’s the result of the minor misunderstanding.”

This crazy pointy-eared bastard. The old man nearly swore but shut his mouth when he saw the other customers.

A moment later, he brought some drinks, dried meat, and a simple snack made of flour fried with a coating of honey, placed them on the table where the four were seated at, and said.

“So, what brings you here? And who are these people?”

“The ones involved in the minor misunderstanding.”

“…”

Only then did the old man take a proper look at the other customers with their hoods pulled low.

A girl…no, two girls, practically inhaling honey snacks as though starving.

Both had calloused hands, indicating they were likely knight apprentices or squires.

And beside them was…

“Hmm?”

A young man with golden eyes and black hair leaning back comfortably in his chair with arms crossed.

His appearance seemed strangely familiar.

He was sure he had seen someone like him before.

As the old man was lost in thought, the elf’s voice interrupted his reverie.

“Give us the clearest liquor you have, one bottle.”

Upon hearing his order, the old man frowned deeply.

It wasn’t a regular order—it was a secret code known only to the elf and the tavern keeper.

“Are you serious?”

The old man asked as if he couldn’t comprehend the situation, and the elf just shrugged his remaining shoulder.

A silent affirmation.

The tavern keeper scanned the other customers once again, then sat at the table with a bottle of liquor and two cups.

“Finel, if this decision brings harm to the city… Demerond himself will have to come in person to clean up.”

The moment the name ‘Demerond Ipp Marx’ escaped the tavern keeper’s lips, the atmosphere among the customers changed.

Did they realize that the old man wasn’t just an ordinary tavern keeper? The young man uncrossed his arms and even placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Of course, he didn’t draw the sword.

Instead of making any threatening gestures, the old man immediately pulled out a bottle and opened it. A rich, luxurious aroma of fine liquor, out of place in the modest tavern, filled the table.

“How about we start introducing ourselves first?”

The young man, looking confused, glanced back and forth between the elf and the tavern keeper before tilting his head and speaking.

“I’m Cheon Yeomyeong.”

“What? Cheon Yeomyeong? Really?”

Unsure if he heard him correctly, the tavern keeper turned to the elf. The elf shrugged again.

Seeing this, the tavern keeper licked his lips, then leaned forward and asked.

“Are you really ‘that’ Cheon Yeomyeong?”

“’That’ Cheon Yeomyeong?”

“I’m asking whether you are the Dragon Liberator.”

Dragon Liberator? Now, what was that about?

The young man who introduced himself as Cheon Yeomyeong, as well as the girls munching on the snacks, all stared at the tavern keeper as if asking to elaborate.

As if surprised they didn’t know, the old man widened his eyes and said.

“Cheon Yeomyeong! The Earthian with a conscience! The man who freed the dwarf royal family’s guardian dragon, Orsay Taboul, from the hands of the Korean army without taking any compensation in return!”

“…?”

“…If you just happen to be someone with the same name, then I apologize.”

As soon as he finished speaking, an awkward silence fell over the table.

And just as the silence was about to stretch on, Cheon Yeomyeong spoke up with a slightly flustered tone.

“I did free Orsay Taboul, but… the ‘Dragon Liberator’ is a bit…?”

Before he could say anything else, the tavern keeper suddenly grabbed his own cheek and peeled off the skin.

Or, more precisely, he removed the intricate artificial mask that had been covering his face.

Tzzzzt—

The sound of skin tearing echoed as the mask was removed, revealing…

The face of the old man wasn’t that different from the tavern keeper’s. The only difference was that he had an unusually stern expression.

While the sudden unmasking startled Yeomyeong and the girls, the tavern keeper looked at them expectantly.

An awkward silence ensued once more.

It was clear that no one recognized who the old man was. Feeling embarrassed, the old man cleared his throat and introduced himself.

“My name is Bykov Alexeyevich Marmeladov.”

Hearing the long Russian name, Neti narrowed her eyes, but Seti and Yeomyeong tensed up for a different reason.

It was because his name had come up when extracting information from the desert Wraith, Dagal.

“…The citizens of this city call me the Eastern Count Palatine.”

The Eastern Count Palatine. The old man before them was one of the three Count Palatines ruling the city.

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