Dung Beetle stared blankly at the remaining enemies.

The pig-headed men who had cursed him earlier were silent, seemingly trying to grasp the situation, while the branch manager was wide-eyed with fear, his face pale.

"Shit, he just took out the Shepherds with two moves..."

At the branch manager’s words, Dung Beetle pushed off the ground. One of the pig-heads stepped forward, shouting as he moved.

"Protect the agent! Get him out of here!"

The pig-head's eyes gleamed red as mana surged through his voice, and with a scream, he unleashed a powerful curse at Dung Beetle.

"Kraaaah!"

The invisible curse lashed out at Dung Beetle, but he stood firm. The ground beneath him buckled, and dust kicked up, but that was the extent of the impact.

"...He blocked it with his bare body?"

That was the pig-head’s final moment. Dung Beetle rushed forward, grabbed his neck, and snapped it with a sickening crack.

As the lifeless body of the Shepherd slumped to the ground, Dung Beetle turned his gaze toward the branch manager, who was now on the back of another Shepherd, staring at him in disbelief.

The branch manager tried to speak, but there was no need for conversation.

With a sudden burst, Dung Beetle launched himself forward again. His flying kick, enhanced by the wave energy of Pahyanggyul, soared through the air.

This was a performance test of sorts—Dung Beetle poured all the mana he could into the kick, regardless of the opponent's strength. His thigh surged with power as the wave crashed through his body, amplifying the force.

"Get out of the way!" the branch manager screamed.

But the pig-headed Shepherd had already realized there was no avoiding the kick. Without hesitation, he tossed the branch manager aside and threw himself in the way to block it.

"Ugh!"

The Shepherd was flung into the air by the direct impact. Moments later, the shockwave of mana that followed sent him crashing into the damaged van, denting it further and causing gasoline to spill out.

The branch manager let out a whimper as he saw this.

"This is insane..."

Behind him, the remaining Shepherds, who had just regained their composure, quickly assessed the situation. They immediately turned and ran, splitting into two directions. It wasn’t a blind, panicked escape—it was a calculated decision.

'They want to ensure at least one of them survives to report this.'

Dung Beetle glanced briefly at the fleeing Shepherds, then at the branch manager. Deciding to handle the runners first, he gave chase.

In an instant, he closed the distance, his Feather Step allowing him to move like the wind.

The first Shepherd, running to the right, didn’t even have time to resist before his head was smashed.

The second Shepherd managed to draw his gun, but his neck was snapped before he could fire.

The third Shepherd died mid-scream as he tried to unleash another curse.

The last Shepherd, realizing there was no escape, attempted to make a call on his phone, but Dung Beetle’s kick shattered both the phone and his skull.

The end of these so-called elite Shepherds was so swift and anticlimactic that it barely left an impression on Dung Beetle. He brushed the blood and flesh from his clothes, turned around, and headed back toward the branch manager.

"Wh-who the hell sent you? Australia? Japan? The Tower of Magic?"

The branch manager, attempting to retreat in a half-crouch, stammered as he pointed a trembling gun at Dung Beetle.

"Wait, you're Korean, right? Tell me, you traitorous bastard, why are you targeting the government? Is it money? Are you doing this for money?"

Ignoring the branch manager's ramblings, Dung Beetle continued his approach.

Only when they were face to face, close enough to see their reflections in each other's eyes, did Dung Beetle take off his cap.

"Branch Manager."

"You... You look familiar... Ack!"

Dung Beetle grabbed the branch manager by the throat. The branch manager tried to fire his gun, but Dung Beetle easily disarmed him, pinning his wrist.

"Branch Manager, you don't seem to recognize me. That's fine. But surely, you remember the foreman?"

The mention of the foreman made the branch manager's face contort with recognition, but no words came out of his mouth.

"I’m glad. At least you’ll know why you’re dying."

Dung Beetle squeezed his grip, intending to crush the branch manager’s throat—but just then, something hit his wrist, knocking his hand loose.

‘A... stone?’

He glanced toward the direction the stone had come from.

"So, we have uninvited guests."

Up on the bridge, he saw two figures wearing ponchos. Without hesitation, they leapt down, and to Dung Beetle’s surprise, they landed without so much as a sound.

Narrowing his eyes, Dung Beetle examined the intruders closely, and immediately frowned.

Beneath their hoods, he saw faces that were not human.

‘...Elves?’

Sparkling lips, large eyes, sharp brows, a sculpted nose... and long, pointed ears. Their inhuman beauty made it clear: they were elves, the kind often seen on the news.

The two elves, standing on the ground now, locked eyes with Dung Beetle, their expressions cold.

"...Who are you people? Elves don’t normally act as mercenaries in Korea."

Dung Beetle glanced at their ponchos, noticing the symbol emblazoned on them—a large tree with a red star at its heart.

The Yggdrasil Revolutionary Group.

The communist elves from beyond the dimensional gate, known for their leader, Demerond Ip Marx, who had even impressed Stalin with their fervor.

"Superhuman human. This has nothing to do with you. We have business with that one."

The silver-haired elf nodded toward the branch manager, who was still gasping for breath, utterly confused.

"Business? What business?"

"It’s an elven matter. Outsiders don’t need to know."

"Oh, is that so?"

Dung Beetle grabbed the branch manager’s throat again, making the silver-haired elf’s eyebrow twitch.

"Superhuman, let him go and leave, while I’m still asking nicely."

"What if I refuse?"

"If you insist on a fight, I won’t stop you."

The elf drew a sword from beneath her poncho, and the blade gleamed ominously in the dim light beneath the bridge.

Faced with this blatant threat, Dung Beetle briefly considered his options.

Should he hand over the branch manager to these elves?

It was clear these red elves weren’t on friendly terms with the branch manager, but letting someone else take care of his revenge didn’t sit right with him.

"Are you going to kill him?"

Dung Beetle asked, hoping for some clarity. The elf shook her head.

"As I said, it’s none of your concern."

With that, Dung Beetle’s gaze shifted between the branch manager, who was struggling for his life, and the silver-haired elf, whose sword was now poised for combat. Behind her, the other elf—golden-haired with green streaks—watched him with a strange expression.

Both elves emanated mana. There was no mistaking it—they were superhumans as well.

Of course, that explained how they could move freely through human cities.

‘If I don’t hand him over, I’ll have to fight two superhumans at once.’

Ridiculous as it seemed, not everything goes according to plan. Dung Beetle sighed and tightened his grip.

"No!"

Crack.

The branch manager’s body went limp as his neck snapped, and the silver-haired elf’s eyes widened in fury.

"You dare!"

Dung Beetle tossed the lifeless body toward the elf and bolted from the scene.

Just as the elf had said, why the elves were after the branch manager or why they were even here—it didn’t matter to him.

All that mattered was completing his task and getting out.

Tap!

As Dung Beetle activated his Feather Step, blending the technique with the wave energy of Pahyanggyul, his speed soared.

"You bastard!!"

The elf pursued him at a superhuman speed, but Dung Beetle was a step ahead.

Within moments, he had widened the gap between them by dozens of meters. That’s when the golden-haired elf behind her called out.

"Rion! Hold him!"

Hold me? Dung Beetle wondered for a split second before he felt something invisible clamp around his body.

‘What the...?’

It was a giant hand made of gas, invisible to the naked eye but clearly detectable through mana.

The hand squeezed him tightly, restricting his movement.

Dung Beetle quickly shifted his mana, following the essence of Pahyanggyul. The wave energy surged through his muscles, pushing against the invisible hand.

He managed to free just one arm and immediately struck the invisible force with his fist.

Thud!

A heavy impact reverberated as the pressure eased. Dung Beetle slipped through the fingers of the unseen hand and landed back on solid ground.

As soon as his feet touched the earth, the silver-haired elf was already upon him.

For a brief moment, silence hung between them.

This time, Dung Beetle made the first move.

Thwack!

He lashed out with a powerful kick aimed at the elf’s head, but she dodged effortlessly, swinging her sword in return.

Swish!

Thus began their deadly dance.

...When Dung Beetle’s kicks targeted her legs, the elf’s sword lunged at his waist. When he extended a punch, the sword was already retracted, aiming for his shoulder. Whenever he tried to create distance, the blade relentlessly chased after him, seizing every gap.

The elf’s swordsmanship had no beginning or end. Sometimes it drew straight lines, other times curved ones, but it was never interrupted.

Whenever it seemed like she was resetting her stance, she was already moving in again, attacking the gaps.

‘So, this is the swordsmanship of a superhuman.’

Whether human or elf, they both had limbs—yet the elf's muscles, enhanced by mana, seemed unaware of any physical limitations.

Any slip in concentration would mean a fatal wound.

Dung Beetle couldn’t help but admire the swordsmanship as he unconsciously absorbed its movements. At first, he was watching the path of her techniques, and then he began feeling how her mana moved.

‘It’s flexible yet firm, like the roots of a tree.’

As the essence of Pahyanggyul filled his thoughts, the flow of his mana subtly began to mimic the movements of the elf’s sword.

Inspiration, or perhaps enlightenment.

It was a sensation that filled him, one that couldn’t be explained in words. The path the sword followed, the movement of muscles that guided it, and the mana that supported every swing—it was all remarkably new and breathtaking.

Dung Beetle, lost in the brief moment of clarity, shaped that inspiration with his hands. Though he didn’t have a sword, he formed his hand into a blade.

Swish!

The first movement was clumsy, allowing the elf’s blade to graze his forearm.

But Dung Beetle trusted in his regeneration. Without worrying about the wound, he swung his hand again.

The second movement was sharper than the first, cutting through the air.

The third forced the elf to retreat slightly, and the fourth met her sword in a direct clash.

By the fifth strike, Dung Beetle’s hand had found a small opening in her defense. His hand didn’t reach the elf directly, but it sliced through the edge of her poncho.

Rip!

“Ugh?!”

The relentless flurry of her sword finally halted. The silver-haired elf backed away, looking down at her torn poncho, her expression twisted in frustration.

Dung Beetle stepped back as well and spoke.

“That swordsmanship of yours. What’s it called?”

“….”

“Does it have no name? Impressive.”

Perhaps the remark came off as mocking. The silver-haired elf narrowed her eyes, gripping her sword tighter.

With a fluid motion, she raised the sword to her head, shifting into a new stance. Mana surged through the air, more intense than before—this time, she was serious.

Dung Beetle instinctively felt a thrill, a quiet anticipation building within him. But before he could make his move, a voice called out from behind him.

Having become too engrossed in the swordfight, he had momentarily forgotten there were two opponents.

“Rellin! Use the light to restrain him!”

The golden-haired elf, standing at a distance, chanted another spell. Unlike the previous one, this magic was visible.

Flash!

A blinding light burst right in front of Dung Beetle’s face. His vision went black as his retinas screamed from the sudden brightness.

A single breath, a gaping vulnerability.

Tap!

The silver-haired elf seized the moment, rushing toward him with her sword.

And that was her mistake.

While both of them had lost their sight, Dung Beetle could still feel her presence. His mana perception, unnaturally sensitive, made it possible.

In the darkness created by the light, Dung Beetle extended both hands.

Thud!

The elf’s sword pierced through his left hand, blood spurting as mana from both parties clashed within the wound.

But the sword was now immobilized.

With his right hand, Dung Beetle wound back a powerful punch. The wave energy of Pahyanggyul flowed from his shoulder to his fist.

Pahyang Punch, as he had called it in his mind.

Whoosh!

The wind howled as his punch surged forward. The elf tried to push her sword deeper, but Dung Beetle’s punch was already at her chest.

Thump!

Before his fist made contact, the mana itself slammed into her, lifting her body off the ground.

Crash!

The moment his vision returned, Dung Beetle saw the elf’s body hit the ground, thrown by the force of the punch.

“Keugh!”

Her body convulsed as the pain finally caught up, and she spat out a mixture of bile and blood.

“Ugh… gugh…”

Dung Beetle calmly pulled the sword from his hand, gripping it as he walked toward the fallen elf.

“Rime Comrade! No! Rion! Rallen! Protect Rime!”

The golden-haired elf, seeing the dire situation, tried to shout another spell, but Dung Beetle was already pointing the sword at the silver-haired elf’s neck.

“Stop. If you chant, she dies.”