There Is No World For ■■
Chapter 146: Retrograder, Egoist, And Commie (3)

* * *

Despite the unknown assailant unleashing his Sword Aura, the Mage showed no fear.

Instead, he glared at his opponent with a mocking smile.

“Manifestin’ a Sword Aura at yer age. Yer got some talent, I’ll give ye that. But ye’re too young. Too young, I say.”

To barge into the workshop of a Mage and threaten him without a trace of fear—this was unheard of.

While it was true that the authority of Mages had been reduced to nothing since humans brought guns into the equation, to be insulted like this…

Even if he were selling drugs in a back alley, a Mage was still a Mage.

He could handle a young knight who was yet to grow a single strand of white hair with just one hand—let alone if the place was his personal workshop.

The Mage uncrossed his legs, got to his feet, and spoke.

“Ye want information, eh Greenhorn? Well, the only answer I got for ye is this.”

“…”

“Come at me, then. I’ll teach ye some proper manners.”

As he spoke, the Mage flicked his hand.

The assailant—no, the Greenhorn—took a step forward as if he had been waiting.

The moment he kicked off the ground lightly with his raised heel, he closed the distance of over ten steps in an instant.

His speed was nothing short of astonishing.

Surprised by his unexpected speed, the Mage hastily gathered his mana and cast a spell.

To be precise, he activated a spell that he had already prepared in advance.

Try to block it!

At his command, the magic circles etched on the walls of the hideout surged with mana.

And just as the sword filled with Sword Aura was about to graze his neck…

Clang!!!

A translucent shield deflected the sword.

The force behind the swing was so heavy, that even the drug addicts spectating in the vicinity were knocked over by the shockwave.

What the hell?

How was the mana of someone who appeared to be barely past twenty so heavy?

The Mage frowned. However, his mind worked quickly as he began to weave another spell.

Wind magic to spread the drug fumes and fog magic.

As soon as the two spells were complete, a thick smoke engulfed the entire hideout.

The assailant’s sword slashed through the spot where the Mage had been just moments before, but the Mage had already leapt backwards by then.

- W-we have nothing to do with this! We’re just here for the drugs!

- Squeak, squeak! I can’t see anything!

- Mr. Duncan! Please save us!

The drug addicts trapped within the fog began to panic. They screamed and ran around, desperately waving their hands as they tried to clear the mist.

The Mage, Duncan, paid them no mind.

On the contrary, he manipulated the magic to gather even more smoke around the drug addicts. After all, the more chaos they created, the less likely the enemy would find him.

On the other hand… Duncan could sense exactly where his opponent was and what he was doing.

The mana he had dispersed through the fog and the magic circles filling the room acted like his eyes.

He extended his hand toward the assailant, whose sword hung low beyond the fog, and wove a telekinetic spell—an efficient magic for handling a knight.

High-level spells, like fire explosions or death rays, would only risk exposing his position.

Against a novice like him, a carefully positioned telekinetic spell from an unseen location was more than sufficient.

Squeeze!

First, he choked his opponent’s neck with a force strong enough to break a normal person’s neck in an instant.

However, the guy didn’t even flinch.

Upon concentrating a little more, the Mage sensed intense magic resistance.

To think it was on par with his own magic, which was already reinforced by the magic circles. In fact, the resistance was so absurd, it made his head spin.

Alright then, let’s see this through to the end.

Gritting his teeth, Duncan poured more mana into his spell.

And almost simultaneously, the magic resistance from the assailant’s body vanished all at once, as if he had gotten rid of it himself.

Mana depletion? Or did that Greenhorn’s concentration waver?

Although he couldn’t figure out the reason, Duncan didn’t miss the opportunity and spread his Telekinesis spell.

Arms, waist, legs, and even ankles.

As soon as he grabbed the Greenhorn’s entire body, Duncan clenched his hands tightly and raised his arms.

Boom!

The Greenhorn’s body shot up along with his hands, slamming into the ceiling.

The ceiling cracked with a splitting sound, sending dust and debris flying. The entire hideout trembled, but Duncan didn’t stop and swung his hands downward.

Crash!

This time, the Greenhorn’s body crashed into the ground. Thanks to gravity, there was a heavy, satisfying impact.

That blow should have surely shattered every bone in his body.

Duncan directed his Telekinesis once more, intending to finish the Greenhorn once and for all.

Or, rather, he was about to.

However, the moment he tried to manipulate his mana, the Greenhorn knight turned his head directly toward the spot where he stood.

Golden eyes, cold and serene, met the old Mage’s gaze through the fog.

How?

The question was brief. Sensing the imminent danger, Duncan began to weave a spell.

But the Greenhorn extended his hand just a little faster.

And in the next moment—

Squeeze.

An invisible force clamped around Duncan’s neck like a vice—the same Telekinesis spell he had just used moments ago.

“Kuh, kuh-heok!”

So he was not a knight but a mage? Then what about the Sword Aura he displayed? Could it be that he walked both paths?

Many questions arose in his mind, but none provided an answer on how to escape from the Telekinesis spell holding his neck.

Meanwhile, deprived of oxygen, his heart pounded relentlessly, and his mind began to grow hazy.

He could feel death drawing closer and closer. Convinced of his defeat, Duncan instinctively reached into his pocket.

His hand grasping the only item that could turn this situation around, one he had refused to use until now because of his pride as a Mage.

A black pistol the Western Count Palatine had secretly smuggled.

Just as Duncan pulled it out and aimed it at the Greenhorn knight—

Someone snatched the gun from his hand.

“Oh, a Desert Eagle¹. And an old, discontinued model at that?”

“Cough, wha—what…?”

Turning around with great effort, Duncan saw the blue-haired girl who had accompanied the Greenhorn casually examining his gun.

“Where did you get this antique? It’s in decent conditi—Oh, but you’ve loaded it with revolver bullets. That’ll melt the lead, and it’ll be off to the repair shop after a few shots. Are you a novice?”

What the hell was this crazy bitch even saying—

However, Duncan’s final words never made it out.

The Telekinesis spell squeezing his carotid artery intensified, and he fell unconscious as his oxygen supply was cut off.

* * *

“Brother-in-law, why did you allow yourself to get hit? I saw you intentionally lower your magic resistance earlier.”

Neti asked Yeomyeong, who was dusting himself off and getting up.

“…”

It was not like Yeomyeong could just tell her that he had a constitution that allowed him to reverse-engineer spells that hit him or that he thought that this was a good opportunity to learn Duncan’s Telekinesis by enduring it a few times.

Although he didn’t know why he couldn’t say it, for some reason, the eager look on Seti’s face when she tried to help him learn magic popped into his mind.

And so, he awkwardly made an excuse.

“It was an accident. I let my guard down.”

“Let your guard down? Come on, that doesn’t seem right.”

“Let’s talk about that later… First, we need to extract information from him. The quicker we finish this, the better.”

Yeomyeong avoided Neti’s suspicious gaze and used Telekinesis on the fallen Duncan.

*Crack—*He intended to lift Duncan gently but ended up crushing the old man’s ankle.

Probably because he had just learned the spell, controlling the strength was rather tricky.

Nevertheless, Yeomyeong kept trying, refusing to give up.

After breaking another one or two more of Duncan’s limbs, he finally managed to lift him.

By then, the fog magic had dissipated. As a result, he could see junkies cowering in a corner of the hideout, but he had no reason to deal with them.

And he definitely had no obligation to look out for them, either.

“I’ll give you one minute. All of you get out now.”

As soon as Yeomyeong’s mana-filled voice echoed through the hideout, the junkies, terrified out of their wits, scattered and rushed toward the stairs.

- Move, you bastards!

- Hurry, hurry, get out!

After the sound of the junkies’ footsteps faded, Yeomyeong moved Duncan to a corner of the hideout and began to prepare for his interrogation.

He first cleared the smoke in the hideout, erased the magic circles, and tied Duncan’s broken limbs to a chair…

As he finished these small preparations, Neti, who had been watching in silence, suddenly asked a question.

“Uh, Brother-in-law, how will we know if the information he gives us is real?”

“…Why are you asking that all of a sudden?”

“Well, I’m a bit worried. What if he gives us false information just to screw us over?”

“Then we’ll just have to ask someone else. Cross-checking is essential for back-alley intel anyway.”

“…Someone else? Don’t tell me we’re going to raid another organization?”

Neti looked at Yeomyeong with eyes, hoping it wasn’t true, but his response was firm.

“Yeah.”

“…”

“We can hit one or two more places at this pace. We have to regroup with Seti before dinner… so let’s finish quickly.”

Saying so, Yeomyeong turned back to Duncan to wake him up.

However, just as he was about to inject mana into the old Mage’s body, he suddenly remembered something and turned to Neti.

“Neti, do you know how to torture someone?”

“To-to-torture? No, not really… Only Unnie and the youngest know how to do that…”

“Is that so? In that case, you might find it unpleasant to watch. Do you want to step out for a bit?”

“I-I’m fine. I’ll stay and watch. No, please let me watch.”

She answered as she quickly moved to his side.

Yeomyeong stared at Neti’s determined face for a moment, then silently woke the unconscious Duncan.

But as if mocking her determination, Duncan began to spill everything he knew the moment he opened his eyes.

While it was due to the pain inflicted by his limbs that were broken while he was unconscious, unaware of this, Neti simply thought the back-alley thugs were surprisingly cowardly.

* * *

Southern Dreitherial. In front of the gate of the Southern Count Palatine’s castle.

The Southern Count Palatine’s knight, Dovan, gazed at the castle as he smoked a cigarette.

…Life really becomes a mess all at once when it decides to be.

It all started with those intruders from the southern Demon Domain who secretly snuck into the city.

At first, he just assumed they were nomads trying to avoid the entry tax, but of all things, they turned out to be the ones in possession of the gold coins stolen from the Count Palatine.

After enduring the Count Palatine’ tirades and following their trail into the sewer, all he found were the corpses of Rat Beastfolks.

He hastily cleaned up the sewer and scoured for traces of the intruders, but the sewer was a sewer for a reason.

Any proper traces had already been washed away.

The best he could figure out was that there were three intruders, and one of them seemed to be a woman.

- *Is that all you’ve got to report to me? Pathetic! Stop babbling and go find my gold coins immediately!*

Thanks to that, he had the unique experience of being hit by pottery thrown by the Count Palatine.

His subordinates, who witnessed the scene, tried to coax him into pretending to investigate without really doing it, but Dovan couldn’t give in.

Was it because he was a loyal knight to the Count Palatine? Hardly.

How could a thug who simply lucked into awakening his mana have any loyalty or a sense of chivalry?

It was just…

“Hey, what are you doing?”

A woman’s voice suddenly snapped him out of his thoughts. Dovan flinched, snapped back to reality, and tossed his cigarette away.

He crushed the half-smoked Earth-made cigarette underfoot, straightened his back, and responded.

“I-I’m waiting for a friend!”

“A friend? The Count Palatine is that angry and you still have time to meet a friend? Wow, must be nice to have such a carefree life.”

The voice belonged to a woman exuding a seductive aura.

She had her black hair tied back, a breathtakingly beautiful face, and a voluptuous figure.

She looked as stunning as a succubus from an erotic novel, but Dovan couldn’t even imagine flirting with her, nor did he dare meet her gaze.

“Hey, are you mocking the Count Palatine?”

“N-no, not at all!”

“Then are you perhaps mocking me?”

She asked as she pulled out the spear strapped to her back. It was enormous, larger than Dovan’s entire torso, and reminded him of the arrows used on Ballista².

His clueless subordinates whispered among themselves, wondering if she could even wield that weapon with her figure, but Dovan knew better because he had seen her skewer a notorious illegal Mage in the South with his own eyes.

Remembering the scene where an entire alley was soaked in blood, Dovan broke into a cold sweat and stammered out a reply.

“N-no! No one in this city would dare take you lightly, Lady Ekatherina!”

Seemingly amused at the sight of Dovan squeezing his eyes shut and yelling, the woman tapped his head with the butt of her spear.

“You little sycophant.”

“…”

“I’ll let it slide this time, but there won’t even be any scraps left for you next time. Got it? Let’s do better.”

“Yes! I’ll do my best!”

Unaffected by his shout, the woman called Ekatherina retrieved her spear and turned away.

Where the hell should he put his effort?

Dovan suddenly felt curious, but he didn’t voice it out. After all, there were times where ignorance was bliss.

Anyway, just as Ekatherina disappeared into the Southern Count Palatine’s castle, Dovan spotted a familiar figure running toward him from across the road.

“Dovan! Is that really you, Dovan?”

It was his old friend, one who wasn’t even the same race as him.

A broad-shouldered orc with green skin.

His friend, with whom he had shared a bond that transcended races, spread his arms wide, and the two men shared a warm embrace after a full decade.

After their brief hug ended, the friend inspected the armor Dovan was wearing in admiration and exclaimed.

“Well, I never thought you’d actually become a knight.”

“Why? Did you really think I’d be stuck in the back alleys forever?”

“No, I always believed you could do it.”

Dovan laughed at his friend’s honest response, a genuine smile that hadn’t surfaced when he’d faced Ekatherina earlier.

“Man, you have no idea. I was even more surprised when I heard that the guy who escaped the city had returned.”

“Ten years is a long time, you know. Even a desert nomad eventually returns to their homeland.”

“Homeland, my foot. Stop spouting nonsense and tell me what happened over the years. Where do you want to go? A restaurant? A bar?”

“A bar, of course. If I’ve learned one thing during my life as a nomad, it’s that sharing past stories without alcohol is utterly miserable.”

Dovan chuckled at his friend’s humor.

However, beneath that laughter, the tip of his nose and his eyes grew red.

He didn’t cry, but it was clear he was overwhelmed with emotion.

His friend patted Dovan’s shoulder as if in understanding. The two of them stood there silently for a while.

Dovan broke the silence with a smile and a greeting he hadn’t managed to say earlier.

“Welcome home, Balagu.”

Footnotes

1. 1. The Desert Eagle or simply Deagle is a single-action, gas-operated, semi-automatic pistol capable of chambering the .50 Action Express, the largest centerfire cartridge of any magazine-fed, self-loading pistol and famous for other large caliber chamberings. Magnum Research Inc. designed and developed the Desert Eagle.
2. 2. The ballista, plural ballistae or ballistas, sometimes called bolt thrower, was an ancient missile weapon that launched either bolts or stones at a distant target. Developed from earlier Greek weapons, it relied upon different mechanics, using two levers with torsion springs instead of a tension prod.

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