There Is No World For ■■

* * *

Dung Beetle didn't have any knowledge when it came to swordsmanship.

The only blade he'd ever swung was a kitchen knife, and he'd never managed to injure anyone by swinging something.

The only knowledge he had regarding swordsmanship was limited to the fake techniques of celebrities he saw on TV and the elven swordsmanship he had witnessed once.

Even then, all he did was simply imitate the form without understanding how to move mana or the true intention embedded in the swordsmanship.

Nonetheless, Dung Beetle prepared his swordsmanship.

His heart urged him to do so. It whispered to him to cut the giant’s neck in a single strike instead of kicking and punching.

After all, these were the same men who threatened Jang Man and pointed their guns at him. There was no reason to spare them.

Dung Beetle propped his hand blade like the elf in his memory.

He would compensate for his inadequate mana control with the Surging Wave Technique and fill the lacking true intention with his talent.

"Raaaah!"

Even before Dung Beetle was ready, the giant rushed at him. His name was Mortimer, wasn't it? And from his appearance, he seemed to have the nature of a brawler.

We both are aiming for... the neck.

Without a word, Dung Beetle swung his hand.

Mana sliced through the air. Their hands crossed, and the bodies of both Superhumans clashed.

Thud!

The first clash was a draw.

Dung Beetle's hand blade had managed to cut Mortimer's chest instead of his neck. Mortimer's grasp also managed to just grab the edge of Dung Beetle's coat, missing his neck.

Too short.

Perhaps because he used a hand blade instead of a sword while applying the swordsmanship, the reach fell short, resulting in the opponent’s chest getting cut instead of the neck.

But the attack worked.

Blood gushed from the chest that was slashed horizontally. Mortimer alternated between his wound and Dung Beetle with a puzzled expression.

Dung Beetle distanced himself and raised his hand blade again.

Thinking this was an opportunity, the other members of the organization drew their pistols, but Mortimer raised his hand to stop them.

"Mortimer?"

"That guy, strong. Escape. Call, help."

As soon as he heard Mortimer's words, the man with the receding hairline frowned.

"What the hell are you talking about? You can't even beat a young guy like..."

But before he could express his doubts, Dung Beetle rushed again. Mortimer also lunged at him.

Swish!

Showing his determination to buy time rather than end the fight with one strike, Mortimer aimed for Dung Beetle's right hand instead of his neck.

However, Dung Beetle was already familiar with his movements.

In his golden pupils, every trajectory of Mortimer was drawn like lines.

His attacks were simple, relying on his large build and strength. Compared to Seti's Flying Kick techniques or the elven swordsmanship he had experienced over the past days, it was like a child flailing their arms.

The only issue was Mortimer's toughness.

And now that he could cut through that toughness, Mortimer was no different from a fish flopping on a cutting board.

As Mortimer's hand came crashing down, Dung Beetle swung his hand blade through the gap.

Slash!

The rising hand blade reached Mortimer's right arm. Dung Beetle’s mana surged sharply, cutting straight through his thick arm's skin, muscle, and bone.

Thud.

The severed arm fell to the ground accompanied by a stream of red blood.

"What...?!"

Only the other members of the Blue Rat were surprised. Dung Beetle, who had severed the arm, and Mortimer, who lost his arm, simply stared at each other, preparing for the next clash.

This time, the neck.

Determined to kill the giant, Dung Beetle prepared his Surging Wave technique.

Swish!

The swordsmanship, whose name he didn't even know, unfolded through his hand blade. The surging mana once again pushed the air aside.

And in the next moment…

"Aight, that's enough."

Dung Beetle's hand stopped abruptly.

* * *

A single word that seemed to come from an unknown place, turned the atmosphere in the entire bar icy cold.

The Blue Rats, who were trying to escape, and even Mortimer, who was prepared to die, all froze as if in a still frame.

Like a rat frozen before a snake... they rolled their eyes nervously but were unable to move or even utter a word.

And in that deadly silence, Dung Beetle was the only one who could turn his head.

What... is this?

He instinctively gathered all the mana in his body. In turn, the immense mana pushed back, pressing down on him once again.

"Crikey, this wan can still move eh?"¹

From beyond the shattered bar door, a relaxed, sweet voice echoed through the market's back alley.

And without needing anyone to tell him, Dung Beetle already knew that the owner of that voice was the reason for this sudden stillness.

Gritting his teeth, Dung Beetle turned to look at the source of the voice.

And the moment he saw who it was, he couldn't help but gasp.

...!?

The person walking towards the bar was incredibly familiar.

A neatly tied fawn-colored ponytail and an ageless, beautiful face.

And above all, she had an eyepatch over her left eye, which was practically her trademark.

Everything about her was exactly as he had seen on the TV documentary.

Freya Cahn...?

The Holy Sword, the Savior of Melbourne, the Guardian of White Fire, the Pride of Australia... and one of the ten strongest people on Earth.

Why was a person like that here, in a place like this?

While Dung Beetle was bewildered by the situation, Freya Cahn entered the bar leisurely.

She surveyed the now chaotic interior before casually perching herself on the counter, which was still somewhat intact.

"Well, well, well. Superhumans these days ar’ full of beans, brawlin' in duh middle of duh city en broad daylight."

Her light brown eye, uncovered by the eyepatch, glanced at Dung Beetle and the Blue Rats.

Her gaze lingered on Dung Beetle for a moment before turning to the Blue Rats.

"Oi, ya ratbags."

As soon as she spoke, the oppressive pressure crushing the Blue Rats disappeared.

The ones who had regained control of their bodies were either falling back in fright or rolling their eyes as they looked at Freya Cahn.

Ignoring them, Freya pointed at the man with the receding hairline among the Blue Rats.

"You! What’s ya name, mate?"

"I-it’s W-Wollard!"

"Aight, Wollard. Lemme ask ya one thing, mate."

"Y-Yes! Please, ask me anything you want!"

Although Wollard was trembling all over, he kept bowing repeatedly. However, the moment he heard the next question, his back stiffened.

"What’s ya boss thinkin’ these days, eh?"

"Excuse me?"

"Ya know. Ben, ya ratbag boss. What duh ell’s he thinkin’ sendin’ people to a place like this?"

"Uh, well, I... I'm not in a position to see him often, so..."

"Ya don't know?"

Perhaps she found Wollard’s answer unsatisfying; the moment Freya Cahn furrowed her brows, Wollard's right arm fell with a sharp thud.

It was an invisible sword strike.

It was a terrifying swordsmanship, one that only Dung Beetle, with his ability to sense mana, could faintly perceive.

"Eek!"

Blood gushed from the severed arm belatedly. Wollard clutched his shoulder in terror.

"Wollard, go tell ya boss this, mate. During the admission season, just lay low like a dead rat."

It was a one-sided threat, but coming from someone like Freya Cahn, Wollard didn’t dare question it and could only nod frantically.

"If ya don’t wanna end up with a mass funeral, make sure to get duh message right. Got it? Now... rack off."

As soon as she finished speaking, Wollard and the entire Blue Rat gang, including Mortimer, fled from the bar.

Just as the last of them was about to leave, Freya Cahn suddenly called out to them.

"Oi! Ya better take ya arm with ya. If ya ask a Priest, it won’t be too hard for ’em to reattach this."

With a flick of her gaze, Wollard's arm and Mortimer's arm, which Dung Beetle had cut off, floated up and flew towards the thugs.

They were seeing the almost miraculous use of mana, but they quickly grabbed the two arms and fled from the market street.

After enough time had passed for their footsteps to fade away, Freya Cahn looked down at the still-frozen Dung Beetle and spoke.

"Oi, which school sect ar’ ya an apprentice of, mate?"

As soon as she said that, the mana pressing down on Dung Beetle disappeared. With the external mana gone, his own suppressed mana returned to normal.

"...What do you mean?"

Without even realizing it, Dung Beetle answered politely. He had no choice. Not only was the opponent superior in skill but also far above him in terms of nature.

"I’m talkin’ about school sect. School sect! Which school sect did ya learn martial arts from?"

"..."

"Ya killin' aura is rather extraordinary, eh? Judgin' by ya age, you don’t look like you’re from duh Dzhugashvili School Sect. Did ya learn from a school beyond the dimensional portal, mate?"

Killing aura? School sect? Dzhugashvili? Dung Beetle furrowed his brows slightly. They were a bunch of words he couldn't understand at all.

"I don’t know… what you're talking about..."

"Oi, ya little bugger. Whatcha hidin’? D’ya think I’d bother ya over somethin’ like this with my reputation? I’m just curious."

"..."

"...?"

A brief silence lingered as they exchanged glances.

Freya Cahn's eyebrows arched long, and then she suddenly raised her hand. She clenched her fist and extended her index and middle fingers.

A Sword Finger—Unlike the hand blade Dung Beetle used, this was the true form for implementing bare-handed swordsmanship.

Seeing that Dung Beetle didn't recognize the Sword Finger, she raised her eyebrows again.

Hmph, what’s with this bugger?

And then, she swung the Sword Finger.

The Sword Aura that rose between her two fingers slashed through the air.

"?!”

Dung Beetle instinctively raised his hand blade to block her strike.

Bang!

When he struck the side of the incoming mana, an impact that felt like it would tear his arm surged from his hand to the tips of his toes.

Losing balance, Dung Beetle nearly fell but managed to maintain his stance precariously.

He glared at Freya Cahn with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

"What are you doing all of a sudden?"

Freya Cahn didn't respond.

She looked him up and down with a confused expression, and as if to confirm something, she swung the Sword Finger again.

Bang!

Dung Beetle blocked her attack again. But unlike the first time, he managed to deflect the impact perfectly, without his knees shaking.

"...?"

Seeing this, Freya Cahn's single eye turned cold.

Her initial intention was simply to discipline a younger Superhuman, as she didn’t like seeing someone emitting killing aura and fighting like that in the middle of the city.

However, upon confronting him, she realized that the talent he possessed was extraordinary.

So, it wasn’t just a coincidence that he managed to overcome her pressure and move his body earlier. Not only was the mana she sensed from him very pure but also transparent.

Was it a mere coincidence that she encountered a person like him in a place like this at this time? Freya Cahn didn't think so.

So she spoke to him as she swung the Sword Finger.

She intended to ascertain his identity by observing the martial arts he displayed. After all, martial arts, in its form alone, often contained a wealth of information.

However, the moment she confirmed his martial arts… instead of clearing her suspicions, a large question mark appeared in her mind.

"Oi, you… what duh heck ar’ ya?"

"..."

"How can a human use elven swordsmanship?"

***

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