Chapter 176
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 176
Chapter Title: Kingdom ? Lv. 167 Hardrock Slums (2)
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Wherever people live, a society always forms.
That's true no matter the place.
The slums on the outskirts of Hardrock were no exception.
The countless descendants of exiles and the impoverished masses—who didn't even know the concept of the world outside the Labyrinth—lived there too.
In truth, calling them "the impoverished" wasn't entirely accurate.
The word "slum" doesn't necessarily imply poverty.
It simply means a place abandoned by public authority, plagued by poor security, and isolated from mainstream society.
Hardrock's slums, despite the name, raised some doubts about whether they fully met that last condition.
After all, nearly half the kingdom's territory could be considered slums, with the orderly urban districts actually surrounded and hemmed in by them.
And the slum organizations were quite diligent about accumulating wealth in their own ways.
"Wow, looking at it all piled up like this... we've got quite a haul."
"Still modest compared to what the goblins gathered for us, though."
"Have you scouted out a site for the church... I mean, the temple?"
"The Goddess says anywhere is fine. So I've decided to go with what feels right to me."
The youngest replied with a gentle smile. It felt oddly out of place lately, since she'd been scowling fiercely so often.
But this was probably her true nature.
Remi let out a deep sigh.
It was a task she'd been saddled with after considering all the circumstances.
But these past few days had made her keenly aware of her own background.
She'd always been a weakling, and even after becoming an exile, she'd spent time that felt longer than her entire life outside.
In the end, she was just an ordinary middle schooler.
It felt like a test from the Leader.
He'd overlook the stuff she'd stashed in her back pocket. But in return, she had to prove herself.
Even a thief can't protest when caught red-handed.
And the suspicion of it being a test was probably spot on.
The Leader had likely intended to hand her the slums from the start.
Honestly, this was a generous, humane judgment.
She'd believed he'd rule that way, so she'd planned to come clean first.
It was a safety net, figuring he wouldn't make a scene with the Hunter right there. Though she hadn't expected to get caught already.
In the end, she'd proven her new usefulness, so it might work out well.
The only problem was that the Leader had been forced into mandatory rest by everyone's pleas, spiking the difficulty and giving her a headache.
The angel skipped lightly into the room.
"Remi~ The Locust Guild confirmed they'll make time this evening!"
"Ugh... okay."
Locust Guild's master, Locust, found himself face-to-face with the boss from the neighboring turf that had crumbled just days ago.
"Long time no see, Jericho."
"Yeah..."
"Can you explain in more detail what the hell happened?"
"That's why I came out here, so I guess I have to..."
His face looked tormented in every way, still haunted by nightmares.
But Locust had no patience for sympathy.
The information he had was far too scant.
All he knew so far was that Angel's organization hunts had suddenly begun.
And that hitman called Angel had built trust in the area over eight whole years.
Sure, he was a bit unhinged and unsettling, but he was diligent above all—and incredibly strong.
Rumors even swirled that he was a hidden ranker. Everyone went out of their way not to upset him.
After all, Angel's first job eight years ago had reshuffled the power balance in the local districts.
The organizations holding ground now could all be seen as Angel's employers—and beneficiaries.
They'd even reached an unspoken agreement among themselves.
They only hired him for disputes in distant districts, not their own northern hospital zone.
Targeting each other's lives would just replay that incident from eight years back.
Everyone feared Angel.
Who knew when that mad berserker might storm their doorstep.
"Her boss showed up."
"...What? Wasn't it a one-man guild?"
"Guess not. No idea if she came from another kingdom or what, but Angel had been lurking here from the start."
"Sent by Hardrock to purge us...? Nah, they would've swept us up ages ago if so."
There was a reason public authority stayed out of it.
Sure, deals with far larger organizations played a role, but fundamentally, leaving them alone was more profitable.
Locust gazed at his friend-not-friend's sunken eyes and foresaw his own future.
Angel’s boss, huh.
The strongest in her organization was obviously her.
But could he beat Angel? If he could even resist, it'd be a win.
The conclusion was set.
There had clearly been some long-brewing scheme.
He was just a lowly exile grunt who only knew how to survive this way, so he'd kept at it.
Now he just had to follow that flow.
But he couldn't bow his head so easily.
Jericho smirked faintly as Locust licked his lips.
"I've said all I have to say. She put a familiar face up front figuring it'd loosen your lips, the damn bitch."
"How thoughtful. What, treating you like some middle school kid?"
"Who knows."
Then a voice called out.
"Come on in~"
A woman's voice. Not childish, but not old either.
More like youthful maturity.
Wonder surged. Who the hell was this?
Stepping inside, he saw the boss—a tall woman for her gender, but so delicate she looked like one punch would end her.
Of course, Locust wasn't foolish enough to judge strength by looks.
But he could gauge her class from appearance.
The soul of a warrior who'd spent half his exile life as a Hardrock citizen screamed out.
"A mage? What is this place?!"
Remi snapped her fingers.
The youngest moved.
Exactly thirty seconds later, Locust submitted.
"Guh... ugh. My mistake."
"Let him go."
The youngest released her grip on his nape.
He'd resisted even using skills, but she silently closed in, grabbed his arm, and twisted.
He swung his sword, but she caught it.
She didn't flinch as the blade bit into her flesh, snatched the sword, and clamped his throat—enough to make his legs buckle.
Dangling in midair, skills meant nothing.
Warriors were built to fight with feet planted on solid ground.
"Are you idiots? What's a mage got to do with anything? Don't you get your position here?"
"No, I get it. I do. But a mage is just..."
Remi continued, incredulous.
"Why is 'mage' the first damn thing out of your mouth every time? Know how many times I've heard that crap already?"
"It's just... that's how it is here... You must be from out of kingdom?"
Remi sighed deeply. Pushing further might reveal the kingdom gates had opened for the first time in five years.
As prepped, they were from the land of mages.
"So you just won't crawl under a mage?"
"Can't do that! Guh!"
"Pure reflex. Why do you hate mages so much?"
With his throat crushed, he couldn't answer properly. The youngest set Locust down.
She snatched a vial from his belt and poured it on his arm. The gash on his palm vanished.
Locust, face flushed with pain, coughed and replied.
"Need a reason to hate the bastards we warred with? They helped make this rotten sewer our home. How dare you ask so shamelessly!"
"Yeah, yeah, got it. Take a look at this."
"A magic scroll? What trick are you—"
"Gah!"
The youngest pinned him again. His bone-deep hatred for mages made him suspect even the papers from the young boss.
Some ploy, no doubt.
To those long embedded in Hardrock, it was like gospel truth.
The Labyrinth was brutal for warriors—endless nasty ways mages could screw you.
Trembling, guided to a private room, Locust nearly tore the scroll but held back.
Even so, that might eject him to the next run. Unthinkable.
Most of his exile years were spent here as an organization member, thanks to hitching onto a veteran early on.
Dropped back to tutorial now? No confidence he'd reach this kingdom alive.
Sighing deeply, he looked at the scroll—no, the documents.
"Hm?"
It was a contract. Maybe magically binding, but the terms were utterly reasonable.
An hour later, Locust was shaking hands with the young lady boss.
The conditions were too good to refuse.
Everyone seemed cooperative, but it was simply because the terms for subordination were outrageously favorable.
Bluntly put, it bordered on a Ponzi scheme.
Remi's guild, [Tears of the Angel], gained nothing upfront.
Just nominal affiliation—no tribute, zilch.
Some organizations even thought they'd scored a powerful backer.
In the end, they were all ranker-less grunts with no connections.
"By the way, why's the guild name like that?"
"'Cause getting beat while bawling back then left such an impression?"
"...Is that worth commemorating?"
"Less commemoration, more warning. Don't get cocky..."
Remi tilted her head. The angel beamed innocently.
Maybe a reminder not to mess with the Leader and cry again—like a high schooler's "I can do this" poster.
Quietly observing, she seemed profoundly difficult. Her thought process was unfathomable.
Veterans past a certain point were mostly like this.
What she'd learned rolling through the tutorial: distinguishing real veterans from fakes.
The angel was undeniably real.
And among the neighboring bosses, there were real ones too.
Like the Locust Guild master who'd flipped attitudes and agreed on the spot.
He acted the grunt, shook like one, but judged faster than most.
No sense of a fool tossing his life away lightly.
He had confidence in looking out for number one.
This wasn't about sharp eyes—it was survival instinct drilled in.
Even in the tutorial refugee camp, you had to pick a faction.
Sometimes the simpleminded, thoughtless types were safer than quick thinkers.
Lessons from dying over and over.
"That guy just now was Locust, right? I think we should mark him as dangerous. He's got something up his sleeve."
"Not sure myself, but you see right through him."
The youngest wiped blood from her arm and smiled kindly.
"Yeah. I'm pretty confident in reading people."
This was a solid strength, a talent. Probably why the Leader assigned the collaboration.
Word spread that an organization had seized the northern hospital district in just a week.
Many panicked.
"They say a ranker ambushed, beat everyone down, and declared control."
"A ranker? Ain't much money there, is there?"
"Who knows."
In these slums, being an exile—or exile stock—made you strong by default.
Mercs when needed, plenty to exploit otherwise.
A sort of privileged class, naturally full of freelancers.
Everyone watched closely.
New outfits popping up wasn't rare. And they usually meant jobs.
Money defined justice as much as power.
Among them was the guy who'd grumbled behind the scenes, just as Remi predicted.
Organizations divvying the northern hospital for near eight years had networks, after all.
Locust smiled at a letter from the veteran who'd bused him to this kingdom long ago.
Seemed they'd finally shaken off the shadows of memory to recall he was here.
[Is it true there's a ranker there?]
The king who'd conquered the slums' northern sector showed interest.
He always needed soldiers.