There Is No World For ■■
Chapter 169: Ghosts Of The Past, Connections Of The Present (8)

* * *

From beyond the darkness of the control room, the owner of the unexpected voice stepped forward slowly as the faint light from the monitors revealed an elderly man dressed in a Mao suit.

“…Eastern Count Palatine.”

As Yeomyeong uttered his title, the elderly man with many faces smiled.

Yet behind the wrinkled smile, his dark pupils gleamed with a chilling ferocity.

“Count Palatine, you say… That’s merely a false identity given by those oppressors.”

“…”

“My true identity is the First Secretary—(Первый секретарь)—of the Asha Communist Party.”

The First Secretary of the Communist Party? Yeomyeong suppressed a dry laugh.

“A grand title, indeed. And since you’re taking up positions, why not aim for general secretary instead?”

It was blatant mockery, but the old man responded with a serious expression.

“The position of general secretary of the Communist Party belongs solely to Him. I am merely filling His void for the time being… How could I dare to usurp the position of general secretary?”

His voice was as earnest as his expression. The conviction and certainty in it were all too familiar to Yeomyeong.

The people who fancied themselves as the so-called patriots always spoke with that same tone.

That fact made Yeomyeong shudder slightly, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. Behind him, he could hear the faint sound of the Saintess preparing her rifle.

The atmosphere was tense, as if battle could erupt at any moment.

However, Bykov made no move of his own. Instead, he stepped forward calmly and continued speaking.

“Cheon Yeomyeong, why don’t you listen to my proposal first?”

“…”

“I’ll get straight to the point. Join our Party.”

With those words, Bykov extended his hand. Glancing at the rough, calloused palm, Yeomyeong shook his head.

“…I have no intention of joining forces with a commie.”

“Then, what if I were to speak to you as a fellow victim?”

“…Victim?”

“A weakling sacrificed by those oppressors; a victim of injustice, born from a world that has gone astray.”

What the hell was this guy even going on about?

While Yeomyeong’s expression hardened, Bykov bent down and picked something up from the ground.

A pig’s head crusted with dried blood.

But it wasn’t any ordinary pig’s head. It was the head of a Shepherd—an abomination cultivated secretly by the Korean government.

“I was wondering why you attacked the Western Count Palatine. And I couldn’t find an answer at first, but then it struck me—Cheon Yeomyeong, a Korean, and the monsters created by the Korean government…”

“…”

“Your motive is revenge. Am I wrong?”

Yeomyeong neither confirmed nor denied it aloud.

Confronted by his silence, Bykov’s voice grew even more confident.

“I understand you! Perhaps even better than anyone else in this world! For I, too, was once a humble man crushed underfoot by those oppressors intoxicated with power and authority!”

The sound of splattered flesh and blood filled the space between them as Bykov flung the pig’s head to the floor.

“Why do people like us exist? The answer is painfully simple.”

“…”

“The ones who built this modern society! America and all the trash hiding behind it, the ones who perpetuate oppression! They are the root of all the suffering we’ve had to endure!”

Bykov stepped forward once more.

“Cheon Yeomyeong, take my hand! Let me help you. Together, not only can we achieve vengeance, but we can also bring rightful justice to this land!”

“…”

An outstretched hand, followed by a moment of silence.

And before the silence stretched too long, Yeomyeong drew his sword.

The blade, forged with the blood and tears of slaughtered dwarves, gleamed with a yellow hue reminiscent of mustard gas.

Upon seeing the sword, Bykov clenched his outstretched hand into a fist, his expression turning regretful.

“…What’s the reason for your refusal?”

“I’m not too sure what you mean by rightful justice, but… I doubt the justice of someone who betrays their comrades and creates a legion of Rat Beastfolk is any better than America’s.”

“Oh… so Finel came to you, did he? Even until the end, he was never a helpful pointy-ear.”

Bykov let out a deep sigh, then added with a faint glimmer of hope.

“It’s unfortunate, but… would you believe me if I said all of it was necessary?”

“…Those bastards from the Korean government also said something similar to me once.”

With those words, the same thought crossed both their minds.

The negotiations failed.

And in the next moment, a gunshot rang out from behind Yeomyeong.

* * *

As soon as the conversation ended, Neti flinched as her sister fired the gun.

The shot aimed squarely at Bykov’s head was fired without a moment’s hesitation.

But when Neti saw the outcome, she was stunned once more.

“What the…?”

Seti’s shot didn’t pierce Bykov. To be precise, he caught it with his hand.

In this darkness, at this distance and he caught the bullet?

Tossing the half-embedded bullet from his palm onto the ground, Bykov said.

“Your manners leave much to be desired.”

With that as a signal, the Saintess and Yeomyeong sprang into action.

The Saintess fired the few remaining rounds from her anti-material sniper rifle.

BAANG!

Unable to block the blessed bullets from the high-powered sniper rifle, Bykov immediately dove out of the way.

As he tumbled to the ground, he used the momentum to spring back up, channeling mana into his legs.

And in the next moment, his body blurred and accelerated explosively.

The movement was similar to, or perhaps even faster than, the Flying Kick technique.

So, he really is a Superhuman.

It was almost expected. After all, no ordinary human could maintain their position as a Count Palatine in this wretched city for long.

Yeomyeong immediately made use of the Flying Kick technique to keep up with him.

Their speeds were nearly identical, but Yeomyeong’s sword had a slightly longer reach.

“What impressive swordsmanship. Though your Killing Aura leaves much to be desired.”

Bykov spoke as he narrowly dodged Yeomyeong’s blade. And before Yeomyeong could swing it again, Bykov pulled a small remote from his pocket and pressed it.

Shortly after—

WHEEEEEEE!

Sirens blared in the control room, and red lights began to flash.

The alarm seemed to resonate throughout the bunker as the sound of rushing Rat Beastfolk echoed from the distance.

“Now then, shall we start the fight in earnest?”

Bykov raised his fists as he spoke.

A brief stillness followed, and then their gazes clashed. As the sound of the Saintess loading her next bullet echoed out, the two men charged at each other, swinging sword and fist. Flesh met steel, but Bykov’s mana-infused fists struck with the force of an iron club.

Clang—!

A sound similar to metal clashing against metal rang out.

Suppressing the shock reverberating up his arm, Yeomyeong thrust his sword forward, only for Bykov to counter with a Hand Blade.

Swordsmanship unleashed through a hand blade? It was a martial art Yeomyeong was well-versed in, so he adjusted the trajectory of his sword to block Bykov’s strike.

Once again, the sound of metal clanging resounded, and a shower of sparks burst forth as if they were welding.

Shaking him off, Yeomyeong cast a quick glance behind him.

Through his peripheral vision, he saw the main door to the control room slide open, revealing a horde of Rat Beastfolk swarming from beyond the slightly ajar door.

…I can only leave the Rat Beastfolks to Seti and the Saintess.

As that thought crossed Yeomyeong’s mind, Bykov managed to slip through his sword’s guard and threw a punch.

“Oh ho, you shouldn’t be looking away during a fight.”

His punch was swift and powerful—more so than any martial art Yeomyeong had ever witnessed so far.

Although Yeomyeong barely managed to sidestep using the Feather Step, every missed punch shattered monitors, desks, and even the concrete floor, leaving only rubble in its wake.

Bang! Bang!

It was impossible to believe that such shockwaves were created by a bare human hand.

Each of Bykov’s attacks rivaled that of modern weaponry. Beyond the sheer force, it was the True Intention behind them that made them so terrifying.

Faster, stronger, more efficient—a martial art designed solely for the purpose of killing.

Observing Bykov’s techniques while staying on the defense, Yeomyeong had a sudden realization. He channeled the comet light into his Sword Aura.

The moment Bykov saw the light, he immediately halted his attack and leaped back to create some distance between them.

Yet Yeomyeong neither pursued him nor unleashed the comet sword.

Partly because he had exhausted his mana in his fight with Kahal Magdu and mainly because he wanted to gauge Bykov’s reaction.

As expected, he retreated the moment he sensed the Killing Aura in the Comet Sword.

Yeomyeong fixed his darkened eyes on Bykov, who stroked his beard and asked.

“…Your martial arts are eclectic, but the way you put it to use is efficient. Do you have a master?”

“Corvus.”

“The Seeker of Crossroads? In that case—”

You must know magic as well.

Before the words could even leave his lips, over a dozen ice spikes began to form around Yeomyeong and flew towards Bykov in a deadly trajectory.

Deflecting and dodging the ice spikes, Bykov swiftly closed the gap between them once again and followed up with another punch.

Yeomyeong used Telekinesis with his left hand to block the punch and thrust his sword with his right.

The Sword Aura tracing a long crescent arc aimed straight at Bykov’s neck.

And then—

It was blocked. To be precise, Bykov clamped down on the blade with his teeth.

What?

The moment Yeomyeong frowned at the unimaginable defensive move, Bykov drove his knee into Yeomyeong’s side.

Crunch— Cracking several ribs with a single strike. As Yeomyeong clenched his teeth and quickly infused his blade with Sword Aura, Bykov leaped back.

“What a pity. Someone like you could have achieved great things.”

While letting his fractured bones regenerate, Yeomyeong smirked. Bykov’s words were as good as saying he would kill him here and now.

Spitting out the blood pooling in his mouth, Yeomyeong asked.

“Bykov, I have one last question.”

“Are you planning to surrender? Well, I’d gladly accept it.”

Shaking his head, Yeomyeong asked.

“What’s your relationship with Dzhugashvili?”

It was a question people had asked him countless times before. But at this moment, Yeomyeong had no choice but to be the one to ask the question instead.

The martial arts Bykov demonstrated were too identical to the characteristics of Dzhugashvili Yeomyeong had heard about.

Simple but efficient killing techniques.

However, Bykov’s response slightly deviated from his expectations.

“Dzhugashvili… that’s my family name. Now that I think about it, I’ve only ever shared my fake family name before. Cheon Yeomyeong, my full name is Bykov Ibáñez dze Dzhugashvili.”

“What?”

Yeomyeong frowned. Dzhugashvili was Stalin’s original family name, wasn’t it?

“…Stalin’s illegitimate child?”

“Oh, you’ve got quite the imagination.”

The corners of Bykov’s mouth curled up in a grin. Looking toward the control tower entrance where Seti and the Saintess were blocking the Rat Beastfolks, he added.

“The General Secretary’s lineage has long been severed. His two sons heroically sacrificed themselves for the people, and his daughter was tainted by capitalism.”

“…”

“And yet, the reason I can bear the Dzhugashvili family name… is not because of bloodline, but because I inherited his will.”

Will. The moment he uttered that word, crimson energy began to surge around Bykov’s body.

Mana intertwined with his tangible Killing Aura.

“I am the last inheritor and survivor of the Dzhugashvili school sect. Does that answer your question?”