Chapter 128
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 127
Chapter Title: Outland Caravan
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Jin stood there, arms crossed, head cocked at about a 45-degree angle in a thoroughly cocky pose as he stared off into empty space.
His expression was just as crooked.
His eyes slowly scanned up and down, capturing shapes no one else could see.
A pre-existing mutation?
It was the kind of situation that made such thoughts inevitable.
What was the reason Jin hated his status window again?
If he delved too deep, it'd never end, so to sum it up in one sentence:
'Rewards are just fancy bait to grab people by the throat and shake their lives around.'
...Yeah, pretty much that.
Someone might counter with this:
No, then just refuse it.
Why accept it and then whine like a bitch?
Fuck you, try being in my shoes.
Think that's easy?
Intellectually knowing you should use the status window was a whole different realm from the disgust bubbling up in his gut.
Ignore it, and it feels like you're screwing yourself.
Follow it, and your stomach churns.
Ever felt that?
Shit. Clueless assholes.
Anyway.
This status window was different today.
No penalties for refusing.
No rewards.
Just "do whatever you want."
Had it ever been like this before?
Never, probably?
If the reward had been some bullshit ??? crap, it'd be a different story.
You don't have to accept, but if you refuse, you'll never reunite with these Question Mark Triplets. Oh ho, still refusing? Fair warning: this choice is irreversible, might drastically impact your life... or might not. Confusing, right? Still, really refusing?
[YES / NO]
It'd definitely drown you in crap like that.
So maybe that's why.
That starkly straightforward message felt burdensome in one way, relieving in another.
And so Jin casually waved it away.
Something he could do with a thought alone—but hell, he wanted to slap that damn square monster right in its geometric face.
Even today, the urge was milder than usual.
"...What're you doing?"
Maybe the silence got awkward.
Bagmar jabbed his thigh with an elbow.
"So—"
Jin slowly shifted his gaze to the Pilgrim.
"What do you need help with?"
Accompanied by a much more relaxed smile.
The light and roses that seemed eternal faded into oblivion,
The empire's majesty buried in the sands,
No one gives a damn about any of it,
In this wretched punk era where survival's just a cheap joke—
Several people trudged across the wasteland.
It was a bizarre crew.
The lineup was especially convoluted.
An Omega-grade psyker who'd set up house inside an Iron Maiden, the Pilgrim (hair length: full-on Rapunzel).
An android steadily pulling a rickety cart, Cheomji.
A machine dwarf seeing the surface for the first time, Bagmar.
A battle doll with both arms smashed, Chloe.
And Jin.
What the hell kind of combo was this? Like Rosetta stone ramen meets hodgepodge samgyetang in one pot.
A party no one—not even the members themselves—could make sense of.
So why'd they band together?
It just kinda happened, best sums it up.
Somehow, they were traveling as one.
"Nice weather."
Jin muttered skyward.
Chewing on some sausage to boot—but when he glanced back with a "want a bite?", all he got was the silent android hauling the rickshaw.
Tsk, he clicked his tongue in disappointment and faced forward again. Bagmar's distant shout rang in his ears.
"Come on! Hurry up already. This is driving me nuts!"
"Shut it!"
Jin shot back, scraping the last of the canned goods as he grumbled.
"...Be grateful I'm even letting you drive."
True to his words, Bagmar was currently gripping the sidecar's controls.
His big dream was driving a vehicle, and he'd begged so pitifully that Jin relented—on the condition he stay in sight. Half a day later, here they were.
His hopelessly short stature meant he had to perch on Chloe's thigh just to reach the grips, but damn if he didn't look thrilled.
Of course, he wanted to floor it, but the rickshaw lagging behind moved at a glacial pace, leaving him griping like that.
"Cheomji."
"......"
"Need a hand somehow?"
"I'm fine."
"Alright."
Jin shrugged like he'd expected as much.
This was what, the tenth-plus rejection?
He'd asked fully expecting a no, but it still stung a bit.
Nah, why would it?
Pulling a barely-patched cart that could collapse anytime.
Still, couldn't help worrying with that heavy load dragging all day.
"Not getting annoyed at me asking?"
"No."
"Won't bug you anymore. If it gets tough, just shoot me a look. I'll take over."
"That's..."
Jin cut Cheomji off.
"Not a pilgrimage? 'Cause it's help from an outsider?"
"......"
"Then you should've fixed that busted wheel solo. Why'd you call me?"
"......"
"Look, don't be so rigid. Forgot what your boss—the Pilgrim—asked me? 'Keep us safe, no injuries.' That's the gig."
That's right.
The Pilgrim's request to Jin was protection.
Stand in for her temporary weakness, guard the companions on this penitential journey.
Destination was... some temple? Church? Something vague from an ancient map.
Funny part: might be there, might not.
Schrödinger's holy site.
Can't tell if it's a true pilgrimage or pointless bullshit till you observe.
Jin accepted without hesitation.
Reason?
No reason to refuse.
Couldn't just wave off a rickety android begging for repairs with a "fuck you, good luck!"—Jin was still too damn human for that.
Separate from work-life boundaries, he never mentioned being a Solo.
Just felt like it.
Rotations this, Apophis that.
After getting dragged into massive bullshit that left him mentally fried, wasn't wandering wherever a nice change?
Fuck it all!
If my dick won't listen to me, why the hell can't I do whatever?
And so here they were.
Dead opposite the colonel's "don't poke dangerous spots," Jin chose a path pulling away from the city. Matching steps with Cheomji, he mused.
Y'know, there is a world outside the city.
So obvious he'd forgotten it.
Made sense.
Lost City boasted continent-scale sprawl.
Mega-city with estimated 10 billion souls.
Dozens of districts untouched by footprints, who had time for the Outlands beyond?
Especially when just months ago, scraping by for food, shelter, clothes was the daily grind.
Thus, Jin swept his gaze anew over the surroundings and spoke up.
"What's the Outland like?"
Subjectless question.
Cheomji replied.
"A lonely place, she says."
More precisely, lending his voice.
Jin glanced at the Iron Maiden.
"Barren everywhere you go?"
"Not everywhere, she says."
"Like what? Any other cities like Lost City?"
"Affirmative."
Jin whistled at Cheomji's follow-up.
"Wild. Other cities. Honestly never crossed my mind. Guess they exist..."
"Considering Lost City was once the Empire, accepting other cities gets easier."
No "she says" tacked on this time.
Her own words, probably.
Felt like chatting with two people.
Jin, oddly cheered, said:
"So, spots the Empire never annexed, or remnants of other nations, still kicking around somewhere."
Ignorant, sure—but not stupid.
Got Cheomji's drift instantly.
Cheomji nodded.
"No dealings with Lost City?"
"None."
"Why?"
"They survived the millennium their own way."
Cheomji fell silent after that, pushing the cart diligently. Jin didn't pry, cracking open a fresh can instead.
A gritty wind brushed his cheek.
Carrying the scent of parched dust. The ground beneath felt hardened over ages, rejecting human touch.
Occasional crunch underfoot: crumbled old building, or decades of wind grinding something to bone dust? Hard to tell.
Land layered with silent history.
Too storied for mere "wasteland," that crimson horizon seemed to whisper.
How much time passed?
As the sun overhead dipped toward the western sky...
"Ugh."
Jin checked his terminal—no signal.
Out of the city's network.
True modern man: weak to dead phones above all.
Wearing the face of someone griping "Wifi's gotta work everywhere these days," Jin spoke up.
"Cheomji, hey Cheomji."
"I don't know why you keep calling me that, but I..."
"Terminal's dead. We can still get back later, right?"
"......"
The nameless android went quiet for a beat.
Like declaring a work stoppage.
But only briefly.
Just as Jin had his status window, Cheomji had a voice only he heard? After a few eyebrow twitches behind that blank face, he spoke slowly.
"...Position data saving in realtime. No need to worry about getting lost."
"Ah, cool. Good stuff. Androids rock."
Jin faced forward again.
The sidecar loomed closer now.
The dwarf, who'd been itching for them to catch up, cranked the throttle immediately.
"Kiyaaahooooot-----!"
"Have fun, buddy."
As the vehicle roared away with a vroom, Jin let out a hollow chuckle.
Suddenly, his eyes narrowed.
An indescribable unease.
Nothing had changed, yet...
What the—?
Eyes sharpening instinctively.
His double-digit vision locked on the ochre plain the sidecar cut through.
There, a faint vent-like hole rising just barely visible.
WHOOSH!!
Figures exploded from the ground like a geyser, swarming the sidecar.
"Wh-what the hell!"
Bagmar spotted them clinging everywhere in an instant and yanked the grips left-right, but the intruders held firm even on the bucking frame, drawing noseless jian-like swords from their backs one by one.
Modded open-top style or not, base was a two-wheeler sidecar.
Body swaying like it'd tip any second—Jin bolted toward it.
Grab!
A hand burst from the dirt, clamping his ankle.
Not just grabbing—yanking hard. Two hands on one ankle, the bastards.
Jin lost balance for a split second but recovered with freakish equilibrium.
"Where d'you—!"
Sensing something off, he bent, snatching the hand retreating into the earth.
Crunch.
Smashed the wrist instantly, then heaved upward with all his might.
Arm tracing an arc, out popped a guy like a radish from bad soil.
"Gaaargh!"
Scream ripped free.
Shoulder popped from the pull.
Jin smashed fists into the pained face.
Yanked the sword from the fainted duo's backs, eyed another striking a fancy rider pose right in front.
"Fremen?"
"Fre-?"
Tilts head like "what?"
Of course he wouldn't get it.
No way these guys saw Dune.
So Jin kicked off the ground.
Thus.
The swordplay that once earned him "You're hopeless" from sword saints unfolded.
A clumsy thrust, worlds apart from his punches.
Opponent smirked.
Till the blade kissed his nose.
"......!"
Jerks back in panic.
Tip grazes hair by a hair's breadth.
Jin fluidly spun the sword in his grip.
Tip now earthward.
Downward slash.
No proper form, just baseless chain—opponent's eyes bulged.
Managed to clamp the blade prayer-style mid-flow, but outmatched in strength, ass-planted right there—
Instead of skewering the skull, Jin booted his side.
Body rolled degu-ruru, gasped once, then flopped limp.
Dusted his hands. Eyebrowed at the hijackers who'd subdued the robot couple.
Scavengers out here too?
People live everywhere, after all.
Nothing too weird popping up anywhere.
That's when.
Murmurs rippled through the shadows encircling the sidecar.
Incomprehensible accents traded words.
Someone shoved forward.
Bellowed loud.
"Don't come no further, ya outsiders! One more step an' we'll kill ya fer real."
"......?"
Jin cocked his head, dialect as thick as it was baffling—but briefly.
The guy kept going.
"Ya know where this be? Think ya can just strut in, outsiders."
"...Huh?"
Dialect poured like a busted dam.
Sentences so raw, hard to believe they were real words.
Jin glanced at Cheomji.
He spoke slowly.
"Outland locals. They don't usually show here. Surprising."
"Yeah?"
Jin stepped forward.
"Hold up. We're just following the path. No beef with you—let go of shorty, and we'll pass quiet."
Answer: jammed a blade under Bagmar's chin. Blue energy hummed coldly along the edge.
"Outsider. No bullshit. How ya know the black-sorc an' run together?"
"Uh, slow down. What's a black-sorc?"
Jin furrowed hard, mentally tweaking the earworm phrases like hieroglyphs.
Conclusion, barely wrestled out:
"Wait—'black-sorc' mean Black Mage?"
Opponent just glared.
"......"
In the following silence.
Jin unconsciously palmed his forehead.
Yep. Fuck. Right on the money.