There Is No World For ■■
Chapter 151: The Path Leading To The Cold Hell (2)

* * *

The snowy field was no longer in sight.

As soon as the startled sniper—no, the Blood Tear Key— snapped his fingers, the surroundings began to transform.

With a crisp snap, the white horizon turned into walls stacked with ammunition crates, and the snowy field became a solid concrete floor.

A bunker… no, more like an armory?

While Yeomyeong surveyed the transformed domain, the Blood Tear Key took a seat on the nearest ammunition crate as if it were a chair and spoke.

“So… you’re saying you used the Arcane Relic without knowing anything about it?”

“…”

A brief silence filled the air.

In moments like this, silence was as good as an unspoken agreement. The Blood Tear Key grimaced as if he’d just been shot.

“Damn it, it looks like this is going to be a long story then. Cheon Yeomyeong, right? Well, let’s start with introductions. My name is Ben.”

“…Ben?”

The moment Yeomyeong heard the name, something the Holy Sword said a while back suddenly came to mind.

- Ben, ya ratbags boss.

The words the Holy Sword had uttered when she encountered Wollard in Incheon.

But the President of the Blue Rat Yeomyeong had met wasn’t named Ben—it was Moryne. So, he had assumed the Holy Sword had made a mistake, but—

“…You’re the former President of the Blue Rat.”

A question spoken half in doubt, half in certainty. Ben, still wiping the blood from his chin, answered.

“Not just the former President—the founding President. And seeing that you’ve heard of me, it doesn’t seem like you’re just some ordinary guy.”

“…”

“Well, I guess… Even if Moryne’s a bit of a lunatic for her daughter, she’s not so dumb as to hand the Blood Tear Key to just anyone. Unless you’re her son-in-law or something.”

Yeomyeong neither confirmed nor denied his statement. He simply forced a bitter smile as he sat across from Ben.

“So, why is the founding President of the Blue Rat inside an Arcane Relic?”

“Why? For the same reason as those Mages beyond the Dimensional Portal create Arcane Relics. To leave a legacy for future generations and preserve secret knowledge.”

Before Yeomyeong could ask about the legacy he left, Ben made the first move.

Dipping a finger into the blood dripping from his ear, he drew a line under his eye.

It was as if he were shedding a tear of blood.

…Is that why he is called the Blood Tear Key?

As that thought crossed Yeomyeong’s mind, Ben’s mana stirred, and his face transformed into a completely different one.

A sharp nose, piercing hawk-like eyes, and a slender jawline.

In the blink of an eye, his face had changed into that of a young woman—one Yeomyeong found strangely familiar.

Staring at the face for a moment, Yeomyeong frowned as he recognized who it belonged to.

“…Is that Moryne in her younger years?”

“Oh, you are perceptive. Pretty, isn’t she? You wouldn’t believe how many higher-ups drooled over this face… Good thing I blocked them all. Otherwise, she’d have ended up becoming some high-ranking official’s mistress.”

“…”

“And want to know the funny part? After I worked so hard to train her as a special agent, she ended up falling for a Holy Knight and eloped during a mission.”

Though his tone was sarcastic, Ben’s voice was tender, like a parent boasting about their child.

…Are they perhaps father and daughter? If so, is man the Saintess’ maternal grandfather?

Pushing that unsettling thought to the back of his mind, Yeomyoeng quickly steered the conversation elsewhere.

“Anyway, is that disguise ability one of the techniques stored within the Blood Tear Key? It is certainly fitting for an Ancient Relic belonging to an intelligence organization.”

“Disguise ability? No, take a closer look ”

Ben said as he pressed beneath his eye again.

Then, this time, the face of a Georgian man with an impressive, large beard came into view—a face Yeomyeong was also familiar with.

It was impossible not to recognize it. It was Stalin’s face.

“Does this still look like a disguise to you?”

“…”

Yeomyeong didn’t reply.

Instead, he focused his mind, carefully observing the subtle movements of mana beneath the surface. The moment he detected something unusual, Ben drew his fingers across his face repeatedly.

His face kept transforming, shifting into the likeness of various historical figures.

Hitler, Churchill, Roosevelt, the Emperor, and… the Saintess.

And when Yeomyeong’s gaze met the unfamiliar eyes uncovered by the blindfold, he finally understood the nature of Ben’s ability.

“…It’s not a disguise; it’s an illusion.”

“I’ll say it again—you’re quite perceptive.”

With that, his face returned to normal. Wiping the blood from his cheek, he continued.

“Blood Tears. It’s a martial art that allows you to cloak objects or faces in illusions ranging anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes. Only a select few Soviet special agents were taught this skill…”

“…It was?”

“Only the President of the Blue Rat can learn this skill now.”

Only the President of the Blue Rat? Yeomyeong narrowed his eyes unwittingly.

“…I’m neither the President of the Blue Rat nor am I even an employee.”

“Exactly. But Moryne still gave you the Blood Tear Key. It’s impressive that the higher-ups even allowed that to happen.”

“That’s…”

“In fact, I naturally assumed you were either an agent sent to this city, or at least connected to the organization in some way. Wait, don’tt tell me you’re actually her son-in-law or something?”

“I swear to the heavens, absolutely not.”

“Still, your reaction to the Saintess’ face was rather unusual…”

Ben gave him a meaningful look, as though teasing his grandson, while Yeomyeong massaged his throbbing temple.

Son-in-law, really? The Saintess was one thing, but being tied to her mother? Completely out of the question.

“…Let’s shelve that topic for now and return to the earlier conversation. You mentioned something about the Soviet armory.”

“Ah, yes, the Soviet armory. Our ultimate cherished wish.”

At the mention of ‘armory,’ the air around Ben turned icy.

“…How much do you know about the Cold War, Cheon Yeomyeong?”

This was all an illusion created by the Arcane Relic, but to Yeomyeong, it felt strikingly real.

* * *

The Cold War.

An era of madness, where the United States and the Soviet Union, stockpiled an absurd number of nuclear weapons under the guise of a system rivalry.

Ironically, the fear of mutual nuclear destruction suppressed direct military conflict and led the two nations to channel their competitive zeal into every other conceivable area.

Who could create the stronger Superhuman?

Who would be the first to send a person to the moon?

Who could amass the largest arsenal of nukes?

And…

Who could spread their system the fastest?

Pervoyashask—now called Dreitherial—was the result of that competition.

We will build a superior city beyond the Dimensional Portal and lay down railroads to showcase the greatness of the communist system!

No one really believed the Soviets’ lofty proclamations.

At most, people simply assumed they would either develop the southern regions beyond the Dimensional Portal into an economic colony or establish a foothold to apply pressure on Apollo City, which was under the control of the Americans.

But as with all truths buried outside the annals of history, hidden within the depths of a bygone time, the reality was ‘beyond imagination.’

The real reason Stalin built this city was—

* * *

After finishing his explanation, Ben looked up to see Yeomyeong quietly lost in thought.

As someone who had served as both sniper and spy for quite some time, Ben was able to read him easily.

The calm golden eyes, the composed expression, and beneath them, the faint traces of humanity.

Was it the right choice to reveal the truth about the city to him?

The deliberation didn’t last long. Ben trusted Moryne—and, more importantly, he trusted his own judgment.

“When you return to reality, start practicing Blood Tears. It’ll take you at least a month to master overlaying illusions using mana drawn from blood.”

Sensing that the Arcane Relic’s time was running out, Ben offered this advice. Yeomyeong, who had remained silent until then, finally raised his head.

“…”

Glancing at Ben briefly, Yeomyeong drew his sword and slashed his thumb across the blade, creating a shallow wound.

Wondering what on earth he was doing, Ben frowned as Yeomyeong raised his bloodied thumb and drew a tear of blood beneath his eye.

And the next moment, Yeomyeong’s face transformed to mirror Ben’s.

Though not perfect, the illusion was unbelievably refined for something learned in mere tens of minutes.

“…”

Finding himself at a loss for words, Ben could only stare blankly as Yeomyeong dispelled the illusion and added.

“It’s easier than I thought it would be. Understanding its true intention wasn’t difficult… Perhaps this martial art suits me well.”

“…Suits you?”

Was Blood Tears even the type of martial arts that had ‘compatibility’?

No way. This martial art was literally wrung out of the vampires by the Soviet Union. There was no such thing as compatibility.

Ben massaged his temples and asked.

“I thought you were odd from the start… Are you sure you’re not a Soviet?”

“…I’ve never even set foot on Soviet soil.”

“Then are you a survivor of the gulag? Or maybe the result of some human experiment? Or perhaps from the Dzhugashvili School Sect…”

At the mention of Dzhugashvili, Yeomyeong furrowed his brows ever so slightly.

A blatant reaction of disdain. Was it as he’d suspected?

“So, you’re from Dzhugashvili after all.”

“…I am not. Should I swear upon the Five Gods?”

Yeomyeong denied it, shaking his head firmly. His response was so resolute that Ben narrowed his eyes, wondering if he’d misjudged.

Then, Ben’s sharp gaze caught something lurking behind Yeomyeong.

“If you’re not from Dzhugashvili, why are you dripping with Killing Aura?”

“…Killing Aura?”

Yeomyeong’s expression shifted to one of mild surprise. Instead of replying, Ben raised a hand to point behind him.

What is it? When Yeomyeong turned in the direction Ben was pointing to, he immediately furrowed his brows.

The spot where he’d sensed nothing all this while now revealed an all-too-familiar presence: the Janitor with golden eyes.

Standing there with the severed Player’s head in one hand and a large bag in the other.

“You…”

Just as Yeomyeong began to speak, the Janitor abruptly tossed the bag at him.

It was so heavy that Yeomyeong nearly stumbled under its weight.

“What’s this?”

After somehow stabilizing himself with some difficulty, Yeomyeong asked, but no proper answer came because the Arcane Relic’s time had already run out.

- Inventory… take out… Elix…

The faint voice, whether it belonged to the Janitor or Ben, faded into nothingness and Yeomyeong awoke to reality.

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