Chapter 20
Chapter 20
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: A Place Without Light (1)
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"This is the head, this is the eye, this is..."
Zarvaka's body fetches a high price.
Its saliva can be processed into poison, and its skin and flesh make for superb materials on their own.
The meat can be set aside and grilled, boiled, or even thrown into a stew—tastes great either way.
But butchering it here would be a hassle, so we're just grabbing what we can carry for now.
The head's already severed, so no helping that—let's just extract the eyes and teeth and set them aside.
"Watch the saliva, careful now, careful."
Even stone dead, this damn wolf is still drooling. Gross.
I dodge the Zarvaka saliva and carefully pry out its teeth.
One tooth out, two, three...
Anyway, I keep pulling.
"Kid, so how do we get out?"
"Break the crystal. No dungeon core, and it'll collapse on its own."
"Yeah?"
"But don't smash it yet—we gotta move Zarvaka first."
That's one pricey hunk of meat.
A-rank upper monster corpse. Not in mint condition, so a bit iffy for necromancers, but...
Skin, teeth, claws, and meat? Demand's through the roof.
"How much we talking?"
"Meat's hundreds to millions of won per kilo. Process the skin, teeth, and claws into weapons? At least hundreds of millions minimum."
"Not bad."
"Right?"
Killing a Zarvaka takes at least ten A-rank hunters, so supply's always short. Demand? Off the charts.
Meat's insanely expensive, and the rest? Name your price.
I'm talking seriously pricey.
"How we splitting the profits?"
"Seven-three."
"Obviously you get three, I take seven, right?"
"Heh heh."
My sis Buer must've been a real asshole in a past life.
How does she spout bullshit like that so smoothly?
"Obviously I get seven, you get three."
"No way—I chopped the neck! Why do I get three?"
"Because without me, you couldn't have chopped it in the first place?"
"By that logic, you couldn't have taken down this wolf solo either?"
Wait, no? I totally could've handled it alone.
I just used Buer 'cause it was efficient. I could've bagged this mutt by myself, easy.
"I could've done it solo."
"Then we split fifty-fifty. Five-five."
"Fine. But the first five's mine."
...?
"What's the difference?"
"Feels different?"
Hmm.
What do I even say to that.
"...Fine, you handle it all."
"Yes!"
Buer clenches both fists, beaming with genuine joy at claiming the first five.
Fine, whatever... If that makes Buer happy, that's good enough.
Happy's all that matters.
Alrighty then.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ I hand Zarvaka's corpse off to Buer and smash the crystal at the dungeon's heart. Next thing I know, we're waking up somewhere in a nameless remote mountain.
Snow's dumping from the sky, blanketing the ground in white flakes that bloom like flowers, turning the whole scene into some mystical fairy-tale wonderland.
The sudden chill hits hard, so I hurriedly wrap myself in mana and scout around. Nothing.
Snow as far as the eye can see. Snow, snow, and more snow.
Looks like a snowy mountain range. Does Korea even have something like this?
Gangwon-do, maybe?
No way we got flung into North Korea.
That'd be a pain.
Thankfully, the Zarvaka corpse, battle traces, the thick blood caked on my axe—everything's intact. Even Buer's right there beside me, wearing that dumb expression.
"Where the hell are we now..."
I pull out my phone—signal's good, thank god.
Fire up the map to pinpoint our location...
"...Vladivostok?"
Way farther than I thought.
Gates really suck.
Pop up out of nowhere, drag you somewhere, then spit you out in bumfuck nowhere.
Would be perfect if they just dropped you right back where you started.
"Buer, any idea where we are?"
"Not Korea, that's for sure."
"Yeah."
Korea doesn't get snow dumps like this.
Gangwon-do? Even there, this heavy?
"So where are we, kid?"
"Vladivostok. Exact spot? No clue."
Buer's face lights up with amusement at the name.
"Not bad. Beats China or North Korea."
"True."
She's right—if we'd landed in China or the North, getting back to Korea would've been a nightmare.
No passport, no ID, nothing. Can't just hop a plane. Smuggling's the only option.
And those places? Security's tight as hell.
Russia? Paradise by comparison.
"Russia? Just follow this sis—I got you covered."
Please do. Don't just talk big.
I trail behind Buer as she thumps her chest confidently and leads the way through the snow.
How deep is this drift? Every step sinks my foot right in.
Blizzard raging overhead, icy wind slicing my cheeks—it drags up memories of brutal winter training.
That was rough. Just wanted to survive, make some cash, so I rushed into the army.
Looking back now? Not a bad experience.
Afghanistan deployment. First firefight against Taliban and IS.
The feeling back then? Not fear or terror. Awe and longing for the unknown.
"Cool view."
And that feeling? Still alive somewhere in me.
Russia's snowy peaks, Vladivostok. Towering snowdrifts, sturdy trees standing tall.
Everything feels fresh and wondrous.
"Right? That's Mother Earth's majesty for you."
I get Buer's pride now. It's a stunning vista.
Yeah, beautiful.
At least here, untouched by humanity's ugliness—a true pristine zone.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Following Buer, we emerge from the snowy mountains and hit a nearby city before long.
"Ugh..."
Of course, hauling Zarvaka's massive corpse sparked a little drama—locals freaked and called the cops.
"Ah, a hunter."
The police take one look at Buer's hunter license and nod, stepping aside without a fuss.
A-rank credentials, printed in Russian.
Flash that, and you dodge suspicion—hell, you get thanks and respect. Works in our favor.
"So, where to now?"
Sun's already dipping low—must be the northern latitude.
Buer just keeps trucking straight ahead with the wolf corpse, no explanation.
"Us? Back to our spot."
"Which is?"
Buer just grins vacantly and continues.
"Gotta hit the shadows. You don't have a passport right now, kid?"
"Nope."
"No flying, then. No entry records... Got ID or a license?"
"License, yeah—but Korean one's no good here."
"Can't verify that."
"Nope."
No passport, no ID, zilch.
Got some cash, but money alone won't get me on a plane.
Smuggling it is.
"Trust me. Seoul by tomorrow."
...
So where the hell are we headed?
City entrance felt lively at first. Now? We've slipped into slums—dingy back alleys.
Crumbling buildings, trash everywhere.
Filthy dumps, winos chugging vodka.
Thugs beating those winos, looting them.
Bang-!
And mafia icing those thugs.
Weak eaten by strong, strong devoured by stronger. Clear food chain here too.
And Buer? Powering through it all, dragging that giant wolf corpse. Totally out of place.
"Gotta be around here somewhere... Where..."
We trudge on forever, until we reach a rundown shack at the slums' edge.
Clunk-
Buer gestures, and the door barring the house swings open.
Beyond it: stairs plunging deep underground.
Wide enough for a full-size sedan or SUV, easy.
"Let's go down."
We descend those stairs and... what do you call this?
Blood scent hits first—familiar tang in my nostrils.
Then nauseating reek of drugs, semen, pussy juice.
Rotten snake mixed with fancy wine and smokes—enough to drive you mad.
"People are the same everywhere."
Underground's like ripping a Myeongdong gambling den wholesale.
Folks high on drugs, slamming bets wildly.
Losers dragged off somewhere.
Onlookers sneering in pity.
Yeah, world's big, tons of people—but deep down, everyone's the same.
"What now?"
"Just sit tight, kid."
Buer grabs a chair from somewhere, seats me gently.
Hauls the giant wolf corpse off, vanishes from sight.
"Mm..."
Without Buer, I look like a kid lost at an amusement park.
Sitting here like this...
Bored.
What to do.
"Crowded in here."
Nothing to do, so I scan the room. Definitely a lot of flashy, pretty, handsome faces.
Russian ladies got huge tits.
Like, massive.
Those even human-sized?
"..."
It's fine—I used to be a guy.
No tits? Fine. Better that way.
What's good about extra flab?
"That one's head's my size."
Three heads.
Buer's the small kind.
Three heads gotta mean triple the processing speed, right?
"Huh."
What kinda thoughts are these?
Ha, sigh.
"Hoo..."
Burnout hitting sudden-like.
Fish a smoke from my thigh pocket, light up careful, take a drag.
"Nice."
Nicotine kicks in—head finally clears.
Good.
Burning another...
Crash-!
"Ah? Aah?"
Some vodka bottle flies out of nowhere, smashes my skull.
Impact shatters it—glass shards stab my skin.
Flesh tears, blood streams from the gashes.
Head's split open, feels like.
Stings.
Hurts.
Who?
Who threw it?
Which bastard?
Whip around—spot a muscle-pig thug stomping my way. Obvious perp.
Face and body tattooed head to toe. Real tattooed swine.
"Слышь, ты чё за мелкий хрен?"
"What the hell you saying?"
Tattoo-pig barks something in Russian. No idea.
Oh, right—I don't speak Russian.
"Can you speak English?"
"Чё ты там мямлишь."
I asked in English?
You replied Russian?
You struck first?
Click-
Draw the pistol from my garterbelt holster.
Aim for the man's head.
Before he can bark more.
Bang-!