Chapter 46
Chapter 46
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 46
Chapter Title: 7th Floor. Items Can Be Duplicated!
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7th Floor. Items Can Be Duplicated!
I already had a plan to catch the Phantom Thief Goblin in one shot.
Now, all I needed was to pinpoint its location, and as long as the orc search party didn't just stand around dumbly watching like yesterday, there shouldn't be any major problems.
However, the orc search party's thick-headedness made me worry whether they could even handle that simple request properly.
"We caught a spider last night, but where is it? I swear I left it right here."
"Isn't it stuck to your back?"
"Ah! There it is! My breakfast!"
Listening to them carry on like that from the morning made my head throb naturally.
With my brilliant mind boasting an IQ of 530,000, their conversation—which seemed to drop IQ by the second—was nothing short of intellectual devastation.
"No more rats from yesterday? If I'm hungry, I won't have any strength. We only brought a day's worth of food, so I'm starving."
"None, you idiot! Starve!"
After watching the orc roast the flattened, pressed spider from its broad back over the fire, it started smacking its lips hungrily—probably because my stomach was growling too—and shamelessly demanded food, so I kicked its shin and began the 7th floor search.
Before meeting the search party orcs, I'd already explored the 7th floor for about three hours, so roughly 10% of the map was revealed.
That meant it would take approximately 30 hours to fully scour the entire 7th floor.
Assuming 10 to 12 hours of exploration per day, completely conquering the 7th floor would take at least three days.
It was on a completely different scale from the floors I'd passed so far.
Unfortunately, the 7th floor map—which I'd hoped would be the smallest—had generated as absolutely massive.
"You guys don't have any way to find that goblin?"
That came out of me as I felt a growing sense of crisis: once we started moving with the orc search party, the exploration—which I'd been breezing through quickly alone thanks to the map—had slowed to a crawl because of their constant vigilance.
"Goblin? Ah, you mean that disgrace to our kin, the one who could never become a warrior even in death."
No matter how I sliced it, orcs and goblins couldn't be the same species, but I decided not to bother pointing it out.
A dog could give birth to a litter of puppies with a kitten mixed in, after all.
A perfect man like me—drawn straight from an illustration—didn't view the world through such narrow-minded lenses. Of course, I'd contact the biology and genetics societies. And snag a Nobel Prize.
It was the epitome of a flawless plan.
"A way to find it... nope. That disgraceful pest always shows up first, steals our stuff, and bolts before we can blink. But it mostly hangs out in these upper layers, so if we wander around, it should come sniffing, right, human?"
"Sigh, we're screwed."
I could only pinch the bridge of my nose at that.
In the end, it was tantamount to a murder notice: the goblin would reinforce its forces and ambush me once it was sure it could take me down.
If it had been an assassin who could kill three with a single pencil, I'd kneel and call it big bro—but no, it was an ugly goblin, so kneeling was off the table.
If it were the former, I'd get it puppy grooming, send it to puppy kindergarten, give it belly rubs, feed it premium kibble, and send it on its way. What a shame.
After getting that oh-so-grateful confirmation from the locals that I'd have to find it the hard way, I—ever the scientific human of the 21st-century high-tech digital age—pounded the pavement myself in search of the Phantom Thief Goblin.
One hour, two hours, three more. Half a day ticked by, and even as the map steadily filled in, no goblin in sight.
At best, a few random herbs and potions scattered on the floor, plus some gear too iffy to swap for what I had equipped.
Ah, but at least the Lunar Sanctuary showed up and upgraded my Ring of Might to +2.
And not far from there sat an old furnace that looked long disused—worn, with a few bricks missing and hairline cracks.
"Whoa~ An old furnace~"
It was an object for melting down two pieces of unnecessary heavy gear to craft higher-tier equipment, or for tossing in specific materials to make artifacts.
Of course, I had zero materials for something like an artifact.
Wondering what the NPCs made of it, I glanced at the search party, but they barely reacted—probably figuring it belonged there.
Or maybe they'd seen tons of them on prior passes.
"Hmm."
Heavy – Tag on most metal items. I alternated looks between the spear and black axe I'd scavenged along the way.
From floor 2 or 3—I couldn't even remember anymore—these outdated weapons were long overdue for replacement.
Old furnace: weapon + weapon = weapon out; armor + armor = armor out; mix 'em = 50/50 chance.
I approached the dusty old furnace—half-doubting it'd even work—and tossed in the spear and black axe.
"Whatcha doing, human?"
"Making a new weapon."
The furnace swallowed the weapons and rumbled to life, shaking off the dust caked on its body. Gray clouds piled onto the surrounding grass—if you got too close, it'd wreck your lungs—so I backed way off.
WHOOSH!
No fuel needed, yet flames roared to life, spewing intense heat and melting the weapons inside like candy on the tongue.
How the hell does that work?
Magic, obviously. Fantasy world, magic solves everything.
Bring that tech to reality, and the steel industry hits a whole new era.
What? No fuel for the furnace? Jackpot. Jackpot!
Glurp— It didn't take long for the two weapons—melting into thick sludge and blending—to merge into a new shape.
Its form was...
⚒ ITEM FORGED ⚒ Beast's Claw A crude dagger modeled after the claw of a beast that once lived. Its unique blade shape seems likely to cause bleeding when drawn.
"What the actual fuck! Who the hell makes a dagger out of a spear and an axe?!"
The furnace had straight-up stolen my iron.
What it spat back out like "here, choke on this" was a goddamn dagger.
Where'd they pawn the law of conservation of mass? The iron from that long spear and hefty axe was whittled down to less than half.
'It's a proper 3-tier item, sure...'
Even with daggers' pitifully low base damage, this one rivaled the 2-tier black axe—definitely a step up.
Factor in the evasion boost and bleed chance, and it was clearly superior.
But I couldn't shake the feeling I'd gotten ripped off. Even a 3-tier spear would've been handy against whatever came next, even if meh for stabbing plants.
A dagger's range was comically short—sure, I could ambush and poke once, but it'd force close-quarters brawl.
And my fisticuffs? Just a week's lessons from Albert.
'Anyone whose leg snaps from a low kick, I could take.'
But look at these orcs—even a perfect high kick to the jaw? No knockout; they'd scratch it and cleave my skull in two.
Forcing human-vs-human close combat on these human-loathing brutes was a massive L from the jump.
"..."
It hit me then. The weapons in the orcs' hands. Kinda glossy and nice-looking, right?
"W-why ya starin' like that, human? Yer eyes are freakin' out..."
The orc search party shrank back at my gaze. What, had I done something?
I just wanted a little voluntary gacha fuel donation.
"Weapons. Hand 'em over!"
"Gaaaah! The mad human's stealing my virginity!"
"Quit squirming! It'll be over quick!"
I hooked the calf of the orc clutching its crudely melted-together axe like a treasure, tripped it, pinned the joint—and teared up at its kindness in donating the weapon to my cause.
"You guys... you're real good eggs, huh? Giving me your weapons like this! I'll pull something awesome, promise!"
"Mad human!"
I restrained the thrashing orcs Wanderer-style and dumped their weapons en masse into the furnace.
"Hahaha! Melt! Forge! Birth me a badass weapon to cleave the 7th floor in twain!"
WHOOSH!
Weapons in, and the furnace blazed fierce once more.
"Noooooooo!!!"
Convinced a sweet weapon was incoming for me, these sentimental orcs tearfully chorused their blessings.
Their "singing" sounded like squealing pigs—not exactly melodic—but hey, cheers are cheers, so I'd allow it.
Ptooey—
⚒ ITEM FORGED ⚒ Beast's Claw A crude dagger modeled after the claw of a beast that once lived. Its unique blade shape seems likely to cause bleeding when drawn.
"Dupe?"
Staring at the Beast's Claws—one in each hand, courtesy of the copy bug—I pondered.
So why the hell are there two? Did I mess up the order?
"Huuuumaaaannn!"
Ignoring the search party's snot-and-tear-flinging howls, I chucked the Beast's Claws back into the furnace to hush up the copy glitch redux.
"Hmm... it'll work out."
I flashed them a thumbs-up.
Hey kids, let's live positive! Good vibes only!