Chapter 7
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 007
Chapter Title: Underground Farm (3)
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Mental strength.
It was a stat that sounded a bit abstract at first glance.
Strength! Boosts physical damage and carry weight!
Endurance! Lets you keep going longer!
Compared to those straightforward main stats, it definitely lacked intuition.
But anyone who'd properly played through the regression runs knew just how crucial it was.
'Especially for someone like me.'
Regression runs were full of countless variables.
Bandits, traps, lightning strikes, snakes in the brush, tentacles bursting from chests...
The malicious random encounters showed no mercy to players who got arrogant just because they were regressors, delivering ruthless deaths.
High mental strength prevented disasters from so-called "bad luck streaks."
'Not an easy game by any means. Still can't believe I died to a rabbit in the carrot farm.'
Characters with high mental strength resisted status effects like fear, charm, or confusion.
They endured sudden changes or pain without breaking, making it invaluable regardless of the character.
The power to control variables—that was mental strength.
Only one downside.
It was a bitch to level up.
'Even after all those ordeals, it barely rose by an ant gallstone's worth. Disgusting.'
But this time was different.
Bran had the Tenacity of the Weed.
A cheat trait that boosted growth speed, combined with seasoned game knowledge.
That combo could make even an advanced stat like mental strength shoot up like a weed.
Not that it'd be easy, of course.
"Cough! Hack!"
Bran coughed.
Every breath felt like ice water pouring down his windpipe.
His heart pounded harder than after downing five shots of espresso in one go.
'Now I get why the characters suffered so much. Even with crown radish leaves, it's this bad.'
The cause was crossing the frost mushroom fields.
Thousands of white mushrooms pulsed slowly, spewing spores.
Symptoms from inhaling them: elevated heart rate, heightened focus, and pain like gnawing ice.
Naturally, it was a narcotic crop that messed with the brain.
The dwarf leading the way glanced back at Bran.
"Heh heh, no mask? Must taste like death. Want me to lend you a sock?"
"......I'm fine."
"Hmph, so proud. You'll be begging for my underwear later."
The dwarf picked up the pace.
He'd been circling aimlessly instead of heading straight to the destination.
Five farms so far.
He wanted to see Bran cower, but it wasn't going his way, so he seemed pissed.
Continuously overcoming hazardous environments. Tenacity of the Weed activates!
Resistance to plant toxins slightly increases. Become faintly desensitized to pain.
Surprisingly, it wasn't a bad situation for Bran.
He kept cycling through various status ailments and shaking them off.
Primitive as it was, it was an excellent way to build resistances and mental strength.
As long as he didn't die.
Thanks to the crown radish leaves, it wasn't unbearable.
'Hard to find a better spot for grinding mental strength. Might as well max it out while I'm here.'
Forging ironclad mental strength.
That was Bran's top priority in the Underground Farm.
The dwarf shouted.
"Move it! No funny business!"
The management office, their destination, sat in the Underground Farm's center.
The damn dwarf dragged him through three more farms before finally arriving.
Seeing Bran still on his feet, the dwarf scoffed in disbelief.
"Tough bastard. Surviving that."
"........."
Bran didn't reply.
His throat was too swollen for talk.
The management office was a grim stone building exuding an eerie aura.
In the courtyard, over a dozen bandit guards in gas masks stood watch—security tighter than the fortress itself.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The dwarf pounded on the gate.
"Open up, Delgato! Got a new guy!"
"...Delgato."
Bran's eyes narrowed.
A name he'd heard early on, just like Spera's.
Rumble...
The sentries confirmed the dwarf and swung the gate open.
They crossed the courtyard into the control room.
Once the door shut, Bran caught his breath.
"Hahhh..."
"Tch, such a drama queen."
Clean air felt like salvation.
He ignored the dwarf smacking his lips beside him.
Bigger inside than it looked, with doors lining a long hallway.
After three flights of stairs, they entered the door marked "Control Room."
"I'm here. Delgato."
"......!"
Bran's eyes widened.
Undeniably a ruler's domain.
The spacious, ornate room had floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides.
From the height, nearly every farm was visible at a glance.
"Took longer than expected."
A man in a black coat stood before them.
Not tall, but his presence was overwhelming.
Hands clasped behind his back, he gazed down at the farms like a boy studying ants.
The dwarf removed his gas mask.
"Sorry. This guy's so slow."
"Not because you took needless detours?"
"Wh-what? Why would I?"
"Joking."
Then Delgato turned.
A refined young man, mid-to-late twenties.
The double-breasted coat suited his slender frame perfectly.
If not for the goddamn lipstick, he'd seem normal.
'Not easy.'
Black lipstick, no less.
Far heavier in person than on screen—in a bad way.
After scanning Bran head to toe, he smiled brightly.
"Younger than I thought. Impressive, arriving without a mask."
"Stubborn as hell. Better kill him and grab another slave."
"Haha, I see why you hate him. You despise good-looking people."
"What? I never—!"
The dwarf bellowed.
His violent reaction hit the mark.
Delgato approached slowly, offering Bran a handshake.
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Delgato, head manager of the Underground Farm."
Bran shook politely.
First polite speech since possessing this body, but it soured his mood.
Delgato was the most nauseating human in Black Stone Fortress.
"...Bran."
No point starting off on the wrong foot.
As their cold hands clasped, Bran thought he really resembled Spera.
'Tail Feather Delgato. Finally met you.'
Predictable, really.
Delgato was Spera's brother, the band's leader.
Spera the flashy plumage; Delgato the stabilizing tail feather.
He solidified the Underground Farm, and Spera used the funds to expand influence—bribing lords and nobles.
"You look sturdy. Any specialties?"
"I'll do whatever you ask, but I'm best at heavy labor."
"Haha, perfect slave answer. My sister would love your type."
Bran bowed instead of replying.
Spot-on, considering Spera's bedding offer.
Suddenly scared. Hope this guy doesn't proposition me too.
"I have the perfect spot for you. But first, grant me one small favor?"
"A favor?"
"Yes. Something simple."
Suddenly, Delgato pointed.
Following his pale finger, Bran spotted the pacing dwarf.
"How about taking out that greedy runt over there?"
"What? Me? You mean me?!"
The dwarf's brows shot up, realizing he was targeted.
He let out a baffled laugh.
"Boring joke, Delgato."
"No joke this time. Bad blood between us—settle it now."
Delgato pulled a key and unlocked Bran's shackles.
Clank! The cuffs hit the floor.
With free hands, Bran stared at the dwarf.
"Wait, hold on... What's this about?"
The dwarf backed away from Bran's gaze.
Sentries had appeared, blocking the door.
"Fuck, are you insane?!"
"I've warned you repeatedly: don't touch gang goods. Think I didn't notice you skimming drugs every surface trip?"
Delgato's gentle eyes curved like crescent moons.
The dwarf paled.
"Bullshit! I've never done that! I swear on the Rock God—I never touched the stuff!"
"Sigh... Lying to the end. I can't stand the sight of you anymore. Dispose of him."
Delgato sighed.
He reached for a longsword on the wall to hand Bran.
The dwarf drew a dagger from his boot and charged with a roar.
"Damn it, I never should've worked under trash like you!"
Target: Delgato.
Stable stance—he knew his way around a dagger.
Thud thud! Distance closed in a flash.
"Die!"
"Gasp...!"
Delgato inhaled sharply.
Bran clicked his tongue.
Those fake-wide eyes were infuriating.
With his skills, this dwarf was a snack.
Sentries not intervening confirmed the intent.
'His test, huh. Fine, play along.'
Who knew it'd match the game even here.
Bran sighed inwardly and stepped in front, shouting dramatically.
"Hey, stop!"
"Brat! Get in my way and you're first!"
The dwarf growled.
The dagger veered toward Bran.
"Tch...!"
Bran gritted his teeth.
Even with status ailments, crushing this runt was easy.
But he couldn't show it.
He was here as a slave, not a mercenary.
The dagger poised to pierce his chest—
"Pass."
Delgato's voice came from behind.
Before Bran could turn—
Wham! Delgato lunged like a gale, seizing the dwarf's face.
"Gurk?!"
The dwarf's eyes bulged.
Crunch of shattering facial bones.
Delgato slammed him down.
Boom!!!
His skull exploded on impact.
"Haha, now you're presentable."
Delgato covered his mouth laughing.
Releasing his hand revealed the flattened face.
An eyeball rolled across the floor.
Blood on the rug evoked blooming roses.
'Stats match the game too. Annoying.'
Bran twisted his lips.
The freakish strength was identical.
Level 4 indeed.
Worthy of Black Stone Fortress's number two, after Spera.
Forcing a flustered look, Bran stammered.
"Pass...? What the hell is this?"
"This was a test of your reaction. You gave the perfect answer—throwing yourself to protect me. Quite touching."
Delgato's eyes teared up, but Bran stayed silent.
Fake tears, obviously.
Deceptive swindler through and through.
Crushing the dwarf easily would've raised alarms.
Delgato wiped blood from his face with a handkerchief.
"As the report said. You're prime talent."
"Report?"
"Got your info from the Zone 1 Supervisor in advance. Can't throw just anyone into the Underground Farm, slave or not. Know what it said?"
Bran shook his head.
The Zone 1 Supervisor was the bald brute who beat him daily.
"All praise. Hardworking, sharp mind. I was thrilled such talent volunteered here."
Unexpected. He'd assumed pure venom.
No show, but the guy rated him highly.
Delgato grabbed the dwarf's gas mask and ordered the sentries.
"Clean it up."
Like trash disposal.
They silently dragged the corpse, leaving a red trail.
Delgato smiled with his eyes.
"Truth is, that dwarf never skimmed drugs."
"...What?"
Shock followed.
Meeting Bran's gaze, Delgato clucked his tongue.
"But he did touch gang goods. Look at this poor face... Can we afford to treat valuable workers so roughly?"
A cold hand stroked Bran's cheek.
Pretending to cherish, but already treating him as property.
Disgust boiled—he wanted to knee the bastard—but he endured.
"Mostly, his attitude grated. Parading like some genius tech for monkey work. Anyway, confirmed your loyalty. Worthy death."
Delgato fitted the gas mask on Bran.
"Welcome to the Underground Farm, Bran."
"......!"
Bran's eyes widened.
Worlds apart from the rag masks for regular slaves. Top-grade gear.
"Normally, you'd go to the smiling rose farm where a slave died yesterday. But I want you in a key role. Pick one of those three zones."
Delgato led Bran to the window.
Arm around his shoulder, pointing out understaffed zones.
No crop details—pure malice.
Suddenly, Bran's gaze locked on the last zone.
"Decided."
"Quick. Which?"
"There. The one with the big tree."
"......That one?"
Bran's finger pointed to the Underground Farm's remotest edge.
A massive red trunk spanned floor to ceiling.
Thick enough fifty adults couldn't encircle it.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Slaves hacked desperately at it with picks.
Delgato's black lips cracked into a fissure-smile.
"No luck. You picked the toughest spot."
Bran said nothing.
He already knew.
It was worth the sweat.