There Is No World For ■■

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Incheon at dawn was no different from any other city in South Korea.

As the entertainment districts and gambling dens began to close, people worn out by life and alcohol spilled into the streets. All the trash that had accumulated overnight was being kicked around, accompanying them on their way back home.

The only ones moving busily were the market merchants, street vendors, and janitors.

Avoiding their gazes, Dung Beetle blended into the crowded streets of dawn.

The first place he headed to was an alley no one passed by. He then stopped in front of a dirty trash can and a clothing collection box.

He removed his work uniform, stained with blood and dirt, and threw it into the trash can. He then grabbed whatever clothes he could from the clothing collection box and put them on.

What he took was a saggy turtleneck shirt and short-length jeans.

It wasn’t suitable attire for the season that was gradually growing hotter, but as long as it didn't attract attention, it didn’t really matter.

After changing his clothes, Dung Beetle returned to the street, heading towards his next destination.

Worried that someone might recognize him, he kept his head down and lowered his gaze the entire time.

Even without that concern, his golden eyes would inevitably stand out.

Fortunately, the indifference of the people of Incheon exceeded his expectations.

Everyone who passed by didn’t even glance at him, let alone make eye contact.

...I arrived sooner than expected.

Dung Beetle raised his head slightly to look at his destination.

Incheon Market, also known as MacArthur Market due to the huge MacArthur statue standing at the entrance.

Matching his pace with the other merchants entering the market, Dung Beetle blended in naturally.

The smell of fish and food hit him as soon as he entered the market, but his destination lay in the opposite direction.

Deep within the market, in a small alley that even the merchants didn’t visit, was a tiny bar.

Making his way through the winding market alleys, Dung Beetle entered the bar. However, the owner, who was cleaning tables, didn’t even spare him a glance as he spoke.

"We’re closed for the day."

"Mr. Jang Man"

Only after Dung Beetle called his name did the owner finally turn his head.

"...Dung Beetle? What are you doing here at this hour?"

The bar owner, Jang Man, was an impressive old man who had the characteristic tanned skin of a sailor.

It was said that he used to be a dominant figure among the sailors when the Incheon Port was still around, and anyone would nod in agreement on seeing his robust build.

"Did that old Foreman of yours send you on an errand for liquor or something?"

"...The Foreman has passed away."

"What?"

As soon as he heard Dung Beetle's answer, Jang Man stopped wiping the table and furrowed his brow.

"What are you talking about? The old man who just bought liquor a few days ago, died?"

"...Have you heard about the incident where all the smugglers and elves were killed at their secret meeting place?"

"Well, sort of. It happened just two days ago, didn’t it? That news is still going around."

Two days. Did it take him a day to resurrect after becoming a corpse? Dung Beetle thought about the time he had been dead before continuing.

"...The perpetrator of that incident requested a cleanup, and our team was assigned the job."

"Could it be…? Was the perpetrator the crazed killer himself?"

"Yes, as soon as we were done with the cleanup, that man turned his sword on our team."

"...The Janitor Guild is not a fool. Are you saying that they have sent you without taking any precautions?"

"The Janitor Guild were the ones who sold us to that crazed killer."

"…Huh."

Jang Man touched his forehead as if he couldn't believe it.

"The Foreman worked for the Janitor Guild for over twenty years. I can't believe this… they treated someone like him as if they were disposable.”

He pondered for a moment before staring at Dung Beetle.

"Did anyone else from the team survive?"

"No, I am… the sole survivor."

Feeling sorry, Jang Man shook his head in regret. He then stood up and retrieved a bottle of liquor from the display cabinet behind the table.

"I'm glad that you survived. At least there's still someone left to take care of their funerals."

"...Sir."

"I'll look into a place for you to live abroad. How about starting fresh in Australia or Thailand…"

"...Sir."

Dung Beetle looked back and forth between Jang Man and the bottle of liquor. Seeing the resolve in the young man’s golden eyes, Jang Man sighed and opened the bottle.

"Give up on revenge. Catching crazed killers is the job of the police, not yours."

"That bastard… he's a Superhuman who wields mana. The police won’t be able to catch him."

"And you think you can? It’s the same with the Janitor Guild. How do you plan to take revenge on a government organization? Do you plan on becoming a terrorist?"

Jang Man took a rough swig of liquor and stared at Dung Beetle with a sullen expression.

"I can't help you. How can I push you to a place where you're certain to die in vain? How am I supposed to face my friend, the Foreman, in the afterlife?"

He took another swig. Or at least he tried to.

As Jang Man raised the bottle, Dung Beetle strode over and grabbed it from his hand.

Jang Man looked at Dung Beetle with a bewildered look, as if to question what he was doing. Dung Beetle didn’t respond, instead he wrapped his hand around the bottle…

Crack.

The bottle shattered, spilling its contents. Jang Man furrowed his brow at the sight of the spilled liquor, broken glass, and blood.

Tch, being young is really...

However…

When Dung Beetle unclenched his hand, Jang Man furrowed his brows for a different reason.

"I don't intend to die in vain."

Dung Beetle's hand was healing in real-time. A few seconds was all it took for the bleeding to stop, and for new flesh grew over the wound.

"Regenerate? You… Could it be… mana?"

Mana.

It was the power that humanity on Earth had dreamed of the moment the Nazis opened a dimensional portal and crossed over.

It took two brief wars and a long period of plunder for humanity on Earth to finally manage to wield that power in modern times.

Mages, superhumans, heroes, hunters, blessed ones—The terms varied depending on the public’s jealousy and expectations, but in the end, they all referred to the same thing.

They were the ones who could wield mana purely through their body and mind, without the aid of machines or tools.

Realizing that the janitor before him had become such a being, Jang Man couldn’t help but become speechless.

"How on earth… No, you probably have no idea either."

As of now, there were only four 'official' methods to utilize mana: innate talent, special bloodlines, divine blessings, and consuming certain drugs.

Of course, there were ‘unofficial’ methods, but… none of them were feasible for an ordinary cleaner.

Is it a miracle? If it’s not…

With that thought, Jang Man kicked the broken bottle on the floor aside and pulled out a new one.

"Alright, I see that you're not going to die in vain. But how can I help you?"

"Sir, I’m not asking for direct help. It’s just… could you introduce me to someone, for old times’ sake?"

"Someone? It's true that I have a wide network, but how would the connections of a bar owner help?"

Jang Man shook his head.

He opened the new bottle, took a glass from under the table, and poured the liquor. The scent of cheap rum filled the space between them.

"A smuggler. I heard you were the best in that field."

Jang Man flinched, his hand stopping mid-air as he poured the drink. He looked at Dung Beetle with a hardened expression.

"Hah, that Foreman... That old man sure told you a lot. He wasn't really a talkative man."

He did not deny being a smuggler in the past.

"So, what do you want to buy from a smuggler?"

"...Weapons."

"Dung beetle, I don't know how much you value this old man's advice, but I need to make this clear."

Jang Man continued with an even more serious expression.

"Real weapons are not like the toys you see in action movies. The same goes for mana. Why do you think those powerful countries have established academies to train Superhumans?"

The issue was too serious to be dismissed as mere youthful bravado. Determined to persuade him, Jang Man took out another glass and placed it on the table.

"Right now, you're nothing. Once people discover that you’re a Superhuman, forget about getting revenge; the underworld will be desperate to capture you."

"..."

"And once they catch you? They’ll obviously chop your body into pieces, sell you to various labs, and your liver will end up on the dining table of some rich person."

Jang Man recounted one of the numerous urban legends commonly heard.

- Eating the liver of a mana user allows one to use mana.

The United States had officially debunked the rumor, but from another perspective, it also implied that some did indeed try it.

Despite the grim warning, Dung Beetle's gaze didn't waver.

"I've been prepared for that from the start."

"Prepared? Prepared, you say... You speak too lightly about matters of life and death."

"I’m speaking like this because this is a matter of life and death. It’s the only choice I have left."

"...Hah."

Jang Man sighed, but it was unclear whether it was out of admiration or lamentation. The resolve of youth might be seen as mere bravado, but determination was different.

For both the old and the young, resolve remained just that—resolve. Life was equal for everyone; each person had only one.

"To live or to die. ¹It was no different from Hamlet."

He stared at his glass, lost in thought.

As dawn broke and the sun began to rise, gentle ripples formed in the rum inside the glass. At that moment, Jang Man looked up at Dung Beetle's resolute face and nodded.

"If a young man is determined, the old man can't help but follow along."

Jang Man filled the glass he had prepared to persuade the young man and handed it to Dung Beetle.

The light brown hue of the cheap military rum reflected Dung Beetle's impassive face.

"Fine, I'll personally introduce you to someone reliable."

***

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