Chapter 165
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 165
Chapter Title: Warehouse
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dragon lair. Or dragon's nest. What comes to mind first when you hear words like that?
Guardians protecting the lair? A princess kidnapped by a dragon? A dragon laying eggs?
A bunch of possibilities might pop up, but the most common one has to be mountains of 'gold and treasures' piled up in the lair. Dragons are often depicted as symbols of greed, hoarding massive wealth in their lairs.
And my view of dragons like that held up pretty well in this world too.
"Dragons... arrogant, high-nosed subordinates. Greedy enough to love stacking treasures, yet too stingy to share even a drop of blood with a woman..."
Just listen to Erzsebet's assessment of dragons after hearing the last of the Seven Deadly Sins was one. Not to mention, that last Sin was presumed to bear the moniker of 'Greed' among the seven sins.
In that sense, I couldn't help but hope that heading out to find the last Sin slumbering in this ruin might lead us to a treasure trove waiting for us.
So...
"What the hell is this?"
Thick disappointment seeped into my voice as I took in the sight beyond the massive door Mimic had guided us to.
First impression: it was huge. A vast space greeted us, one you could believe had actually housed a dragon. It was baffling how such a high ceiling could exist here, connected by a passage from the lake bottom.
And what we saw was...
"Guess my prediction was half right."
I'd guessed there'd be a treasure warehouse waiting—half spot on. Out of those four syllables, the first two nailed it, so half correct seems fair.
"This is a warehouse."
"Warehouse indeed."
"...Yeah, a warehouse."
"Ware...house."
Erzsebet and Desmond watching, me, and even Mimic—we all stared at the scene and chorused 'warehouse'. Nothing else fit.
"Where's the dragon?"
"My senses don't pick up any living blood scent for now."
"No life force either... Hmph. I was planning to make a proper dragon for my army."
I smacked the back of Desmond's head after he casually admitted to his sinister scheme, then scoured the warehouse with fiery eyes. No sign of a dragon—not even the letter 'd'—just junk fitting for a warehouse.
Shelves suited for storing and displaying items, boxes and safes holding their shape despite ages.
And finally, a wide empty space suggesting something massive had been there.
"Tch. What if the last Sin isn't here but somewhere else..."
"Doesn't seem like it."
I clung to a hopeful wire that this was just a plain warehouse and Greed was elsewhere, but Erzsebet, scanning around like me, shot it down.
"See these marks on the empty space? Traces of a massive tail sweeping by... old, but definitely a dragon's."
"Sss..."
No other dragons in this ruin besides Greed, so yeah, it was here once...
"Then what? Where'd it go?"
Did it wake up first like Mimic and bail?
"Not that recent. This looks... at least a few hundred years old."
"Hundreds of years?"
Erzsebet pointed to massive footprints and tail drags on the floor—definitely a dragon here centuries ago, but the trail cut off long ago. No dragon here now.
"So you're saying..."
The last Sin that was here...
Ran off hundreds of years ago?
.
.
.
.
.
.
The bigger the expectations, the harder the letdown, they say.
'What a buzzkill...'
With hopes of summoning a real dragon and maybe treasures dashed, I picked up some scattered junk in the warehouse with a hollow feeling.
"This... worth anything?"
"Doesn't look valuable to me."
"Yeah...?"
I'm no merchant or appraiser, so my eye for goods isn't sharp, but nothing here screamed valuable.
"Above all..."
Erzsebet glanced at what I'd picked up, then at other spots. Unlike cluttered display cases, the shelves were empty.
"Looks like the valuables were taken separately from the start."
"Sigh..."
That only deepened my disappointment.
Even without Greed, finding a warehouse this size sparked hopes of hidden gems, but the display cases—clearly meant for valuables—were bare.
Left behind: rusted, broken, rotted scrap.
'Damn. Those empty spots scream mountains of treasure...'
Packing up all that loot before fleeing this ruin—never met it, but I get why it's called 'Greed'.
'Did it wake up here with amnesia too? Or since it woke way earlier alone, different circumstances?'
Why did Greed wake centuries early alone? The Sins seemed to sleep together—why grab treasures and ditch comrades? All mysteries...
"Sigh."
Too disappointed for deep thoughts now.
With lingering regret, I grabbed a nearby lamp. Corroded and chipped—no value apparent.
Maybe polishing it could salvage something? I sat, pulled a new cleaning tool from inventory.
[Restorer]: A universal restorer that cleans rust and corrosion from items!
"Master...?"
Mimic eyed the unfamiliar item from my inventory, curious what I'd do next.
'Art gallery cleaning, right?'
I recalled an old map as I pulled out the [Restorer].
A map where cleaning a gallery of valuables banned the usual [High-Pressure Cleaner].
Annoying enough, but if you botched controls and damaged art mid-clean, you used this [Restorer] to fix it back.
'Later stages required fixing undamaged stuff too...'
As the game progressed, clients got pickier—some demanding fixes for unbroken items, or trashing places themselves, ordering cleans, then blaming you for damage.
'Thinking back, ridiculous.'
Cleaning game ramped up frustration often, but restoring rusted/broken stuff 'cleaning'? Dirty to clean is cleaning, sure, but...
-Scrub scrub.
Musing randomly, I soaked a cloth in [Restorer] and rubbed the lamp. Rust flaked off instantly, cracks sealed, turning it pristine like new.
"Huh?"
Erzsebet, watching, let out a deflated sound in disbelief.
"Master, what was that... rewind time or something?"
"Just wiped dirt and glued cracks."
"No, how does rubbing make cracks glue...?"
Hell if I know the principle. System cleaning tools been weird forever.
'Pretty magical.'
Cracks sealing was neat, but rust vanishing like it never rusted—like time reversal.
Come to think, one of the 5-star heroes had similar powers—wonder if it feels like this.
"Hmm..."
"What're you staring at, Master?"
"No genie?"
"...Genie? What's that?"
I'd grabbed the lamp from trash thinking of old fairy tales... but fairy tales stay tales.
-Clink.
No reaction—just shiny, glossy lamp. I set it on a shelf casually.
-Flash!
"Hm? Genie coming out?"
"What've you been on about, Master?!"
Placing it down, my vision flooded blue. Heart pounding, I stared... but...
'...System window.'
No blue lamp fairy—just a blue system message in view.
Why a system message now...
Current Pollution: 43.5%
".......?"
What? Why's the [Main Quest] pollution dropping now...
'Wait a sec.'
A chilling thought hit. Just in case, I frantically grabbed scattered junk and wiped with [Restorer].
-...
"Nah? Yeah, no way..."
"Master? You really okay?"
No messages after all items—no relief sigh as I shelved them properly.
Current Pollution: 43.4%
"Fuck."
"S-Sorry, Master. Didn't mean to curse..."
Erzsebet mumbled something, but I ignored her. Pollution dropped not on cleaning, but proper shelving—got it.
I eyed the junk piles nearby. Worthless stuff tossed aside during loot grab, scattered everywhere.
"Ha... haha... hahahaha..."
Right. Wondered why cleaning hadn't triggered this.
'...Yeah. Cleaning means tidying up. Haha...'
Fuck.
Greed or whatever. Whoever trashed this place—when I find 'em, they're done.