Chapter 92
Chapter 92
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 92
Chapter Title: Balkan Unit 2, Production and Supply Plan
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Ugh... my head...”
The half-dwarf Zirnier groaned, clutching her head with both hands.
“Drinking dozens of dwarf-brewed bottles and only ending up with a slight headache is the real miracle. Here, drink some water first.”
“Y-yeah, thanks... ugh...”
No. 3 handed her a cup of cool water.
It had warmed up a bit from the furnace heat in that short time, but Zirnier gulped it down like it was the elixir of life.
Thanks to the relic from the 22nd-floor mountain—the Transparent Mask—her lips were invisible, but her atmosphere had clearly relaxed.
“Feeling better now?”
“Thanks to you. Urk...”
No. 1, No. 2, and No. 3 rushed over and propped up Zirnier's upper body.
Seated on the anvil, she looked at me and opened her mouth.
“Phew. So, how'd the labyrinth run go—nyaack! You, you...!”
Speaking casually at first, Zirnier's eyes widened the moment she saw my face. Well, technically my helmet.
Crack!
Her hangover vanished in an instant as she sprang up from the anvil and grabbed the ear guards of my helmet with both arms.
Her sharp gaze fixed on the shattered lower jaw of the helmet.
Zirnier's featureless mask filled my entire view.
I couldn't see her eyes rolling, but...
I instinctively felt her gaze sticking to the skin of my left cheek, my lips, and my glabella.
“Ahem. Hm.”
After gripping my head tightly and inspecting it for a while, Zirnier let out an awkward cough and slowly backed away.
“...Good job. Looks like you tangled with a real tough bastard.”
Rather than yelling about her gear getting smashed, she expressed concern for me.
Even so, her trembling body betrayed how pissed she was that her first creation—which had gathered dust in her weapon shop for ages—had come back in pieces.
“Hand over the helmet. I need to reinforce it more. I'll use relic alloy and make it utterly unbreakable—”
I hurriedly stopped her.
“I've got too much gear that needs fixing right now. I don't have the cash for premium stuff like relic alloy.”
The leather armor and axe needed work too.
The money I had on hand: two gold coins, about fifty silvers, and one hobgoblin soulstone worth one and a half golds.
Plus one gold coin reward from this commission I hadn't collected yet.
Total assets: roughly five gold.
It was savings from steady work at Diana's tavern and rewards from every labyrinth dive.
Relic items start at a gold coin minimum—relic alloy? No way in hell.
The helmet was vital defensive gear, but sinking my entire fortune into patching a small tear was out of the question.
“Forget it. You bring back something with my name on it totally wrecked, and I'm supposed to charge you? Artisan pride, you know. ...Well, I might take fees for those other wimpy weapons, but this helmet? Purely for my own satisfaction. No charge.”
Zirnier thumped her chest confidently with her fist, her voice brimming with assurance.
Her bandaged, palm-sized breast jiggled plumply in her grip.
Her mindset really is on another level.
Was this the legendary artisan dignity I'd only heard about? It was purely admirable in moments like this.
In the harsh, cutthroat labyrinth city, it was a quality worth emulating if you wanted to live like a human.
“Thank you!”
“Hmph. Save the thanks for something real. If you're that grateful, have a drink with me later?”
Swish—swish—
Zirnier made an awkward gesture in the air, mimicking shaking something thick, long, and firm tap-tap-tap.
Sluuurp—sloooow—
She even gripped the base of the long, firm thing tightly at the end, teasing the blunt tip with her five fingers ever so gently.
Passionate dick-jerking followed by slow, torturous glans edging to climax.
“...Those hand motions...”
“...Ah. Human drinking standards, right?”
Zirnier immediately shook off her hands and mimed tilting a cup.
Phew. For a second there...
The gestures had been so languid and sticky that I'd almost mistaken them for an invitation: 'Wanna blow off some steam with a good dick-fuck?'
Of course. Zirnier usually chugs straight from the bottle.
It made sense for the misunderstanding.
Differences in dwarf and human drinking culture, too.
I didn't quite get it, but I'd chalk the last one up to popping a soju cap.
“If you're taking care of me like this, buying you drinks anytime is no problem. Just come before the tavern closes.”
“R-really? You promise? No flaking? Got it?!”
Zirnier pressed excitedly.
“Yes. More importantly, could you take a look at my other gear?”
“Sure. Let's see—”
Poof.
Pop! Clang!
The moment I opened my backpack, the half-mashed axe and ragged leather armor burst out.
Zirnier eyed them like a pile of food waste, her expression darkening.
“All trashed. Toss 'em. Can't save those.”
The gear wailed pitifully at the death sentence from a master artisan.
I quietly sighed, thinking of my wallet thinning out from replacements.
But it wasn't over yet.
“Th-this one's just a little roughed up.”
I gently placed Zirnier's artifact axe on top. The handle had a slight crack.
Zirnier's mood stiffened at the sight.
“This broke too? You didn't even pass the 10th floor—how?”
She asked twice, incredulous about how it happened.
“Oh. Actually, I have a question about that.”
I rummaged in my backpack again. Then I gripped the trembling thing tightly and pulled it out.
The abomination soulstone. No—Gluttony's soulstone.
Why was this thing buzzing like it was alive? I was curious about its true nature.
I figured Zirnier might know...
“Insane...”
Zirnier muttered a curse and blankly extended her hand.
A faster, more intense reaction than expected.
Cling! Clang!
The relic alloy axe hit the floor with a racket.
Her trembling hand drew closer.
And then, Zirnier shoved her face right into the soulstone.
“Fuck, shit, how the hell...!”
It was a thick curse...
But her voice was soaked in the ecstasy of a treasure hunter striking gold.
Zirnier's mask blurred strangely, faintly revealing the silhouette of her face.
Nothing else was clear, but her sparkling eyes shone through vividly.
“Some high-ranking labyrinth dwellers don't go down clean.”
The Gluttony soulstone reflected in her beautiful lapis eyes, like blue gems.
“In extremely rare cases, they seal their ‘identity’ in the soulstone instead of dying. Doesn't happen before mid-20s floors at least.”
Zirnier gazed dreamily at the Gluttony soulstone before her.
Soulstones dropped at rare chances when beasts died.
And even rarer: ones containing an ‘identity’.
“A Deadly Sin-grade identity, no less...!”
Zirnier was so thrilled she even rubbed the soulstone against her cheek.
The Gluttony soulstone shuddered in horror.
For the record, she'd been staring at it in a daze for a full thirty minutes with that entranced look.
“Reforging this—what'll come out? Look, it's even wriggling. Amazing, right?”
“Yes, amazing. So stop rubbing it and hand it over already.”
“......”
Silence.
Zirnier glanced at me and slyly averted her eyes.
“...No.”
“Hold on. I've got something to say too.”
Through the hazy mask, Zirnier gave an awkward smile.
“Let's trade. Fair price. About 500 gold coins?”
“Pardon?”
The number was so astronomical my mind blanked out for a moment.
Can you even accumulate 500 gold coins as a currency unit?
I suddenly realized we lived in different worlds.
Was this the economic sense of a top artisan even in the labyrinth city?
Or does the Gluttony soulstone justify that investment?
“Gathering cash takes time. I can front 300 gold right now, more later—”
“No, no. Hold on. Let's calm down and talk.”
I said that, but I couldn't settle either.
“I-is this thing that valuable?”
“Yeah. Best material I've seen in my whole smithing career—only six ever, and I missed 'em all as an apprentice without a chance to hammer. Argh, pisses me off just thinking about it.”
Zirnier ground her teeth.
Her face brimmed with the artisan's burning desire to reforge it.
“Deadly Sin identity soulstones? Haven't gotten one in ten years despite hunting. Who knows if another'll ever drop.”
Zirnier swallowed hard, her expression anxious.
“So. Sell it to me.”
I pondered her offer deeply.
What was there to hesitate over with that sum? Yet I mulled it seriously.
First, fact-check.
The Gluttony soulstone's owner is me.
I didn't steal it from Joy Hog party.
We'd roughly discussed settlements on the way out of the labyrinth.
They all acknowledged my pivotal role in slaying Gluttony. Neither they nor I knew its true value then, so they nodded easily.
But 500 gold? That flips the script.
The money scale was different.
I trusted their party to a degree—but only up to twenty gold deals.
No matter how buddy-buddy, explorers risking death in the labyrinth for loot...
A few months of shared life-or-death faded naturally before wealth for a lifetime of noble indulgence.
Even if I kept quiet, word would spread; they'd sniff it out.
Tch...
Fuck, I hesitated hard. Was this the right call? My heart pounded before the massive sum.
Yeah. Pretend the money never existed. Think calmly.
Ideal scenario: I profit, Zirnier's happy, party nods understandingly.
Zirnier had revealed the value honestly and proposed a fair trade.
She could've screwed me over easily but didn't.
Meant she wasn't looking to burn bridges after one deal.
Deals with the labyrinth city's top artisan needed long-term view.
Keep exploring, and I'll need top gear eventually.
Material even she craves like this? Endgame stuff.
Sell rashly now? Later, pay premium over 500 gold for her craftsmanship.
Trade now: cheaper upgrade, spec boost.
Farewell, 500 gold.
Farewell, noble life.
What I gave up becomes stepping stone for my power growth.
“Zirnier.”
Her hazy mask revealed lapis eyes fixed on me.
“You want to reforge this soulstone, right?”
“Yeah. Let me swing my hammer on it, and I promise full support for you.”
Her earnest words sealed my decision.
“I'm not selling the soulstone.”
“......!!”
Zirnier's eyes bulged in shock. Her eye corner twitched at my follow-up.
“Instead...”
Swish.
I grabbed her hammer-callused hand—forged from countless strikes—and showered light on the Gluttony soulstone clutched in her grip.
Her eyes glared at the soulstone thrashing in her grasp, then met mine.
“With this, make gear for me.”
“...”
Zirnier shut her mouth briefly.
Her lips quivered, suppressing a bursting cheer.
But only for a moment.
“...Gear, you mean... like what?”
Her vibe screamed: Please not a crossbow, not some efficiency-obsessed lame-ass weapon, trembling visibly.
I chuckled at her.
“Whatever you want.”
A master chef with prime ingredients crafts their signature dish—it'd taste dozens of times better than average fare.
And Zirnier's tough tastes align closely with mine.
High odds her heartfelt creation matches my ideal weapon.
Squeeze!
“Balkan! You bastard! You romantic fuck!!! Thank you!!!”
Thrilled to her core, Zirnier hugged me tight and bounced around.
Before I could feel the bandaged texture against my chest, she spoke.
“I'll bear you! The greatest child of my life!”
“Uh.”
The sudden pregnancy-and-birth declaration left me dazed.
“Y-you mean... make a weapon... right...?”
Hearing my trembling voice, Zirnier...
“Heh heh!”
Just grinned wickedly.