Chapter 93
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 93
Chapter Title: Zombie Parade
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The kid was exhausted too, but I managed to keep pace with him somehow.
Don't underestimate the stamina of a grown Korean man, tempered by rolling through this other world. The quality of our real combat experience is worlds apart from these brats. When it's life or death, the adult always comes out on top.
"How far are you gonna chase me?!"
And I was the seasoned hunter calmly pursuing weakened prey. Did he think I'd give up after a casual chase? How naive and laughable. If you're gonna steal someone's money, you better have the guts to flee to the other side of the planet.
"You little shit!"
In adventurer society, 5 silver was worth as much as a mother's chastity, to put it extremely. Adventurers are the type who'd cheerfully hack their own father to pieces if you handed them 5 silver and said, "Take this and go kill your dad!" Fucking trash. Back in my F-rank days, I got screwed over hard.
Anyway, long story short: I'm gonna catch that brat and chop him to bits. It's inevitable now. He touched my money, so he has to die. I don't particularly want to kill him, but I have to.
Unlike adventurers, killing slum criminals doesn't cause much trouble.
"Huff... huff... Stop while I'm being nice. If you do, I'll let you off with just your left hand, heh heh heh."
I tried talking him down. Of course, I had zero intention of sparing him with just a wrist.
"Guh...!"
Then the kid veered off. I led with my blade and followed suit. We spun through the alleys like that for a few minutes. Finally, we burst out of them.
"...Where's this?"
Beyond the alleys wasn't a snowy wasteland but a full-blown slum. Behind buildings on the verge of collapse stretched a barren field. Was this the central square of the slums? Shack-like structures lined the edges in a circle. It was a poor neighborhood tinged yellow overall. It reminded me of my own past, souring my mood.
The field was lined with street stalls and similar low-end setups. Above all, there were tons of slum dwellers milling about. They started glaring at me like I was some outsider. Not friendly looks at all.
"What're you staring at, you filthy beggars? Scram!"
I swung my sword a few times and spat the words. The crowd dispersed to their own paths. The pickpocket had vanished into the throng midway. Damn it, how the hell am I supposed to find that bitch here.
Ah.
Come to think of it, the kid has black hair.
Black hair isn't common around here. It's mostly nomads and barbarians who have it. A girl with such distinctive black hair making a living as a pickpocket? Someone's bound to know her.
Anyway, I needed that 5 silver back. My head felt like it would explode from rage, but I barely calmed myself and started asking the slum dwellers around.
"Excuse me. I'm looking for someone."
"..."
My first target was an unarmed old lady. I'd planned to beat her if needed, but she didn't even pretend to listen. Looked like severe Alzheimer's. Pity. Better try someone else.
"Excuse me. I'm looking for someone."
"...Someone?"
Next was a scrawny young man with wild hair and beard. Unarmed too. Hell, he was just in his underwear. His ribcage stuck out like a skeleton.
"Yeah, a person. Seen a girl with a head as black as mine? She's my little sister. Heard she lives around here and came looking."
"Oh, yeah, I know her. That barbarian pickpocket girl?"
"You know her? Do you know where she lives?"
I'd thrown in the sister bit as an improv, but things were going smoother than expected. He'd even mentioned pickpocketing. Knew it. Distinctive features spread rumors.
"Money."
He stroked his goatee and held out his hand.
"Pardon?"
"Gimme money. Pay up, and I'll tell you."
"Well... I didn't bring my wallet. But I'll definitely reward you, just this once... please."
But I'd just been pickpocketed, so I had nothing on me. I'm the type who always repays favors, so I tried begging.
Of course, if he said no, oh well. Can't go beating innocent folks. Don't wanna cause a scene...
"No money? Then fuck off, you retard."
"What?"
I thought I'd misheard for a second.
"What? Retard? Hey, what did you say?"
Replaying it, I realized he'd insulted me. The rage I'd barely suppressed toward the pickpocket surged up. My hand shot out on reflex.
"Wha—...? Gack, gack! W-Wait!"
"You fucking prick, suddenly mouthing off?"
I grabbed him by the throat. He was so small and scrawny, he fit perfectly in my grip. Squeezing made him choke.
"Hey, what'd you say? Say it again."
"Guh, guhk! Kk!"
"No, fuck! I said say it again—why aren't you talking?! I'm already pissed off, and you make it worse, shit! You're dead, you bitch!"
—Whish!
—Thud!
I hoisted him up and slammed him into the ground.
"Krahk!"
He was so light, it felt like picking up a dry corncob. I stomped wildly on the guy now one with the dirt.
—Thump, thwack! Thud!
"Aaaagh! Eeeek! Kyaaaaagh!!!"
Transcendent strikes infused with third-dan Taekwondo power. I was on the verge of snapping, so I couldn't hold back the violence at all.
"You worm! Speak! Nicely! Got it?!"
"K-Kek! S-Stop! Stop! Big bros! Help!"
"I'm your big bro, you dickwad!"
The beating lasted until my mood improved. Nearby slum dwellers glared occasionally, but I shot them savage looks, and they freaked out and fled. Gotta be tough with damn slum rats to avoid losses.
"Ughhh..."
Once I turned him into a ragdoll, I got useful info. The black-haired girl was an orphan in the slum's crime gang, living without a fixed home and paying tribute via pickpocketing.
Suspecting bullshit to escape, I beat him another 5 minutes, asking the same thing repeatedly. No inconsistencies.
"I-It's true! Believe me!"
Then this was probably all he knew.
"I see. Now empty your pockets."
"Y-Yes? N-Nothing!"
"Nothing my ass—what do you eat then? You lied to me, you fuck!"
"Kyahaaagh!"
Still not getting it, I unbelted my sword and clubbed him sheath-first. He feebly raised his arms to block, but those frail limbs couldn't stop my sword strikes. I pummeled the screaming idiot clutching his forearm.
"Waaaagh! Stop! Please stop!"
He screamed in awe at my flashy swordplay. Is this why people enter kendo tournaments? The crowd's cheers are the best reward. Satisfaction welled up.
"No money? Then strip your pants, asshole!"
In the end, I squeezed out pickpocket info and 5 coppers from him. Thought about taking his pants too, but they were filthy, so I gave them to a passing auntie.
Leaving the ragman behind, I headed to the slums' depths. Asking directions midway, the slum dwellers suddenly turned polite and helpful. Threw me off.
This place had that human touch after all. Slums were like my second hometown. Back when I first arrived in this world, I crashed in the Krasheim slums. Hellish memories.
I was scouting the slums like that.
"Hey, black hair."
"Huh?"
Someone called me.
...Nothing good comes from being called in a dump like this. I stiffened coldly and glanced front and sides. No visible enemies. Not surrounded yet.
Escape route... Sprint that way for now.
"..."
Hand on my sword hilt, I slowly turned.
Prepare for the worst.
"Well, what business do you have with me?"
I bluffed and scanned them.
Six malnourished men stood there. Dressed even sloppier than me heading to a convenience store—extremely poor. Half naked, half in rags.
But the knives in their hands weren't poverty's product.
Back-alley thug gang.
I coldly judged how many I could kill right now.
Big mistake not wearing armor. With my quilted armor, iron breastplate, and gauntlets, I'd have charged like a mad dog, sliced them all, and interrogated.
But now, I'm just in casual clothes with a sword.
...This is tricky.
"Business... Looking for your little sister?"
"Oh, you gonna help me find her? Thanks a ton."
"Didn't know she had a brother like you."
"I didn't know my little sis switched careers to pickpocketing."
I really didn't.
A sister I didn't even know existed suddenly appeared and stole my wallet. Shock and awe (plus raging fury).
"...You turned Roden into a ragdoll. Poor guy's broke enough already. Money's one thing, but taking his pants? Isn't that too much?"
The guy talking to me soured, frowning. The one I ragdolled earlier was Roden?
Even scum like that has a name—nature's mystery. Humans can't unravel all of nature's secrets.
"Who's Roden? And what's your relation to my sister?"
Got genuinely curious.
What these guys had to do with my sister.
"Looks like we need a deeper talk. I'm a bit of an overprotective brother... Gotta check what friends my sis is hanging with. Bad influences hurt my heart, y'know?"
—Shing.
"Gotta see for myself what kinda scum my beloved sister's friends are."
I babbled bullshit and drew my sword.
The bastard sword's long blade slid from its sheath.
Unfortunately, looks like it'll taste blood again today.
"Wh-What the fuck?!"
Then a shrill voice rang from behind the men. I knew that voice. How could I forget my "sister's" voice? Wait, no. She's not my sister.
"I'm not with that guy! Bros, just kill him! How far are you gonna chase me?!"
The black-haired girl pushed through the crowd. The shocking truth silenced everyone. Yeah, she's not my sister. So astonishing my head rang.
The reversal boiled my killing intent.
My eyes nearly flipped.
"...What the hell is this?"
A man said.
Sigh, fuck.
Golden holiday. A city festival with the good intent of purging undead. Why the hell am I slashing people instead? Life's seeming pointless. Holding off suicide for Cloudy.
Anyway, target spotted.
I'll kill 'em all.
"Fuck, fine. Your onahole stole my money. Happy? Hand it over if you don't wanna die, kid. No bullshit—I might rip your spine out alive."
"Onahole? What's that mean?"
"Ah, nuance doesn't translate. Whatever. Come at me, you shits."
Bluffing hard.
Situation's gone to hell. When it's worst, do the worst thing. I grimaced ferociously and bellowed. Honestly, even I can't handle six at once.
But they're basically naked, weapons just knives.
My bastard sword's reach crushes their knives. No way they win, dead or alive.
Worry is all six rushing together—but that's pro training level, impossible for back-alley thugs. Slice one or two, and they'll scatter in panic. Betting on that.
These types lose the will after one kill. If they had the grit to keep going, they wouldn't rot in alleys doing this shit. They're all wimps surviving on crime.
In brawls like this, hesitate and you lose.
—Dash!
I assumed Shillangkwon stance sword in hand.
"Kui kui."
—This is my strongest.