Chapter 8

Translator: True Detective

Chapter 8: RISPE (Return on Investment) Goes to 20,000

Having to survive while not catching Renoa’s eye, and simultaneously making her take an interest in gladiatorial combat.

Even separately they are shitty, but since they form a collaboration, it really is a chaotic party.

Among them, the most important one, survival, was carried out successfully as you can see.

Although I hurt my shoulder a bit, it’s not a loss of limbs, nor does it greatly hinder daily life.

The second one, avoiding Renoa, I had no way to stop since she came while I was unconscious.

I thought I was doomed, but it ended up being a completely different, rather good ending than I expected. Since a clue to escape this disgusting place appeared.

And the last quest.

This, well, goes without saying.

Blue text crossing my vision.

As expected.

From the moment Renoa decided to personally sponsor me, it was as good as cleared.

With this, I achieved the splendid feat of accomplishing all three goals.

Now it’s time to bear the final fruit.

Time to check the reward of the quest.

A whopping A-rank skill.

‘Just what will come out?’

Like opening a Christmas gift box received for the first time in my life, I checked with a pounding heart.

“Oh.”

Scroll— The reward list densely lined up on the screen.

Is it certainly because the rank is high?

Until now, it only raised proficiency meagerly, but finally, a reward worthy of a status window appears.

I examined the skills one by one.

First, ‘Weakness Insight’. To put it in a trendy way these days, the Thread of Opening.

Being able to see through the opponent’s weakness is quite attractive.

If this was an erotic game, I would have shut up and chosen this.

Like the weakness of a strong-willed female knight being her asshole, or an erogenous zone that triggers a super-climax fountain show just by touching it.

But unfortunately, this isn't an erotic game. It doesn't seem like it will tell me such weaknesses I imagine.

Of course, even if not that, it would be a big help.

Hold for now.

‘Number 2 is a bit much.’

Overclock.

Named ‘Irion Prepared for Death’.

After the skill use ends, I can't move for 24 hours. The risk is excessively large.

It might be usable as a special move in a situation with no retreat, but it’s not yet the time to need a special move.

What I need right now is fundamentals.

This is completely excluded.

Then what remains is either number 1 or number 3.

‘Growth efficiency increases drastically when in slave status...’

This is the most tempting.

I don’t know to what extent it increases growth efficiency, but it will surely give a big boost to growth power.

Plus, it’s still the very early stage. Originally, experience increase options maximize efficiency when taken early.

‘It’s a pity that it only applies when in slave status...’

But I’m already a slave?

It’s not like I have to become a slave from a commoner. It can’t really be called a risk.

Of course, it becomes useless once liberated, but wouldn't that be fine?

From then on, I can just wash my hands of fighting and enjoy a peaceful isekai life.

I pondered one last time before deciding.

Weakness Insight is definitely good too.

But look at my state right now. Even if I see the weakness, it’s pointless if I don’t have the strength to stab it.

Truly a pie in the sky.

It’s right to raise the fundamentals madly and carry later.

I chose Grace of Chains.

‘Did something change?’

I clenched and opened my fist repeatedly, but I didn't feel anything in particular.

Maybe I’ll be able to feel the difference if I train.

Then let’s test it immediately.......

“Ugh!”

I writhed in the sudden severe pain while trying to lift my upper body.

...I think I should finish recovering first.

“The treatment is finished. Try moving your arm.”

The female priestess wearing white vestments quietly withdrew her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hand. The gentle light that lingered at her fingertips scattered into the air.

I moved my arm around as she instructed.

“How is it?”

“Wow.... It doesn't hurt at all.”

“It is fortunate for me as well that you are okay.”

For three full days since Renoa became my sponsor, I had to spend time in bed.

Bruises and cuts covering my whole body, muscles ruptured beyond limits. My body was broken much more seriously than it looked.

Even my recovery rate was bad.

Let alone three meals a day, only two meals a day. A diet where even that was just stew without solids and hard bread.

The body couldn't get healthy even if it wanted to. Since I couldn't eat well, recovery was extremely slow.

And who am I?

‘A man whose ransom is cheaper than the treatment cost.’

I can’t even expect medicine.

From Bardick’s perspective, it would be much more rational to just throw me away like processing a total loss hamster and buy a new one.

Or drag this corpse-like body to a match and have me die without even being able to struggle.

In that sense, a convalescence period of three days belonged to the rather short side.

It was all thanks to Renoa. At her request, a cleric dispatched from the church treated me.

Thanks to that, I could shake it off and get up quickly.

Since Renoa became a sponsor, the surrounding environment began to change rapidly, and the first among them was Bardick’s attitude.

“Oh, Irion! How is your body. Is movement still uncomfortable?”

“...Who are you?”

“Hoho, who else would I be. Your owner. Seeing you joke, you must be fully healed.”

It seems he hurt his head greatly in the battle with the Minotaur. It looks like Bardick is treating me affectionately.

Even God’s blessing can’t cure mental illness. Pitiful me.

“Any problems anywhere?”

“I think I hurt my head. I’m seeing hallucinations.”

“What? Hurt your head? That’s big trouble.... Do I have to call the cleric again.......”

“It’s fine.”

Well, mental illness varies too.

It’s better to worry with a creepy smile than to curse me to die every day.

I’ll live with the mental illness.

“About the last match. I watched it very well. It’s been a long time since I saw such a heart-pounding battle!”

“Ah, yes....”

“Thanks to that, Lady Edelheid also said she would sponsor you. It was worth trusting you and sending out the Minotaur!”

What? Worth it?

Someone high-fived the boatman of the River Styx and came back, yet he talks about worth in front of the person involved.

All the other slaves who participated with me died miserably.

Seeing him spout such bullshit casually, fortunately, it seems my head is fine. This bastard is the problem.

The next changed environment was the meal.

I received rations at the cafeteria as always, but the contents on the tray were on a different dimension from what I usually ate.

Freshly baked white bread instead of hard black bread, stew full of meat chunks, and even a fresh apple.

“What is all this?”

“It’s the Princess’s instruction to feed you until full. She asked how you can be a gladiator with such a skinny body.”

“Oh....”

It was the most welcome news since I came to this world.

I use my body roughly, but the actual meal was meager beyond compare.

Setting aside taste, I was worried I might become friends with dwarves later because I couldn't eat like this during my growth ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠period.

Something that didn't budge even after begging for months changed with just one word from Renoa.

‘Renoa, is she a God?’

Originally, if you’re good at games you’re hyung, and if you buy a meal you’re noona. As of today, Renoa is my noona.

Gladiators looking with envious eyes. Worried it might get stolen, I hurriedly stuffed it into my stomach.

“Kya~ This is sex.”

I ate until my stomach burst for the first time since coming to the other world. As expected, a meal is sex.

My body is fully healed too.

I got a skill too.

I filled my stomach solidly.

I should... train, right?

There was one question I had since becoming a gladiator slave.

‘Why is no combat-related proficiency generated?’

Two months since becoming a gladiator slave, over 10 matches played, but I haven't gained a single usable proficiency.

At best, only [Indomitability]. It helps in combat, but ultimately it’s just a supportive measure.

When working as a miner, just swinging a pickaxe alone generated [Mining] proficiency. Thanks to that, I could mine much more easily.

But now, nothing changes even if I fight for a hundred days. Even if I swing a sword in the training ground, [Swordsmanship] proficiency isn't generated.

‘Just what is the difference between then and now?’

After long contemplation, I came to one hypothesis.

‘Proficiency accumulates only when it’s worth accumulating.’

Pickaxing in the mine was doable on my own without teaching.

Primal labor where you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just strike down, break, and dig out.

Of course, that too needs its own technique, but minimal pickaxing to mine ore can be mastered by oneself.

The system recognized that crude action as a proficiency called [Mining].

On the other hand, swordsmanship.

A sword is a weapon that kills life. And swordsmanship is a technique to kill life by swinging a sword.

There exists a distant difference between simply swinging a pickaxe and swordsmanship that draws a trajectory filled with killing intent.

That’s why proficiency isn't generated even if I swing a sword alone for a hundred, a thousand days.

Because that isn't swordsmanship.

Just a sword-swinging young man.

Up to here is the hypothesis I established.

To prove this hypothesis, I needed to experiment.

“Please teach me swordsmanship.”

I went to find the drunkard Doban.

Doban was a mercenary in the past, but it is said he retired after losing one eye and a leg due to one mistake.

Currently, he is an old man who does menial chores at the arena and lives drowned in a liquor jar all day.

Doban, who was peeling and eating an apple, frowned as soon as he saw me. He mumbled something then spat out ptui, the rotten part of the apple.

“I wondered who it was, is it you again. I think I clearly told you dozens of times not to come again.”

This isn't the first time I sought out Doban. Forget three visits to the thatched cottage, I visited thirty times but was rejected every time.

The reason was always the same.

“There is nothing to teach a guy who will die soon like you. Get lost.”

“That’s right. You said that before too. That I would die soon. The first time you said it was two months ago. And I am still alive.”

“You were just lucky. You can’t guarantee it will be like that in the future too.”

“Maybe the reason I was lucky was to learn swordsmanship from you, Mister? Even the heavens must have felt very pitiful.”

“Ha. You have a glib tongue.”

I have to at least speak well. I’m a slave who has nothing but a body.

If I can’t talk, I can’t survive. For a slave, flattery is a survival skill.

“Why on earth are you trying to learn swordsmanship from me.”

“Because I don’t want to die.”

“So I’m asking why me.”

“My eye for people is accurate. You look the strongest here, Mister.”

Actually, it’s a lie.

It’s not like I have a mind’s eye that pierces the essence of a person, nor is he a famous NPC in the game.

Simply, there is no one but Doban who might teach swordsmanship to me, a slave.

“...The brat has a sure eye. Things these days just pose as gladiators. When they can’t even reach the toe of my prime.”

But if the listener is satisfied, it’s okay. Doban snorted and nodded.

“You asked me to teach you the sword? If I help you, what can you do for me. Do you even have money to pay for booze?”

“Did you hear the story that the Princess of Edelheid is sponsoring me?”

“I heard the rumor, but that’s a guy like you?”

“Of course. If you help me, I will repay you when I become an outstanding gladiator later. It’s a sort of investment.”

“And if you die before that?”

“It’s a pity then.”

If I die, it ends there, what else can happen.

Doban with a cynical expression. But I don’t think he will refuse.

Teaching me might be annoying, but making a connection with a prospect sponsored by Renoa is a business where he breaks even at worst.

Even if I die and the investment fails, all he loses is a little time.

Risk converges to zero and return is infinite.

Here, you follow too.

Buy when cheap.

Sell when expensive.

“Fine. I’ll teach you. Since you seem different from other guys.”

Nice!

I clenched my fist tight and cheered inwardly.

Doban took a sip of liquor.

“Instead, you’ll have to keep the words you just spat out. What I hate most are guys who run away without paying debts.”

“You made a wise investment.”

You just bought at the bottom.

I’ll make sure you sell at the peak.