There Is No World For ■■-Chapter 175: For Whom Does the Bag Open? (5)

Urgh—

The moment Yeomyeong used his retrieval ability on the nuclear missile beyond the monitor, he vomited blood.

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It was because an immense amount of mana, surpassing even the regeneration abilities of the Jugashivili, had left his body.

The World Tree Crystal had strengthened him, and his veins, hardened through intense battles, couldn’t withstand the massive amount of mana.

[Hahaha! You’ve failed!!]

The red arm, having watched it all, burst into laughter, as if it had never been frustrated.

And, compared to before, it spoke with a much emptier tone.

[Player! Do you understand now? Your powers are not omnipotent, and this world is not a game!!]

No matter what the creature muttered, Yeomyeong couldn’t hear it.

Was it because his eardrums were ruptured? Or perhaps because of the pounding of his heart? Maybe both.

But whatever the reason, his mind was focused on a single word amidst the quiet.

‘Insufficient.’

The mana he had was not enough to retrieve the nuclear missile flying hundreds of kilometers away, piercing through the atmosphere.

Should he give up?

Giving up wasn’t a bad option.

Even if he let the missile go, there were other nuclear bombs left ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) in the base, and he had already saved Seti.

If he gave up now, millions of people in the capital would die, but what did that have to do with him?

Of course, as a human, he did feel sympathy for those who would die.

Perhaps... no, certainly, he would feel guilty.

But that didn’t give him a reason to risk his own life, or Seti’s life.

As his thoughts continued, the mocking voice of the red arm reached his ears.

[You should’ve destroyed the large monitor first? Hahaha!]

The mockery made Yeomyeong’s thoughts break off. Frowning, he glared at the creature and suddenly realized something.

Jugashivili, who turned malice into mana.

And before him, the massive lump of malice that had lost its strength and was now hanging limply.

Dono. A moment of sudden realization flashed through his mind, and before he could even think, Yeomyeong acted on it.

He raised his hand, reached out, and used telekinesis to tear the red malice apart.

[You, don’t tell me?]

The arm, realizing what he was trying to do, spasmed, but the torn malice was already being sucked into Yeomyeong’s body.

!!!

The mana flooding into Yeomyeong’s body, the screams ringing in his ears, and the fingers that kept tearing away.

[PLAYER!!]

Even as the malice was sucked into Yeomyeong’s body, the red arm screamed in agony.

[Curse you, puppet!! Do you think you’re justice? You...]

“No, this has nothing to do with justice.”

As Yeomyeong continued to absorb the malice, he interrupted the creature’s words. Before it could say more, he spoke with half sincerity, half mockery.

“I just... want to screw with you for calling me a Player.”

[What? That’s-]

The red arm’s rebuttal was cut short. The next moment, Yeomyeong absorbed the last bit of malice that made up the arm.

“See you later, red bastard.”

And at the moment he declared victory, time, which had been frozen, began to move again.

****

3 Minutes and 11 Seconds.

Time resumed.

However, only a very few people realized that time had stopped, and even fewer felt the missile soaring through the clouds.

A lonely flight, unnoticed by anyone.

The missile didn’t care. It lacked the intelligence to understand the creator’s madness or the hatred of the Cold War.

Clunk-!

It simply followed the design, detaching the first stage of its booster as it ran out of fuel.

The second stage ignited, and the missile flew into the sky, beyond the reach of even dragons, as stars above transmitted their voices to their children.

Prepare for death.

Many religious people couldn’t understand those words.

However, the worried father of a runaway daughter, the elderly man known as the Grand Archbishop, and the woman called the Holy Sword were different.

They all raised their heads in unison and confirmed the rising death.

Unfortunately, all they could do was pray.

****

2 Minutes and 11 Seconds.

The missile silently pierced the blue sky, meeting the vast horizon. Soon after, the second booster detached.

Unlike the first, the second booster gleamed like a comet.

A light bright enough for a superhuman with good eyesight to see.

In a land once called the Kingdom of Byungyeong, and now the Provence Autonomous Region, an old man with golden eyes turned away from that light.

1 Minute and 2 Seconds.

The missile reached the black sea, devoid of air and wind.

It could have flown among the shining stars, but the final stage stopped at the round horizon.

After a brief silence, the missile’s warhead detached.

The warhead with the nuclear payload and decoy, the one carrying mana chaff.

That was the death created by Earth, the world’s destroyer...

The warhead turned its body and aimed at its target on the ground, confirming the deaths of millions.

...It should have been that way.

It couldn’t fall toward its target. The moment the warhead re-entered the atmosphere, it vanished.

As if it had been sucked into another space, suddenly.

****

Neti stared at Yeomyeong with a blank expression.

What on earth is happening? Her brother-in-law had definitely been beside her dying sister.

In the blink of an eye, he had moved to the other side of the control room.

And that too, in a completely battered state.

Was she hallucinating because of how much she had cried?

Neti unconsciously rubbed her eyes, but Yeomyeong was still there.

With his hand raised, tightly clutching his fist as though trying to grab something.

Had about two minutes passed? He smiled and lowered his hand, his expression one of a weary smile, as though something had succeeded.

Neti wiped her tears, a bit angry.

How could he make that face when her sister was dying?

And it was her brother-in-law of all people!

But she didn’t say anything, simply watching Yeomyeong as he approached.

She felt an indescribable sense of hope rising within her.

Finally, when Yeomyeong reached Seti's side, her hope became reality.

“Saint, you can stop now.”

Yeomyeong sat down beside Seti and spoke. The Saint didn’t ask what nonsense that was.

It was because his voice was so serious, and because of the small potion bottle he pulled from his chest.

“You... don’t tell me...?”

The Saint had never seen the real potion before.

She couldn’t believe it, but still watched as Yeomyeong pulled the spear lodged in Seti’s abdomen.

With a jerk, blood and flesh spilled out from where the spear was removed, and Seti’s body convulsed. Yeomyeong quickly opened the potion bottle and poured half of its contents onto her belly.

And the moment the potion touched the wound, a miracle occurred.

“The real elixir....”

Following the Saint’s astonishment, a clear and pure fragrance pushed away the smell of blood.

Crushed organs found their place again, torn muscles and skin began to regenerate.

A miracle surpassing even the Saint’s healing arts.

But the amount was still insufficient to restore the damaged blood vessels.

Yeomyeong didn’t stop there and poured the remaining half of the potion into his own mouth. He then wrapped his hand around Seti’s nape and pulled her in, kissing her.

Her cold lips met his hot ones. The potion flowed along their soft tongues.

“...”

Neti’s eyes went wide as she watched the scene. The Saint, on the other hand, looked completely dazed, but she didn’t stop the kiss.

How much time passed like this?

By the time the warmth returned to Seti’s cold body and their tongues gently brushed each other’s front teeth, the Saint spoke.

“You two... this isn’t your first kiss, is it? You’re too skilled.”

The most chilling voice Neti had ever heard from the Saint.

Neti, who had been feeling a warm sense of emotional connection to the scene, blinked in confusion, staring at the Saint.

What’s with the sudden change?

Whether Neti was bewildered or not, the Saint slyly pulled a revolver from her thigh. Click Clink.

The sound of the magazine rotating and bullets being chambered.

Only then did the two pull apart.

But Seti, gripping Yeomyeong’s neck, held him tightly and kissed him once more.

No matter how flustered Yeomyeong was, Seti pulled away briefly and whispered into his ear.

“You did well, Yeomyeong.”

“...No big deal.”

After exchanging that short greeting, Yeomyeong was finally able to lift his head.

Behind him, the Saint, who had approached without him noticing, was trembling as she alternated between looking at Seti and Yeomyeong.

“Millions of people just died from the nuclear missile... and you two... you two...!”

The Saint, who had been desperately ignoring the fact, couldn’t hold back any longer and burst into tears.

Yeomyeong stood up and reached out his arms toward the Saint.

“Are you okay?”

She buried her face in his chest, and cried more pitifully than ever before.

“I’m sorry... sorry for failing...”

As enough tears and snot soaked into Yeomyeong’s clothes, Neti, who had been watching the monitors on the control room wall, froze with a stiff expression.

Yeomyeong, patting the Saint’s back, said.

“Saint, want me to tell you a secret?”

“...A secret? What secret?”

The Saint’s voice, still sniffing, was interrupted by Yeomyeong’s laughter.

“Well, actually... I stopped it.”

“Stopped? What?”

Instead of answering, Yeomyeong grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face the control room monitors.

What the Saint had expected to see—the range where the missile had dropped—wasn’t what appeared on the screen.

[Failure] [Failure] [Failure]

Red letters indicating a bombing failure. The Saint’s expression twisted oddly.

Was it joy, surprise, or both?

“How? How did you do it?”

“I tried it, and it worked.”

Yeomyeong said this as a joke.

Since he had to explain things like the Player and the bag while Neti wasn’t around.

Seti, who had been leaning on him, chuckled, but the Saint didn’t ask anything more.

Instead, she blushed as she looked at the state of Yeomyeong’s clothes, soaked with her own tears and snot... then, as if realizing something, she raised the hand holding the revolver.

“You... you were trying to watch me cry... no, trying to stop me from getting angry, and that’s why you told me late?”

“...Did the story turn out that way?”

Yeomyeong shrugged, and with a sharp word, the Saint grabbed the revolver by the barrel and began swinging it around.

“You bad bastard! Don’t run away!”

Yeomyeong, running away, the Saint chasing him, and Seti smiling as she watched the two.

After a brief moment, Neti, who had been watching from a step away, quietly approached her sister and asked.

“Sis... this isn’t a love triangle, right?”

“...”

It was an inappropriate question to ask a sister who had just come back from the dead.