[Interpol confirms that the perpetrator of 22 orphanage massacres, 3 orc village raids, and 2 dwarf ghetto civilian slaughters over the past five years is a single individual.]

[The killer, dubbed "The Butcher," is estimated to be under 20 years old. Interpol fears the rise of a second "Star Eviscerator."]

[The Butcher was spotted near the Kaesong dimensional gate on CCTV. It is believed they have crossed between Earth and the dimensional gate multiple times.]

[Evidence of The Butcher found at the site of the Northwestern Mountain Massacre, where 1,109 monsters and 135 border guards were discovered dead. Forensics teams secured evidence suggesting The Butcher led the monsters there.]

[The Butcher was identified as a suspect in the Hilaria Tower fire through CCTV and forensic investigation.]

[A cave suspected to be The Butcher's dragon nest was discovered during pursuit. The Tower of Magic has been formally approached for assistance…]

[According to Executioner Balmac from the Tower, the cave likely contained vast quantities of magical tools and consumables until recently. How such a large quantity was transported remains unknown…]

[Tracking efforts have faced significant difficulties…]

[Investigation temporarily suspended…]

[Montage analysis of South Korea’s "Incheon Butcher" confirms it matches "The Butcher."]

[Critical DNA discrepancies were found in data provided by Korean police regarding the "Incheon Butcher." The Korean side remains silent on whether this was intentional or an error. Interpol has lodged an official protest…]

[Interpol suspects improper ties between the "Incheon Butcher" and the Korean police.]

[South Korea deems the term "Incheon Butcher" inappropriate, asserting the name of a Korean city should not be associated with a killer from beyond the dimensional gate.]

[The Butcher spotted aboard a Dreiterial smuggling train.]

[Illegal Dreiterial guild of body modification and black-market surgeons annihilated—50 confirmed dead. Survivors identify The Butcher as a prime suspect.]

[Swordsmanship characteristic of "The Butcher" witnessed in Gemini City, heading toward a dimensional gate to Earth…]

Yeomyeong set down the file with a sigh.

His head throbbed with every page he flipped through, detailing The Player’s trail of atrocities.

Rubbing his temples, he tried to collect his thoughts.

The Player, as recorded in Ava's documents, had begun their killing spree five years ago.

Their first victims were orphans—those at the bottom of society, weak and unprotected.

Like leveling up in a game, the Player gradually increased the scale and quality of their targets:
Orcs treated like livestock, impoverished dwarf outcasts, and even back-alley cleaners.

Whether they truly grew stronger through killing or were simply a deranged lunatic was still unclear.

One thing, however, was certain: the Player had gained numerous fortuitous encounters by exploiting future knowledge.

…How strong are they now?

Yeomyeong didn’t know it when he lost his head to the Player, but their laughter at reaching level 10 had marked them as a seasoned superhuman.

In fact, during Yeomyeong’s time in Manchuria, the number of superhuman mercenaries definitively stronger than the Player could be counted on one hand.

Considering the fortuitous encounters they had obtained at the Academy, their evasion of Interpol and the Tower’s pursuit, and their future knowledge…

…

As Yeomyeong’s thoughts spiraled, an ice spike materialized beside his shoulder—a subconscious manifestation of magic.

"…"

The spike radiated a chill as refined as Corvus’s, drawing a bitter smile from Yeomyeong.

He recalled how he had managed to create such an ice spike in just one day.

"Don’t worry too much—it’s just rubber bullets."

The Saintess had blessed the revolver’s bullets, or so she claimed.

Yet her "blessed" rubber bullets hurt as much as live rounds. His bruises still throbbed from where he was shot, so there was no point arguing.

And the sparring that followed was no less brutal. Seti, in particular, wielded her hammer with palpable emotion.

The way she shattered his ice spikes with a cold expression had been terrifyingly intense—practically indistinguishable from real combat.

Though all Yeomyeong had been able to do was flee and fling ice spikes, it had been enough for him to master the spell so quickly.

…Not that I’d want to go through it again.

Spinning the ice spike idly in midair, Yeomyeong smirked at the thought of the Saintess and Seti.

The brief levity in his heart was short-lived. The murderous intent twisting in his chest wouldn’t allow it to last.

Picking up the file again, he searched for any overlooked clues about The Player.

I’ll kill them before this month ends.

After meticulously re-reading the documents three times, Yeomyeong stopped and looked up at the ceiling.

The school announcement system had just called his name.

[First-year Chun Yeomyeong, Chun Yeomyeong, please report to the northern island airport immediately.]

Even in an era of dimensional gates, nuclear missiles, and superhumans, one unchanging truth remained on Earth:

Money always wins.

Fundamentalist superhumans who declared mana to be the origin of all things or romantics who believed love could conquer all might disagree.

But anyone who saw the massive airplane at Lord Howe Academy’s airport would be left speechless by the power of wealth.

Just as Yeomyeong was.

"This crazy dwarf…"

He muttered to himself as he stared.

The colossal cargo plane now taxiing on the runway bore bold tape decals reading "Dungan Heavy Industries" and "Chun Yeomyeong."

It was so brazen that calling it blatant advertising didn’t do it justice.

While Yeomyeong stood speechless, a stair truck approached, and the plane’s door opened.

Descending the stairs was a familiar figure, now dressed even more extravagantly than before.

A dwarf in a luxurious suit, sporting an expensive watch and thick rings on every finger: Darulma Dungan, the industrial magnate of Dungan Heavy Industries.

Spotting Yeomyeong, Darulma waved enthusiastically.

"Chun Yeomyeong!"

The sight of him running over finally snapped Yeomyeong out of his stupor.

"…Darulma."

"It’s been so long! Do you know how much I’ve been waiting for you since Manchuria?"

As Darulma grabbed Yeomyeong’s hand, the sound of camera shutters filled the air.

Turning his head, Yeomyeong spotted reporters he hadn’t noticed before, busily snapping photos of the two of them.

Suppressing a groan, he asked, "Darulma, what is all this? The plane, the reporters…"

"Don’t misunderstand. Those are just extras. I came here today to give you a gift."

"…A gift?"

While waving at the reporters, Darulma replied, "The things you requested back in Manchuria: workshop access for the dragon bones and the elixir deals."

"…"

"But you’ve been impossible to contact, so we decided to come to you first."

Why? Yeomyeong’s mind briefly clouded with a question before clarity hit. The answer was too obvious.

"…So Dungan Heavy Industries is announcing itself as my sponsor to everyone. You’re trying to use my reputation."

"Oh, come now. Using would imply it’s free. If payment is involved, it’s called business."

Darulma raised his eyebrows as he led Yeomyeong toward the plane.

Yeomyeong considered refusing but ultimately sighed and followed him, unable to resist.

 

"If I had refused, what would you have done about this spectacle?"

"Hmm… I might’ve gotten down on my knees?"

As Yeomyeong furrowed his brows, imagining such a scene, Darulma led him onto the plane.

The interior of the cargo plane had no seats, fitting its purpose. Yet, there was no cargo either.

Instead, the space was filled with display cases—weapon displays, to be exact.

Glass cases showcasing finely crafted swords lined the aisles, while the walls were adorned with racks of firearms.

Despite the variety in length, curvature, and thickness, the weapons had one thing in common: they all emitted faint traces of mana.

It was clear that every weapon here was made from mana-infused metal.

As Yeomyeong’s gaze wandered, he also noticed armor pieces scattered among the weapons—chainmail, heavy plate, and breastplates that covered the entire torso.

Some of these were made of ivory-colored material, clearly crafted from dragon bones.

Even a weapons museum wouldn’t be this extravagant.

Impressive, but left like this, they’re just decorations.

True power in a weapon, after all, comes from being wielded by the right person—like the legendary holy sword.

Concluding his brief assessment, Yeomyeong turned to see Darulma’s tense expression.

"Well? What do you think of the grandeur of our Dungan family’s armory?"

Yeomyeong considered giving an honest opinion but couldn’t ignore the hopeful anticipation in Darulma’s eyes.

"It’s truly impressive. You really feel the power of wealth behind it all."

Even though it was a forced compliment, Darulma’s lips curled into a satisfied smile, exuding pride.

"I knew you’d have a good eye. Now then, what are you waiting for? Come on in—you need to pick your weapon yourself."

Pick? A weapon?

Tilting his head in confusion, Yeomyeong watched as Darulma clapped his hands and said, "Ah, forgive me! I didn’t explain properly. Chun Yeomyeong, all these weapons were brought here for you."

"…"

With that, Darulma pulled a remote from his pocket and pressed a button. A metallic click echoed as the glass panels guarding the display cases slid down simultaneously.

"Go ahead, choose."

 

"This sword was crafted three years ago by our family artisan, Darnan Dungan. It’s made from the same material as stealth fighters—titanium alloy coated with mana metal. Strong yet light."

Darulma held up a sword adorned with traditional engravings and explained.

Yeomyeong, standing behind him, quietly observed the blade before speaking.

"Darulma."

"What? Don’t like it? I admit Darnan’s creations can feel a bit too… standard."

"No, it’s not that. I just want to know—why are you making this kind of investment in me?"

Back in Manchuria, all Yeomyeong had requested from Darulma was access to a dwarven forge.

It had been a calculated proposal; refining dragon bones and using a dwarven workshop was an opportunity money couldn’t easily buy.

But this… this exceeded any such proposal.

He couldn’t help but wonder what was motivating this act of generosity from a man obsessed with profit.

"As I said before, it’s business."

Placing the sword back in its case, Darulma retrieved another blade from a nearby display and continued.

"Supporting a human as a dwarven corporation is great for our company’s image. And if that human happens to be a proven superhuman, well, where’s a better investment?"

"…Spare me the pretense."

"Pretense? I’m being sincere—"

Darulma began to defend his words but stopped when he met Yeomyeong’s piercing golden gaze, as though it could see straight into his soul.

He hesitated, fiddling with the hilt of the sword in his hand, before finally admitting:

"…The truth is, it’s because of the Golden Seal."

"…"

"Sooner or later—maybe in just a few years—our bloodline may need the Golden Seal. If you don’t lend it to us when that time comes… well, our clan might find itself in a bind. I’m just building goodwill ahead of time."

Was it an honest answer? Darulma’s heartbeat said it was.

Yeomyeong glanced between the sword and Darulma’s face before giving a small nod.

"I’ll take your word for it."

"Trust is as precious as gold to a merchant. Now then, shall we continue looking at the weapons?"

With that, Darulma resumed his explanations.

There were weapons made by dwarven artisans, relics left behind by the empire beyond the dimensional gate, and prototypes from the United States—each one a treasure in its own right.

While Yeomyeong found a few that caught his interest, Darulma urged him to keep looking, as though saving something special for last.

After a while, Darulma stopped before a display case in the center of the plane.

Inside was a sword that appeared unremarkable save for its pale yellow blade.

The length was neither short nor long, the hilt was plain to the point of being crude, and it lacked any embellishments.

If it weren’t in this setting, it would be easy to mistake for a mundane iron sword.

…Nothing?

Noticing something unusual, Yeomyeong frowned just as Darulma opened the display case and carefully removed the sword.

"This is called Tear of the Mountain. A grandiose name, isn’t it?"

It was clearly a sword with a story. Darulma handed it to Yeomyeong and added,

"It was forged entirely from mana metal mined from the deepest part of the dwarven mountains, buried under mustard gas. The last artisan of the Uragan family hammered it into shape himself."

As Yeomyeong gripped the hilt, a familiar sensation flowed through him.

"Try channeling your mana into it."

Yeomyeong did as instructed, and immediately the hidden enchantments within the blade activated.

Yet there was no sound, no vibration, and no visible light.

Silence. No trace. No scent. And… invisibility.

"Invisibility magic?"

Yeomyeong swung the now-invisible blade through the air. It sliced cleanly, yet not even the sound of air splitting could be heard.

The magic was on par with, if not superior to, that of an invisibility cloak.

Fiddling with the blade for a moment, Yeomyeong suddenly realized something.

"Darulma, is this sword meant for assassination?"

"Hm? How did you know?"

"It just feels that way."

Darulma stroked his beard as he watched Yeomyeong hold the blade. The sword’s simple yet enigmatic appearance seemed to suit him.

"What do you think? Will you take it? Frankly, I highly recommend it."

Yeomyeong didn’t answer immediately. He quietly studied his reflection in the pale yellow blade before nodding.

"I’ll take this sword."

Was it mere coincidence that a blade forged for assassination had chosen him as its wielder?

It was impossible to know at the moment, but Darulma couldn’t help but think fate might be at play.

Clapping his hands, he declared, "Good! Now let’s find you a sheath."