There Is No World For ■■-Chapter 135: There Is No Mercy for the Protagonist. (5)

Under the twin moons of the Demon Realm, Balagu knelt on the desert sands.

“So, this is how it ends.”

He spoke as Yeomyeong approached, carrying a pair of shackles. His tone was one of resignation, as if this outcome had been inevitable.

Yeomyeong stopped, staring at him for a moment before tossing the shackles at Balagu’s feet.

Thud.

The black metal cuffs sank slightly into the sand, leaving a faint trail.

“If you want to live, put them on yourself.”

Balagu didn’t bother asking if Yeomyeong would really spare his life.

Why?

Because not a single member of his clan had been killed after being cuffed.

But more than that, he knew the Earthling standing before him could slaughter them all whenever he wanted.

It was a bitter truth, but those cuffs were mercy.

Wearing them meant being spared—at least for now.

Without hesitation, Balagu secured the shackles around his wrists and exhaled deeply.

“...More uncomfortable than I thought.”

“I bet the slaves you sold thought the same thing.”

Yeomyeong’s tone was sharp, but Balagu merely nodded.

“You’re right... No, they definitely did.”

There was a tinge of regret in his voice, but Yeomyeong wasn’t swayed.

“Feeling guilty now?”

“Guilt? I used to feel it. Not long ago, actually.”

“....”

“But guilt doesn’t feed a family. Selling slaves seemed like the lesser evil.”

Balagu touched the large scar running across his face as he gazed up at the moons.

The pale, shadowed light illuminated the hardened lines of his expression.

“...And now, it seems I’m paying for it. So, what will you do with our clan?”

“I don’t know. Probably sell you off as slaves.”

“An eye for an eye... Justice is slow, but it always comes.”

Oddly enough, Balagu looked almost relieved.

Yeomyeong gripped the hilt of his sword.

Truthfully, he’d never intended to let the orcs live.

If they’d been ordinary nomads, maybe—but they were traffickers.

The moment they drugged Seti’s tea, their fates had been sealed.

And yet... Seti had other ideas.

She insisted they should be sold as slaves—poetic justice, she’d called it.

Yeomyeong had countered by suggesting they should at least lose a limb or two first.

But Seti had shot that down too.

Before he could argue, she’d stormed out and torn through the camp, sparing lives while leaving their pride and resources in ruins.

Was it to preserve their “value” as merchandise?

Or was it because she didn’t want him to dirty his hands?

Yeomyeong didn’t know.

“Yeomyeong! I got everything!”

Seti’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

He turned to see her riding a massive camel, holding a bulging leather sack.

With every step, the bag jingled loudly with the sound of coins.

“...You tamed the chieftain’s camel already? Impressive.”

Balagu offered the comment without sarcasm, and Seti jumped down effortlessly, despite carrying the heavy sack.

She landed so lightly that her feet barely stirred the sand.

“There wasn’t much to loot, honestly. Even with the chieftain guiding me, this was all I could fill.”

She opened the bag to show him the contents—strange coins, crude trinkets, rolled-up parchment, and random scraps of paper.

Aside from the coins, the rest looked like junk you’d find in a pawnshop.

“The carts are mostly full of Spam and supplies. But the livestock? Tons of camels and goats. Selling those should cover our travel costs.”

“Then we’ll need to head somewhere we can sell them. Did you find a map?”

“A map? Hold on...”

Seti began rummaging through the bag, but Balagu spoke up from the side.

“The parchment wrapped in red cloth. That’s the clan’s map.”

“Seriously?”

Seti raised a brow but pulled out the red-wrapped parchment.

Unfolding it, she found it was indeed a detailed map of the Demon Realm.

Landmarks, rock formations, oases, and wells—it even had routes marked out, likely for trading.

“It’s real? Uh... thanks, I guess?”

She offered a faint smile, but Balagu ignored her, speaking directly to Yeomyeong.

“My name’s not ‘orc.’ It’s Balagu. Balagu the Castrated.”

“...Castrated?”

“Humans did it. When I was young. Orc genitals sell for a high price as aphrodisiacs, apparently.”

“....”

Yeomyeong flinched involuntarily, and even Seti winced.

Shaking it off, Yeomyeong took the map and spread it out under the moonlight, comparing it with the stars.

“...You know how to read stars too?”

“Sort of. I know the theory. Never actually done it before.”

Another survival trick he picked up from documentaries, no doubt.

Seti watched him in silence, taking note of how he seemed more muscular than when they first met—and how the loose robes suited him.

Her thoughts wandered until Yeomyeong suddenly pointed at a spot on the map.

It was slightly north of the center of the Southern Demon Realm.

“Already? You found our location that fast?”

“Nope. Failed completely.”

“...What?”

She blinked at him, dumbfounded, and he shrugged.

“Knowing something and doing it are two different things.”

“...Then why did you point there?”

Yeomyeong tapped the map again.

“See this? It’s the well we dug up earlier. Looks like these orcs were headed there too.”

While Seti double-checked the map, Yeomyeong continued.

“Our best route back to Earth is straight north.”

His finger traced upward, stopping at the map’s northernmost city.

The name read:

“Dreiteriel.”

The City of Scum.

Unlike the strange landmarks they’d seen so far, Seti actually recognized the name.

It was the backdrop of a popular crime drama back on Earth.

“In Dreiteriel, we sell the livestock and supplies, then take the train to the city with the dimensional gate.”

“Oh... So we’ll be back on Earth sooner than I thought?”

She’d expected it to take months, but according to Yeomyeong, it wouldn’t be more than two months at worst.

“Thank god.”

Seti sighed—part relief, part disappointment.

But as she exhaled, Balagu’s eyes lingered on the horizon.

He stared north—the direction of Dreiteriel—with a look that was anything but relieved.

*****

People often wonder why this land is called the Demon Wastes.

Why such an ominous and unlucky name?

Couldn’t they have called it something less foreboding—like the Southern Desert, the Great Sands, or anything remotely pleasant?

The cynics claim the Empire’s official name for it was just too long and idiotic.

The superstitious say it’s because this land is cursed—teeming with devils and darkness.

The locals? They shrug and say it’s always been called that.

But those who are wise—or at least curious about legends—point to a particular story.

A legend of a hero who fought monsters that invaded this world through a dimensional gate.

And this land?

It was the kingdom of their ruler—the Demon King.

The land of monsters and their king.

That’s why it was called the Demon Wastes, and even after the hero defeated the Demon King, the land never healed.

It remained as it was—a cursed wasteland.

From a scientific perspective, it’s nonsense.

But that’s the thing about legends.

They’re just stories—layers of imagination, shaped by time, and sprinkled with exaggeration.

Maybe ancient people saw the mana storms that occasionally form here and imagined them as the Demon King’s wrath...

“That’s... a pretty cynical view.”

Balagu, who had been rambling endlessly, was interrupted by Yeomyeong.

“Isn’t cynicism common among Earthlings? I’ve heard they regard myths and fairy tales as equally absurd.”

Balagu lounged lazily on the edge of the cart, which was being dragged by three camels.

Despite the shackles on his wrists, he looked more like a man out for a casual ride than a prisoner.

Yeomyeong, holding the reins, responded dryly.

“Earthlings, sure. But don’t orcs pride themselves on being descendants of the hero?”

Was it really okay for him to dismiss his own heritage so easily?

Yeomyeong’s tone implied as much, but Balagu simply scoffed.

“The Empire and the dwarves claim the same. Unless the hero was some pervert who bedded every race he met, it’s absurd.”

“....”

It felt like hearing someone insult a national founding myth back on Earth.

Yeomyeong glanced toward the other orcs in the cart.

But none of them seemed offended or inclined to argue.

Was it because they agreed?

Or was it...

“...Slave apathy.”

It had been five days since Seti had overturned their camp and shackled them.

Some had tried to resist or flee after hearing they’d be sold as slaves, but Seti quickly beat that idea out of them.

With escape and rebellion off the table, they sank into despair.

Eat, relieve themselves, and follow orders.

That’s all they did now.

Gadudu, in particular, had completely broken.

The once-proud warrior refused to even make eye contact with Seti and remained curled up in the cart.

Only the chieftain and Balagu resisted falling into apathy.

For the chieftain, it was obvious—duty.

He spent his days trying to keep his people together and negotiating with Yeomyeong and Seti.

But Balagu?

His relaxed demeanor made no sense.

He just kept talking, as if he believed everything would work out.

“Should I continue my story about the Demon Wastes? Or would you prefer another tale?”

“....”

“How about the rise of the Whitefire Kingdom? Or perhaps the Empire’s founding myths?”

Yeomyeong studied Balagu closely.

And then, it hit him—the reason Balagu wasn’t broken.

It was in his eyes.

Deep within those dull, green pupils...

Hope.

“...Balagu.”

“Yes, my temporary master?”

“What are you expecting?”

It was a blunt, direct question.

Balagu opened his mouth to deny it—but stopped.

He knew Yeomyeong had already seen through him.

After a brief silence, Balagu straightened his posture and answered.

“I’m from Dreiteriel.”

“So?”

“A slave farm, to be precise. After being castrated, I was sold to a renowned mage as a servant. That’s why I know a few things.”

“...I don’t care about your past. Get to the point.”

“Come on, we’ve got time. Just—”

Before he could finish, a translucent ice spike formed right in front of his forehead.

“I-Ice?”

Yeomyeong had conjured it instinctively.

Though the desert heat reduced it to little more than a needle, Balagu’s widened eyes betrayed how impressed he was.

“...You’re not just a swordsman. You’re a mage too?”

Yeomyeong didn’t answer.

Instead, he formed another spike, this time aiming at the back of Balagu’s head.

The sound of freezing air crackled in the tense atmosphere.

“Short version. Now.”

Balagu swallowed hard before obeying.

“If you continue toward Dreiteriel, you’ll enter the domain of a necromancer called the Wraith.”

“....”

“In fact, we might already be in his territory.”

Yeomyeong didn’t ask how Balagu knew that.

He’d been there when they mapped out their route.

“...So you knew we’d pass through his domain?”

“Yes. It’s the fastest way to Dreiteriel.”

Yeomyeong couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity.

“That was your plan? Hoping we’d fight the Wraith and leave you out of it?”

Balagu smiled faintly.

“The Wraith is scum. He keeps orc families hostage and demands tributes under the guise of quotas. He’s the worst kind of bastard.”

Suddenly, Yeomyeong understood why the orcs had turned to slavery.

He crossed his arms, signaling Balagu to continue.

“If you lose, we’ll go back to being the Wraith’s pawns. But if you win...”

“You’ll all get sold as slaves.”

“Yes, but our families will finally be free. That’s enough.”

It wasn’t a scheme—just blind hope.

Yeomyeong said nothing.

Instead, he let the ice spike drift closer to Balagu’s skull.

Right as blood trickled down the orc’s forehead—

Updat𝓮d fr𝙤m ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com.

Yeomyeong clicked his tongue and dispelled the spell.

“Che. Looks like I’m not the only one with problems.”

“Huh? What does that—”

Before Balagu could finish, the sky darkened.

WEEEEEEE!!!

A deafening hum filled the air.

It was the sound of wings—thousands of them.

Flies.

A black swarm, so thick it blotted out the stars.

“M-Master Wraith!”

“The Wraith is here!”

The orcs panicked.

Balagu craned his neck to look outside—

But Yeomyeong had already leapt off the camel, sword in hand.

“Stay here.”

*****

Seti floated in midair along with the camel, processing the situation.

‘It was an ambush.’

It wasn’t that the enemy was particularly skilled—her own carelessness was to blame.

Who would expect someone to approach unnoticed when the horizon stretched endlessly in all directions?

But the enemy had mocked that arrogance, attacking not from the horizon or the sky, but from somewhere far deeper.

Underground.

Like a landmine exploding, something massive erupted from beneath the camel’s feet, hurling Seti and the animal high into the air.

Magic? A bomb?

As she adjusted her posture midair, Seti turned her head—and was faced with something far more bizarre than her imagination had allowed.

‘...A centipede?’

Not just large—colossal.

The visible portion above ground was enough to block out the sun, its segmented body twisting like a nightmare made flesh.

Seti landed before the monster could move, immediately checking her weapon.

Her hammer—secured to the saddle of the camel she had treasured for the past few days—was intact.

The same couldn’t be said for the camel, which was now a mangled heap of flesh.

Seti didn’t mourn it. She leaped forward with a flash of movement, grabbed her hammer, and locked eyes with the centipede.

And standing atop its head—

A gaunt old man, barely skin and bones.

Draped in tattered robes, he looked every bit the part of a decrepit sorcerer.

No staff in sight.

“Who the hell are you? A thief? A bandit? What kind of psycho launches an ambush like this?”

Seti asked as she gathered mana into her body.

“A knight? A mere woman, and yet...?”

The dry, cracked voice boomed across the desert.

“...What?”

“Who are you, that you dare steal from my servants and trespass on my land?”

The old man’s voice rose sharply, and Seti’s expression hardened.

“Servants?”

“Don’t play dumb! The carts you’re dragging—they belong to the Kiran Clan! They are mine!”

Seti’s eyes narrowed.

“So you’re the master of those slaver orcs?”

“That’s right, wench! I don’t know what foolish courage brought you to the Demon Wastes, but you’ll pay for coveting what belongs to me!”

The moment his words ended, a swarm of flies burst from the hole where the centipede had emerged.

WEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

The deafening hum filled the air as the swarm twisted into a vortex, vast enough to blot out the sky.

It was overwhelming, almost hypnotic—but Seti remained unimpressed.

Her martial arts specialized in handling situations like this.

“Seize her, my children!”

The old man commanded, sending the swarm into motion.

Thousands upon thousands of flies surged like black waves, forming a suffocating shadow above Seti.

But rather than panic, she merely sighed.

“...I guess I’ll clean up before Yeomyeong gets here.”

And then, she brought her hammer down.