Chapter 253: The Road To The Demon King (3)

Before stepping out of the workshop, Yeomyeong straightened his collar and activated the Blood Tears illusion. Everyone in the group took on the appearance of middle-aged people with masks and exited through the same door they had entered.

However, the line of people that had been waiting outside had gone. Faint traces of blood on the ground and the lingering scent of gunpowder in the air suggested that the guards had finally lost patience with their fighting and hauled them all away.

What was that pink drug about that caused such a scene? There were plenty of places selling drugs on the black market.

Was Rashik’s product just that much better than the competition? Or was the strawberry flavor unexpectedly popular…?

As Yeomyeong pondered these stray thoughts while weaving through the black market, the Saintess suddenly spoke up.

“This feels ominous. Really ominous…”

“What’s ominous? The dwarves?”

Avoid getting involved with the dwarves in the black market. That was the last warning Rashik had given at the workshop.

“Yeah. When someone tells you not to get tangled up in something, you always end up tangled up in it.”

“…There’s a saying that words have power.”

Seti added a casual remark. Yeomyeong smirked and replied.

“We just need to be careful. What’s the worst that could happen from walking around the black market for a bit?”

At that, both girls turned to him with a deadpan expression. Their faces clearly said, “You, of all people, should not be saying that.”

“Come on… Just because things happen often doesn’t mean something will happen every time.”

No matter what Yeomyeong said, the two girls were already convinced that something would happen. One rested her hand on her weapon, while the other cautiously observed their surroundings.

…Do they really have that little faith in me?

Yeomyeong chuckled bitterly but still began quietly drawing mana. After all, there was no harm in being cautious.

As they neared their destination, the number of masked figures moving through the market corridors increased. It seemed they had entered the peak hours of black-market activity.

Without needing to discuss it, the group naturally quickened their pace. It was best to finish their errand before the night crowd flooded the market.

However, the moment they arrived at the shop selling coca leaves, they had no choice but to stop.

Under a sign that read “Jalisco,” about a dozen people in cannabis-patterned masks were staring them down.

Their eyes, visible beyond their masks, were either unfocused or bloodshot, as if they were sick. Yeomyeong immediately recognized that look. It was the gaze of drug addicts.

He had seen enough low-level junkies in the back alleys of Incheon with that kind of gaze to know it instantly.

“Now, what’s this…”

As Yeomyeong opened his mouth, the dozen figures suddenly dispersed into the crowd.

Was it just a misunderstanding? No—rather than vanishing entirely, they stopped at positions that surrounded the corridor, forming a rough encirclement as they slowly advanced toward him.

A normal person might not have noticed, but the encirclement was so obvious that any Superhuman could immediately recognize it.

The Saintess pulled out an automatic pistol equipped with an extra magazine and muttered.

“Well, at least they’re not dwarves?”

“Hey, I told you words have power.”

No sooner had Seti finished speaking than the junkies closing in on them drew small knives from their pockets.

They were simple weapons, almost laughably so, given the presence of armed guards nearby. But the real problem was that those same guards acted as if they didn’t see anything.

Well, what did you expect? It was a black market.

With a sigh, Yeomyeong clenched his fist and channeled the wave from the Surging Wave technique into it. He didn’t even need to draw a weapon—if he shattered a few jaws, the rest would run.

Just then, the figure at the front of the group spoke. Unlike the others, his eyes—though hidden under the mask—seemed relatively clear.

“Hey, you, my friends?”

“I’ve never considered someone who comes at me with a knife a friend.”

“All of humanity is friends, especially in front of a muzzle. Isn’t that right?”

The man gestured toward the guards at the end of the corridor. The armed guards, carrying rifles, didn’t even try to hide that they were on his side, glaring at the group with intense eyes.

Yeomyeong discreetly created an ice spike inside his sleeve and spoke.

“…What do you want to say?”

“What did you do inside that workshop you visited…?”

“Workshop?”

“That alchemist bitch’s workshop. How did you get in? In the past four years… no one other than that bitch’s subordinates has ever entered that place and walked out in one piece. You are the first ones.”

“…”

“If you’ve taken something, share it. If you have information, share it. Maybe that way, we can stay friends.”

Yeomyeong quickly assessed the situation.

The black market corridor was filled with South American traders, the junkies watching over Rashik’s workshop, and the guards backing them up.

Is the South American drug cartel after Rashik’s drugs?

How impressive must Rashik’s product be to draw these kinds of pests? Yeomyeong exchanged a glance with Seti and the Saintess before speaking again.

“Sorry, but I don’t make friends with druggies.”

“Is that so? What a shame.”

The man smirked, and as he drew his knife, the other junkies began tightening the encirclement.

Flashing blades, customers hastily fleeing, Seti and the Saintess pointing their guns at them, and…

The constant sound of footsteps.

“…?”

The heavy footsteps filling the corridor weren’t coming from the junkies. The sounds were far faster and heavier, like the sound of someone running much more quickly than a human could.

The noise was so loud that both Yeomyeong and the junkies turned their heads in unison toward the source.

Beyond the black market corridor, what was charging toward them was…

“You junkie bastards!”

“Zagak! Orsay! Dak! Kobald! Hillil!”

“The black market belongs to America!”

It was a group of dwarves, charging with a massive roar.

As customers scattered to avoid the dwarves swinging clubs and metal pipes, one dwarf had already closed the distance and jumped.

The dwarf leaped high into the air, soaring like a parabola—

“Go die, you taco bastards!”

And then he swung his club down onto the junkies.

“…Looks like the saying really is true.”

Watching the fight between the junkies and the dwarves in the black market corridor, the Saintess muttered.

No, this wasn’t even a fight. It was one-sided violence.

The reason was the dwarves wielding clubs outnumbered the junkies by at least double.

“Damn, these fucking midgets!”

The junkies frantically swung their knives, but with the dwarves charging in a solid group, they couldn’t hope to stand a chance.

Even when swung by a dwarf, a club was still just a club, and even if the other side was junkies, their blood was still red.

– S-save… Ugh! Ack!

Not long after, the junkies who had collapsed on the floor began to scream in agony, prompting the guards to rush in.

“Stop! Everyone, cease! No more disturbances will be tolerated!”

The guards shouted, but the dwarves paid no attention, continuing to beat the junkies.

– Ack!

And when one of the junkie’s heads got smashed, the guards couldn’t stand it any longer and joined the fray.

“You damn McCol-eating loafer bastards!”

Though they still had some sense left and didn’t shoot, they ran at the dwarves with their truncheons or clubs.

– Damn it, this is why you shouldn’t use taco bastards as guards!

• Go die!

• W-wait! I’ve been hit! In the bones!

  Now, the fight that was almost a brawl started, and the corridor turned into complete chaos.

  And Yeomyeong and the two girls were swept up into the midst of that chaos.

  “Don’t shoot.”

  Yeomyeong said as he slammed his fist into a junkie’s jaw, turning to the Saintess. She responded by gripping her pistol backwards and began swinging it like a hammer.

  In contrast, Seti swung an actual hammer, targeting only the places on the junkies’ bodies where a single blow could disable them, such as their clavicles and knees.

  – You fucking Hispanic illegals! The Chicago black market belongs to Americans!

  The dwarves shouted.

  – You crazy midget bastards! Why the hell are you Americans?!

  The junkies screamed, and the sound of customers taking photos on their phones from a distance filled the air.

  The chaotic fight seemed to be drawing to a close soon, likely due to the sheer number of dwarves.

  But unfortunately, this was a corridor where South Americans gathered to do business as well.

  The junkies, merchants, and just random dumbheads eager to swing weapons saw one of their own getting beaten by the dwarves and joined the fight.

  – Yeah, come at us! We’ll turn all you taco bastards into exploded chimichangas!

  Blood, screams, gleaming blades, and clubs.

  What did Yeomyong say again? “What’s the worst that could happen from walking around the black market for a bit?”

  The Saintess teased Yeomyeong while watching the situation spiral even further out of control. Seti even smirked, and Yeomyeong, unable to respond, just silently knocked out the junkies charging at him.

  He wanted to retreat, but with the brawl ahead and junkies behind, it wasn’t easy to escape.

  Anyway…

  The smell of blood and sweat filled the air, and the groans of the fallen junkies and dwarves filled the corridor.

  The guards who had been beaten began to raise their rifles.

  “You motherless bastards! Hands up, now!”

  With a loud click, the safety of the modern automatic rifles was released. Unlike clubs and blades, with these modern firearms, a single finger could kill dozens of dwarves.

  The quick-witted dwarves leaped or lifted fallen junkies as shields, but no shots were fired.

  Why? Was it a moral hesitation? No, it wasn’t.

  It was because of one dwarf who appeared opposite Yeomyeong, exactly at the entrance of the black market corridor.

  Wearing thick armor studded with dragon bones and wielding a massive machine gun that was as tall as he was.

  This dwarf, whose appearance screamed, ‘I’m a superhuman,’ pointed his finger alternately between his machine gun and the guards’ rifles.

  It was a clear message: don’t shoot, or things won’t be fun.

  It was a direct and effective threat. The guards almost simultaneously removed their hands from their rifles and retreated.

  A brief silence ensued.

  The few remaining junkies, barely standing, began to sneak away, following the guards. It was clear that the dwarves had won.

  “Oh, this feels quite cool… maybe I should carry a machine gun too.”

  The Saintess remarked with admiration, and as she did, Yeomyeong grabbed both girls by the arms and pulled them toward the back of the corridor.

  With the fight over, there was no reason to get involved with the dwarves any further.

  However, before they could take a few steps back, another dwarf appeared in the direction they were trying to escape.

  “Are you three all right?”

  The young dwarf, wearing a luxurious suit that resembled Darulma’s, was adorned with over ten necklaces.

  Unlike the other dwarves swinging clubs, he spoke in a refined tone.

  “I’m sure you must have been quite startled, especially the ladies.”

  “…”

  “I’m not the representative of the black market, but I apologize for the inconvenience. The South Americans have no respect for the rules of the market… I hope today’s incident will serve as a lesson for them.”

  He pretended to be polite, but Yeomyeong sensed the magic hidden behind his smooth tongue.

  …A Mage.

  Did he sense the mana from the ice spike Yeomyeong created just before the fight, or did he just take an interest in him after seeing his battle skills?

  Either way, it was unwelcome, so Yeomyeong replied coldly.

  “We’re not interested in any lessons or whatever. So, would you kindly move aside?”

  The dwarf exaggeratedly acted surprised and flustered.

  “No, no, I can’t let you go like this. Although we are not of the same race, we fought side by side as comrades, didn’t we? To send you off empty-handed would be an insult to our ancestors.”

  “…Comrades?”

  “Didn’t we beat up those illegal bastards together? Just like how blacks and white people fought together against the Vietnamese commies in Vietnam!”

  Yeomyeong tilted his head, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

  But it seemed that not only the necklace-adorned dwarf but all the other dwarves shared similar thoughts.

  – Hey, look here! These people knocked out dozens of taco bastards with just three of them!

• Whoa!

• Impressive! True patriots!

  Even Seti and the Saintess were disgusted by the nonsense coming from the gathering dwarves. What the hell did patriotism have to do with the black market?

  Yeomyeong realized that these dwarves were third-generation dwarves who identified more as Americans than as dwarves, and he could now understand why Rashik had warned them to be cautious with them. Dwarves intoxicated by twisted patriotism were always dangerous.

  “Sorry, but we just got caught up in the fight. We didn’t fight looking for praise or rewards.”

  Yeomyeong tried to pass by the necklace-laden dwarf, but the dwarf persistently blocked their way.

  “Please, don’t be like that… Allow us to repay you in some way.”

  “…”

  “Would you have dinner with us? I swear on all our ancestors and the Golden Seal, you will surely enjoy it.”

  Yeomyeong was about to refuse again when Seti lightly poked him in the side. Then, she wrote something with her fingers.

  Accept the invitation.

  Yeomyeong raised an eyebrow at Seti. She added more this time.

  This dwarf, target. Dungan Heavy Industries, executive.

  An executive? What was a chaebol affiliate CEO doing in the black market?

  As a question mark appeared over Yeomyeong’s head, the necklace-wearing dwarf removed his mask and added.

  “Ah, if you’re doubting my identity, there’s no need to worry. My name is Hamilton Dune. I hold the prestigious position of CEO at Dungan Complex Energy.”

  “…”

  The moment Yeomyeong heard his name, he swallowed the rising mana.

  Hamilton Dune. He was the only third-generation dwarf to rise to an executive position and a prime suspect in the assassination attempt on Darulma.