Zone 1 (2nd Turn) (15): The Merchant's Grin

“A customer, huh? In quite a dangerous state, I'd say.”

“Hoo… No danger here. At least not in this room.”

“That's a relief. Customers and corpses are just one dot apart, after all.”

For now, I let out a sigh of relief. We'd dodged the immediate worst.

The Dark Merchant's shop—commonly just called the shop—was one of the various event rooms. Just like the Terror Box room in 1-3.

These bastards bought our loot at 50% of Seilroom prices and sold their wares at 150%. Ruthless, no exceptions. No haggling. No credit, obviously. In a city where prices already made you want to curse, getting gouged for an extra 50%—how could they not be ruthless?

But the desperate ones were always the heroes.

No wonder the shopkeeper meme circulated on the Long Terror community boards as the symbol of pure evil.

Anyway, unless you desperately needed consumables or saw something irresistible, you pretty much never bought anything else here.

Causing a ruckus? That was an option, sure. But unless you wanted to see innocent heroes get offed by the shopkeeper instead of the boss, it was a forbidden choice nobody touched.

First things first… gotta pay the entry toll.

Before even glancing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wares, I recalled the entry fee function—one I almost never used in the game, only in truly dire emergencies.

“Entry. Two.”

The shopkeeper just barely raised one eyebrow at my abrupt words, then silently held out his palm.

“Per person, one gold coin.”

“Fuck me.”

I pulled two gold coins from the haul we'd earned killing monsters and tossed them into his hand. It stung.

With a glance, I signaled my companions.

“Entry complete. Browse whatever you want, anytime.”

I nodded vaguely in response. My energy was drained.

“L-Leader…”

“Captain…”

“Rest for now, even if it's just a bit. Here. Drink some water. If you get hungry while drinking, eat some rations too.”

Paying the entry fee had bought us time. The enigmatic shopkeeper offered more than goods—he provided an intangible entry service. Pay up, and it blocked the dungeon's aura proportional to what you shelled out.

In short, those two gold coins had spared Kaya and Shae one round of mentality drain.

More simply: I'd bought a delay with money.

I didn't know how it worked, but right now, it let us breathe.

I still had some buffer left, so I held off. We'd earned no profit—just spent it all with no gains—but clearing one room while maintaining the status quo wasn't meaningless.

Of course, it still felt fucking hopeless. Darker than when a senior private fresh out of training told me to close my eyes, saying that was my future.

“Kaya. Shae. Listen up. Pay attention.”

“…”

No response. They probably didn't have the mental bandwidth. Staying conscious instead of passing out or sleeping already marked them as above average.

“Three rooms left. Just three, and we've cleared Zone 1, back to Seilroom. We've broken through six so far, right before the seventh.”

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

I wet my parched lips with water.

“No telling what'll pop up. I could give this rousing speech, and the next room's a rest area, then another shop after. Or cruelly, three elites in a row.”

Extreme examples, but in Long Terror's dungeon, you couldn't rule them out entirely. Hilarious, really.

“The most important thing right now is…”

“What the fuck? It's only been a few minutes!”

The shopkeeper just shrugged with an ambiguous smile.

Gritting my teeth, I forked over two more gold coins.

“You two know it too. One slip, and we're over the edge. Precarious as hell. You remember, right?”

They nodded blankly.

I barely held back a sigh.

“Two options.”

I held up a V-sign, folding my middle finger first.

“Buy rations with all our gold, gorge to recover, and I tank up front. Lowers your odds of getting hit, even a little.”

“No.”

“Hear me out.”

I cut Kaya off. I knew what she'd say. She'd refuse, insist on taking the hits herself.

Folding my index finger next, I voiced the second option—the extreme one to force the first.

“The moment the entry effect expires, we bail. Empty-handed, as is.”

Kaya blinked, uncomprehending.

I pondered how to explain.

Either way…

The real issue: Whether option 1 or 2, Shae—sitting there dazed—had a sky-high chance of her mentality hitting -100 before 1-8.

In other words, this moment was our last chance to exchange thoughts and steel ourselves while still sane, before inevitable despair.

The panic before entering had been heart-pounding, mind-shattering… but oddly, calm returned.

Maybe not calm—familiarity, resignation?

Who knew? Maybe that slim chance of awakening instead of madness?

Kaya glanced at Shae, then shook her head.

“Do… as you wish.”

“This money's from fighting together. You okay with me deciding solo?”

“No other options seem available.”

Nothing else.

Kaya's voice had regained an eerie calm too. Her tone and vibe were so different from minutes ago, it sent chills.

No choice.

Best judgment, occasional gambles. Against the dungeon's inexorable force.

Our hero party's bout with Zone 1 had us on the ropes.

Fine. Shop appeared, so… buy rations.

Decision made, I swiftly grabbed the catalog from the shopkeeper.

Just in case, I scanned for anything useful besides food—something to shake things up. Nothing.

I bought every ration at their nauseating markup, swallowing without chewing.

My HP recovered to 13, and I was broke again. Left just enough rations for one round for all three.

Stomach full, but the fear of slipping back into agony on a graze was gone.

Whatever happens… survive first. Only then can we return, recover, challenge the next zone.

Countless runs: Some with clear paths ruined by dumb mistakes or gimmicks. Others cleared sloppily on luck when I thought it was doomed.

If I were a Long Terror newbie without tons of clears and ten times the failures… I'd be panicking too.

I've cleared with three out of four insane. Even on hard mode.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The second entry effect expired right on cue. Short break over.

Now it was pure time attack.

“Kaya! Grab Shae! I'm taking point.”

“Yes, Captain.”

No need for fond farewells to the shopkeeper.

Thus, the spec-nerfed leader fresh from agony and two ticking time bombs with burned-out fuses exited the shop.

Thud-thud— Thud-thud— My heart pounds wildly, and I walk. Right foot forward, left arm back; left foot forward, right arm back. Limbs swinging, staring at the back of the person ahead.

Cold. Chilly. Eerie.

But inside the armor, sweat soaks everything. Sweat pools, heart shivers in the chill.

I want out. Right now.

But my oath to the goddess anchors me here like an anchor.

I want to pray to Her. Ask why a world like this exists in Yours. If You're truly the goddess of light and justice, how can a place without a shred of light, where justice is dead, exist?

Hands ache. Cheeks burn. Mouth tastes bitter.

The sword's too heavy. One I wielded effortlessly before—now endlessly long, cumbersome.

What's the point of a long, heavy sword? When I can't even control my own heart here.

Give up. Accept. Accept. Give up. Give up. Accept. Accept. Give up. Give up. Accept. Accept. Give up. Give up. Accept. Give up. Accept. Give up. Give up. Give up. Accept. Give up. Endure. Give up…… Endure?

Endure. How long must I endure? How much more? How can I endure more here?

Endure. After all my big talk of dungeon annihilation, give up before even seeing Zone 1's boss?

Give up. I'm not the only one like this. Yet the dungeon stood unconquered for ages, heresy uneradicated.

Give up. Maybe I'm just a typical crusader with sky-high ideals. Gap between dream and reality tore me apart.

So, accept the impossible as reality?

Give up. It hurts. Body, heart. Head. Hurts so much.

Give up. Captain. I swore to follow you to the end, but I'm… weaker and more useless than I thought.

Give up. Hard. Give up. Scary. Give up. Afraid. Give up. Afraid. Give up. Afraid. Give up. Afraid. Give up. Afraid. Give up. Afraid. Give up. Afraid. Give up. Afraid. Give up. Afraid. Give up. Afraid. Give up. Afraid. Give up. Afraid. Give up. Afraid. Give up. Afraid. Give up. Afraid. Give up. Afraid. Give up. Afraid. Afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid—

Thud-thud-!

Sssshhh—!

“Goddess……”

————!