There Is No World For ■■-Chapter 191: A Graceful Lady, An Old Connection, An American, A Longstanding Grudge (4)

Two girls were walking through the dark, damp hallway of the train—its walls covered in living flesh.

The one leading had long black hair, and though her eyes glimmered in the darkness, there wasn’t a trace of emotion in them.

By contrast, the girl following behind with short sky-blue hair was clearly scared.

She clung tightly to the hem of the other’s coat, glancing frantically around her like she was the first to die in a horror movie.

“S-sis... can we slow down a little...?”

“We are going slow enough.”

Seti and Neti.

The sisters, suddenly dropped into this grotesque train, had been wandering its halls from the moment they woke, looking for a way out.

But no matter how far they walked, they hadn’t found an exit—barely even a path that made sense.

All they encountered were endless hallways and empty cabins.

If there’d been enemies, at least they could’ve fought—but all they could do was walk, and it was driving Neti insane.

Was it the grotesque, twitching flesh pulsating along the walls?

Or the faint smell of corpses wafting through the broken windows?

No. The worst part—the true source of her queasy dread—was the silence.

That kind of silence before a typhoon hits. The hush of a predator right before it pounces...

Every step they took set off warning bells in her mind, but there was never anything there.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Neti broke the silence.

“Um... Sis?”

“What.”

“You’re really my sister, right? Not like... a ghost or something?”

“....”

Seti stopped in her tracks and turned her head, looking at her little sister with pure disbelief—then sighed when she saw how close Neti was to crying.

“Of course I’m your sister. What, you think I’m some kind of fake?”

“P-proof?”

This brat... Seti raised a finger and poked her sister hard in the forehead.

“Proof? What the hell do you want, a blood test?”

“N-no, I mean... like a secret. Something only the two of us know...”

“A secret...? Hmm... Like the other day, when you were trying to flirt with the Saint in the tent?”

“...H-huh?”

Neti blinked in horror. What the hell was she talking about? But Seti just smirked and pushed harder with her finger.

“What? Trying to make it official or something? You little—”

“H-how did you—?!”

“I have ears, don’t I.”

Hic! Neti hiccuped involuntarily. This really was a nightmare.

...God, I wish it were just a nightmare.

As she avoided her sister’s eyes, speechless, Seti turned and resumed walking down the hallway.

Neti scrambled after her, and only after some time passed did she manage to speak again—haltingly.

“S-sis... I mean... I wasn’t really trying to do anything... The Saint, she just...”

“I get it. It’s easier going from two to three than one to two, right?”

“....”

Her voice was casual, like it was nothing.

But maybe it was because of the setting—or maybe because Neti had a guilty conscience—but she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

Her hiccups had stopped, but cold sweat was dripping down her spine.

“T-three? Sis, come on, you’re joking, r-right...?”

“It’s fine.”

“...It’s fine? Really?!”

“Yeah, I mean, no matter how much that idiot Saint flails around, I was the first. Always will be.”

“The f-first...?”

Just as Neti was about to ask what the hell she meant—

Seti suddenly stopped walking and stared down the hallway ahead.

Her sharp hearing had picked up faint footsteps approaching from beyond the darkness.

“Who’s there?”

The words had barely left her lips when a voice replied from the other end of the corridor.

“...You’re not Yankees, huh? Who the hell are you, then?”

A woman’s voice—neither friendly nor hostile.

Neti met her sister’s eyes for a split second, then immediately began channeling a telekinesis spell.

Preemptive strike.

If the person coming was innocent, that’d be unfortunate.

But if this was the bitch who’d dragged them into this nightmare—

A woman emerged from the darkness, draped in flowing robes with a deep hood pulled over her face.

She carried a staff made of bone, practically screaming “Hi, I’m a necromancer.”

Neti, the moment she saw the staff, unleashed her telekinesis.

It wasn’t as refined as Yeomyeong’s, but it was pure, brute-force psychic energy.

CRACK!

She could feel something twisting through the mana—but her brow furrowed.

She’d aimed to kill, but all she managed to do was twist one of the woman’s arms.

“Tch. Seriously?”

The staff-holding arm twisted grotesquely and dropped to the ground. But the woman just smiled, unfazed.

“Not bad for your age. Bold, too... I laid a trap for a beast, but I guess I snagged a bitch, too.”

As if that were a cue, the fleshy walls of the corridor began to ripple.

Whatever the hell she was trying to do, Neti didn’t want to find out. She swung her arm, sending another burst of telekinetic force through the air.

Transparent energy shimmered through the corridor, warping space—

But it didn’t hit the necromancer.

Just before it reached her, something burst out from the fleshy wall and shielded her.

“...You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Neti cursed. The thing that had blocked her spell was horrifying—no, revolting.

A maggot the size of a human torso, with a skull for a face instead of a head.

Was this thing even a maggot? Its skin was unmistakably human, and from the gashes left by the telekinesis, human blood oozed out.

“Sorry, bit shocking, huh? But I hope you’ll understand—it’s kind of my thing.”

The necromancer cackled at Neti’s disgust.

And before the laughter had even faded, more skull-faced maggots began wriggling out of the wall.

Her thing? That was her taste?! What kind of fucked-up taste was that?

“Sis! We need to back—!”

The hallway flooded with worms, and just as Neti prepped a retreat using leap magic—

Seti, who’d been silent this whole time with her eyes closed, opened them.

Her blue irises were now half-black—like shadows of the night sky had filled them in.

The necromancer froze, sensing an unplaceable danger just from that gaze.

And as if reacting to her fear, the monstrous maggots surged toward Seti.

They poured from walls and ceilings, crawling and dropping like a scene from a literal nightmare.

But the outcome... was not what they expected.

From within the shadows of the corridor, blades of darkness exploded outward—slicing every last maggot to shreds.

No warning. No sound.

The ones clinging to the walls and ceilings dropped to the floor with thuds, while those crawling forward went limp, spilling their guts.

And their insides were even more disgusting than their outsides: bones, intestines, and strands of human hair spilled out in wet clumps.

“What the actual fuck...!”

As Neti’s curse echoed behind her, Seti curled her lips into a smirk.

“That’s your taste? Shame. Not mine.”

Shadows moved with her voice. The corridor darkened.

Only then did the necromancer realize—

The trap had caught another predator.

“...Another star on this train? Can’t tell if that’s good luck or bad.”

****

At the same time.

*

Yeomyeong’s blade aura carved through the corridor ahead, and a flash of light followed behind it.

A bullet blessed by the White God Ulsvati.

It ripped through the darkness, hitting the mummy dead center in the chest.

A near-perfect shot—and the response was violent.

[KYA-AA-AAARGH—!]

A grotesque scream that shook the corridor.

Caught off guard, the headless mummy dropped its staff and clutched its chest.

Its body began to crumble into dust—but the Saint didn’t look pleased.

She clicked her tongue, frowning.

The twisted mana around the corridor hadn’t faded in the slightest.

Tch. So that thing was just a terminal?

As Yeomyeong retrieved his sword and reached toward the mummy’s remains, the Saint glanced at the still-trembling Scarlett and said—

“Hey. Lady.”

“...L-Lady? Yes?”

As Scarlett’s face twisted with an expression that practically screamed “Who are you calling ‘lady’?!”, the Saint added:

“You said you have an idea where we are, right? Start explaining.”

Scarlett glanced at the spot where the mummy had vanished and said,

“This place is probably... a psychic space created using a Mind Field spell.”

“Mind Field?”

“It’s a type of magic that forcibly pulls others into your mental realm... but it’s so inefficient and the conditions are so strict that it’s pretty much a discarded technique.”

Is that really true? Yeomyeong rejected her theory internally.

It sounded plausible, sure—but that was all. It didn’t account for the vividness of the sensations he was experiencing.

“Wow, that’s super helpful—huh?”

The Saint had clearly been about to sass her, but before she could—

Yeomyeong, who had just retrieved the fallen mummy’s staff, suddenly grabbed her by the waist and slung her over his shoulder.

Scarlett, too, was tucked under his arm like luggage, and before either of them could react, he took off running in the direction ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) the mummy had died.

[Star—!]

An instant later, a massive flood of flesh came crashing down where Yeomyeong had just been.

Meaty masses filled the hallway and surged forward like a tsunami.

And so, within the darkened train corridor, the chase began.

Yeomyeong unleashed his full speed, activating leap magic. He ran so fast the two women hanging off him were practically motion-sick.

But the tide of flesh didn’t fall behind—it kept getting closer.

Bang!

The Saint fired into the mass from his shoulder, but all it did was buy a few seconds.

Running low on revolver bullets, she frowned, glancing between the charging flesh and the direction Yeomyeong was running. What even is this?

[You—shall—never—escape—!]

As if to prove the horrid voice right, the hallway showed no sign of ending.

They had to have run over four or five kilometers by now, yet still all that stretched ahead was darkness. freeweɓnovel.cøm

Was it magic? A barrier? Either way, they needed a way out.

By the time the Saint’s revolver clicked empty and Scarlett began to gag from motion sickness—

Yeomyeong thought of a way to change the tide of this chase.

If the hallway won’t end... what about the roof?

The moment that thought crossed his mind, he gathered mana at his feet and launched himself upward with leap magic.

Target: the ceiling—specifically, a section untouched by flesh.

BOOM!!!

With explosive force, he punched a hole straight through the ceiling. Without pause, Yeomyeong leapt upward.

He flipped mid-air and landed cleanly on the train roof.

Below him, he could see the hallway utterly flooded with flesh.

“...Can’t climb up, huh?”

He watched the churning meat for a moment, then gently set the two women down on the rooftop.

And then turned to look around.

The view was identical to what they’d seen from the cabin window.

Swamp on all sides, under a dreary, smoggy sky.

The only new addition: the overpowering stench of rotting corpses.

“Urgh—!”

With motion sickness and now the smell, Scarlett began retching.

The Saint, unable to leave her alone, patted her on the back while Yeomyeong opened his inventory and pulled out weapons.

From the Dreiteriel underground armory: a Soviet rifle, loaded magazines, and grenades.

When he handed them out, the Saint muttered,

“...A commie rifle? This sucks.”

“Now’s really not the time to be picky about weapons.”

“The problem is, heretic-made gear doesn’t take well to blessings.”

Whether she was joking or serious, the Saint blessed her rifle as she loaded the mag.

“What’s the plan now?”

Scarlett’s gear finished blessing soon after, and she asked. Yeomyeong, watching the scenery rush by, gripped his sword and replied,

“First, let’s find the others.”

“In this situation, you’re trying to rescue people?”

Scarlett stared, stunned. But Yeomyeong nodded.

That line the mummy had muttered earlier—“Not one, but five.”—still bothered him.

For some reason, he had a hunch Seti was here.

And if Seti was here, then Neti would be too... which made five of them, right on the dot.

“I—I object. In a Mind Field, it’s usually smarter to track down and eliminate the caster first—”

Scarlett didn’t even get to finish her objection before the Saint cut her off.

“Did anyone ask for your opinion?”

“....”

“If you don’t like what my husb— I mean, Yeomyeong wants to do, feel free to go your own way. Doesn’t bother me.”

Scarlett bit her lip, clearly considering something. Probably debating whether to reveal she was CIA.

Yeomyeong didn’t care either way. He looked toward the front engine of the train and said,

“Let’s head to the front car first. Whether it’s a mage or someone else, we need to stop the train.”

No objections.

But just as Yeomyeong moved to scoop them both up again, Scarlett gave him a slightly horrified look.

“...Can’t I just walk this time?”

“That’d be a waste of time.”

Scarlett sighed and let herself be hoisted under his arm. The Saint, on the other hand, cheerfully clung to his back.

Thankfully, unlike the corridor, the roof still followed physical laws. After just ten seconds of sprinting, they reached the end of the car.

Yeomyeong jumped to the next one without hesitation.

And then the next. And the one after that.

The smell made his nose, mouth, and throat feel like they were rotting from the inside, but he didn’t slow down.

If anything, he pushed harder—until his heart was pounding and his muscles were screaming.

Finally—

Yeomyeong reached the engine car and jumped down, landing just in front of the coupler.

And the moment he grabbed the engine room door—

[Fallen—Star—! Disgusting—Traitor—!]

The grotesque voice of the mummy rang out from the swamp beside the train.

The entire swamp began to quake.

More flesh? Or... is it the swamp itself now?

As the Saint tilted her head, Yeomyeong felt something familiar.

That mana signature... I’ve seen this before. At the Incheon Port...?

Even before the thought fully formed, suspicion became certainty.

[Death—! Reverse—! Death—! Accumulate—!]

The moment the familiar chant echoed, a massive arm erupted from the swamp.

A titan’s arm, made of bone and rotting flesh.

And that was just the beginning.

Larger than the one he’d seen at Incheon, a towering undead titan—easily the size of a mid-sized building—rose from the bog.

Not just one. Dozens—maybe twenty—filled the entire horizon.

Without taking his eyes off them, Yeomyeong said to the Saint:

“Stop the train. I’ll deal with them.”

And she did.

As she opened the engine room door, Scarlett whispered in disbelief:

“S-stop the train? Are you insane? If we stop, we’ll be surrounded by those things!”

Yeomyeong looked down at her, voice cold.

“...You’re thinking about it backwards. They summoned those things because we’re trying to stop the train.”

“....”

THUD! The titans stomped as one, the shock shaking the tracks.

“And you—tell my wif— I mean, the Saint—what the hell this ‘Fallen Star’ thing is. We already know you’re the one they’re after, so don’t even think about dodging the question.”

“Wait, that’s classified infor—”

Can’t tell you that! was what she was probably about to say—but Scarlett screamed before finishing.

Because Yeomyeong had just jumped off the moving train car.

“You’re insane!!”

No answer.

As the swamp trembled and howled, Yeomyeong sprinted toward the titan.

Behind him, a crimson haze rippled like a cloak in the wind.