Chapter 106
Chapter 106
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 106
Chapter Title: Nymph Cultist and Pluto's Underground Labyrinth #4
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“P-Please… spare me….”
Barnes muttered in a tiny voice, as if he might pass out any second.
He looked so pathetic that I couldn’t believe this was the same cocky veteran adventurer from moments ago. Seeing him like that cooled my excitement a bit.
“Sp-Spar…”
“No way in hell, you bastard!”
But that didn’t mean I was forgiving him. I smashed my fist into his jaw again, knocking him out cold.
Now he was quiet—no more trash talk, no more begging. After all that yapping, his silence finally brought some peace to my mind.
Barnes, you’ve turned into a good boy.
It just hit me: anyone gets nicer after a good punch.
Maybe a solid fist or a club is the best moral teacher for this ignorant world.
Anyway, once I confirmed Barnes was limp and silent on the ground, I stood up and called out toward the entrance.
“Did I win?”
“Indeed, a flawless victory for you. And per procedure, Barnes Rodelheim is expelled from the guild and sentenced to imprisonment in the prison city! Guards!”
Clank, clatter.
At Hippolyte’s command, guild guards in full armor appeared. They hoisted up Barnes’s sprawled body from the sand and dragged him off somewhere.
Losing a duel meant not just expulsion from the guild, but jail time too. What a insane rule. Still, I won, so all’s well.
But even though I’d won the duel, I didn’t feel particularly thrilled or pumped.
Instead, my mind settled into an eerie calm, like I’d pulled out a thorn. I could hear everything vividly—the surrounding noises, people’s breathing.
“That Barnes guy… got beat like some alley kid.”
“He was supposed to be decent, right?”
“Better not mention parents in front of Samaritans.”
“Fuck, they say those kinds crawl all over the Black Wastelands beyond the continent? Terrifying shit. Good thing the Samaritans are xenophobic.”
The spectators murmured their takeaways from the duel, their deflated voices hushed as if to avoid my ears.
But with my heightened focus post-fight, I could hear it all crystal clear—their gulps, their breaths, every damn sound. It was maddening.
Like someone cranked the volume on my world to max.
“Samaritan—”
“Mars Guild’s got talent—”
“Fearsome outsider—”
The whispers grew louder in my ears, triggering a throbbing headache.
“Shh! Hassan, we made money! I bet 50 coppers on you winning! Turned it into 2 silvers!”
Luna’s voice rang out clearest from outside the arena as she bounced around, and just like that, the weird volume surge ended.
“Luna, you bet on me?”
“If I had more, I’d have gone all in. Anyway, four times payout!”
“Heh, good. That’s what matters.”
* * *
The duel ended in my one-sided win.
Back in Luna’s cozy little hut.
The upstairs private room filled with my groans.
“Ow, ugh, this stuff really work?”
“I told you, it’s good for bruises. Bought it with the 2 silvers I won.”
“Thanks. Ah, ow…”
Luna pressed leaf patches shaped like handprints onto my bruised red chest and stroked them gently. Normally, it’d tickle like crazy.
But my throbbing chest turned even that soft touch into pain. I hadn’t noticed with all the blood rushing to my head from rage and adrenaline.
Now safe, the delayed pain swelled like interest, gnawing at me. Adrenaline crash, probably.
Barnes, was it? Damn, he had sharp fists to challenge me so boldly.
If I hadn’t been fully riled up, I might’ve gotten caught off-guard and lost.
How did I even win? Could I beat him again? Not that it matters—he’s locked up now.
As I replayed the duel, Luna spoke up.
“Chest’s all patched! Anywhere else hurt?”
“Side… too…”
“Side? We’re out of pas leaves. Hmm…”
Luna pondered, the miracle leaves that eased pain all used up.
“Just lick it, should help!”
True to her wild world ways, she spouted nonsense and leaned down toward my side.
Slurp, slurp.
Then she licked my inflamed left side with her tongue.
“Pft, heh.”
It tickled so much I burst out laughing.
“Better?”
“Feels good. But, uh, other spots hurt too. Could you lick those?”
“Where?”
Luna lifted her head, staring right at me. She looked so cute, mischief sparked.
“My… lips too…”
“You haven’t had enough, huh, Hassan! I-I’m prepping for tomorrow’s expedition now!”
She smacked my back with her palm and hopped up. Probably for the expedition prep she mentioned.
I had a key role in tomorrow’s expedition too. But duel aftermath left me too wiped to move, so I stayed put.
Winning was good, but…
Why do I feel like I just took a loss?
Clang, thud.
A broad metal plate hit the wooden floor. I turned to see Luna picking up a battered breastplate.
“What’re you doing?”
“Armor I took from that Barnes guy earlier. Tried it on, but doesn’t fit me.”
“Of course—made for men.”
The spoils didn’t fit me either. Sell it used at the gear shop later for a new breastplate.
Even secondhand, with greaves and iron gauntlets, it’d fetch 30 silvers? Guess the duel wasn’t profitless.
Wait.
Earning 30 silvers from one fight? That’s solid.
Maybe challenge weaklings for indiscriminate PK and loot their cash? Tempting thought.
…
Luna had gone quiet. I sat up on the blanket and looked—curled up in the corner, scribbling away at something.
“What’s that?”
“Going into the labyrinth tomorrow. Painting protective runes with dye.”
Curious about “protective runes,” I peeked closer. She was painting her toes with dye from a small glass vial.
Pedicure, huh. Pale pink matched her hair nicely.
More fashion than ritual, though.
I kept that to myself.
Watching pink polish coat her dainty toes somehow eased my pains.
“W-Why stare at my feet like that? Want me to do yours, Hassan?”
“Nah.”
I watched quietly as she painted her nails and toes.
Rustle, rustle.
Embarrassed or bored with the silence, Luna spoke up.
“More than that, Hassan, I never imagined you had a second name.”
“My second name?”
“Zigres. Why hide it from me? Didn’t know you had a surname…”
She frowned, looking hurt. Upset I kept secrets? But I felt a bit wronged too.
“Couldn’t tell you—I didn’t know either. It just got slapped on.”
Jupiter’s descendant this, that—first I’d heard of it. Felt more like a prank.
“If even you didn’t know, guild must’ve given it recently.”
“Guilds assign surnames?”
“Mars and Minerva handle temple duties too. Hippolyte juggles adventurer and priestess work. Priests bestow surnames like oracles.”
I pictured Hippolyte in her red robe from the duel. In armor or casual clothes, I hadn’t noticed.
Draped in robes, she fit the priestess vibe perfectly.
“Hmm, makes sense.”
“Anyway, having a surname’s great. It’s how us flawed humans get closer to the gods atop Mount Hypos. Elevates our status!”
Elevates status? Improves meat quality? Couldn’t grasp what Luna meant. Not in any encyclopedia.
No clue how surnames linked to gods.
Truth be told, I didn’t care about surnames or status.
But Luna lit up at the topic, chattering away.
“Most gods have two names. One we mortals can say easily. The other’s their great true name.”
She chirped like a wet sparrow—kinda funny. I played interested for romance points.
“What’s the great true name?”
“Hmm, mortals can’t utter gods’ real names lightly. So they gave us the first name to use freely on earth.”
“Gave” names? Vague. I puzzled it out and asked back, using Mars as example.
“So like, Mars is the fake name, true one’s separate?”
“Exactly! Anyway, two names—given and surname—mean you’re closer to the creator gods as a creation. That’s why nobles and famous adventurers have seconds.”
“Ah, got it.”
Surnames for highborn or famed adventurers, huh.
Luna had Noxdoty. Hippolyte had Heavensinger, rarely mentioned.
Elfriede had Desmond, not often brought up.
Me?
Just Hassan.
Now some weird second name stuck to me.
Felt like another dad randomly gave me a surname. Odd vibe. Like, “My dad’s even-numbered now!?”
“But Zigres? Sounds weird, don’t like it.”
“Second names are just for prayers or rituals anyway—no everyday use, so fine, right?”
Like a baptismal name? If so, no need to say it publicly.
Hassan wasn’t my real name anyway.
Truth is, it’s Hasan.
Hasan of the Ha clan.
How’d it become Hassan? Thinking back, the face of my first sorta-friend here popped up.
For a savage barbarian, he looked dumb as rocks.
Hassan was his nickname for me. Wonder what he’d say seeing my fancy surname.
“Fuck, barbarian punk hit the big time!”
“Hassan, what’re you thinking?”
Lost in thought, I noticed Luna staring.
“Fingers all done. Look good?”
Her nails gleamed soft pink like cherry blossoms, swaying prettily. My swirling worries and dark smoke vanished in a puff.
“Grrr, can’t hold back!”
I grabbed her waist, laid her on the blanket, and buried my face in her soft, warm chest.
“W-What!?”
Squish, squish.
Her gentle warmth melted away human worries. The softest, warmest thing I’d met here.
Explains why guys act dumb in love or marriage.
Bury your face in this, and anxieties dissolve like ink in water.
Wanted to kiss her face, but instead pressed my ear to her left chest, listening to her heartbeat.
Thump, thump.
Steady, healthy rhythm pulsing through the softness.
“Pfft, tickles! Hassan, what’re you doing?”
“Listening to you.”
“To me…?”
“So wherever you are, I’ll know you by sound alone.”
“R-Really…?”
She seemed to get it, lying still, gazing at the ceiling.
Thump.
Thump.
Mid-heartbeat trance, I thought: memorize the feel too, not just sound.
Touch her chest blindfolded and know it’s Luna? Smart move. Time to grope.
Heh heh.
“Hassan, think we’ll do okay in Pluto’s labyrinth tomorrow? Kinda worried.”
“H-Huh? What about?”
“W-Well? Me, you, the convert paranoya, Dwarf Didier, Crystal Killer Belmina. Five of us into the labyrinth… feels off…”
“Wait, what?”
…
Five people?