Chapter 326
Chapter 326
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 326
Chapter Title: Wages of Sin #3
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Pluto's Labyrinth is called a dungeon for a reason.
It's a hellhole packed with traps and all sorts of convoluted, bizarre structural contraptions.
Bizarre mechanisms pop out from every direction, as if refusing to let anyone in easily—or out easily, for that matter.
I pursued Skargard, who had fled into the labyrinth's depths, pressing even further into its heart.
Grrooo...
Skeletal undead lurked in spots here and there, seemingly blocking my path, but soon they tinged their eye sockets with a faint red glow and parted ways for me.
Damn these useless bastards! Why won't you stop him? Why?!
Because of that, the distance between me—walking slowly—and Skargard steadily narrowed. One might even call it diligent.
"That's because I have every right to be here, Skargard."
Goddamn it—why aren't the traps activating?!
Skargard clearly knew the place well enough to strut around like he owned it.
But contrary to his expectations, the undead guards weren't stopping me, nor were any traps so much as twitching.
All I had to do was stroll after him like I was taking a walk in the yard.
"At this rate, I'm going to catch you."
Shut up, you useless shit!
In the end, I stepped on the hem of the long robe he was wearing. He lost his balance, tumbled to the floor, and scattered gold coins and jewels everywhere.
Don't come near me, you fucking lowlife Samaritans—useless bastards! No one's any help! It's all incompetent, brainless idiots!
He flailed around, glaring up at me. The composure he'd held just moments ago was gone; crawling on the ground like a pathetic worm was downright comical.
In him, I saw a reflection of myself.
I'd lived getting beaten down pathetically by this guy too. The reversal of our positions felt surreal—and deeply gratifying.
Spare me! I—I have kids to feed! My elderly mother too!
"Liar."
Of course it's a lie. You won't hit me if I say that, right?
"..."
Still too scared of hurting the guy getting beaten to throw a punch? Too afraid to kill to even draw your sword?
"..."
To survive, I have to kill others. That's how it is here, you useless shit. You only become a true gladiator when you can kill something.
No, my assumption that he feared me was wrong. No matter how his appearance had changed, he was the same as he'd been two years ago.
Go ahead, do your worst. If you can kill me, that is.
"You really ought to go to hell, Skargard. Get thrown into Tartarus, please."
Is that necessary? My life's always been hell.
I pulled the club from my back and swung down at his head with all my might. His body shattered with a crunch, fragments spraying everywhere in a noisy explosion.
Wha... if you're... gonna do it... you can...
Crush.
I stomped on his skull as he tried to say something, and perfect silence enveloped me at last.
Among everyone I knew, Skargard was purely, unadulterated evil crazy bastard.
If hell really existed, I hoped he'd rot there in eternal torment as I kicked his scattered fragments aside.
Soon, accessories and robe parts that had been attached to his body caught my eye. Having slain the monster, it was time to loot.
First up was the ring he wore. Up close, it was a crude thing: a large black pearl strung on metal.
But it gleamed iridescently, suggesting something rare.
The High Priest's Ring?
Does this let you command undead?
On a hunch, I tried slipping it onto various fingers. The only fit was my left middle finger, and as I forced it on—
Ding.
『You have acquired the Legendary Artifact: Ring of Pelagius, the First Necromancer.』
『Karma Value +200』
『Current Karma Value +250』
I nearly jumped out of my skin at the text floating before my eyes.
A legendary artifact?
The kind collectors pour a sack of gold into just to display one at home?
『After winning a bet with the King of the Underworld, Pluto, Pelagius gained eternal life as his prize. But while his soul was immortal, his flesh decayed, turning him into a withered skeleton.
The ring he wore holds powerful lingering thoughts. Those with an affinity who possess it gain the wondrous ability to command wrathful spirits.』
『+ Vitality 1』
『+ Necromancy Hierarchy lv. 1』
『Purification required to view additional stats.』
Even with my mind muddled from Skargard and thoughts of an old friend, this hit hard.
Vitality increased?
Huge deal. I knew how hard adventurers grind just to raise their Karma Value by one.
A ring that boosts Necromancy Hierarchy level—like a skill book in an RPG, raising overall proficiency?
And "purification required for additional stats"—first time seeing that. Whatever it was, it had to be amazing.
I tested it on Skargard's corpse.
"Rise."
Nothing. Just a strange tingle in my gut that furrowed my brow.
Guess Jupiter's seal on my Necromancy was still holding.
What the hell. A twinge of disappointment hit me.
As I rummaged through the skeletal debris for anything else useful, I sensed someone approaching from behind.
"Lady Hippolyte?"
"Oh, so now you can sense my presence?"
"More or less."
"I hurried after you in case something happened."
"Did you think I'd lose to this guy?"
I rattled the bone pile with my hand. Hippolyte, behind me, slowly looked around.
"No, it's Pluto's Labyrinth. I wondered if something connected to you or the labyrinth might happen."
"Ah."
"So, anything? This is your father's domain—you might draw power here."
Come to think of it, I'd felt a subtle surge of strength.
Confidence overflowing a bit, too. Like Neptune's prince Triton wielding sea and waves freely, or Mars's daughters the Amazons thriving on the battlefield.
A solid theory: Pluto's son Hassan could wield some divine authority here.
"Like changing the labyrinth's layout or position? Or finding hidden entrances?"
At Hippolyte's question, I glanced around and flailed my arms, trying something—anything. Nothing stirred or shifted.
"Dunno."
"Your father's at the end of this labyrinth, right? Talk to him, Hassan. He's the administrator here."
"Ah."
It hit me: Pluto had fled his throne, leaving Erebus and Nyx in charge of the underworld.
A secret known only to high-ranking cultists. Hippolyte, unaware, fully believed I could do something here.
"Hassan, ask for leftover nectar if there's any. Two vials. He's got tons, right?"
"Probably not right now."
"I see..."
Hippolyte smacked her lips in deep regret.
I felt the same.
*
*
*
Rumors spread through Delphi that Deathros's arena had burned down.
No casualties, though—and the labyrinth entrance, previously undocumented, was now sealed. People seemed relieved.
That Deathros crew? The horrific ones? And it was right by Delphi?
Explains all the kidnappings and disappearances... That adventurer party from last year—bet they took 'em.
Who knows. Ballsy, messing around where the God of Light dwells.
Shocked that atrocities happened near Delphi—closest to the gods outside Hypnos territory.
Hippolyte, overhearing, just snorted softly.
"The darkest shadow falls beneath the lamp. A city of light casts deeper, darker ones below."
Apparently so.
Either way, word spread of Hassan, who smashed Deathros's arena, and Pluto's successor, who sealed the labyrinth entrance himself. Good for me.
Monsters kept spilling from that entrance—scary stuff. Glad it's closed. Now I can relax.
Boosted my likability a notch.
Signaled I wasn't like the rampaging Pluto cultists. All upside.
"The loot from the arena... 155 gold, 30 silver, 22 copper...! W-with this, you'd never starve...!"
Skargard's vault and warehouse added nice profits too.
Enough for a big house with a garden on Sodmora's south street—middle-class area—or a modest one on pricey east street.
But I didn't care about that now.
"Hassan, really meeting alone...? What if they rough you up...?"
Right now, the priority was fulfilling a long-ignored promise.
My survival, my second life from those flames—it all stemmed from this request.
Best to focus on what I had to do first, no overthinking.
"The girl's at the sewage plant. Stinks bad, though. You sure? Not a place for someone as refined as you..."
"It's fine."
I headed to Delphi's sewage facility, where Gloria did forced labor.
Bribed the protesting guard with a silver, opened the wide door—and there she was, sweeping through the filth.
Whirrr.
"No, I just did that spot."
Whirr whirr whirr.
"At this rate, it'll take forever—"
My heart jolted despite my resolve. Mouth dry as bone.
Not fear of her violence anymore—just dread of speaking truth.
What to say?
Would she understand? Two years of delays for various reasons.
Time to say what I should have.
" Gloria."
She froze.
Her busy hands halted. She straightened her bent back and turned toward the entrance.
Soot-streaked face, filthy with sweat and grime—but those shining black eyes stabbed like daggers.
Only then did I see my old friend's face in hers. He'd sparkled with those eyes amid the dirt too.
"Gloria—"
"Oh, bro's here? What's up? Already miss me?"
"I have a message from your brother."
"But I'm not done yet. Probably another week to clean this up. Demolish a few buildings, eat without paying, and this is the punishment."
Clink.
I dangled the necklace from my hand.
Fangs from some beast, tiny round stones on a chain, clinking softly.
"Your brother Castor wanted you to have this. He didn't abandon you or leave you. I was supposed to come two years ago. Sorry I'm late."
Gloria's chatter stopped cold. Silence stretched between us.
...
I'd thought I was used to quiet air, but this awkward hush felt off.
"My brother's the strongest in the world."
"He was."
"Even I couldn't beat him. Never lost to anyone. So I figured he'd win, be somewhere on this continent—we'd meet again."
"..."
"You killed my brother, right? You're holding his necklace—that means yes."
Her wits were sharp. I finally voiced what I'd never told anyone.
"Yeah. But it wasn't a fair fight from the start. I was the one who should've died, but Castor didn't kill me."
"Doesn't matter. He died, so that's that. This world—you kill or get killed."
Gloria echoed Skargard's logic. In this savage world, survive by killing. Natural law, really.
I'd stabbed Castor.
He hadn't stabbed me.
In the end, I followed the world's rule; he didn't.
I'd always seen him as the barbarian, but I was the true savage. That's why I became Samaritan Hassan.
Nothing more to say.
Didn't know what to say—or hear. So I stayed silent, and Gloria spoke.
"My chest hurts."
"..."
"Never hurt this bad. What's this? Feels like my strength's draining. Am I sick...?"
"It's not sickness, Gloria. It's a perfectly normal emotion—"
"I get it. This must be love—"
"...What?"
"Pain like this—has to be."
I had to admit something was seriously wrong.
Hippolyte once called Gloria a typhoon.
Now I got it: typhoons are named because they're incomprehensible.
"If you weren't my brother—"
Gloria smiled.
"We could even marry legally."
Her sharp fangs gleamed, chilling me to the core.