Chapter 10
Chapter 10
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Floor 2: The Angel Born in Death
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Inside the worn-out chest were a Teleport Scroll and a Flame Wand.
The teleport scroll, which moved you to a random spot on the current floor when used, could serve as an escape tool in dire situations like the one just moments ago. But since enemies or traps might lurk at the destination, it wasn't a foolproof fix. The Flame Wand that fired fireballs wasn't half bad, but with my pitifully low Mind stat, it wasn't viable as a primary weapon.
"I should just sell these to the Shady Merchant."
The Shady Merchant was one of the few NPCs who dealt in GOLD—the premium currency that popped up every three floors—acting as both a buyer and seller.
Sure, he haggled prices down to the bone, but with bag space so limited, he was a godsend for offloading items too valuable to trash. Plus, since you could only buy from the Sad Ghost and not sell, the Shady Merchant's role in clearing floors shot up in importance.
He showed up guaranteed every three floors, with a ton of text variations to boot, making him pretty popular among players.
Not that it mattered much—he was just a dot sprite in a creepy mask and robe.
To see the true ending, you had to trade with the Shady Merchant a few specific times.
But the devs apparently wanted a fresh shock in the ending, so they slapped a twist on the merchant's identity.
The name 'Shady Merchant' is suspicious from the jump, so it's not that shocking, right?
Such thoughts swirled in my head, but what did it matter either way?
If I could wake up tomorrow morning, chug a bowl of tiger-energy-boosting cereal, and head deeper into the dungeon, wouldn't that be great?
Not that I had any cereal—or milk—in this pathetic reality.
"Ahh—dedicating this to User ㅇㅇ as well. Please let his dick be a 3cm premie that spurts after one shake. Please let him wake up with 500 hairs gone every morning."
Having offered a prayer of gratitude to the User ㅇㅇ who'd flung me into this dumpster fire of a place, I limped toward the stairs on my bum leg.
Now that this was real life, traps felt way riskier than in the game.
In the game, they just inflicted status effects and damage over set turns. Here, wounds from traps didn't heal quick.
Of course, my natural regen was freakishly high, so after about 30 minutes, the bleeding from that skewer hole finally clotted.
But closing the wound completely would take more time, it seemed.
"So stamina and injuries are separate beasts, huh..."
Probably, intense fights like with those rats earlier would reopen it.
Meaning if I triggered a trap or took a hit, I'd have to deal with wound management on top.
It felt like this already brutal journey had grabbed me by the ankle.
D.D becoming reality created a few such gaps.
Likewise, I'd been counting turns as 1 per 2m move, attack, or item use. But here, it worked differently.
"Slime fought for about a minute before Fuel ran dry, so combat's 1 turn every 6 seconds. Bleeding stopped after 30 minutes, so non-combat's 1 turn per minute."
Intense action probably guzzled mana, tanking efficiency.
That meant no fighting, and the slime's uptime stretched to 10 minutes.
More time is nice, but what am I gonna do with 10 minutes? Take it for a walk?
I'd never even kept a pet before—couldn't start with a random slime blob.
I shook off that terrifying notion quick.
"Haaak, hek... fuck... one bad leg and it's this rough..."
Limp, limp.
Dragging my messed-up leg through the waterlogged sewer channel was pure torture.
Hunger was back to normal levels after scarfing that makeshift bandage swap, but blood already seeped through—sign the wound might burst soon.
"If every floor had a Healing Spring, how nice... These bastards got no mercy. Fuuuuck."
Healing Springs popped up rarely during dungeon crawls.
They fully restored stamina, cleared standard status ailments, and even fixed gore hits like lost limbs. This wound would be a snap for one.
Too bad Layer 2 had none, even after scouring it stubbornly.
"Gonna rest a day till this heals... No choice. Push to 3 like this, and I'll drop dead without doing shit."
The rat pups were doable thanks to bait-aggression cheese. Spiders or Criminals? I'd be paste or crippled.
Better this way, I figured.
It was late enough that rushing 3 might mean no safe camp—wandering sleepless.
Layer 2 was threat-free and safe. Smart call.
"Sad Ghost's room sounds good. It's close."
A few other safe spots existed, but too far to hobble now.
Sand piles in the sarcophagus were a drag, but she'd kept me from puppeteering her—no cheap curses, right?
Right?
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ I gently closed the half-open sarcophagus—left like an invite to crash hard—and the room felt downright cozy.
Cozy enough, anyway.
Truth was, stone floor sleeping left me knotted everywhere, but what could ya do?
A blanket would've been nice, sure.
"Ugh... rough day."
Ditching the heavy bag I'd hauled all day felt like coming alive again.
Those bulky onaholes packed serious weight too.
Time to punish the little shits soon—but camp setup first.
"Camp" meant fire and flat bedding fodder. That was it.
I'd just lit up and rummaged when I scored a dusty blanket.
Worn ragged by time, but layered with Criminal rags over stone? Better than nothing.
"Miss my 3.15 million won mattress... could snooze 23 hours flat on that bad boy."
Killing foes? Adapted fine. Shitty bed? Torture.
Crackling campfire spat irregular pops, its heat chasing out the sewer's damp chill. Way comfier now.
Ripped clothes into a base layer, topped with the blanket: thick, cushy bed achieved.
"Whew—legs kill."
All-day hike piled fatigue, but sitting eased it some.
"Wonder if this wound'll heal proper."
I eyed it with heavy unease. Bleeding stopped fast, stamina refilled auto—but scarring was another story.
Worrying wouldn't fix it, so I shoved it aside.
Grilled fatty meat sizzled invitingly, filling hunger and thirst. Rest kicked in—energy returning.
⚙ ITEM ⚙ 『Roasted Delicious Meat』 【Consumes to restore 60 Hunger】 【This roast looks mouthwatering. Just the right fat and thick cut for satisfaction.】 Sleepy's creeping, but I can push 1-2 more hours.
Longer, and I'd probably faceplant right there.
Most of this sewer got zero sunlight, naturally.
Daily rhythm relied on body clock and fatigue alone.
Lie down, eyes shut? Sweet sleep city. But with time left, might as well use it.
My gaze drifted to the angel statue overlooking the Sad Ghost's sarcophagus.
It depicted a tender angel shielding its body with thick wings, gazing lovingly at a lamb below.
Now, with one wing crumbled and half its face gone, it was straight nightmare fuel.
But something nagged at me oddly.
If the wing fell, shouldn't debris be right under, on the Sad Ghost's sarcophagus?
The stone chunks—wing remnants—sat pretty far from it.
Looked deliberately cleared.
"Ghost tidy up?"
I hauled up, dragging my leg to inspect the angel statue I'd skimmed before.
Slime Onahole and Lace Onahole safely unpacked from the bag first, of course.
Up close, the statue's material was unknown but screamed ultra-durable—not soft stone.
Early-game hammer? All-day whack-fest to crack it, and it'd snap a few hammers first.
"Hmm..."
Examining slow, I spotted engraving where the wing broke off.
Invisible if the opposite wing was intact.
"At journey's end, though despair gripped upon witnessing evil forged of infinite malice and madness—the most valiant and noble mage, my eternal comrade Severa. Here lies."
"May she become a radiant heavenly angel, blessing heroic descendants to vanquish that absolute evil."
"Maria, who will cherish you for eons to come."
"Aha. That's why 10 members but only 9 coffins..."
This angel statue was the final, tenth expedition member.
The specter's tomb.