Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: The Black Market Auction
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No matter how much misfortune comes your way, you can endure it by reflecting on it positively.
But excessive luck can sometimes spiral out of control.
"Excessive luck sometimes brings irreparable misfortune."
Leyzon, who prided himself on being born under a lucky star,
had luck as his true weakness as well.
It's unsettling.
This streak of luck was making him too anxious to even crack a cheerful smile.
Nothing was scarier than hitting the jackpot repeatedly in a gamble.
And Leyzon had a deep-seated aversion to anything gambling-related.
His father had bankrupted the family through gambling and even dipped into shady third-tier loans.
Nothing disgusted him more than gambling.
To Leyzon, this excessive luck was a harbinger of the misfortune it would summon next.
"Hoo."
Leyzon let out a long breath and soon lifted his head again.
'Fearing what you hold and achieving nothing is the height of foolishness.'
What was there to fear?
If disaster struck, he'd face it head-on and overcome it.
Leyzon bared his teeth in a grin.
'So this is the result of a hundred years.'
He'd accumulated far more ascension experience than expected.
'And I still have a ton of untouched dungeons ahead.'
Hunting a Phantasmal Beast for the first time yielded massive experience.
'To reach 18 ascensions, I'd need to clear nearly all the high-tier dungeons anyway.'
That meant he could gain just as much experience moving forward.
It was a tremendous advantage.
An advantage that made clearing the game feel genuinely possible.
This realization hit him with one fact.
The other races he had encountered in the game.
Why their average ascension levels had been so exceptionally high.
'It was the difference in lifespan.'
The disparity in lifespans was staggering.
Syria hurriedly called out to Leyzon.
From the looks of it, this voice was audible only to him.
Leyzon snapped out of his daze, stunned by the overwhelming results.
"Thank you."
He gave a polite nod to the puzzled clerk and turned to leave.
"Oh, heading to an Earthhold Layer dungeon again this time?"
The clerk called out once more.
"No. I'm thinking of trying some different dungeons now."
"Pardon? Really?"
The clerk's face lit up with surprise.
It made sense— he'd been grinding the same dungeon day and night for a hundred years.
'She was probably already working here by the time I started running dungeons.'
In her eyes, he must have seemed like a perfectionist like Kant.
Kant was famous for his precise, regimented lifestyle.
People even set their watches by his daily walks.
'I must have come across the same way.'
Run the Earthhold Layer dungeon.
Sell the materials at the pioneer's compounding station.
Come back the next day.
Repeat infinitely for a hundred years.
So naturally, she was flustered at the news of his departure.
"I've been in your debt all this time."
He'd cleared most of the capital's dungeons via auto-hunt before starting.
No reason to return to this pioneer's compounding station anymore.
As Leyzon exchanged farewells and turned away, her eyes widened round.
"L-Leyzon! Wait a second!"
"Yes?"
"It's just so sudden... I mean, couldn't we at least have a cup of tea after you're done?"
Her shout echoed.
For some reason, the gazes of the surrounding pioneers stabbed intensely.
His nape prickled.
"Ella just said tea, right?"
"Crazy, she brushes off our daily invites with smiles, but why him?"
"That rough-looking Earthhold local who isn't even handsome?"
Why were they suddenly trash-talking his looks?
By Leyzon's standards, they were all much the same.
But Leyzon didn't care a bit.
The mask hides a handsome face.
Above all, Syria was radiating genuine murderous intent.
Leyzon hurriedly calmed her.
"Sorry. I'm really busy."
She looked a bit flustered at his polite refusal.
"Right. Yeah, I just... wanted to say thanks for everything."
She waved it off like it was no big deal.
"It's embarrassing, but seeing you steadfast through rain or snow gave me comfort.
I know I found solace on my own, but I wanted to thank you anyway."
I see.
Leyzon's auto-hunt had just been left running idly.
Yet it had brought comfort to someone like her.
Leyzon glanced at the clerk's name.
Ella.
The name now familiar, he smiled warmly.
"Thank you for everything."
"Yeah. I hope you become an amazing pioneer."
Leyzon finished his farewell with her and stepped out.
Outside, he first checked his ascension quest.
The conditions to advance from 6th to 7th ascension.
6th Ascension → 7th Ascension
📍 Clear mid-tier dungeons 3 times (Ascension 6+)0/3
He needed to clear mid-tier dungeons three times.
With conditions like this,
he wasn't stronger right this instant.
'But from now on, even after ascending, I'll maintain full stats consistently.'
The pioneer ID recorded physical stats as well.
Leyzon's current stats were as follows.
Ascension: 6Class: Poison NecromancerRace: Half Dark ElfAscension EXP Accumulated: MAX%
(!18th Ascension Possible!)
Character stats started with base vitality,
then added two more based on class traits.
Leyzon was a Poison Necromancer.
So his were "Magic Power" and "Mental Strength."
60 stats were full at ascension level 6.
'Character specs allow +10 total stats per ascension.'
Stats rose by 1 each time ascension EXP hit 10%.
'Which means.'
Leyzon could maintain full stats all the way to 18 ascensions.
No need to worry about stats for a while.
They'd rise by 10 each ascension.
Leyzon clenched his fist.
All that remained was to take action himself.
His strongest suit.
'Even so.'
He couldn't just charge into dungeons bare-handed.
'It's too late once something happens.'
Even with Syria, complacency was forbidden.
He'd learned that thoroughly in the Earthhold Layer.
Misfortune strikes the unprepared.
His gear and skills were optimized for auto-hunt.
Time to tweak skills and equipment more carefully.
'First, the magic tome shop.'
They only stocked up to B-rank, but better than his current setup.
As Leyzon finished that thought and started walking,
thud-thud-thud-thud—
Imperial soldiers suddenly swarmed from ahead.
The street fell silent at their appearance.
They were enforcers of imperial law.
With authority to arrest anyone, it was natural.
Syria's voice rang out, dripping with killing intent—likely from hearing Leyzon had clashed with imperial soldiers before.
Leyzon waved his hands side to side.
'Why'd the kid grow up so fierce?'
Hold it in.
He had no desire to be hunted by the empire.
The soldiers strode through the quiet street with familiar expressions,
scanning the pioneers.
A subtle pressure emanated from their eyes.
They clearly reveled in their authority.
A soldier's gaze met his.
Averting eyes would only breed suspicion.
Leyzon stood tall.
"...Tch tch, what a rough mug."
And for some reason, he drew pity.
His actual face was a tall, handsome dark elf—unharmed, but oddly melancholic.
As Leyzon soothed Syria,
the soldier posted a paper on the bulletin board.
It was a public wanted notice.
All for necromancers.
'The empire really is hunting necromancers.'
Leyzon clicked his tongue at the sight.
And one thought flashed by as he saw it.
'Come to think of it, necromancer tomes won't be circulating anymore.'
The Gray Mage Tower that produced them had fallen.
No more tomes would be made.
'Damn.'
Game difficulty just spiked again.
What now?
'...What do you mean what? We'll manage.'
No teeth? Use gums.
'Gotta get them myself.'
High-tier skills required hunting them down anyway.
'Skills on hold.'
Next issue.
'Gear.'
He knew just the place for good equipment.
'The imperial black market.'
For gear, the black market was king.
Niflheim Empire Black Market.
The continent's largest black market, overflowing with rare goods.
The empire once sent soldiers to shut it down.
But once they learned major figures were involved,
they turned a blind eye as long as lines weren't crossed.
'Even after a hundred years, it's still thriving.'
The black market was a den of merchants.
A century later, plenty of intriguing items awaited.
Leyzon paid the gatekeeper, anticipation swelling,
and stepped through the opened door.
Following the underground path lit by blue lanterns,
the black market unfolded before him.
Tents filling the cavern, crowds bustling.
This was the Niflheim Empire's black market.
Leyzon's appearance had changed again as he passed through.
Over his mask, he'd donned an appearance-altering robe.
Common fare in the black market.
Everyone here hid their identities.
No one eyed him suspiciously.
Syria fawned.
Face hidden, yet...
Praise or tease? Hard to tell.
But her sparkling eyes from the shadows suggested sincerity.
As Syria said, the black market was a pre-empire dungeon,
now abandoned after a figure dubbed "the Watchman" cleared it.
"Fresh materials just in—take a look!"
"Don't come if you're slow and miss out; only buyers, hurry up!"
Surprisingly aggressive hawking for a black market.
Leyzon followed the calls, browsing.
Snatching up anything decent.
He'd bought a space-enchanted backpack beforehand.
Plenty of inventory space meant no hesitation in buying.
"Syria, point out anything good on the way."
Leyzon and Syria roamed the market tirelessly.
But black markets didn't guarantee quality.
Everything here had a reason for being underground.
From hard-to-sell gear of dubious value
to cursed items that shouldn't be sold.
A trash heap of varieties on display.
Syria's eyes excelled at spotting such junk.
As a shadow kin herself,
she reacted sharply to gear.
Thanks to her, Leyzon shopped smart.
His empty backpack filled up nicely.
'But this isn't the real goal.'
Even in the black market, true treasures
all converged in one place.
'The auction house.'
Leyzon's true purpose here.
"Auction starting soon! Head to the plaza if you're joining!"
Black market staff announced as they passed.
'About time.'
As Leyzon turned to go,
something caught his eye.
A captured other races.
'Typical black market.'
Even slaves.
But not mistreated— they were merchandise to sell.
Buyers hated filthy goods.
So they sat clean and well-treated,
necks bound by obedience magic to prevent escape.
'Slaves, huh.'
Normally, he'd ignore them.
But with necromancers hunted empire-wide,
'I'll need a party eventually.'
Slaves made excellent substitutes.
'I have undead, but...'
No matter how capable Syria was,
she was undead.
'No jack-of-all-trades class in Dungeon Replay.'
High-tier dungeons were manageable somehow,
but the four greats demanded diverse classes.
'Aiming for the ending means I can't skip party members entirely.'
Slaves posed no issue, even as a necromancer.
Muzzle with obedience magic, use as party fodder.
Decent choice now.
'Downside is raising them too.'
Not a big hurdle for Leyzon.
He just needed to push ascensions.
Could funnel growth resources their way.
Slaves might be a surprisingly good option.
Better than pioneers who might rat to the empire anytime.
Slaves were reliably silenced.
'Table for now.'
Last resort.
Plenty of time post-auction.
Leyzon followed the auction caller.
The central plaza of the black market.
Crowds thinned heading there.
Auctions were for the wealthy.
Petty vendors vanished; moneyed remained.
Soon, the large central tent came into view.
Black market auction house.
All prime goods funneled here.
Leyzon's eyes gleamed fiercely.
"Customer, entry fee please."
A clerk blocked the entrance.
Fierce-faced brute,
but money turned him sweetest.
Leyzon handed over a gold coin from his pouch.
The clerk paused, then beamed warmly.
Entry fees determined treatment.
Pure black market style.
Leyzon's payment was top-tier.
"VIP customer. Escort properly."
The clerk summoned help and ushered him in.
Thus, Leyzon sat in the VIP auction seats.
Spacious, with full view of the floor.
Good spending.
Poor life or not,
he knew withholding when needed was poison.
'Pretty crowded.'
More people in VIP than expected.
Some screamed "don't tangle with."
Mostly imperial sorts.
'VIP fills mean rare items incoming.'
Auction goods were always random.
In game, VIP sales gauged quality.
Not full, but decently packed.
'This looks promising.'
High expectations for this auction.
"Auction begins now!"
Right on cue.
First items were usually skippable.
Leyzon planned to breeze past.
"Sword-Tooth Clan boy slave up for bid!"
"100 gold!"
Leyzon shot his hand up fiercely.
Hand it over. That one.