Chapter 16
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Jackpot
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Today's Newtak Mad Movie Compilation
Posted by: Colorless Bird
That's our guy!!
Da! New! Tak!
Just caught one underdeveloped mutant that's not even second-rate and making a fuss lol
Wasn't it a Type 2 mutant? Yeah, for all its grotesque looks, it doesn't seem all that refined as a species.
Spot on. I've only seen three mutants up close so far, but from a species standpoint, they all feel seriously underdeveloped. Even the Type 2 just had one extra feature tacked on—nothing balanced about it, so it couldn't even use its abilities properly.
Man, you guys are harsh critics. If he did well, just say he did well.
Right?! Why rag on our Newtak like that!
Since when have the vets had low standards? Nah, I think he did great.
Honestly, props. Sure, gimmick weapon users in the gallery dropped tips, but pulling it off in real combat on the spot? That's a whole different story.
Honestly kinda proud. Gimmick weapons are a nightmare for noobs even if they know what's coming—these unorthodox tricks are just hard to counter.
Nice use of terrain and fixtures too. Setting up the environment in your favor and forcing the enemy into a one-sided disadvantage. He's got real bandit potential.
"Pha."
The fight was over.
I'd successfully chin-kicked the Type 2 mutant right in its chest—sending its head flying off like the cap from a cola bottle, even with one of my arms still bound.
The gallery lurkers who'd watched the whole thing live dropped their two cents.
"Man, you guys are all so stingy."
What's it hurt to give a little praise?
Vets like Anger Control Expert and Black Sky handed down their usual harsh verdicts.
Still, one silver lining: most of the other gallery folks were singing my praises.
My ride-or-die Colorless Bird, of course, but even the rest commended my handling of the situation.
The gimmick weapon crew especially showered me with headpats.
Watching my lips curl into a smug grin threatening to ascend to the heavens, I had to admit—I might be a validation-starved exhibitionist gallery rat myself.
Anyway,
"Alright, rested up enough. Time to get moving."
I hauled myself up from where I'd half-buried into the blood-soaked snow.
Next to me lay the Type 2 mutant's torso, sprawled out like it was my corpse-wife cuddling up.
What can I say? The instant I dropped it, all tension left my body, and I flopped out right there in the snow.
-[Sickle Low High Birth End Ugly]: Talk about good fortune. How do you casually nap next to a monster corpse like that?
I hadn't cut the live stream yet, so one of the gallery watchers clicked their tongue.
I shrugged lightly and shot back.
"Eh, whatever. Just a few years back, I'd bury myself in piles of corpses for days just to survive."
-[Sickle Low High Birth End Ugly]: What?
-[Green Forest King]: Oh...
-[Dragon Money]: Eep...
The vibe turned Talulah real quick, leaving the gallery speechless.
Of course, some charged right in.
-[Anger Control Expert]: Oh what? Back in my day, I'd chew enemy flesh and guzzle blood to last seven days and nights.
-[Demon King]: (Nods nods! Demon King approved)
-[Black Sky]: I've dueled waves of assassins through a full night and day, melting snow from the sky just to drink.
Damn, more vets.
I need to despise these guys.
"Hey, not fishing for pity or anything. Anyway, live stream's over. Gotta go scrounge some food."
Sure, I'd accidentally filmed back-to-back action montages, but the main goal of this scouting run was grub.
No matter how badass a martial artist you are, no rice means starvation. Sure, us gallery types might thrive without it... but that's not me.
With that, I told them to check the play-by-play later and killed the stream.
But before heading out—
"Gotta loot what I can."
I rummaged through the dead mutant's corpse.
Farming usable items off these mangled freaks is tough, but there's one thing you can always get.
The silver droplet clinging to its shattered neck collar.
"Ether. Can't leave this behind."
They call it the world's primal essence.
Word from the gallery later was that even Ether doesn't pack much punch in ones or twos.
People compare pricey stuff to "its weight in gold," but c'mon—a single droplet of gold? How valuable can it be?
Still, to an ant like me, even one drop of Ether is precious.
The gallery whales might short gold like it's pocket change, but I gather these drops with the devotion of a long-term investor, stitching every one by hand.
I'd farmed Ether from the lower-floor mutants too, totaling seven drops.
Why not three? Because this Type 2 yielded a whopping five.
Guess hitting its second job alone did the trick.
Looting done, I stretched my stiff body and headed for the rooftop railing.
"Still a brutal view."
One stroke of luck: even after that dramatic showdown, no mutants swarmed from elsewhere.
True to form—they've got killer reflexes up close but are plant-dull at range.
Unlike rooted plants, though, these two-legged weeds roam around. Looking down from up high, the ones patrolling the village looked plenty threatening.
I memorized their patrol patterns as best I could while scanning for buildings that might hold food.
Luckily, didn't take long to spot a few.
'Ah, there we go.'
Sea Cloud Grocery.
Dukcheon Grains.
True to the backwater village vibe—old-school shops straight out of the '80s. Modern rural spots might have a One-Stop Mart in the center, but out here on the fringes? These were it.
And that was plenty.
"Let's go."
No need to trek back down the stairs.
I kicked off the roof edge, rappelled down the wall pipes to brake, and landed on the neighboring building's AC unit.
Grabbed the bars, clambered up to the next terrace.
Hopping rooftop to rooftop, I touched down on the roof of the two-story Dukcheon Grains.
Self-assessed: clean parkour.
Never formally trained, but five years surviving this world turns it into casual exercise.
'Plus with internal energy? Yeah, I can hop these tight building gaps without touching ground now.'
No forced mutant encounters while street-crawling? Huge win.
Satisfied, I approached the rooftop door—
Clunk clunk.
Locked from inside. Wouldn't budge.
But no biggie.
Would've been a pain before, but
"Hup!"
A burst of internal energy ripped the whole handle clean off with a wooden crack.
"Yeah, that's the stuff."
Lock sorted, I tromped down the inner stairs.
The first-floor scene was rough as hell.
Sliding doors with shattered windows, fixtures smashed to bits—nothing intact.
Shelves long stripped bare, just windblown snow and ice.
Prime setup for "bust," but—
'Too early to quit.'
Be it fallout from the divided nation or just rural shop quirks, these places always hid an extra storeroom.
Hard-earned survival wisdom from bloody scraps, so I scoured every corner and soon found a side door tucked deep inside.
Perfectly placed to overlook in the dim light, but my eyes caught the rusty chain and padlock barring the entrance.
I wedged in the crowbar I'd brought, twisted hard.
Grrrind crrrunch!!
The corroded metal screamed.
The seal loosened with a clang, letting me swing the door open.
Creeeak—the stiff hinges groaned, spilling out a blast of frigid air.
Obviously led underground.
Shining my emergency flashlight, I crept down to the bottom—
"Holy shit."
I couldn't help blurting in shock.
Because
"Jackpot... jackpot!"
There, stacked up: five full sacks of grain.