Chapter 19
Chapter 19
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: The Waters of the Styx Flow Nobly
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The waters of the Styx River flowed nobly.
019 - [The Waters of the Styx Flow Nobly #2]
“Must’ve been a lot of tough writing for a barbarian like you to get through?”
The librarian let out a quip as I returned to the library less than half a day after borrowing the book.
Truth be told, it wasn’t so much that the text was difficult as it was that I was scared of damaging an expensive book and wanted to get rid of it quick—but I decided to keep my mouth shut.
“Good, no problems then.”
Only after getting inspected by the gaunt, skeleton-like librarian could I finally breathe easy. Damn, why does reading a book in this world have to make my heart race like this?
“If you’re just gonna return it this fast next time, read it here. There’s desks and chairs over there.”
“Will do.”
Who knows if I’d ever cross paths with this librarian again. I gave a vague reply and stepped out of the library onto the street.
The afternoon sky was overcast but still bright. Better to knock out all the tasks I’d planned for today before evening hit.
My wind-battered clothes needed mending—or maybe replacing altogether.
But more importantly, I figured it was smart to grab some armor while I had the spare coin.
I’d gotten jumped by those unexpected goblins on my first quest, and now I was covered in nagging wounds that throbbed with pain.
It was obvious that as an adventurer making money and climbing ranks, I’d be putting my body through even worse in the future.
They glamorize it as adventure, but it’s just another grueling 3D job.
Jump into the field with no prep, and you’re begging to get hurt. Armor would be a solid way to protect myself.
In fact, Elfriede and her crew put extra effort into their gear—almost obsessively so.
...Seeing it now, the scraps of knowledge I picked up under her were actually useful.
I’d spotted an armor shop while wandering around looking for the library, so I headed straight there without delay.
“Welcome.”
A casual greeting as I pushed through the door.
Inside, breastplates and helmets, greaves made of bone, iron plating, and wooden panels hung in messy arrays. The stench of metal and oil was strong but bearable.
“What’re you after?”
A man about half my height worked his lips in my direction, but his eyes stayed fixed on polishing a sheet-metal breastplate to a shine as he lounged in his chair.
Unlike old man Platan, who was skinny as a reed, this guy was built like a sturdy potato or chunk of granite, complete with a bushy beard.
A dwarf. Holy shit, wild.
“What’re you staring at? First dwarf you’ve seen, giant? You’re not here to gawk, so what’ll it be?”
Shops dealing in armor and weapons were a dime a dozen, but dwarf-run ones were supposedly the best value. Anyway, I spoke up to the little guy who seemed like the owner.
“Looking for some wearable armor.”
“Figured as much—that’s why you’re here. But with your size, not sure we’ve got a match. Might need custom work.”
“Custom?”
“Depends on materials, but you’re huge. Full set’d run you about 20 silver. We got cheaper crap, but it’s worse than wearing nothing.”
20 silver? Didn’t have that kinda cash.
This was probably a bargain too. Temple knights or high-rank silver adventurers dropped dozens of silvers on a single greave, from what I’d heard.
So I settled for compromises: forearm guards and shin protectors.
“Lucky we had a large one. Fits perfect. Too big and heavy for most—no one could use ’em. Stock item, so I’ll knock the price down.”
Oh, discount? Sweet. And the gear itself gleamed black and slick—love it. Felt like the shell of a horned insect.
The black forearm guards covered from the back of my hand up to the elbow.
The greaves shielded from shin to just above the knee, protruding enough to guard the joint without snagging on my boots.
The band-style straps pinched a bit, and they were heavier than they looked, slowing me down slightly.
But the dwarf said this was the only stuff in my size at a price I could afford.
“Made from giant arakrab shell and oil-soaked olive wood panels—tough as hell. Hard to break even on purpose. Only real downside’s the weight.”
Giant arakrab—I’d scavenged those shells plenty back when I was Elfriede’s slave. Who knew combining ’em with wood scraps would cost a whopping 5 silver total. Pricey.
“The bands are kinda tight—any fix for that?”
“Horned croc tendons. Wear ’em awhile, and they’ll stretch to fit. That’s why they cost.”
“Hmm...”
“Better to splurge when you do buy. Cheap stuff breaks quick, costs more in repairs long run. This one needs no maintenance. You barbarians hate fussing anyway.”
Less hate fussing, more don’t know how. Anyway, seemed like quality gear worth the price.
From what he said, one good piece lasted longer than cycling through cheap junk.
My lack of world knowledge played in, and the dwarf was a smooth talker being a merchant. Sounded right, but something still felt off.
I’m a sucker for a good pitch.
“No iron-rank adventurer’s rocking better than you now. Won’t regret it. I’ll fix it twice for free if it breaks—bring it back.”
Sucked seeing half my cash vanish at once. But chalk it up to investing for bigger earnings ahead.
Grind to silver rank quick, get a bank loan, open a spa here. Then I could rake it in sitting pretty.
Got this rare blessing no one else has, and I’m still slumming it in the field? Too harsh.
Anyway, half my money gone in a flash—down to 5 silver and 60 copper. That’s 560 copper total.
Three meals a day at 15 copper, bed at 10—25 copper daily. About 25 days. Skip breakfast, stretch it further.
Just enough for living expenses. Not a fortune. In this world, emergencies hit fast and hard....
“Hey, you little shit. Finally found you. Think you could pull that crap and walk away scot-free, barbarian bastard?”
See? Damn it.
*
It happened in a blink. I’d just equipped my new armor and stepped out onto the street when a sharp male voice barked from behind.
“Brother Uter, that’s him! The bastard! The black hair, that build—there's no mistake it's him!”
Black hair?
Only black-haired guy around was me. Folks picked fights over my looks and size by the truckload.
But their vibe wasn’t just random beef—felt like they knew me?
Three of ’em.
Ugly mugs full of personality, no need for details. Scars riddling faces, shoulder pauldrons—mercs, probably. Axes and longswords at their hips added tension.
Clink.
Iron-rank adventurers like me—they wore iron identity tags around their necks like dog tags on a chain.
“You slippery shit, been wondering where you hid. Here all along!”
The M-shaped balding guy, probably the leader, growled at me.
Face so distinctive it’d stick in your head forever. Too bad—no memory of him.
“Look at this punk. Blank stare like he don’t know shit. You mocking us?”
“Brother Uter, time to teach him a lesson.”
Why act like we go way back?
Maybe I blacked out drunk last night and tangled with ’em without remembering? That’s all I could think.
They were a head shorter, but armed.
And three on one—could get ugly if this turned into a brawl.
“You think you can do that shit and skate by, you dog? Speak up if you got the guts, barbarian.”
But their constant cursing grated. I fired back, keeping it non-provocative.
“What’s this about? You know me?”
“This fucker’s playing dumb—grab him. If you don’t remember, we’ll jog it. Boys, escort him nice to that dark alley over there.”
“Got it.”
“Come on, punk!”
Even same-rank adventurers had hierarchies?
Anyway, the two under baldie’s orders closed on my flanks, grabbing for my arms. Hell no—get dragged to a dark spot, who knows what happens.
I whipped my arms hard, shaking off the hold.
“This bastard’s strong as hell!”
“Stay put, fucker! Tried talking, but nah!”
Shing, shing.
Ditched brute force—they drew longsword and axe, settling into stances. Shit, didn’t see this escalating.
Blades make you tense, no matter what.
“You fuck!”
The axe guy swung full force at me.
Pure killing intent.
Trying to murder someone in broad daylight on the street! Even in this shithole world, that can’t fly, right?
Dodging back while scanning, folks just traded glances.
“What’s up?”
“Fight?”
“Sweet.”
No one stepping in.
Don’t get involved—too messy. Watch and bail. Obvious.
This was the continent.
Chaos and disorder, pure and simple!
“Goddamn it.”
Dodging axe and blade swings, backing up. But their pincer caught me, opening a gap.
“Off to Pluto with you!”
Seizing the chance, he raised the axe high and brought it crashing down.
Whoosh—the rusted blade sliced air slow-motion toward my eyes. Life flashing? This the lantern show?
No way I die clueless like this. In desperation, I raised my arm. Better lose an arm than my skull.
Clang!
That’s when it hit.
“Wha—what the?”
The axe that should’ve cleaved my forearm ricocheted like it hit rock, staggering him.
Only then did I remember the guard on my arm. New purchase, not used to it—plus panic made me forget.
Anyway, damn 5 silver well spent—tough. But it’s dented. Fresh off the shelf!
“You fucking bastards!”
They scratched my brand-new gear? I wasn’t forgiving that.
Rage exploded in my skull. Next thing, I was smashing my fist into the stumbling guy’s face.
Crack.
“Gaaack—!”
Jaw-shattering force.
Heavy guard on wrist added punch weight, I guess. Even I was shocked at the power.
“Guhh, haa, haa—!”
“Ska! Ska! This motherfucker, barbarian shit! Slapped Daphne’s cheek and now Ska’s jaw!”
“Daphne?”
“You won’t play dumb now, huh, barbarian! You slapped Daphne. Unforgivable! We’re her distant admirers—we’ll punish you!”
Distant admirers of Daphne? Stalkers much?
Stalkers.
That word spun my brain like cramming the night before exams.
Mars Guild receptionist Daphne obsessed over being stalked, delusions of watchers. But if it was real...
Someone actually tailing her, creeping her out.
Then my slapped cheek and the misunderstanding oughta go back to the source. Justice, right?
“You assholes made me... anyway, perfect timing. Stalking’s a death sentence!”
[Author's Note] Next up, the stockpiled chapter 20 finally drops ㅠㅠ... Wonder if dumping it all at once is right, but tomorrow’s me, next tomorrow’s me, and far-future me’ll handle it! Heehee,!!