Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: 3rd Floor: Medicine for the Pharmacist
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"Ugh... it hurts."
Why did that fist have to pack such a punch? My entire body felt like it'd been hammered all over.
Sure, with this body's recovery, it'd heal to the point I could ignore it by tomorrow. But I didn't have the guts to just crash out peacefully in this situation.
'Fuck. Fighting rats and spiders is totally different.'
Even if I'd boosted my Agility and Charm, I figured the gear gap wouldn't matter. What a huge mistake.
The pressure of a human-shaped thing charging at me to kill, combined with the soft sentiments of a 21st-century modern guy, slowed my sword swings. And with attacks coming from all directions, I couldn't cope.
Luckily, the criminal had been in a frenzy, or I'd have been dead if he'd known even a bit of fighting or ambushed me calmly.
"Fuck..."
I glared at the criminal, now drooling in his sleep, then got up and grabbed my sword.
Whoosh-!
The shift in my mindset during that time wasn't to kill the neutralized criminal.
What I slashed instead was empty air.
The silver blade caught the flickering campfire light, tracing a crimson arc as it cleaved the air.
In typical possession novels, the protag masters swordplay and magic without lessons. Unfortunately, I was still a total amateur.
A worm can burrow without being taught, so I was worse than one.
'If I keep swinging by feel like before, I'll die soon.'
Even with D.D. knowledge to handle traps and non-humans, without skill, I'd hit a wall eventually.
Case in point: nearly dying to one criminal.
Swish- whoosh- swish-
After a dozen swings, my sword arm felt like it had weights attached—heavy.
'Killing rats was just full-power swings.'
Shoulders and joints piling up fatigue with each swing, rags soaking with sweat.
In the dark room with the crackling campfire, I swung at nothing in a trance.
Painful repetition, but fear of future death kept sleep away.
Overhead chops, horizontal slices, upward strikes, thrusting advances.
Cling-
After ages with the heavy sword, my exhausted arm dropped, tip scraping brick floor with a metallic ring.
"Huff... haa... fuck..."
Gulp, gulp.
Trembling like palsy, I forced my arm to grab the canteen and soothe my parched throat.
How much time passed?
No clock here, so I could only guess. Felt like quite a while.
"First time with a sword?"
"..."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ An awkward tension hung across the campfire.
The criminal kept side-eyeing me, gauging my mood—unsurprising, since I held his life in my hands. But it fueled the unease.
"...If you're awake, say something."
"You were swinging so hard, it was tough to interrupt. Hope you understand."
In other words, my shitty swings made him fear getting stabbed if he spoke up?
'That bad, huh?'
I'd thought so myself, but hearing it stung differently.
Lips pursed in bruised pride.
"So... why'd you suddenly attack me?"
In the game, criminals weren't chatty.
Just feral humanoids charging to kill, like other mobs. Was talking to one smart?
But if not now, no next chance.
"..."
The criminal hesitated, lips flapping silently.
"Cat got your tongue? If that's it, I can help. Though you screamed fine earlier."
"I-I'll talk! Just wait. I'm confused too, don't know how to explain!"
A slight sword twitch panicked him into flailing.
Setting it down calmed him; he cleared his throat.
"How about introductions first? I'm Dave from Whitechamber. Was a blacksmith before this damn sewer exile."
"Whitechamber?"
"The city above this sewer. You didn't come from elsewhere?"
No city name in D.D. for the sewer-top.
First total unknown; I furrowed my brow.
Dungeon Gallery Pack mod wouldn't detail that, no in-game spot for it. Reality's influence?
Lost in thought, I felt Dave's expectant stare.
"...My name is."
I pondered.
What to say? Real name? Or Status screen's 'aaaa'?
Pronunciation issue too.
Couldn't say 'A-A-A-A' or 'Quadruple A.'
"Aa."
"A nickname?"
"...Something like that."
Sounds like iced Americano, but whatever—I say it is, what can he do? No way to learn my real name.
Dave nodded, accepting it.
"More importantly, your story. Not sparing you for chit-chat. I'm impatient."
No bonding with a soon-to-die guy.
Hear all unknowns, extract useful info—perfect.
"G-Got it."
I got banished to this sewer for allegedly sleeping with a Whitechamber noble lady.
Framed, of course! Why would a noble pick me?
Anyway, thrown in, despairing and idle, others exiled with me appeared.
Quite a few.
At least a hundred, I'd say.
Some claimed knighthood.
He proved it, effortlessly slicing charging horrors with fine swordplay.
He rallied the scattering survivors: follow him to escape this hell.
I joined the hero who united us instantly.
Smooth sailing for a bit.
Knight's blade and numbers crushed monsters; gross food from them kept us going, barely.
But...
Dave paused there.
Clearly reluctant, but that's the juicy part?
"Don't stop."
"Ahem..."
Sword light flashed on his throat; Adam's apple bobbed with a sigh.
The floor right below was the issue.
Passage just before sewer's end.
It blocked us.
First sight: ragged clothes barely covering skin, shambling in circles—a lucky madwoman survivor, we thought.
Dragging a huge greatsword too big to lift, but no big deal.
Some eyed her hungrily, lips smacking—starved in sewer, glancing at knight.
Exiled scum, groveling pitifully but wicked criminals.
Knight's silent okay let them approach with crude jokes, cocks out.
They died.
No exaggeration: blink, and three heads rolled from the neared group!
Chilling sight.
Not knight-level, but sturdy men.
I knew who Dave meant.
Rags, oversized greatsword, circling in place.
'Wanderer.'
4th floor sub-boss. Gatekeeper to 5th boss.
Horror-struck retreat, but blood-tasted, she rampaged.
One-handed greatsword swings massacred without expression change.
Of twenty including knight, seven dead instantly, two limbless in seconds.
Knight hardened, charged the madwoman sword-first.
Ear-splitting metal shrieks multiple times per blink.
"..."
"Why stop again?"
"That's the end of the interesting part for you."
Coughing like done, eyeing sizzling tasty meat, I sighed at Dave.
"Here. Now finish the story."
"Eh, nothing much. I fled scared; don't know if she or knight won. Attacking you..."
Dave licked dry lips.
"Ran out of food, starving, ate random herbs—lost my mind. Probably poison. Sorry, forgive me."
"...What color were the herbs?"
"Purple."
The mystery purple herb was Confusion Herb.