There Is No World For ■■-Chapter 171: For Whom Does the Bag Open? (2)

"You insane communist bastard...!"

The Saint yanked out ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) her revolver and pressed the barrel against Vikoff’s forehead.

"You're launching a nuclear strike on the Imperial Capital? Huh? Do you even realize how many people are gathered there right now!?"

The cold barrel pressed into Vikoff’s blood-soaked skin.

Yet, even with a blessed bullet ready to blow his skull apart, he remained unfazed.

"Of course, I know. I know exactly how many oppressors are gathered there."

"..."

"The Emperor, the kings, the mages, the knights... The remnants of a bygone era, left behind by America, terrified of the proletarian revolution. Their deaths will be the kindling that reignites the flames of revolution across this land."

The Saint gritted her teeth, her breath ragged. Beneath her eyepatch, her eye trembled.

"...And what about the civilians? The innocent people in the capital? They’re proletariat too! Killing proletariat—is that your idea of a revolution!?"

For the first time, Vikoff fell silent.

Was he hesitating? Regretting his actions?

No. Not at all.

He lifted his head, staring straight into the Saint’s eyes, and calmly spoke.

"Truly, I say unto you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains alone. But if it dies, it bears much fruit."

Not a verse from the Five Gods’ Scriptures, but from Earth’s Bible.

Through this biblical passage, Vikoff had just declared that civilians were nothing more than seeds meant to be sacrificed—a necessary loss for a greater cause.

"...A goddamn communist quoting the Bible?"

Having studied countless religious texts since childhood, the Saint immediately saw through his twisted logic.

Her lips curled in disgust.

Justifying mass murder with scripture?

And a communist of all people?

Marx himself had called religion the opium of the people!

Yet, despite her fury, Vikoff merely smiled.

"Even a communist needs a bit of opium now and then, don’t you think? Saint?"

"..."

She couldn’t hold back anymore.

Her finger tightened on the trigger—she was going to blow his head off.

But before she could—

RUMBLE—!

The entire armory shook, as if struck by an earthquake.

And then—

The control room's largest monitor lit up.

Everyone instinctively turned their heads.

They saw Yeomyeong's back at the console, and beyond him—

The massive screen, now displaying a missile standing upright on its launch pad.

****

Deep inside the underground armory—

RUMBLE...!

Feeling the vibrations beneath their feet, Namgung Jeongbaek and Yekaterina frowned at the same time.

"We’re too late. Far too late."

Namgung Jeongbaek let out a heavy sigh, gripping his cane tightly to keep from collapsing.

"It’s over... I’ve failed, Your Majesty. Because of my incompetence, I have denied you the chance to break free from this wretched constitutional monarchy..."

The elderly Court Lord trembled, as if about to weep.

But standing beside him, Yekaterina’s expression was indifferent.

Of course, why would she care?

The Imperial Emperor had zero intention of escaping America’s influence.

Setting aside his age, his character alone made it clear.

This was a man who had groveled before Stalin, offering him elixirs in exchange for protection.

A man who stabbed the Border Duke in the back for his own survival.

And now, suddenly, a few nuclear weapons were going to make him defy America?

At best, he’d sell them off to the highest bidder.

Of course, Yekaterina didn’t bother voicing any of this.

This old fool still had his uses.

"Save your confessions for later. This isn’t over yet."

"Not over? A missile has already launched!"

Yekaterina casually flicked her finger.

"You think there’s only one missile in this massive facility? The one that just launched... was probably a test missile to confirm the launch system."

"A test missile? Ha! Do you take me for a fool who cannot tell the difference between hope and delusion?"

Stubborn old man.

Suppressing her irritation, Yekaterina continued.

"Being too afraid of false hope will only drive you into despair. Think about it—why launch the missile now?"

"To detonate it as a last resort?"

"You’ve been watching too many Earth movies. Once a nuclear missile is launched, that’s it. There’s no self-destruct button."

"..."

With a deep sigh, Yekaterina began walking forward.

After a moment’s hesitation, Namgung Jeongbaek followed, muttering,

"...What are the chances?"

"It depends on how brutal the battle was between that kid and the Eastern Court Lord. If they wiped each other out, we take everything for free. If one side dominated the other..."

"And if they won?"

"Then... things get difficult."

Namgung Jeongbaek prayed that both combatants had destroyed each other.

Please, let the Eastern Court Lord and that brat Cheon Yeomyeong both be lying in the dirt.

But when they finally reached the control room—

The scene shattered his expectations.

The Eastern Court Lord, a bloodied mess on the ground.

The Rat Beastmen, pacing nervously outside the door.

And Cheon Yeomyeong’s group—completely unharmed.

"...Tch. That Eastern fool was more incompetent than I thought."

Clicking her tongue, Yekaterina bit down on her thumb, hard enough to draw blood.

And then—

She lifted her bloodstained finger and waved it through the air.

Instead of falling, the blood defied gravity, floating upward.

The droplets spread out, forming a translucent barrier in the air.

"What is that?"

"A spatial interference spell. Perfect for sniping."

As she spoke, not a trace of mana or presence could be felt beyond the barrier.

Even the elderly Court Lord, despite his experience, had never seen such magic before.

Yekaterina drew more blood, her voice cold.

"This is going to take some effort."

Namgung Jeongbaek watched as the blood solidified into a massive spear and asked,

"...What’s the plan?"

"A sniper shot. An eye for an eye."

Her gaze settled on a single target—

The one-eyed Saint.

A grudge born from Manchuria.

"The Star Commander might not approve, but... since everything’s already gone to hell..."

Her lips curled into a grin.

"...Let’s take care of that annoying bitch first."

****

Above the City—

Soaring over the battlefield, Orsé Taboul frowned.

Something was wrong.

A massive vibration rumbled up from underground.

An earthquake?

No, impossible.

Her dragon instincts were screaming a warning.

What the hell was happening?

The red dragon’s thoughts immediately turned to Yeomyeong’s group in the underground facility.

And so—she beat her wings and changed course, heading straight for the disturbance.

It didn’t take long for the massive dragon to reach the outskirts of the city.

There, she found a small landfill.

Discarded construction debris, waste, even rotting animal corpses.

A disgusting, foul-smelling dump.

And yet—

This was the epicenter of the tremors.

Were undead still writhing beneath the garbage?

Just as she considered this—

A circular hatch hidden under the junk suddenly swung open.

And from the gaping hole—

A missile emerged.

["A missile? Why here—?"]

Before the dragon could even finish her thought—

The missile launched.

A thunderous roar split the sky.

Flames erupted from the silo.

The missile blasted upward, accelerating rapidly.

Orsé Taboul hurled a spell, trying to intercept—

But it was too fast.

The warhead escaped her range.

And in that moment—

The nuclear missile began its flight.

Toward hundreds of thousands of deaths.

****

The citizens of Drayterial could all clearly see the missile soaring into the sky.

However, the number of people who knew what a missile was was minuscule, and the only person who could recognize it as a nuclear missile was one person alone.

Pinel, the one-armed elf.

"...Shit."

Upon seeing the missile, Pinel’s first words were curses.

Balagu, who had been shooting at the zombies surrounding the inn, heard the usually silent elf swear and furrowed his brow.

"Pinel, do you know what that is?"

"...I know."

Pinel clenched his remaining fist tightly, taking a deep breath. He spoke, voicing the worst possible scenario.

"That’s a nuclear missile. The fact that it’s been launched... means Cheon Yeomyeong has failed."

Yeomyeong was certainly not dead. The mana of the World Tree could still be felt underground.

That meant they had failed to stop the missile launch...

Pinel looked around at the remaining members inside the inn, and after briefly observing the orc (who was currently wearing Namgung Jeongbaek’s face) trying to maintain his composure, he addressed him.

"Balagu, things seem to be going awry. We need to move to the next plan immediately."

"The next plan...?"

"Use your face to seize Namgung Jeongbaek’s palace."

"..."

Balagu swallowed hard. Of course, Yeomyeong had suggested something like this before.

But that was when they couldn’t protect the inn anymore. They had successfully held the inn, and they were still holding it now.

If they rushed to Namgung Jeongbaek’s palace now, would the women and child be able to follow? He wasn’t sure.

Balagu clenched his fist and looked out the window.

He saw a small child pushing a zombie away from the barricade, a woman firing a gun, and a prostitute desperately carrying an injured soldier.

There were no weak people who needed his help.

Just the citizens of the city, fighting to survive.

Realizing something, Balagu opened his fist and asked Pinel.

"...Is this something we can do to help Yeomyeong and Seti?"

"Far better than staying holed up here."

"Then... yes, I’ll follow through with the plan. I’ll inform Josef and the others to get ready."

****

Seti stared at the monitor on the control room wall with an impassive expression.

As soon as the missile left the launch pad, the monitor displayed a simplified map along with a timer.

4:58

Approximately 5 minutes, the missile would reach the Imperial capital.

"No..."

Visit freewёbnoνel.com for the best novel reading experience.

Seeing this, the Saint collapsed to her knees, shivering in silence. She was likely shedding tears.

Her sister, Neti, wasn’t much different, her face blank as she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the monitor.

Yeomyeong? He was pacing around the control room, trying to find a solution. His refusal to give up was quintessential Yeomyeong.

As for Seti—

She felt nothing. Or rather, she was pretending not to.

Someone here had to stay calm.

She desperately tried to think. The disaster that the nuclear missile would bring, and the future consequences...

Once the Imperial capital was destroyed, any remaining missiles here would likely be targeted by the entire world.

Especially America—the only superpower would never leave a nuclear-crazed communist alive.

So in the end, Yeomyeong would have no choice but to abandon these missiles and flee the city.

Her mind then wandered to the political vacuum created by the Empire’s collapse and the shifting international relations. She tried to push away the overwhelming emotions rising within her.

Tens of thousands were about to die, and here she was calculating her own benefit.

But what could she do? She wasn’t the Saint, nor was she a hero.

She was just a small human who had no choice but to do what she could.

She swallowed her emotions, trying to comfort herself. Yeomyeong’s future was more important than the unseen deaths of countless strangers.

At that moment, Seti’s thoughts were interrupted.

She noticed eyes glowing in the red light of the control room.

It was the woman who had been blown up by the hammer earlier. What was her name? Yekaterina?

How was she still alive?

In front of her was a towering spear, as if summoned by a siege weapon.

No mana or presence could be felt. How...?

Their eyes met. A smirk appeared on Yekaterina’s lips.

"Everyone, take cover!"

Before Seti could even shout—

The spears flew.

At least five spears, each imbued with enhanced magic, tore through the air.

It was a devastating ambush, aimed at the flanks of their exhausted group.

Seti’s mind raced. In the split second she had, dozens of thoughts collided.

Out of the five spears, three could be blocked by Yeomyeong. Actually, no—four. Yeomyeong could likely block all four.

But what about the last one? The one that was aimed at the Saint’s head, beyond Yeomyeong’s reach?

Could the Saint dodge? No.

Should she let it happen?

Her maintained composure spoke: No.

Logically, the Saint could heal herself.

In this moment, Seti made a decision—she could shove the Saint out of the way, and take the spear for her.

She could block it with her own body and be healed afterward. That would be the best choice.

But... what if it was an attack too severe for the Saint to heal?

In that case, it would be better to take it herself.

Her self-sacrifice was logical. For Yeomyeong’s future, the Saint was more important than her.

She gritted her teeth and shoved the Saint aside.

!

The next moment, the spear pierced her abdomen.

There was no pain—only the feeling of her mana spiraling out of control, her blood vessels rupturing.

Ah, this couldn’t be healed.

As her aorta burst, Seti managed a bitter smile.

Soon, her body slumped, like a ragdoll with its strings cut.

The sounds of running, shouting, and screaming became faint.

Everything became distant, like a fading dream. Was this death?

Would she really die while trying to save the Saint?

Well... it wasn’t that bad. She hadn’t had many pleasant memories, but at least she would die next to the people she loved.

Her only concern was that the Saint might name her child after her.

Her name, Seti, would be a bit much, wouldn’t it?

With that fleeting thought, Seti closed her eyes.

She tried to...

But then, something gripped her consciousness.

"Well done, the first one."

"You’ve changed the future."

A silent laugh.

There were 3 minutes and 12 seconds left before the nuclear missile detonated.