There Is No World For ■■

* * *

Dung Beetle watched the incoming waves amidst the currents of unconsciousness.

The waves, carrying a mix of emotions, hit his body with a splash and then receded.

Soaked thoroughly by the heavy, sad, and bitter waves, a single phrase emerged in his mind.

Cultivating the mind and sitting and forgetting.¹

To distance oneself from what was heard through the ears, to forget what was heard with the heart, and to feel the world with an empty mind—This was the meaning of cultivating the mind.

To sit silently and abandon idle thoughts, to forget reality and oneself—This was the meaning of Sitting and Forgetting.

…

The wave surged once again, and this time, it struck Dung Beetle’s body before receding.

The name given by the Janitor Guild, meaning 'even if you're just cleaning up waste, do it well'... Dung Beetle had forgotten that name.

The following wave washed away his memories. Angels, Mignium, his colleagues, and revenge all disappeared beyond the wave.

As his memories were washed away, his emotions also began to disappear.

Sadness, anger, joy, regret… only after all those things vanished did his mind become empty.

Splash!

The now-emptied mind was filled only with waves.

Once, twice, thrice…

Countless waves crashed and piled up in his mind. And this continued until all the surrounding currents disappeared.

At some point, he was no longer able to distinguish between the waves and himself. The waves were him, and he was the waves.

…!

Yes, this was the true intention of the Surging Wave Technique.

To realize ‘cultivating the mind and sitting and forgetting’ and absorb the waves in his mind to become the wave itself.

No additional explanation was needed. The movement and the techniques were all mere appearances.

Having become the wave itself, his fist became the Surging Wave Fist imbued with the strength of the whale-like waves when he put his mind into it. And when he moved his legs, it became the Surging Wave Step.

Shuddering at the depth of the Surging Wave Technique, Dung Beetle could now understand why Seti had seen him as a moron. If he had known this martial art, he would have thought the same.

He concluded his realization. Faced with joy and delight, he tried to open his eyes to reality.

However, at that moment, a familiar voice echoed from the depths of his mind.

『It seems like you have learned something interesting.』

It was the voice of the unwelcome guest who was sealed within him.

The benefactor who had resurrected him and bestowed talents upon him… The great evil.

“...Mignium.”

Amidst the space where the waves of the mind were surging, a shadow with a fluttering black dress appeared.

『My Chosen One, even with your considerable talent, it didn't even take you that long to reach this level. It also appears that you have obtained a genuine Kung Fu², one meticulously crafted with great effort by a grandmaster.』

“...Kung Fu?”

『Ah, perhaps it is called something else in your world.』

Mignium laughed while muttering something incomprehensible. A wide crack appeared over the shadowy face of Mignium. It was her own version of a laugh.

『Anyway, Chosen One. I did not expect to see your face this soon. I did not anticipate that you would enter a state of perfect selflessness so swiftly... Is this why those insignificant gods do not bestow talents upon humans?』

“I’m going to leave if you intend to keep spouting nonsense.”

Dung Beetle stood up, brushing himself off. Mignium tilted her head to the side.

『Already? I presume that you have many questions for me, do you not?』

“Will you answer them?”

『No, the pleasure of asking me questions must be postponed until next time, for this is not my dream but your mind.』

“…I knew it.”

If she intended to give him any information, she wouldn't have silenced him when they last met.

『Let us meet again in my dream, my Chosen One.』

After Mignium bid farewell, Dung Beetle closed his eyes.

His heart trembled, and his heavy, sunken mind returned to reality once again.

* * *

Opening his eyes to reality, he was greeted by an unfamiliar scene.

The open space where Seti had demonstrated her martial arts was nowhere to be seen; instead, a straw mat was blocking his view.

After glancing up slightly, he realized it wasn’t just a straw mat, but a tent.

What is this?

Dung Beetle brushed himself off and stepped outside the tent. On stepping outside, he could see the very open space where Seti had performed her martial arts.

Was this tent set up because I entered a state of perfect selflessness…?

The answer to his contemplation was found rather easily as there were three delicately handwritten notes at the tent's entrance.

Dung Beetle began to read through the notes slowly. As expected, they were all written by Seti.

The first note, written with pressing strokes, began with an explanation that the tent had been set up because he hadn’t woken up even after an entire day had passed.

The next page was written in the same way. It said that, although she wanted to wait longer, her younger sister was in an urgent situation, so she would deliver the unicorn’s horn first and then return.

The last page stated that, no matter how late, she would return within a week with a new identity, and it also included a note informing him to meet again at Mr. Jang Man’s bar along with a phone number.

After reading all the notes, Dung Beetle stuffed them into his pocket and sank down onto the tent floor.

…It’s already been a day?

No, that was not right. Considering the time it would have taken her to write the notes and leave, at least two days must have passed.

Did I really spend that much time in my mind?

Dung Beetle shook his head after trying to gauge the time.

It was pointless to dwell on how long the waves in his mind had built up in his body. It was natural for joyful times to feel fleeting and painful times to drag on.

What he needed to consider instead... was how proficient he had become in the Surging Wave Technique while in the state of perfect selflessness.

With that thought in mind, Dung Beetle stood up. He stood in the open space in front of the tent while recalling the fist pose that Seti had shown him, and assumed the stance.

The fist, which he had subconsciously named the Surging Wave Fist while in his unconscious state.

Seti had to make the mana flow like water and create waves with her fist. However, Dung Beetle didn’t need to do that.

The moment he clenched his fist, the mana flowing through it surged like waves. That was the difference between those who had realized the true intention and those who had not.

However…

Have I not managed to fully absorb what I’ve realized into my body?

Dung Beetle frowned as he looked at his own fist. The difference between the waves he felt in his fist and those he felt in his mind was clear to him.

To be precise, all he had achieved was about 30%... or even less.

As if trying to confirm something, he threw a punch, striking the air with force.

!!!!!!

As soon as the mana struck the air, waves of mana burst out, causing the tent to collapse and the leaves to fall in a flurry.

Although the result was astonishing, Dung Beetle sighed as he clenched and unclenched his fist.

Indeed, it was still insufficient.

To be able to replicate the same waves he had seen in his mind in reality; he would need quite a bit more training and practical experience.

And if there was any good news, it was that he still had plenty of opportunities to wield his fists, especially in Incheon.

Before Seti returns… let's cut all the ties I need to in Incheon.

His cold, sinking gaze turned toward the city of Incheon beyond the mountain slopes.

* * *

Inside a heavy van parked on the outskirts of Incheon, a man pulled out a cigarette and put it in his mouth.

Click, click.

Perhaps due to anxiety or the dwindling gas, the man's lighter wouldn't ignite.

After failing to light the cigarette multiple times , he finally gave up and threw the cigarette and lighter onto the floor.

“Damn it, how did I…”

He sighed as he opened the van’s door. A pig-headed man in a suit waiting outside approached him and bowed his head.

“Branch Manager, what’s the matter?”

“Damn it, don’t call me ‘Branch Manager.’ Just call me ‘Agent.’ Agent!”

Even though he held the title Branch Manager of the Incheon Janitors' Guild officially, he never really accepted it personally.

Even though it was merely a title he had been forced to assume to conceal his true identity as a secret government agent, even a figurehead had their standards. On top of that, it wasn't just any place but the Janitors' Guild.

“Hey, Shepherd.”

“Yes, Agent.”

“Do you know what? I really hate this fucking city.”

“Is that so?”

The pig-headed Shepherd calmly put up with the Branch Manager's irritation soullessly. The Branch Manager had not always been such an insufferable superior, it was just that recent events had been enough to make anyone a terrible superior.

“The street name is MacArthur, the mountain name MacArthur, even the mayor’s name is MacArthur… Even the street fortune-tellers revere MacArthur as a deity. Is this America or South Korea?”

“…”

“Even our national hero Ahn Junggeun³ doesn’t have a statue here, but we have a MacArthur Hillock? Is MacArthur’s trusteeship⁴ over this country really something to be proud of?”

“...I’m not sure about that either.”

“Of course, you don’t know. Damn it. If you knew, would you even be a Shepherd, huh? You probably would be a sociologist, wouldn’t you?”

He spat on the ground, trying to recall where things had gone so wrong.

It all started with the disappearance of that Operations Director. In fact, he was actually a pretty good subordinate.

Engaging in just enough underhanded tactics to keep the annoying noises from reaching him, the fake branch manager, the Operations Director, handled the tasks he was assigned efficiently.

However, after he suddenly disappeared and the government’s corpse storage he managed burned down, everything began to go downhill from that point.

First and foremost, the deal with the Necromancer had fallen through.

The details of the incident remained unclear, but the outcome was disastrous. A 4th-grade official⁵ who had gone to negotiate with the Necromancer was killed, and they were unable to recover the awakening potions.

And when the Superhuman Affairs Department, which was eagerly awaiting the potions, dispatched someone else to the scene, everything was already over.

All that remained at the scene were broken potion bottles and traces of an unknown Korean agent fighting the Necromancer.

As if that wasn’t enough of a headache, another problem arose.

The agents investigating the scene were all wiped out as well, not leaving a single one behind.

This was definitely not a matter that could be overlooked. Three Shepherds were slaughtered. Moreover, even a cow-headed-level official was killed brutally.

Although they might not have the power to match a true Superhuman or Mage, the force, consisting of two pig-headed officials and one cow-headed official, could ensure that at least one person would be able to escape safely, even when facing a true Superhuman.

But all three were killed? The answer was simple: the opponent was a Superhuman of such a high level that they—whoever the hell that was— didn’t even give them a chance to escape.

At that point, the government decided to take a cautious approach. They began to suspect that other powerful nations or some unidentified Superhuman organizations might be involved in the incident.

However, they couldn’t just pull out from the scene. There were issues of honor and morale among the on-site personnel.

In the end, the government pulled out of the incident, leaving behind a suitable reliever… or a mere figurehead.

And the figurehead chosen was none other than the Branch Manager himself.

And they didn’t have any grand reason for doing so. It was simply because he was the highest-ranking agent sent to the scene.

However, even if he was aware of all the circumstances, no one would be happy to be picked as a mere figurehead.

His sudden fall from grace felt even more miserable, especially for him, who had been managing the enrollment of young Superhumans just a week earlier.

“Damn it, why are the other bastards taking so long to arrive?”

As the agent continued venting his frustration, the pig-headed man standing next to the van subtly took out his phone.

“We still have 15 minutes left until the appointed time. They should be arriving soon.”

“Damn it, all the motherfucking field agents these days are getting worse. How the hell can anyone arrive at the appointed time when their superior is already waiting?”

“…”

“Back in my day, we would have to arrive at least 10 minutes early and wait… Huff! Hey, you! Make a call.”

“But due to security reasons, calls are…”

“Goddamn it! Just make the call when I tell you!!”

“...Yes, understood.”

The pig-headed man, looking resigned, picked up his phone and dialed a number—beep, beep, beep. The basic dialing tone rang, and the other party soon answered.

[Who… is this?]

The voice on the other end was filled with static, perhaps due to poor reception.

[This is Cuckoo 11. I am just calling to check on your whereabouts.]

[It is… hard to hear. Cuckoo 11… is it?]

[This is Cuckoo 11. I am asking again. How much longer until you get here? We are waiting at the rendezvous point.]

[Location… sorry… we’re… lost… now…]

As soon as the voice on the phone said something about being lost, the Branch Manager snatched the phone from the pig-headed man.

“You crazy bastard, the bridge connecting MacArthur Road 3 and Route 6! How the hell do you even get lost in this area?!”

[...]

“Stop speaking bullshit and get your ass here within 15 minutes. Got it?”

[MacArthur…3…Route 6…bridge. We’ll head there… right away…]

As soon as the Branch Manager heard the response, he felt a strange sense of unease.

Why was that? Was it because he couldn’t smoke?

He shook off the feeling of unease and began calling the other subordinates, scolding them to hurry up.

After spending roughly five minutes scolding his subordinates, a car could be seen approaching the van from a distance.

“Finally, one motherfucker arrived.”

It was a familiar car—one of the rental vehicles used for the mission.

However, as the car got closer, the Branch Manager’s frown deepened.

The approaching car looked… strange. There was blood smeared on the front windshield, and the car was dented and had parts dangling. And most importantly…

The car wasn’t slowing down at all.

“Damn it! Get out of the way!”

The Branch Manager was the first to jump out of the van. The pig-headed man, who had been taking the brunt of his irritation, failed to escape and was crushed between the car and the van.

CRASSH! Both the car and van flew up and fell off the bridge below.

Barely managing to survive, the Branch Manager stood up unsteadily, drawing A pistol from his waist.

“What the fuck is going on…”

The Branch Manager cautiously peered at the area below the highway. The van that had fallen was crushed like a stepped-on egg.

Fortunately, not everyone in the van was dead. Some of the Shepherds were poking their heads out from the wreckage.

But in the car right in front of the van… let alone a sign of any bodies, there was not even a shadow.

He was definitely sure that someone was in the car just before the collision.

As the Branch Manager was reeling in confusion, he sensed a chilling gaze land on the back of his neck. He tightened his grip on the pistol and turned his head slowly.

A young man, wearing a worn coat and a hat pulled down low, was staring at him.

“Who are you?!”

The young man raised his hat a bit to look at the Branch Manager’s face and then spoke in a casual tone.

“Long time no see, Branch Manager.”

“Damn it… that frigging Branch Manager title.”

Without wasting a moment, the Branch Manager fired his pistol.

Bang! Bang! The gunshots rang out, but the young man simply moved his upper body a little to dodge the bullets.

Superhuman-like reflexes and movements—He was definitely a Superhuman.

“Fuck.”

The Branch Manager glanced at the approaching young man and the area below the highway alternately.

Seeing that the height was about 5 meters, he immediately made up his mind. It would be better to break a leg than to be caught by a Superhuman.

He swallowed hard and shouted at the area below.

“I’m jumping down! Catch me!”

One of the Shepherds looked up, and the Branch Manager jumped from the bridge.

Bounce!

Fortunately, one of the pig-headed men managed to catch him. But there was no time to relax. That damn Superhuman had also jumped down after him.

“Kill him! That bastard is the culprit responsible for this incident!”

The Branch Manager shouted desperately. Although there was no evidence, the pig-headed men who had just emerged from the van rushed at the Superhuman immediately.

Swish!

Three of the men, relatively unscathed, charged simultaneously. The leading pig-headed man leaped forward, while the other two opened their mouths wide.

Kyaaaak! A voice filled with cursed mana erupted from the pig-headed men.

Meanwhile, following the cursed outburst, the leaping pig-headed man’s fist came crashing down. It was a perfectly coordinated attack.

“Tch.”

The unidentified Superhuman did not avoid the attack. Instead, he simply clicked his tongue and threw a punch.

Since he couldn’t avoid it, he would face it head-on? But it was clear which had more power: the punch delivered while leaping or the one just thrown.

However…

As the Superhuman extended his fist, something changed.

The Branch Manager, who couldn’t sense mana, did not realize it, but the Shepherds who were able to sense even a faint amount of mana reacted differently.

They were horrified by the mana swirling around the punch. However, it was too late to pull back the punch.

The fists collided. Crack! One of the fists was completely broken.

“Kyaaaak!”

It was the pig-headed Shepherd who had his hand shattered. He struggled to get away from the Superhuman, but the Superhuman didn’t give him a chance.

He immediately raised his left hand and smashed the Shepherd’s head. Accompanied by the sound of something breaking, blood poured out from the pig-headed man’s eyes, nose, and mouth.

It was an instant death.

***

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