Chapter 26
Chapter 26
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 26
Chapter Title: Different Choice, Different Path, Different Name
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Gods don't exist, mana doesn't exist—what kind of world is that? How have you survived in such a cursed place?
『UN Memorial Exhibit – Excerpt from First Contact Record Beyond the Dimensional Gate』
***
Jang Man, the elder known to every smuggler in Incheon as the boss, trudged into his bar with a sour expression.
He hadn't held out much hope since the windows were shattered, but the state of the place exceeded even his low expectations.
The floor was pockmarked with craters everywhere, and the tables and chairs were all smashed to pieces. Shards of glass from broken bulbs, windows, and liquor bottles littered the ground.
'At least the counter's still intact. Small mercies.'
Jang Man sighed as he stepped inside and grabbed the cleaning tools and a burlap sack.
The cleanup dragged on endlessly.
With the stubbornness befitting his age, the old man bustled about busily, but there seemed to be no end in sight. There was just too much destruction.
While the elder grunted away alone like that for a while, Dung Beetle returned to the bar.
It looked like he'd been to some mine or another—his clothes were caked in soot.
"Boss, you're safe. I was worried they might've tailed you."
"Worried? Escaping's a smuggler's bread and butter."
Jang Man waved it off like it was nothing. Every smuggler had an escape route prepared, so he wasn't wrong.
"And you? No injuries?"
"I'm fine, though I did run into something odd..."
"Yeah? Save that story for later. Let's clean up first."
Jang Man handed Dung Beetle the cleaning tools. Without a word, Dung Beetle got to work.
With a former janitor—and a superhuman at that—jumping in, the trash started vanishing before their eyes.
Before long, the bar had more or less returned to its former self.
Jang Man found a miraculously intact bottle of liquor, then plopped down on a sack stuffed with garbage.
"So, what the hell happened?"
Dung Beetle tied off the last sack tight, then gave a brief rundown of everything after Jang Man had fled.
How Freya Khan had jumped into the fight and unleashed the Blue Rats, how he'd gotten pummeled with what she called "instruction" in swordsmanship, and how she'd given him a dagger.
Jang Man sipped his drink as he listened, but his eyes lit up the moment the dagger came up.
"Freya Khan gave you a dagger infused with martial arts? For real?"
"Want to see?"
Dung Beetle casually drew it from his bosom. The beautifully gleaming blue blade emerged, engraved letters sparkling atop it.
"Oh...."
Jang Man shot to his feet and examined the dagger. His eyes sparkled like a kid with a new toy.
"You can tell just from the looks. This is the real deal. Not some cheap Earth knockoff—this is a genuine secret legacy relic brought from beyond the dimensional gate."
"...Secret legacy relic?"
"What, first you've heard of it?"
Dung Beetle nodded. Secret legacy relic? He'd never heard the term in his civil service exam textbooks, let alone on TV.
"...Well, I suppose that tracks. You wouldn't encounter it in standard education."
Jang Man took a swig from his bottle before continuing.
"A secret legacy relic is the general term for items made by supers or mages from beyond the gate to pass down their techniques and teachings to future generations."
"Techniques?"
"Inject it with mana, and it activates the recorded spell—lets you see the creator's memories, they say. Sometimes it plays like a video, sometimes it pulls you into a dream... Or so the rumors go."
"...More impressive than I thought."
"Yeah, impressive—and rare as hell."
"Even by your standards, boss?"
"Of course. Us normals can't even use them. They're traded exclusively among supers, so most smugglers never see more than a couple in a lifetime."
Dung Beetle gazed anew at the dagger, taking in the strange letters etched into the blade.
If it activated with mana, maybe he didn't need a translator for the text?
As he mulled that over and subtly gathered mana, Jang Man eyed him and spoke.
"Don't even think about trying it right here."
"..."
"...You were already doing it, weren't you?"
Dung Beetle gave an awkward smile instead of answering. Jang Man rubbed his forehead and shook his head.
"Come with me. Got a suitable spot."
Dung Beetle pocketed the dagger and followed the old man out the back door of the bar, down into the depths of the alley.
Past streets thick with the smell of the sea, they reached a dead end littered with more trash than people, and Jang Man stopped.
He scanned the ground briefly, then bent down and lifted what looked like a manhole cover.
Creak.
It lifted too easily for a manhole—turns out it was an iron door disguised as one.
Rather than ask why it was there, Dung Beetle followed Jang Man down below.
Beneath lay a long concrete corridor, lightly dusted with grime—not your average sewer.
"Where's this...?"
"Path to an underground bunker."
"A bunker? You build it?"
"As if. Even if I was swimming in cash. This dates back to the U.S. military trusteeship era—Korean government doesn't even know about it."
Jang Man and Dung Beetle lit their phone flashlights like torches as they traversed the cramped corridor. At the end stood another iron door.
Thick as a bank vault, but Jang Man unlocked it with practiced ease, like he'd done it plenty before.
Creeeak.
Beyond was a veritable treasure trove.
The vast bunker overflowed with large safes, stacks of cash, and bars of gold scattered haphazardly.
"...You're richer than I imagined."
Dung Beetle's brief comment drew a snort from Jang Man.
"All this put together wouldn't match that dagger you're carrying."
"..."
While Dung Beetle was at a loss for words, Jang Man handed him his phone.
"Use the relic here. Safe from any mishaps—no one'll track you down. I'll leave the phone; call if you need anything."
Jang Man clapped Dung Beetle on the shoulder—a rough kindness from a smuggler who'd never gotten attached to anyone.
Faced with unfamiliar goodwill, Dung Beetle bowed his head.
"...Thank you, boss."
***
Left alone, Dung Beetle settled in the bunker's center and drew the blue dagger.
'A secret legacy relic...'
More valuable than all the gold in the safes.
He didn't think Freya Khan had given it out of pure kindness. No matter how great a super she was, she worked for the Australian government.
She must have weighed the pros and cons in her own way.
But intent or not, a favor was a favor.
'I'll repay it someday.'
Dung Beetle recalled the kindnesses he'd received. Elder Jang Man, Freya Khan, and Seti.
If he survived his revenge... he'd return them.
With that resolve, he channeled mana into the dagger.
And in the next instant... the bunker vanished.
Blinking, he looked around to find himself standing in a vast grassland.
Where the bunker ceiling had been, an unfamiliar night sky gazed down; where the safes and cash had littered the floor, strange grasses stretched out.
'An illusion?'
Dung Beetle narrowed his eyes and drew up his mana.
All his senses felt normal, yet the grassland seemed both alien and familiar.
Just like... when he'd been in Mignium's dream.
A dream.
'...A dream belonging to someone else.'
The realization hit just as a light voice chimed from above.
—Already self-aware? That's fast. Too fast.
Dung Beetle looked up to find the voice's owner—a comet, literally. White tail and blue tail streaking across the night sky.
Unsure if that fit, but he met the comet's gaze.
—I expected an inheritor, but a monster shows up instead.
The comet grumbled in dissatisfaction.
Dung Beetle paused briefly before asking in his usual calm tone.
"...What's an inheritor?"
—One to carry my freedom. The wielder of the Star Sword who breaks all bonds. Looks like that girl told you nothing?
"Freya Khan just told me to learn the swordsmanship."
—Yeah, she's never been great with words. Or maybe she figured you didn't need to know.
The comet sighed, spinning lazily in the sky. Its starry tail traced an irritated squiggle.
—Tch, she wanted to link with you, but you're already contracted to something else. Shame—I can't give the Star Sword to a non-inheritor...
The irritated voice cut off abruptly. The comet froze mid-sky, like a specimen on display.
—Th-this... what...?
It tried to speak, then clamped its mouth shut, as if choked.
After a short silence—long enough to sense something off—it finally spoke again.
—What... are you?
"Comet?"
—How, this contract, evil, evil!
The night sky's shadow writhed, the comet's form shaking up and down.
Panic, confusion, fear—starlight wove through the sky.
A beautiful, absurd sight, but thankfully it didn't last.
As the night sky seemed to devour the comet, sucking in its light, it surrendered.
—Stop, stop! I'll, I'll do as you say!
A pathetic voice. Dung Beetle politely looked away.
The shadow tormenting it was probably... one he knew well.
—Ugh... I'll give it myself, stop... please stop.
With that, the comet erupted in light—brighter than any before.
Flash!
Dung Beetle reflexively shut his eyes. When he opened them, the comet was gone.
In its place, a child made of light lay collapsed right beside him.
As Dung Beetle squinted, the child wobbled to its feet.
'This kid...'
One look at the luminous face, and he knew without being told. This was the comet he'd just been talking to.
—Y-you... wanted swordsmanship, right? I'll give it. As much as you want. So... urp!
The comet's words cut off. The next moment, it started vomiting.
—Urk!
Starlight poured from its mouth. A grimace-inducing sight, but Dung Beetle approached without a word and patted its back.
An old janitor habit. You couldn't leave a drunk to puke alone— who'd know when it'd end.
Only after a good while of back-patting did the comet finally stop.
—Haa... th-thanks.
The comet took a deep breath and looked at Dung Beetle.
Its luminous expression was unreadable, but it seemed on the verge of tears somehow.
—T-to you... I'll give my sword... the Comet Sword.
"...Didn't you say non-inheritors can't receive it?"
—C-can't give the Star's power. But the sword's essence? That's easy. Got it?
Dung Beetle nodded, understanding or not.
He could've pried further, but the teary comet face made him hold back.
—Light overflows, blind to left or right...
Muttering that, the comet clenched its fist. When it opened its palm again, a small orb appeared atop it.
—This orb holds the Comet Sword's essence. No idea how long to fully grasp it... but with your talent, not even a year.
Dung Beetle reached carefully for the orb. Or tried to.
The comet halted just before handing it over. As Dung Beetle looked up quizzically, it trembled and spoke.
—P-please... one promise.
"A promise? What kind?"
—When you meet Freya Khan, give the dagger back. I-I'm begging you.
Dung Beetle couldn't say no. The comet's voice was too earnest.
"...Yes. I promise."
—Th-thank you. P-please... keep it... sob...
Only then did the comet pass the light. The moment Dung Beetle grasped the orb, the surrounding dream dissolved.
Shaaa—
Unlike entering the dream, returning to reality was disorienting.
Skin prickled as touch returned, faint tinnitus rang as hearing awoke.
Next came smell. Amid the bunker's dust, the sharp scent of chili powder and thick MSG...?
'...Ramen?'
Dung Beetle wrinkled his nose unconsciously. Then his sight cleared.
After a few blinks through the blur, a familiar face appeared.
Strikingly sharp features, black hair tied up haphazardly, sapphire eyes sparkling like gems.
Hong Seti. The familiar woman sat on a mat spread on the bunker floor, boiling ramen on a portable gas stove.
"...Still dreaming?"
As Dung Beetle spoke, their eyes met.
She'd been about to take a bite, forkful of noodles poised in the pot lid—and she froze.
Short silence. Long awkwardness.
"Uh..."
As Dung Beetle's eyebrow arched high, Seti finally spoke.
"...Want some?"
* * *