Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 008
Chapter Title: Shoulder Mark #3
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“Handricks, what brings your crew all the way to Miskatonic University?”
Grip—Crunch—.
Hammer squeezed his hammer gauntlet so hard it screamed.
“Didn't you swear off even looking at this place after getting your asses handed to you last time?”
In response, the hulking brute from the rival party—who'd already claimed the treasure room—slammed his man-sized axe into the floor with a thud—.
“Damn it, the forecast says the only spot in Night Land where the sun's rising tonight is here. Monthly quota's due soon—we gotta fill it!”
The two big lugs bellowed, their voices echoing down the entire corridor.
Taking advantage of the racket, Felix nudged my side.
“Newbie, stay sharp. In this Night Land, you're more likely to get killed by other Blessed Ones than monsters.”
“Hammer, we got here first. Be smart and just leave.”
The axe-wielding brute Handricks issued his warning.
The dual-sword guy beside him chimed in.
“If you wanna die to Bounty Hunter Double Sword, then come at us.”
Bounty Hunter Double Sword?
Cool name, cool nickname!
The smoke bombs, throwing knives, and nets dangling from his belt screamed veteran.
“That pointy hat—some fresh-faced mage tower kid?”
The staff-wielding old man chuckled leisurely.
Clearly a wizard.
“This old-timer's gonna have to teach you rookies a lesson.”
The swordsman and the mage both exuded more experience than our party.
But Hammer wasn't intimidated.
“Who knows how many hours to the next treasure chest room? We might run into Star Cult crazies on the way and get wiped. You expect us just to leave? No can do.”
The tension ratcheted up.
Any second now, fists—or worse—would fly.
That's when the one-eyed guy from their party raised V-sign fingers to his eye and shouted.
[Hammer, Lv.13. Blessing: Overview Map]\n\n[Hermit, Lv.11. Blessing: Magic Engraving]\n\n[Yor, Lv.4...? Blessing—]
What the hell was that?
He yelled out soon after.
“Hammer, level 13. Blessing: Overview Map!” “Hermit, level 11. Blessing: Magic Engraving!”
“Yor, level 4...? Blessing—.”
“Pfft, level 4? Isn't that still crawling stage?”
The giant axe brute's eyes bulged.
Then he burst out laughing—thunderous guffaws.
“Hammer, I heard your party had issues recently. Looks like you got a fresh newbie. You really gonna throw down with us dragging that greenhorn?”
I could feel everyone's eyes on me.
Turns out, being the center of attention is more embarrassing than expected.
“Yessir, I'm the newbie Yor.”
“Hey, no need to introduce yourself to those punks! Get over here.”
Hermit yanked my arm, pulling me behind her.
Hammer muttered quietly.
“Felix, if shit hits the fan, protect Yor first. They'll target him. Lowest level, and only the thief Yor can open the treasure chest.”
In other words, if I'm out, our party has no choice but to back off from the chest room.
So they'll come for me first.
“Handricks and I are about even. Assume Hermit takes their mage. That leaves their dual-swords and thief for you, Felix. You good?”
“Got it covered.”
“You sure you're up for it? Your gait's been off all day.”
“Bee larva bite.”
“Bee larva? What's that?”
Felix has to pull double duty covering for low-level me.
But yesterday's groin shot had him off his game.
...
...
Now everyone fell silent.
The vibe was murder wouldn't even raise eyebrows.
Even just getting injured was bad.
Priest treatments cost 10,000 Ether a pop.
What to do?
I racked my brain.
Hermit and Felix looked dead serious.
Hammer, armored up, probably did too.
That's the kind of people they were.
Felix trained muscles in weird stances, Hermit devoured stacks of boring books all night.
Hammer ran the training grounds at 4 a.m.
Serious about their shit.
The kind I never crossed paths with in my old life.
Their party's warrior, mage, and dual-swords guy? Same breed.
But their party's thief, the cyclops? Different story.
A slacker who wants easy gains.
For guys like that, screw everyone else—self-preservation first.
“Hey, you! The handsome one!”
“Me?”
The ugly mug cyclops reacted instantly.
Ugh, shameless bastard!
“Yeah, you! If a fight breaks out like this, you won't walk away unscathed. Our party's Felix eats thieves for breakfast. First one he'll kill is you.”
“Yor, what're you doing?”
Hammer asked softly.
But I kept yapping.
“How about we cut a deal among ourselves? Whatever's in the box, we split it.”
“Fuck that, why share our loot?”
“Watch your mouth. Looks like you haven't opened it yet. In Night Land, first to claim sealed stuff owns it.”
What Ashibar told me when I bought the Star Key.
The cyclops thief's lone eye darted frantically.
I shouted for all to hear.
“Felix, when the fight starts, target that fucker first.”
“Obviously. Slice his hands, gouge his eye—whatever. Even priest healing'll cost him a fortune in Ether.”
There, said my piece.
The cyclops eyed Felix's razor-sharp blade, spat on the floor.
Then scanned his crew, probably crunching numbers.
“Split ratio!”
“Opener gets 9, rest get 1. Ten minutes each to pick the lock. Deal?”
“9 to 1? That's no split! We got here first—this is our spot!”
“Your land? Where's the deed? Anyway, if it's unopenable, better scout other paths than camp here.”
Hammer finally clocked my play.
He leveled his hammer like a raging bull.
“Yeah! What good's brawling? Star Cult hears and wipes us all. You know you can't open it—better move on!”
“Fine! Deal!”
The cyclops raised his hand.
His crew glared, pissed.
But he barked louder.
“If you could crush them outright, great! But that Felix is level 15. Our swordsman might not hold. Who covers if I get hurt?”
“Fair point.”
Nod nod—.
I agreed.
Thief instincts, gotta be!
And so the lockpicking contest began.
“I'll go first.”
The cyclops jammed a pick into the keyhole.
Clink, clack—.
“That's ten minutes, right?”
“Fuck off!”
Fuming, he booted the chest—bang—.
“Can't crack it easy? Minimum Silver-grade box. Think a crawling newbie like you can? Looks like a lockpick blessing. Won't cut it.”
“Won't cut it?”
“Yeah, blessings ain't magic bullets. Silver-grade? Even with blessing, unlock chance under 1%! Need real skill backing it!” Wait, my Star Key that useless?
Whatever—time to try. I grabbed the pick, shoved it in.
[Disarm lock?]
[Cost: 1,000 Ether]
[Success rate: under 1%]
What the fuck.
It costs?
Ashibar, you son of a bitch!
My left hand's back heated up like a hand warmer.
Click—.
A subtle sound.
Just in case, I lifted the lid—it swung open easy.
“What? Lock's undone?”
Hammer cheered.
That's when giant-axe Handricks yelled at the cyclops.
“What? It popped right open! What were we doing camped here two hours?”
“I-I loosened it! That newbie just finished my work! Yeah! We did most, so 5:5 split!”
Shing—.
Cyclops drew his waist dagger.
Pointed right at me.
About to get stabbed—then Felix's fist smashed his jaw.
Crack—.
“Gaaack!”
Sounded like a broken jawbone.
What'd you expect, hitting the killing machine?
Hammer addressed their apparent leader brute.
“You drew first blade—deal's off. Wanna keep going? Better slink away now, save on healing.”
One down, cyclops KO'd.
Numbers advantage ours.
Giant-axe Handricks gnashed his teeth.
“Fuck, our spot. Fell for that punk's yapping. You—what's your name?”
“Yor.”
“The scammer who wrecked Lord Dantes' business and got death sentence?”
He slammed his giant axe—boom—floor.
Rumors about me already reached here?
“That was total bullshit circumstances.”
“Ha! Kid's got balls. Fine, Dantes are pricks I hate too. For screwing them, we'll let it slide—this once.”
Giant-axe Handricks and crew hoisted the passed-out cyclops and bailed.
Their squad brushed past me.
“Man, wish you were on our team!”
The mage geezer even grabbed my arm, wistful.
Only once they vanished around the corner did Hermit—frozen like a mouse before a cat—exhale.
“…We lived. Avoid drama at Miskatonic if possible. That battle mage wore a martial commendation. Even I wouldn't have had it easy…”
My legs were jelly too.
...Thought we were goners.
Worth this morning's breakfast—and tomorrow's.
“Whew, Yor! You crushed it! Chased off the squatters without spilling a drop!”
Smack smack—.
Hammer clapped my back.
“So, what's in the box? After all this, better not suck. Pray it's good.”
Creeeak—.
I pried open the hefty lid.
White cloth inside.
Peeled it back—a bright red book?
“Skillbook!”
Witch Hermit reacted first.
She snatched it, thrilled.
“Red cover too! Top-tier skillbook! Could fill our whole monthly quota with this!”
“What skill? Miskatonic, so mage line, right? Hermit, if it's mage-compatible, you decide: use or sell!”
Hammer snorted through his helm.
No clue what, but pricey. Her call stuck with me.
“Can we use skillbooks ourselves instead of selling for Ether?”
“Hm? Varies by party, but we agreed: if it fits someone's aptitude, they decide!”
Hermit, tracing the squiggly hard-to-read script, jolted.
“Huh, weird. Looks like a thief-line skillbook. Why a thief skill in a magic college...?”