Chapter 68
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 68
Chapter Title: Chapter 68
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: Tales of Bravery
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"......"
A wooden spoon thrust right in front of my eyes.
Perched on top of it was the mysterious yellowish sludge I'd cooked up myself.
"Ah."
She's telling me to open wide.
In that parched, flat tone you'd use when feeding scraps to a stray mutt pup.
I glanced back and forth between the spoon and her deadpan face.
"Hey, you shitty owner bitch. My left hand's perfectly fine, you know?"
"......So?"
"I can feed myself this goddamn gruel just fine on my own..."
Crack.
The wooden spoon handle creaked in her grip.
Her eyebrow twitched ever so slightly.
"Ah, okay."
"......"
One more gag reflex here, and that spoon's going straight into my front teeth instead of my mouth—a silent warning loud and clear.
I popped my mouth open quick as a flash.
"Ah... aaa......"
Slurp~♥
Shove.
A lukewarm, gluey lump flooded my mouth.
"......Munch munch."
Fucking disgusting.
Not just tasteless—my taste buds were ready to throw a blanket over their stalls and go on strike.
Crunch. And something hard ground between my molars.
Tiny-ass pebble. Or grit, maybe.
Definitely got in there when that pig bastard rolled around earlier and knocked the lid off the pot.
Wanna spit it out, but...
"Swallow."
"......Gulp."
"Again, ah."
Do that, and my good left arm's next for bandages and a cast.
So I squeezed my eyes shut and choked it down. Mouth wide again.
"Holy shit, you're really hamming it up. Ruining my appetite."
Kain watched the whole pathetic show from across the fire, clicking his tongue.
"Making a fool of yourself right in my face."
Who the fuck's enjoying this?
Old geezer must be going senile—can't even see this forced feeding for what it is.
"Hey, you hear that? Rib-cage creaky old-timer's jealous over there. So let me handle my own..."
"Shut it. Mouth closed, mouth open."
Mouth closed and open? How the hell?
"......Ah."
Of course, she means zip it and chow down whatever she spoons up.
Anyway, over here we're filming a semi-coerced couple mukbang,
while over there's a chill parenting stream.
"Alright, little guy, ah~."
"Aaaang!"
Noy gobbled every spoonful Kain offered like a champ, head bobbing eagerly.
Gotta be gritty as hell, but the hungry little beast munched away, cheeks ballooning out.
"Tasty?"
"Yeah! Yum!"
......Kid's clearly lost his taste buds.
Then again, to slum brats, this might be gourmet.
My palate's just pickier, coming from the same sewer.
Previous life's convenience store junk and instant ramen were basically delicacies compared to this slop.
Fuuuck... Gimme one cup of spicy beef noodles and I'd have no other wishes.
Not the big cup—the white styrofoam one. That's the real deal.
Anyway, once the slave got fed by his owner—spoonful by lovey-dovey spoonful—that insane dinner wrapped up.
Clank.
I started to stand with the empty pot,
but
"Sit."
Baekrin stopped me.
"Gotta clean it. Who's doing dishes?"
That's the plunger slave's duty right here.
Leave it, bugs swarm. Only one pot—mess it up, and we're eating sick tomorrow.
"You're hurt. Rest."
"Huh? For real?"
Ignoring my reply, she gathered the pot and the three empty water skins from cooking.
Good news: spotted a stream nearby during recon.
I watched her back fade into the trees, yelled out touched.
"Damn, you're being awful nice! I'll pet your head when you get back?"
Least I could do.
If she wants more, I could have her suck my dick between my legs,
then stroke that bobbing head up and down.
"......"
No reply—just vanished into the dark woods.
Huh. Blushing, huh.
.....
Crackle, pop.
Campfire ASMR.
Noy, belly full, used Kain's thigh as a pillow and was already snoring softly.
Peaceful, if you wanna call it that.
One canned coffee right now would hit perfect.
"......You did something reckless."
Outta nowhere, the old man spoke up in the quiet.
"What was I supposed to do? That fucker charged outta nowhere."
"Just dodge. Piece of cake for a punk like you."
"And if the bedroll gets trashed? Pot tips? You footing today's grub, gramps?"
"One meal worth more than your life?"
Scolding tone, plain as day.
Kain furrowed his brow, frustrated.
Then nodded at the massive Hard Boar corpse sprawled yonder.
"Know why that's 'mid-grade'?"
"Big. Strong."
"More precise metric."
Kain tossed a log into the fire—flames roared fresh.
"Listen up. Monster grades here are crystal clear."
Blah blah'd for over 30 minutes—here's my TL;DR.
[Lowest]: Goblins, kobolds, imps. Peasant fodder. Farmers with guts and a hoe can 1v1.
[Low]: Trolls, forest wolves. Civvies nope. Trained soldiers or working mercs—three with spears, success.
That's merc territory: hack beasts, eat. Edge of 'experienced numbers game.'
Basically, what level humans, how many, can tango with which monsters.
Kain spread three fingers, stared me down.
"Mid-grade. Not for average mercs."
"......Then why guild quests?"
"'Average' ones. Not me or Baekrin."
Old man eyed me pitifully.
"Ah, gotcha."
I nodded.
"Top-tier geezers like you or that Baekrin bitch can handle 'em."
"......"
"Punks like me, slave porter trash? No shot."
Kain didn't deny. Just nodded, like finally getting it.
"Right. Take Hard Boar. Orc packs too."
Orcs mid-grade?
Fantasy novels treat 'em as trash mobs—here, respected.
"Mid-grade on, hides and meat soak mana—regular steel bounces off."
Kain stroked sleeping Noy's head.
"Like plate armor. Hence auras needed."
Infuse blades, slice tougher.
"Hmm. So?"
"Mid-grade solo? Minimum high knight. Not rookies—veteran aura masters."
Like this one-armed fossil here.
"But you, zero aura, took that solo."
Old man scoffed, incredulous.
"Eye gouge, brain smash? Who the fuck does that?"
"......Thanks, I guess."
Hearing it back, yeah—I am kinda badass.
No backup, exploited weakness, wrecked it. Epic tale.
"Not praise, you lunatic."
Kain glared serious.
"Lucky. One slip, your head pops not arm. No hubris."
"Yeah, yeah. Sermon ov—"
I stuck out my lip, scratched my ear.
"And no more reckless shit."
"......"
Firm voice. No bullshit.
Not like I hunted it—unfair, but.
"Got it."
He'd worked me hard, but this tone? Knew he meant it. Nodded meek.
Not some hero nut—priority one: my neck.
Kill six humans? Sure. Not tanky pigs blade-proof. Pass.
Healing better, but pain sucks.
From now, ride Kain & Baekrin aura bus quiet-like.
"Got the memo, gramps. Don't bench the bait."
"Yeah. Didn't expect mid-grades this early..."
Kain stroked his goatee.
"More careful ahead. So..."
"......?"
"You move? Even to shit—stick to Baekrin."
Buddy system enforced.
"Jerking off too?"
"......"
Straight face, so dropped the joke. Fine.
"Deal. But you?"
"Me? Fine. These mid-grades? I manage. But..."
Gazed at sleeping Noy.
"If I scout or step out? He's yours."
"Sure. Kid was my load anyway."
Confirmed. Done.
But thought hit.
"Baekrin then?"
I eyed the woods.
"Went solo to wash pots?"
"Don't worry. Told her."
"What?"
"Spot beast? Run back, no look."
Veteran call: no prideful death—regroup smart.
Baekrin'd bolt fine anyway.
"Ah, yeah. Dumb bitch, but physical's..."
Thud thud thud thud—!
"......?"
Ground shook sudden.
Quake? Landslide?
50 meters ahead, trees thrashed wild.
Whoosh—!
Black shadow burst from woods—Baekrin.
Hauling ass like soles aflame. Even then,
"......Catch."
Whish—clang!
Squeaky-clean pot and skins landed perfect at my feet.
Plunger slave queen—dishes flawless.
Rumble rumble!!
Shakes didn't stop.
Trees snapped domino-style.
Kain sighed deep, swept his wrinkled face.
"......Like this."
Grabbed his massive bastard sword propped nearby.
"......What?"
What the—
Baekrin zipped to my side, panting hard, drew her curved blade.
Then,
GROOOARRR!!!
Smashed through her path—three house-sized lumps emerged in a row.
Glowing red eyes, tank-rush gray-hide pig bastards.
"Ah, fuck."
That Hard Boar shit I barely bagged after mangling my arm.
Again.
Three of 'em.
.....
Yeah... got a good look.
"......"
Slaughter show.
About three minutes?
Thick noodles without boiling? Ramen not done. Done here.
Memory lane:
Kain yelled 'watch the kid' and charged.
Baekrin followed.
Kain aura blue, bisected lead pig clean vertical.
Baekrin leaped sky-high, stabbed second's skull.
Aura blade sank like tofu—pig flopped squealing.
Kain swung greatsword, halved the last.
End.
"Fuckin' hell. What an unfair shit world."
Me: ass-clown show, arm trashed, barely won one.
They: pro gamers, shredded three instant.
[ 'Average' ones. Not me or Baekrin. ]
Yeah fuck, you pros rock.
Blood reek thick post-fight,
bus duo casual cleanup.
Slice, slice.
Hacked hooves—guild proof.
"Hooves, check cores."
"Yeah."
Baekrin rummaged hearts,
pulled glowing red stone.
"One."
"Hunt rest. Mid-cores fetch nice."
Old man even hummed.
"And... hides too."
Borrowed her kunai, slashed Hard Boar's thick skin.
Aura trail—hide parted smooth.
"Sells fat. Armor material."
"......How much?"
"Prime? 1 gold per kilo easy."
Kain grinned ear-to-ear.
Baekrin heard price, beamed too.
Guts-blood splattered smiles? Creepy as fuck.
"Huge frames—2-30 kilos each. Can't haul all, so prime cuts only."
Hooves off, hearts dug, hides peeled pro.
......Butchers proper.
"......Ahem."
Standing dumb, sidled up awkward.
"Hey, need a hand..."
Rolled sleeves—
"Patient rests."
Baekrin flat, head down.
"Right. No aura? No butcher. Dead weight—beat it."
"......"
"Go sing Noy lullabies?"
Kain shooed with bloody hands.
These fucks. Help? Nah.
"......Fine, whatever."
Grumbled off. Handle it yourselves, assholes.
Ducked into tent,
"Snooore..."
"......"
Lullabies my ass—kid's out cold.
"Zzz... snore......"
Squatted,
poked Noy's oblivious puffy cheek.
"Lucky bastard, you."
Squishy kid.
Jealous, for real.
And why so glum?
[ I am kinda badass. ]
[ Epic tale, exploiting weakness like a boss. ]
Nah, need a rat hole.
Tales of bravery?
Just bait jerking off.
A.....
......Might jerk off.
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