Chapter 178
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 178
Chapter Title: Kingdom ? Lv.167 Hardrock's Slum (4)
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A man bearing the title [King of the Northern Slum] above his head walked alone.
There were no escorts. That wouldn't befit a warrior.
Of course, that was just for show. In truth, he knew full well there was no one in this small district who could threaten him.
Intimidation was crucial. Fear of the boss was a vital asset to any organization.
With each step, the metallic clank echoed: clank, clank.
The slum residents who heard it dropped whatever they were doing and scurried into hiding.
No one knew what fate awaited if they got caught up in it.
An Exile—especially a properly equipped warrior Exile with the strength to wear it—was like an unstoppable human tank, no matter how many NPCs swarmed him.
The metallic clamor with every footfall was a warning: stay away if you want to live.
Full plate armor enhanced by mysterious magic and unfathomable Mind Map corrections.
Out in the world, it'd be a museum piece, but here it was tougher than a tank's plating, shrugging off self-propelled gun barrages as it advanced—an aberration.
The King of the North paraded his terrifying silhouette down the street.
Someone approached him soon enough.
"Locust! Long time no see. Heard you got skinned like a mutt?"
He grinned brazenly, but his eyes were ice-cold. Locust bowed his head and spat out an apology.
"W-We were outmatched, so there was nothing we could..."
A kick flew in, cutting him off.
"Aren't we pretty tight, you and me?"
Slammed into the wall, vomiting blood, the Exile slid limply to the ground—only for his wrists to be crushed underfoot.
Both of them.
"I'll leave your legs. Gotta walk me there, right?"
Locust rose, trembling uncontrollably. He was a senior impossible to defy.
Sure, there was that one favor, but the awe from his Tutorial breakthrough was unforgettable.
Even setting aside the heaven-and-earth gap in raw specs, Locust couldn't hold a candle to him.
Overwhelming skill in everything from techniques to combat sense—no catching up.
He couldn't even use a potion.
This was "punishment." Downing a healing potion would enrage him beyond reason.
"Come on, let's catch up over drinks. Know any good spots?"
"I'll... guide you."
Fine words, but Locust's value was just as Tutorial fodder, really.
The delayed contact after the incident probably meant it took time to even remember him.
It'd been about ten years, after all.
Don't expect more sentiment than "oh yeah, that guy."
"No cheap fakes—somewhere with real booze. I like it rough, but it better be fit for human consumption."
"Of course, sir."
Still, there was a reason they followed him anyway.
Brutal, savage monster though he was, his rewards for the helpful were generous.
That'd made him King of the North.
No fierce gains, but he'd built loyalty from nothing.
To these slum-dwellers, the scraps from a ranker were too sweet to resist.
The gods paid little attention to the slums.
Most residents were NPCs anyway. Devotees existed on every server, sure.
And the Exiles pushed out from guild cores were usually third-rate at best.
So gods only watched the standout few in the slums.
Recruitment targets were limited to them.
Like a ranker with great ability but such antisocial tendencies he'd been exiled.
"So that's the 'King of the Northern Slum' guy."
"Indeed. Doesn't seem like someone your group could handle."
"More shocking that the Director's still breathing."
"I'm useful. Treating his underlings and all."
Remy felt a twinge of puzzlement.
"His thugs must be the scum-of-the-earth type. Bold of you to treat them."
"Doctors don't discriminate by job or personality. Lives are lives. Only Exiles have multiples."
No pride, no sense of duty—just stating the obvious, like "rain wets the ground."
It irked Remy for some reason.
But he had to hold it in. Top recruitment target.
"What do you think of turning this hospital into a temple?"
"Not bad for me. Divine grace lingering here would make life easier for folks."
The old man spoke so casually.
Remy seethed inwardly.
Something profit-driven, some desire—easy. He could sense greed; he'd lived that life.
But this old man? Nothing.
Not even in saving patients.
Just... living because he had to.
Some might call him a saint. Remy hated that.
"Something sour your stomach?"
"No, sir."
"Fine. Mind telling me which kind-hearted god this is?"
A touch of sarcasm now.
Probing if it was a real Labyrinth god or some fool playing one.
No longer a Chaos devotee, Remy nodded to the burly man beside him.
The youngest stepped forward, reverent as any priest—textbook model.
"The Goddess of Chaos wishes to embrace the slums."
The Director looked skeptical.
"Chaos? No such god in this kingdom."
"The oldest deity of this land."
"Hmm, never heard of it. Do as you like. I've got work."
"Busy man."
"Dying folks overflowing. Poor souls born into this hell."
Nominal permission granted. The old man held the street's heart single-handedly.
Good enough for Remy.
Before leaving, the Director added:
"The Northern King'll come sniffing. Can't sit still, that one. And you poked his turf. Hope I don't have to clean up bodies."
Zero expectation in his tone. Remy nodded.
"We'll handle it."
Remy issued orders to his nominal subordinates.
Carriages and vehicles rolled out from the city proper.
Dear Mayer was no fool.
No need for doctor conspiracies.
He trusted the trio of the Hardrock ruling council had enough sense—at least as much as any troll or dragonkin.
The troll perked up at the mystery party's details.
"What? That strong, and an angelic warrior? Unbelievable."
"Heh, you bragging about trolls daily, but angels hook you?"
"Give you an angel card, you swapping?"
"Dragonkin's plenty."
"So you'd swap?"
"Damn right."
Frivolous banter, but deeper thoughts underneath.
Not conspiracy—just calculation.
This troll had been a high official outside; the stuffy dragonkin, a cardinal.
Hard to picture now, sure.
But the Labyrinth ruined people so perfectly.
Rebirthing as diverse races? Unique to this place.
Mayer hadn't quit humanity; felt off.
Brain structures, hormones—all different per race.
Troll? More savage. Dragonkin? Doddering old.
No obvious issues yet.
But alien traces piling in the mind... would he still be human eventually?
All data scraps anyway.
Still, he clung to human purity. Romantic luxury of the capable.
"Hey, Mayer. You wouldn't touch an angel card, right?"
"Course not. But that's not the point. That senior I mentioned..."
He pitched traveling together.
They shook heads.
"Just scoping faces, huh."
"High rankers vanish into corners—who knows."
They stayed chill because she'd checked out as mild-mannered.
High rankers usually power-leveled insanely elsewhere, honing skills.
Typically 70+ years in, the talented arrived here.
Challengers mostly—die, next Run.
Little time left.
A sliver of leeway to the next Run? Urgency kicks in.
Fresh high ranker Exiles? Sane ones rare.
Regain lost power before death's shadow returns.
Timer hits zero? Cower in permadeath squat.
Thus, uncontrollable monsters born in the kingdom.
But if they initiate calm talk? Instant respectable senior.
"No trap risk?"
"High ranker bothering with us? Heh."
Profit-loss uncalculable. Their thoughts unknowable.
"Cleaning slums sounds good, though."
"As long as no backstab after."
Overstep? Council's powerless.
Alerts to all reachable high rankers.
Subjugation begins.
Kingdom balance teetered so precariously.
Time plenty. They'd picked a post-duty slot.
Location? Council-picked.
"No overtime for off-hours? Sudden flood of slum gems and metals into the city. How? Throw more cash if dumping."
"Power of position sweet enough?"
"Ninja-ing high ranker glances—what power."
Mayer sighed, arriving at the meetup.
Council faces not widely known.
Media underdeveloped.
Rare dragonkin? Hood down.
Mild senior said call her Orgol.
Kingdom rumors flickered, but irrelevant now.
Spotting the clean-cut duo again: inside a city high-end restaurant.
Worlds from the prior dive—VIP-only.
One extra now.
"Her...?"
"Ah, my daughter."
"Daughter?"
Tamping unholy imaginings, he politely addressed all three as seniors.
One angel, two vampires.
Meal served.
Waiter explained.
"43rd server Fairy King's blood blended with giant's, soup base fresh virgin human blood."
Senior's face twisted oddly.
"Kingdom this old, interspecies cuisine R&D too?"
"Our restaurant's pride."
Reaction pure healthy curiosity.
Untainted human confirmed; doctors relaxed.
Angel's meal: dew from heavenly mallow fields, holy cow steak from [Main Dungeon] 'Heaven'.
"Absurd. Priciest bit's the absurdity. Vampire eats this steak, dead."
"Hope it suits."
"Kills me?"
"The lady beside."
Waiter withdrew.
Council intros in thawed vibe.
Their bootlicking hid motives.
Befriend 'sane' high ranker?
Hard to top.
Food fascination delayed business till after.
Mayer thanked the owner.
Even table manners flawless—impeccably so.
Teen-girl-looking senior awkward; Orgol senior gently coached.
Unknowing eyes might see young couple and daughter.
No speculating. Personal judgments twist unseen.
Meal ended, nerves taut to the end.
"Enjoy the meal?"
"Never thought of cuisine this way. Runs keep it fresh."
"One of the Labyrinth's few perks."
"So, why summon us?"
Nominally council-called.
"Thought meeting council aids seniors too..."
"Just say you're curious about us."
"Frankly, yes."
Bluntness refreshing. After twisted souls, warrior frankness eased heartburn.
Council brightening; Orgol spoke.
"Question first. Can I kill the Northern King?"
Casual over frozen dragon-blood dessert.
"No issue. Headache for us too."
"Other kings?"
"If claiming full slum rule..."
"Won't stand by?"
"Not us—other high rankers."
"They say that. Fine. I'll hold back."
Orgol grinned, dismissing it. Could kill all if needed.
Chilling ease.
Slum average low, but entrenched powers not negligible.
Hardrock army full burden? Tough.
Yet a mere party asked casually.
"Seniors."
Attentive gazes.
"Sudden rare gems, metals from slums—your party's?"
Low volume, astronomical value.
Beyond petty northern hospital gangs.
Tip of iceberg, even.
Not gold/silver.
Antique wind crystals, absurdly huge/pure catalyst gems, 99.99% adamantine ingot stamped unknown Gobletaria Federation seal.
Ritual offering? Might spawn legendary [Path of Hoarding] stage.
Few rushed to auction. More surely existed.
Funds all funneled as goods to northern hospital district.
Already en route, heard.
Only these seniors would.
"Ours, yeah. Temples need permits here?"
Finance dragonkin sighed. More, mutter reached Mayer.
"Temple" narrowed troll's eyes. His domain.
"Yes, but slums? No permit needed. Not our jurisdiction."
Why seek lawless zone approval?
"Still kingdom soil? Follow laws."
Mayer sensed discord.
That hunch when a clue clicks.
"Annexing slums to city?"
"If tidied up."
Mayer's wheelhouse.
Near impossible. Why the divide?
Guild coalition Hardrock lacked budget/admin.
Walls up ages ago.
Citizens—elite—wouldn't want it. Couldn't ignore; powerful Exiles.
"Citizens would riot. We can't help..."
"No need. It'll happen naturally."
Dragonkin cut in.
"Seniors, that needs big budget. We might assist—selling valuables."
"Appreciate it."
Gold-lust eyes.
Mayer mused: moss dwarf suited him better than dragonkin.