The Hell of the Second Floor

The forest on the second floor had a similar atmosphere to the first. A series of system messages flickered into my vision.

It was a universal truth, regardless of difficulty, that a safe zone would be generated for ten minutes immediately upon entry. But the translucent barrier I’d seen on the first floor was nowhere to be found. This damn Hell Difficulty—you’re telling me there was a safe zone on the first floor, but it suddenly stops appearing from the second floor onward?

Before I could even organize my panicked, spinning thoughts, multiple shadows lunged at me from behind the bushes and trees.

Clang. Crack.

“Kek-kek-kek!”

I’d been so flustered that my reaction was a beat slow. One of them had nearly latched onto me, swinging a dagger, but I deflected it with the gauntlet on my left hand. Even though it was now defenseless, the monster kept lunging with its teeth bared. I smashed its skull in, and the rest of the monsters stopped, shrieking in confusion.

They were the height of an elementary schooler, reaching about my waist, with green skin and glistening eyes that radiated blind hostility. They were Goblins.

Ah, damn it. Not only are they not unarmed, they’ve got daggers. Five of them... well, four now that I’ve popped one’s head.

In Easy, Normal, and Hard difficulties, slimes appeared up to the fifth floor. But in Hell Difficulty, while the first floor was slimes, it jumped straight to goblins on the second? At this point, any information about the floors—other than the monsters—was useless. These weren't even the "hopeless trio" of goblins that show up on the sixth floor to bully climbers with poor combat sense; there were five of them.

Still, my equipment was sturdy enough that those crude daggers wouldn't leave a scratch. Unless I got surrounded and started flailing in a panic, wasting my stamina, I wasn't in any real danger.

I glared at the goblins, who were whispering among themselves instead of attacking, and quickly pulled up their information. They were similar in build to a human, perhaps slightly weaker. Therefore, the threat level depended on their weapons and appearance. None of them looked particularly large, and I didn't see any weapons other than daggers. Okay. Low threat.

I spread mana throughout my body to reinforce my physical stats.

“Hah!”

“Ke-ruruk!” “Kiek!”

I let out a shout to shake off the lingering tension and charged at the nearest goblin. The ones who had been rolling their eyes in agitation shrieked and rushed at me as well.

“Keeeeeeeeeek!!!”

“Thwack!”

I feinted a swing of my War Hammer at the lead goblin’s shin, then delivered a powerful kick to its knee. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠leg bent in a direction it wasn't meant to. Ignoring the creature as it dropped its dagger and howled in agony, clutching its leg, I immediately smashed the skull of the goblin behind it, who had been caught off guard.

Reinforced by mana, my body and the mana-infused War Hammer turned the goblin’s head into a pulp, splattering blood all over my gear. The remaining three goblins, excluding the one still howling, were filled with terror.

As I shook the blood off my hammer, the goblins lost their will to fight and fled, trembling. But they couldn't escape; an invisible barrier prevented them from leaving the area. I chased them down and crushed their skulls one by one.

“Ke-ruk-ke-ruruk-ke-ruk.”

After killing the fleeing goblins and returning, I saw the one with the broken leg crawling toward the forest. I finished it off, and a flood of notifications poured in.

“Return.”

Whoosh. I returned to the workshop with the familiar light.

Immediately after returning, I checked the loot scattered on the floor. Five daggers used by the goblins... they weren't worth much as money, so I’d just melt them down for materials. Still, Hell Difficulty really was on a different level starting from the second floor. Other difficulties had the same types of monsters; only the stats differed. You usually didn't see ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠three goblins until the sixth floor, yet here were five on the second.

“I’m going to need to prepare much more thoroughly before going back in.”

My attack and defense were sufficient, but seeing the state of the monsters, I needed to be better prepared. I couldn't afford to give up my special minerals and crafting materials for something like this. Even if I had points to spare, it was a waste to just buy everything. How long was I supposed to wait with bated breath for other climbers to sell the materials I wanted? I had to climb to the middle floors quickly and get them myself.

“I’ll invest a bit more in defense and make sure I have artifacts and potions ready.”

My strength and stamina weren't lacking, so I’d craft a chain vest to wear between my cloth and steel armor. I’d also prepare artifacts for magic resistance or mana recovery, and potions in case of injury. I’d be fully prepared before challenging the third floor.

By the way, it said a special shop for me was added to the Gallery. I should check that first.

As I accessed the Gallery, notifications popped up. What did this mean? My posts and comments were highlighted? Surely not...

“Good grief.”

The comment sections of the posts I’d made were exploding. I ignored the chaotic threads and clicked on the Exclusive Special Shop.

“Oh, this is a gold mine.”

The contents were absurd, befitting the massive point requirements. But if it granted knowledge, I was essentially absorbing what others had spent lifetimes building. All things considered, buying them was a guaranteed profit. There were even materials I’d never heard of. Small Branch of the World Tree? I was curious about what properties that had, but the cost was astronomical. I had to keep climbing. I couldn't waste points on materials when I could use them in the special shop.

Let’s see... I had about 140,000 points. I bought Everything About Warriors and Mana-based Body & Weapon Reinforcement immediately for the climb.

Ohhhhhhh! So this is how you use your body and mana...

In an instant, I was reborn from a weak modern human into a slaughtering warrior for just 90,000 points. You’re all dead, you monsters. At this point, I could probably climb again without even upgrading my gear, but no—I’d stick to being thorough.

The remaining 50,000 points... Elixir of Strength. Rare grade. It increases stats below ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠E+. It can only be used once. Oh, found a use for the rest. But since it’s for E+ or below, it’s most efficient to use when my stats are at E+.

Volcanic Dwarf's Mineral Smelting Secret, 20,000 points. I bought this right away. It was about how to draw out more performance from each ore or gem. For an efficiency-obsessed person like me, it was too early to buy since I didn't have any E+ stats yet. Then...

Perfect Repair (No Durability Loss). This was it! I’d only registered the Repair skill, but if I wanted to earn money or points in society, Repair wasn't very competitive since so many climbers had it. I couldn't reveal my Crafting. Working together often meant revealing nicknames and doing private trades, and the risk of being exposed as the All-Purpose Crafter was too high due to trolls in the Gallery.

To avoid being suspected, I’d have to open a shop—maybe a "Perfect Repair Shop" that only opens briefly offline. Should I move out from my parents' place, get a shop on the first floor, and live on the second?

As I purchased Perfect Repair (No Durability Loss), knowledge flooded my brain. ...Hm? Usually, repair just required the same material as the item and a click of the skill, which would instantly fix it while destroying the maximum durability. But the knowledge I’d gained was different. It still required the same material, but I had to heat the weapon and material in a furnace and repair it manually! If done perfectly, the maximum durability wouldn't decrease.

...If even a little bit of this got out, it would attract insane attention. Rumors of "Perfect Repair" would spread, and I’d be buried in work. Then, my beloved Crafting would be goodbye. It was a problem if the effect was too good. What should I do?

After a moment of thought, I remembered the item repairs allocated by the government. I’d report this to the Climber Administration, keep the fact that I was the one doing the "perfect" repairs a secret, and just repair items for mid-to-high-level climbers who couldn't use their good gear because the durability was too low. The government could act as the errand boy.

If I perfectly repaired items they couldn't use, the climbers would be happy because they weren't just staring at their gear like it was a piece of dried fish, the government would be happy because the climbers got stronger, and I wouldn't receive the massive attention the All-Purpose Crafter would, as my identity would be thoroughly protected. Perfect. Let’s do it.

I’d write about Perfect Repair in the anonymous tip section for the Climber Administration, request a visit when my family wasn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠home... and if I left an address, they’d visit quietly tomorrow. Now, time to wash up and sleep. It was a shame I couldn't eat with my family for two days in a row, but I was so exhausted—perhaps from the mental shock of killing goblins. I didn't think I could even swallow food. A sigh escaped me at the thought that my life as a normal climber was over.

I turned off the blazing Gallery, grabbed a towel, and turned on the shower. Ah, I still had goblin blood all over my eyes. So gross.