Chapter 49
Chapter 49
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 49
Chapter Title: Layer 3
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3rd Layer.
Gift, Synthesis.
Its ability was simple.
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ [Gift] Synthesis (B) ◇ Harmonizes the properties of each other. That was it.
Nothing unusual about it at first glance. But I knew from experience that the simplest gifts were often the best.
The reason? The bastard who dropped me into this world.
"There's this gift called Synthesis—it's seriously broken, I'm telling you."
The word of a guy who'd sunk tens of thousands of hours into the game.
He called it a cheat gift on par with most S-ranks, so I figured I should trust him.
And that's why I'd chosen it.
I took the Poison Arachne Queen's spider silk and the wire, gripping both materials and willing them to synthesize.
Light poured from the two items, and they slowly merged into one.
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ [Item] Shadow Reaper Possesses the hardness of steel and the sharpness of a blade. ◇ Features self-repair functionality after being severed. "...Oh."
Better than I'd expected.
The sharpness was a touch inferior to Durin's wire, but still.
"With self-repair like this, all sorts of uses come to mind."
I pondered ways to use the Shadow Reaper for a moment.
Things like tying it to a weapon and flinging it, or rigging traps.
Then a sudden thought struck me.
What if I stored it in Hidden Space (B)?
"...The bag's got room."
I had stored Durin’s wire in a dedicated bag, so there was no risk of slicing the contents.
I recalled Volkan's gift tucked away in the bag.
Iron orb.
All iron, heavy as hell. But it might withstand the Shadow Reaper's edge.
"Make a small hole at the end here?"
I drew the Blood-Soaked Dagger (B).
Then activated Blood Spirit Art.
Bloody energy surged along the blade.
Wish I could thin this out.
-What're you trying to do?
'Shoot the thread with this.'
-Shoot the thread?
'Poke a hole here with Shadow Reaper and fire it off just like that.'
-Hmm. So you're planning for close-quarters then?
'Not a bad idea.'
If an enemy took to the air, I could snag them with the thread.
I formed Blood Spirit Art on the dagger, aiming for just a tiny nick in the iron.
But the Blood Spirit Art came out too thick.
Too big—no good.
As I grunted in frustration, Rishiel spoke up.
-Of course it'd be hard. Drawing ki thin as thread requires at least Swordsmanship level 35.
'Really?'
But I saw it differently.
A hunch.
With Rogue Mastery (S)'s dexterity, I could shrink the sword ki.
'My Swordsmanship is level 20 right now.'
Level 30 unlocks sword ki.
Level 35 lets you wield it freely, huh.
I focused on the blade.
The moment I did, ambient noise faded. Nothing but the Blood-Soaked Dagger in view.
Trying to thin the sword ki, it felt like it was fighting back.
Blood Spirit Art.
The power cloaked in crimson began to resist.
An eerie sensation.
Beyond anything Sword Master (A+) could convey.
"...Plunder."
One of my most versatile gifts.
It began reacting to the Blood Spirit Art's ego.
"...Can I steal this too?"
What then?
Would it stick by my side like Rishiel? Nah, probably not sentient enough.
Then.
'Steal its size.'
An absurd conclusion.
But I realized Plunder (S) could do it. I closed my eyes and concentrated.
'A gap tiny enough for the thinnest thread.'
Steal just that much size. My hand plunged into somewhere—
Grabbed hold of something—
And.
'Got it.'
The instant I sensed it, the Blood Spirit Art thinned to threadlike proportions.
-...No way. You didn't steal its soul—you stole its size?
Her eyes went wide.
'Yeah.'
-How is that even... Well, soul-stealing already ignores most rules.
Rishiel stared at me with a troubled look.
Where the hell did this guy roll in from?
Ignoring her, I extended the Blood Spirit Art and carved a thread-sized channel in the iron.
-So, what's next?
'Can't just fire it like this, can I?'
Would need something heavy at the end, chuck it—nah.
"...Way too lame."
I mulled it over. Any way to launch the thread properly?
I eyed Hidden Space (B). Could I store Shadow Reaper inside and launch from there?
I concealed the thread in Hidden Space (B), letting just the tip protrude below my wrist.
'Pump some mana in here.'
Pzzt.
Purple lightning crackled.
As expected, mana let me manipulate the thread at will.
"...Too slow."
Useless in real combat.
Did I look that pathetic?
Rishiel gazed at me with pity.
-One thing I'm curious about, though.
'What?'
-Why not just ask that dwarf?
'Ah, shoot.'
...Well, it'd come in handy somewhere in this labyrinth.
While I tinkered with Shadow Reaper, the party had reached a consensus and were downing potions.
Rosenta passed; Ermé, Teresa, and Glasses took theirs.
"Ugh... I'm good."
"Next time."
"Next time, I'll win and snag one. Hey, Yuseong, you skipping?"
"Drank a good one recently—this won't do much."
"Makes sense. Potions lose potency on lower tiers after the good stuff. Long-term, higher ones are better..."
"Yeah, exactly. But ain't it fine?"
"Huh? Fine how?"
"Booze is Rosenta's potion."
"..."
Rosenta stroked her fist lovingly.
"Ever heard hard headshots cause amnesia?"
"..."
"...Fine, just this once."
Wasn't she supposed to be timid?
Seemed the labyrinth had awakened her inner violence. No booze in here, ever.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ We headed back out.
Well, "out" just meant from 2.5 back to the 2nd layer.
Still better than swarming spiders...
"Kieeek..."
Monster cry. Sounded like a hobgoblin.
I spotted the hobgoblins screeching.
Legs severed by my traps.
Five of them sprawled out.
"...Handy."
I drew my blade and harvested their necks.
A surge of growth washed over me.
"...EXP."
Their mana flowed into me, making me stronger.
Or not mana exactly—my soul felt more solid.
Like I could ascend to a higher plane.
-That's level-ups for you. Some beastkin and elves call it "hierarchy"—soul evolution, they say.
It clicked.
The soul evolving to another dimension, body catching up.
"Then let's move. Wasted the day—boss is definitely down."
"No need to rush? We took the 2.5 boss—plenty of EXP for us."
True enough.
At level 3, goblins and hobgoblins barely budged the bar.
The tiniest trickle.
'Over halfway already.'
The necrohorse EXP was huge too.
But this EXP gain felt unnaturally smooth.
We pressed on.
Didn't know the paths perfectly, but the mental map was there.
Spent the past week resting, shoring up skills for emergencies.
After a few goblin skirmishes, we reached the boss room entrance.
"Called it—boss is cleared."
Bit of regret, but we'd harvested plenty.
Inside the boss room, crowds had pitched tents.
"No monsters spawn at boss room fronts—nice. Just mind the people, but crowds make 'em behave."
Come to think of it, Hilda—lately oddly sweet—mentioned that.
Clans at the guild said boss rooms drew resters, so guild cracked down hard on trouble here.
Safer spots, actually.
"That Hilda said that?"
"Yeah."
"No cold glare?"
"Cold glare?"
She smiled warmly at me.
Grateful woman—always thanking me.
"...Peak looks discrimination."
"You're no slouch."
I eyed Glasses.
Glasses hogged attention, but he was handsome stock.
Past life, could've been an actor.
'Only 'cause my face is busted.'
Dumped hours customizing.
Mine outdid that past-life idol icon.
"Drinking okay here then?"
Rosenta chimed in, eavesdropping.
Sure, no issue.
But her boozed up? Party slacks, clings to me—ambush and I'm toast.
"...Pass."
"Now's fine, but post-labyrinth group drink sounds better."
Convinced, Rosenta sulked and pitched her tent.
"...Booze is her flaw, but everything else is gold."
"Yeah?"
"Your first priest party—priests slack by default. Healing pain? Drugs standard."
"..."
Heard priest gripes before.
But the disconnect. High-end assets wasted?
Train 'em proper—no discipline rot.
"...High-level priests differ. Deep layers demand army discipline—only elites there."
"Those stay low layers mostly. Numbers and rep issues."
Rosenta murmured after Ermé.
"Talents like Rosenta get special training, right?"
"Heh, hehe... Gift's a freakshow, but yeah, trained. B-but the gift..."
"Convents teach pain tolerance, not pleasure denial. Rosenta got shafted."
"Heh, hehe..."
Ermé's words drew an awkward laugh from Rosenta.
Fair.
Pleasure control? Herculean restraint.
Worked in our favor—nabbed her.
'Still.'
Why'd the system tag her Saintess candidate?
Nagged at me.
System words. Sword Hero candidate Ermé—likely locked.
'Near certain.'
No clue why.
But worth watching.
"Watches this time."
Crowded and safe, but prep for surprises. Rotation: Ermé, Teresa, me, Glasses, Rosenta.
Night passed smooth.
"Careful, everyone."
Finally, 3rd layer.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "...Ah."
Endless spiders and ants.
3rd layer: bug turf.
But trouble.
"Fuck..."
Ermé muttered low.
Simple reason.
Another party fleeing monsters tried dumping them on us.
My trap arrow nailed one mid-toss—they died, we got swept in.
'Figures.'
Lately I'd sensed it.
'Labyrinth ain't letting shit end peaceful.'
I gave up and charged the swarm.