Chapter 61
Chapter 61
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: Old Sewers (3)
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1.
Crawling through the doghole led to a small side room.
Ever been in the basement boiler room of one of those rundown old apartments?
Exactly that vibe.
Mold bloomed across the floor, and unidentified greenish-black water dripped from the ceiling.
Glowing mushrooms picked from some mushroom farm lit up the space in place of lamps.
The fixer couple from earlier must have been using this as their treasure trove.
"These guys..."
I'd thought they were stingy bastards for dropping no loot before croaking...
But to hide a honey pot like this and bail...
My chest swelled with emotion.
Truly, there are no bad fixers in this world.
The city just twists them into what they become.
"Thank you. I'll put your legacy to good use. Hey, Poksoon. Dig around and see if there's anything worth grabbing for you."
"I'm already on it!"
"Oho, good girl!"
Sion and I got to farming.
Three minutes later.
"Fuck, refund my moment of silence!!!"
I'd gotten my hopes up seeing how neatly they'd tucked stuff away...
Forget the True Ancestor's slush fund—there was jack shit.
Canned goods, a gas mask and its filter, and 20,000 BIOS stuffed in a leather pouch. That was it.
"They sure lived frugally."
Guess all their prime gear went down with them into that shitwater.
Ha, life.
Yeah, why would Sedric's luck be any good?
Still, having a spot to catch our breath without worry was a boon.
The stench was milder here, too.
A fully enclosed space just gave psychological comfort on its own.
"Poksoon, wanna rest up a bit?"
"Music to my ears."
The fake True Ancestor peeled off her gas mask and wiped the sweat from her face with her sleeve.
I grabbed a can, leaned against the wall, and sat.
We're busting our asses to survive—we gotta eat.
"Alright~ today's feast is...!!!"
A plain label with a bland ark logo.
Baked beans were crazy popular in Necropolis.
"Oh! This stuff?"
-Crack
I pried the lid off with my knife, and a wave of moist, sweet tomato scent hit me.
Scooped some out with the blade tip and shoved it in my mouth.
Cool, sticky texture spreading across my tongue.
The beans' salty bite—enough to tingle—and the tomatoes' sour tang seeped into my weary body.
One spoonful of these salty, chewy beans was a pricey luxury in Necropolis.
Decent ones from Aden ran 2,000 BIOS a can since they were imported goods.
To low-rank fixers, this was Dubai chocolate or apple mango bingsu.
"Hm..."
First time trying them, but to me? Meh.
Just stylish tomato-flavored beans.
I hate how this petty shit brings me joy.
This city is infuriating. I wanna get out...
"Want some?"
I asked Sion, who sat beside me slurping a blood pack.
"This concubine dislikes beans. How about mochi instead?"
"You only like squishy stuff."
"What does that mean?"
"You're squishy too."
"...?"
I slipped in some subtle sexual harassment, but she just tilted her head, clueless.
Snickered and enjoyed the brief rest.
Last round, she was bad news, but this round? She's been a help.
Not just a tool to clear the premium route...
Companion?
Yeah, that cringey word.
Haven't made any since Akit and Arong betrayed me.
Spinning my wheels solo in this drab city was routine.
With Sion around, it felt like I could breathe a little.
"Let's move."
"Already?"
"Poksoon, you're a strong, spunky True Ancestor—wanna stay here alone?"
"Don't say that! I'll... I'll go with you!"
Keep rests short.
Longer just makes getting up harder.
As I geared up to stand...
"Hm?"
Something caught my eye.
A dim corner I overlooked while farming.
A lumpy shape under a tattered blanket.
-Fwoosh
Pulled off the dusty blanket to reveal...
"A diving suit?"
Literal diving suit.
Like one straight out of a steampunk deep-sea scene.
"Totally random."
The helmet was a massive copper dome covering neck and shoulders.
Thick iron-barred viewports front and sides.
Below: elephant-hide-thick, stiff waterproof suit.
Lead-weighted boots.
Coiled oxygen hose like a snake, for connecting suit to helmet.
Lifted it—felt like mine, heavy as hell.
"Poksoon, know what this is?"
"Who do you take this concubine for? Of course I do."
"What?"
"Clothes you wear to go into deep water."
Sion puffed up her shoulders, nose in the air.
Sigh.
"..."
"W-Why stare like that?"
Still, she's cute.
"Hm..."
Didn't look valuable, no immediate use.
Dragging it to D-13's sedimentation tank? Too cumbersome.
Boarded up the doghole good, remembered the spot—grab on the way out.
2.
How much farther did we go?
Finally, "D-13" scrawled on the wall.
"Fuuuck... long way."
Find the sedimentation tank somewhere in this sector, snag the slush fund, and this shitshow sewer tour ends.
"Master... something's there."
"What?"
Hid against the wall at Sion's whisper.
To me, just long dark tunnel, but Sion's vamp eyes pierced the gloom.
Night vision mode.
-Clank clank clank
Eerie noise—not quite footsteps—slowly neared.
Peeked around the corner.
"Aha."
Explained the diving suit in the fixer couple's stash.
A figure shambling in the dark, making noise.
Shape: human fully suited in diving gear.
-Splash splash
Stooped over, shoving roadside sludge into the channel with an iron rake.
Diligently.
Can't miss the hint now.
Rift resident: the "Cleaner."
Four hours wandering, no sign—thought they'd all struck.
Holed up working in a corner.
No extractor, so no essence, but blocking the path—gotta clear it.
Mana surged as I moved—the Cleaner's head snapped my way.
"Fuck. Ugly mug's brutal."
Didn't expect a person inside.
Visual shock worse than expected.
Smashed flesh and red slime mashed like dough, filling the helmet.
Dozens of eyeballs jammed in, swiveling to glare. Pure horror.
"Poksoon! Back off!"
"G-Got it! Don't die!"
Cleaner fixed on me, slowly turning.
Mechanical draw of weapons—no smarts.
One hand: net with weights.
Other: long trident I mistook for rake.
Saw the gear—instant recall.
Ancient Roman gladiator: Retiarius.
Net to trap, trident to stab.
"Nurungji worldbuilding—mixing everything."
I moved first.
Looked tanky as fuck.
Need destruction.
Fall death it is!
GOAT power among my Death Verdicts.
Fired mana orb infused with fall-death imagery.
Cleaner not agile-looking.
No dodge—hit on contact...
-BOOMMMM!!!
Suit and helmet crumpled inward.
Impact that'd one-shot a Lv2-enhanced 7th-rank fixer.
But.
"U... uwoooo...!!!!"
Didn't drop.
Stood firm, cowboy-spinning the net overhead.
-Whip! Whip! Whip!
Air-ripping whooshes in the narrow sewer.
Weight scraping walls sparked with stone chips.
"Fuck."
Net throw in this tight straightaway? Unavoidable.
And it looked like it'd hurt physics-wise.
This way? Diced Sedric.
"Die!!!!"
No laughs—blasted Death Verdict with slash, fall, shot, burning death.
All causes loaded.
-Boom boom boom!!!
Sank after the exact 16th hit.
-Thud!
Missed net at the last grazed my space, kicking dust.
Helmet mangled, Cleaner crumpled on floor.
Pink flesh oozed from torn suit.
"Sh... shiiit..."
Honestly spooked.
Depth 2 at best.
7th-rank fodder—ignored it, but tanked multiple Death Verdicts, even falls.
No.
Not super strong.
"Bad matchup?"
The suit itself messed with visualizing death imagery clearly.
Made it feel tougher, tankier.
Death Verdict projects my death image onto foe—distractions like this fuck it up.
"M-Master! You okay?"
Fake True Ancestor rushed over from hiding.
"Aw, worried about your master?"
She's bonded—cares.
"Of course! If you get hurt, this concubine gets left alone!"
"Poksoon, you just dropped your rice cake on the floor."
"...R-Rice cake? Where?!"
Zero tact—flustered fake ignored, pondered.
Hiss...
Keep going?
No Cleaners so far...
But multiples? Headache.
Tanky, gear terrain-optimized.
Snagged in net, dunked in shit or falls? One-shot.
"Fuck it. It'll work out."
Too much suffering to leave empty-handed.
Plan B if needed: burn lifespan, call goats via Joker.
"Let's go, Poksoon."
"Where's my rice cake?!"
Bailing now? Too un-Sedric.
3.
Luckily, no more Cleaners en route.
Maze-like, finding the tank was issue enough.
But solved easy.
Heard massive roar—went "maybe?" and headed there.
-RUMBLECRASHHHH!!!!
Eardrum-shattering boom, vision opened wide.
Unimaginable underground cavern this deep.
"...Whoa."
Vent shafts to surface made it way brighter than elsewhere.
Under vertical beams from multiple shafts.
Dizzying ceiling: dozens of drains vomiting colorful wastewater like waterfalls.
Deep green, purple, brown, fluorescent.
Harem protagonist hair rainbow.
Waterfalls converged into black sludge lake.
So the True Ancestor's slush fund hidden somewhere here?
No fixer's crawling this hellhole!
"Poksoon! We're set for life!"
"M-Master..."
"C'mere! Gimme a kiss!"
"Master! Look around!"
Grinning, I saw Sion pale as a ghost—scanned surroundings.
"What."
Missed it, mesmerized by the epic view.
Wreckage everywhere.
Scattered like trash on floor.
Impaled like wall decor.
Cleaner remains.
Like a display of mutilated figures for a bratty nephew.
None intact.
"Crazy."
Chills down my spine.
Just fought one?
Cleaners tanky as fuck.
These massacred like this?
"Poksoon, bolt."
Details unknown.
Instinct screamed.
Recall entry tip.
-Watch for Cleaners. To them, you're pipe-clogging organic.
Cleaners no stationary monsters.
Sewer leukocytes, patrolling to purge debris.
One Cleaner in six-hour trek here.
And clustered Cleaner massacre remains.
One conclusion.
Here.
Something "un-cleanable."
-Squelch
Ominous noise cut the roar.
-Squelch
Wet footsteps.
-Grrrrrr
Heavy metal drag on floor.
From dark tunnel: massive silhouette stepping closer.
Then a light beam from ceiling.
Spotlight on predator stage.
Tattered blue changpao.
Skin glowing toxic fluorescent.
Half skull exposed like acid bath.
And.
-HIIISSS!!!
Rocket hammer trailing steam, dragged in hand.
"..."
It spotted me.
"Kr... krahaha... KRAHAHAHA!!!"
Rage-mad laughter echoed the cavern.
Monster behind the carnage:
Former top 7th-rank fixer.
The cowardly junkie I sewer-doomed into poison crab guts.
"Cha... cha... found you..."
It was Xuan Sunming.
...