The World Does Not Exist for ■■

Translator: FenrirTL
Editor: ford53
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< Chapter 8: A Coincidence for the Protagonist (4) >

“Would you mind waiting for a moment? The higher-end items are in the vault, so it takes some time to retrieve them.”

Yosef said this as he guided Jangman and Dung Beetle into a luxurious room.

The entrance wafted a subtle scent of perfume, and the floor was carpeted with the hide of a monster that Dung Beetle had never seen before.

It was a room as luxurious as the homes of the conglomerates he had sometimes seen on TV, but… as soon as he entered the room, Dung Beetle furrowed his brow.

Between the wafts of perfume… there lingered an undiminished odor of blood and grease.

It was a dreadful smell, dreadful in a different sense from the chilling scent he had encountered in Mignium’s dreams.

When Dung Beetle glanced at Yosef and Jangman, they seemed not to detect any odor at all.

That meant he was the only one who could smell it…

‘Is it because I’ve become able to handle mana?’

Ordinary people can’t see what they see, can’t hear what they hear, and can’t smell what they smell.

A superhero documentary he had watched long ago with his colleagues floated into his mind.

Dung Beetle, out of curiosity, concentrated his senses not on his nose but on his ears.

“Hurry up! Get it from the underground vault…”

“Bring over the silver bullets! If not now… the opportunity to sell…”

“GP… tracker! If we lose…”

Faintly, the sound of employees’ footsteps and shouts from outside the room made their way to his ears.

Even though he heard it with his own ears, Dung Beetle couldn’t believe it and tilted his head.

‘Can it really be this easy?’

Enhancing senses with mana was different from merely increasing the strength of muscles.

The superheroes in the documentary he remembered had said that years of training were necessary to enhance one’s senses.

Then what was this result?

Without much effort, just by concentrating his senses, Dung Beetle could hear sounds from a great distance away.

Had the documentary lied? If not, then was it due to Mignium’s…

“Old man, do you still not drink tea?”

Yosef interrupted Dung Beetle’s thoughts with a question. Perhaps feeling the wait was awkward, he took out a kettle and started to brew tea.

“A sailor like me and tea? Alcohol and water are enough for me.”

“Ha-ha, I thought as much. What about our guest here?”

“I’m fine too, thank you.”

“Oh, that’s a pity. It’s quite a good tea.”

Yosef poured water into the teapot. The steam carried the rich aroma of black tea, strong enough to mask the smell of blood and grease.

Temporarily liberated from the atrocious odor, Dung Beetle checked each of his senses one by one.

Eyes, nose, ears…

As he focused on his new senses and Yosef finished his cup of tea, enough time had passed.

Thud!

The door opened and ten subordinates carrying variously colored bags entered the room.

“Ha-ha, I’ve kept our guests waiting too long. I assure you, the wait will have been worth it.”

Yosef’s subordinates quickly set up a makeshift stage. They installed platforms and lighting equipment and lined up ten boxes in a row.

Yosef stood up and positioned himself with his back to the arrayed boxes, greeting Jangman and Dung Beetle with an exaggerated bow like a home shopping host.

“Shall we start with the guns?”

He began explaining as he opened the bag farthest to the left.

“It’s always best to start light, right? M231! An improved version of the familiar M16 for Koreans.”

Inside the bag was a gun that looked like an M16 assault rifle, only stubbly shortened.

“It’s small and light, but has enough lethality. There’s a reason why the number of mages killed by this fellow exceeds a hundred historically. High reliability and a familiar grip for Koreans! There’s no better choice for a surprise bullet to the back of a mage’s head.”

Yosef continued his explanation joyfully as if he were a real show host. He demonstrated shooting stances with the gun and even disassembled it swiftly to show its insides.

While watching Yosef, who seemed to be having fun, Jangman sighed and interrupted him.

“Yosef.”

“Yes, old man, what is it?”

“This guy, he’s not served in the military.”

Yosef’s face contorted and then quickly returned to normal. He resumed his smiling demeanor as if the previous expression had been a lie.

“Then, have you received any special firearms training…?”

“…No, I haven’t.”

“Aha, then there’s no need to use Korean military equipment.”

As soon as he heard Dung Beetle’s reply, Yosef gestured to his waiting subordinates.

Upon receiving the signal, they moved with well-oiled precision, removing the first to the sixth bag from the room without a word of complaint.

Were all six bags military gear?

Looking at the four remaining bags, Dung Beetle felt a pang of regret for the first time in his life about being ineligible for military service.

“Don’t be too disappointed. The real goods always come out last, don’t they? All the weapons left behind are superior to the military supplies we saw earlier.”

As if to lift the somber mood, Yosef moved to open the seventh bag.

This time, the revealed weapon was just a little larger than an adult’s forearm.

In other words, too big to be a pistol but too small to be a rifle.

“Remington MH750. A modified pump-action shotgun beloved worldwide, tailored for Grand Mages.”

Shotgun? Noticing Dung Beetle’s interest, Yosef added to his explanation.

“The special-treated silver bullets are expensive, but there’s no weapon more efficient against corpses raised by a Necromancer. It’s so simple to use and reload that even a child could do it.”

Ch-click, Yosef kindly demonstrated loading the shotgun. It held only three rounds, but the amount of pellets packed into each shell was immense.

Seeing Dung Beetle’s interest, Yosef grinned and opened the next bag.

“Next up is the EK-33 grenade. One of the masterpieces created by the U.S. military. The best grenade for non-experts.”

Inside the bag were fist-sized grenades lined up in a row.

“If you toss this over a wall of zombies onto the head of a Necromancer hiding behind it, you’ll literally see a Necromancer overjoyed to death.”

Custom shotgun and grenades.

After introducing two weapons befitting an illegal arms dealer, Yosef stood in front of the ninth bag. He paused momentarily before speaking.

“From here, I’ll show you something a little special.”

Click! Unlike the previous bags, even the lock on this one felt heavy.

And the item prepared inside the box was entirely different from the earlier weapons.

A sword.

Lying inside the box was a long iron sword.

“During the last war, this was supplied to knights in the empire. It contains a special ore unavailable on Earth.”

“…”

“It’s just a sturdy iron sword to ordinary people, but when cutting through a mage’s shield, it wields the power equivalent to a bazooka.”

Yosef’s explanation continued, but Dung Beetle couldn’t take his eyes off the sword.

Was it its beauty? Its desirability? No, that wasn’t it.

That sword… was the same as the Player’s sword.

Not just a similar sword on a superficial level.

The image of the Player wielding an identical sword was etched onto his retina as if it were a brand.

‘The standard issue for imperial knights…?’

A clue to pursue the Player.

Encountering this unexpected fortune, Dung Beetle resolved to definitely buy that sword, regardless of anything else.

“It seems the sword appeals to you greatly. Indeed, weapons from beyond the dimension gate possess a special allure not found on Earth.”

Perhaps misunderstanding Dung Beetle’s gaze, Yosef added with a wide grin as if the deal was already done.

“If you like this item, you will also like the last one.”

With that, Yosef approached the final bag.

This time, the bag was long and horizontal, resembling a sword sheath.

For some reason, Yosef didn’t open the bag right away in front of it. He had a very brief eye contact with Jangman.

Jangman nodded slightly, and taking that as a cue, Yosef opened the last bag.

Psshwick­

The bag opened with a hiss, revealing within…

A rod…?

The ivory-colored rod shone with a light hue, with carvings of something resembling a horse on both ends, and a regular pattern of waves engraved in relief along its body.

The rod seemed more like an intricate work of art than a weapon.

“Don’t be disappointed by its appearance. The true value of this item is separate.”

Yosef did not touch the item. Raising his hand, a subordinate approached and fitted a white glove onto it.

It didn’t seem like just for show. Yosef’s face, as he carefully picked up the rod, was all seriousness.

“It’s made by a dwarf, a master craftsman at that. It was intended to be the handle for an axe or hammer, but unfortunately, Stalin released poisonous gas on Mount Kubong, so only the handle was completed.”

A handle? Dung Beetle finally understood why the rod had such a shape. And at the same time, a question arose.

Why is a handle a weapon?

As if answering Dung Beetle’s question, Yosef continued.

“However, being a product from the era of Mount Kubong, it holds tremendous value on its own. Would you like to hold it?”

Yosef carefully handed the rod over to Dung Beetle.

Dung Beetle hesitated to grasp such a precious item without gloves, but it would have been strange to refuse, so he grabbed the rod.

And in that instant, something spoke in Dung Beetle’s mind.

[A perfect virgin who has never held a woman’s hand. But there’s a smell of corpses and fire in your soul. Have you been cursed?]

Startled, Dung Beetle looked at Yosef, who grinned, revealing his gums.

“Did you hear a voice? Indeed, you are a superhuman. As the old man’s guest, I naturally assumed you would be.”

‘To naturally assume I would be a superhuman?’ It was a puzzling statement, but Dung Beetle chose to ask about the rod first.

“…What exactly is this?”

“The material of this item is unicorn horn.”

“…”

“Though we can’t tell by what techniques it was made, it contains the lingering thoughts of a unicorn. That’s why it sometimes speaks to mana users.”

“…So, it’s a possessed item?”

“At the same time, it grants resistance against all sorts of pollution and poison.”

Yosef boasted as he continued.

“It can’t block radiation or hydrochloric acid, but it’s outstandingly effective at stopping toxic gasses and curses made of mana. I assure you, against a Necromancer, one of these is better than ten priests.”

Perhaps Yosef’s explanation wasn’t satisfactory, because the rod in Dung Beetle’s hand further clarified in his mind.

[You, the virgin who holds me, do not be mistaken. There is no contamination that the holiness of this horn cannot prevent! I’m not sure what radiation is, but I assure you, it can certainly be blocked as well.]

Dung Beetle alternated his gaze between the rod and Yosef and, sensing the rod was about to go on another tirade of ‘virgin…’, he quickly handed it back to Yosef.

“How about it? The items I just showed you should suffice against any ordinary Necromancer.”

A custom shotgun, grenades, a sword for Grand Mages, and a unicorn horn.

To Dung Beetle, who knew only the basics about Necromancers, each weapon seemed efficient without exception.

The problem was…

“I’m not sure if I can buy all four.”

“Ha-hat, do not worry too much about the price. Surely, I wouldn’t rip off the old man’s guest.”

The remark sounded like he would rip off any other customer, but Dung Beetle chose not to point that out.

“I’ll take all four weapons. The price is the two money bags you first mentioned. How does that sound?”

Yosef’s smile stretched long across his face.

“Additionally, I’ll make sure to provide you with plenty of grenades and bullets.”

Yosef unflinchingly demanded his entire fortune without a change in facial expression.

Dung Beetle considered haggling but then looked at Jangman, who was sitting next to him, and abandoned the thought.

Had it not been for Jangman, he wouldn’t have been introduced to this place.

With Jangman saying nothing… for Dung Beetle to bargain would be to undermine his dignity.

“Two money bags, agreed.”

“Ha-hat, as expected. You are indeed the old man’s guest!”

Dung Beetle laid down the bag he was carrying right there. He promised to send someone with the other missing bag.

It was money he could’ve lived off for years, but… he felt no regret.

For him, what mattered was not the money.