Chapter 97
Chapter 97
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 97
Chapter Title: A Silent Imbalance
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Having fully explored the open square that formed a sort of market, Hwan-in turned next to a tavern near the walls encircling the labyrinth garrison.
The moment he stepped inside, a raucous wave of noise crashed over him. It was only 10 a.m., but the place was already packed.
"Welcome! Just one?"
"Yes."
"Right this way~!"
Following the cheerful waitress, Hwan-in glanced around and inwardly marveled at the tavern's interior, which was utterly unlike what he'd expected.
Clean.
Both the tavern itself and the staff bustling about would easily pass muster by modern standards.
One might imagine a dimly lit space illuminated by flickering candles, filled with shadowy figures murmuring in a gloomy atmosphere. But in reality, it felt much like a contemporary brewpub.
Wooden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting bright light over the room. Patrons in casual attire enjoyed cold beers and snacks, while others—clearly fresh from the labyrinth, still clad in armor—downed their drinks heartily.
There were plenty in simple shirts and trousers too, and Hwan-in instinctively pegged them as soldiers.
No wonder the vibe is so good.
In this era, soldiers counted as part of the privileged class.
Seeing them unwind purely and without any prickly attitudes kept the other guests in line.
As he settled at a solo spot at the bar amid the din, the waitress leaned in with a greeting bow and raised her voice.
"What'll it be?"
Her forward lean caused the neckline of her round-neck shirt to gape, revealing deep cleavage, but Hwan-in didn't spare it a glance.
"A cold beer. For the snacks, whatever you recommend."
He flicked a heated iron coin her way. Her face lit up, and she bowed vigorously enough to make her chest bounce as she replied.
"Got it~! I'll bring you an extra chilly one!"
This world thrived on tipping culture.
Hwan-in had spotted people slipping heated iron coins as tips upon entry, thanks to his sharp eyes.
He'd done it to build rapport, but seeing her delight over what amounted to 1,000 won drove home the gap between rich and poor.
Soon enough, she returned with a 1,000cc pewter mug frosted with ice and a stir-fry of cubed meat and vegetables.
"Enjoy! Call me if you need anything!"
"One moment."
Hwan-in raised a hand before she could leave. Having already scored a generous tip, she sidled right up like a cat scenting cream, her long, slender tail swishing playfully.
Come to think of it, her ears are like a puma's.
Not a house cat—more like a lioness. He placed another heated iron coin in her palm and fired off questions.
What monsters lurked in the lightless labyrinth?
How many typically partied up?
What professions went in most, and how deep did it go?
Who was the strongest in the garrison?
"I've heard rumors of the garrison commander, but is he really that strong?"
"A 7th-grade who soloed a 6th-grade heteromorph. His deputy, Arpit Aker, is 7th-grade too, but she doesn't hold a candle to Gilliam Chapot, the 7th-grade warrior. He's the lord's right-hand man and Wayford's military commander to boot."
"How does he stack up to Haien Jod of the dojo?"
"Shh...! Careful, sir—that's dangerous talk here! To the soldiers, Gilliam Chapot is a hero!"
"Ah... right."
With that, she hurried off to tend to other duties, and Hwan-in gulped down the lip-numbingly cold beer.
Rich hop aroma mingled with a heavy body, chilled to the bone as it poured down his throat.
Draining half the mug in one go, he chuckled through a brain freeze like ice cream headache.
At hotels or Ssa's place, it was refined wines and single malts. This head-splitting cold beer was a rare treat.
"......"
Gleaning solid info from a waitress was tough. Better from peers in the trade.
Munching on the still-hot meat cubes dipped in veggies, he pondered briefly before standing.
That party's promising. All professionals, cheerful faces, neat gear... weapons well-maintained at their belts.
They gave off a solid, reliable vibe.
"Pardon the intrusion."
Eyeing the seven men and women, Hwan-in slipped off his hood and blended in.
Winning them over was quick.
Drinks and snacks made the rounds, then he introduced himself as a traveling scholar from afar, flattering them as fine adventurers. Done.
A bit awkward at first, but his office-honed social skills kicked in. He spun lightly embellished tales of the Rehil labyrinth surge and a close call with an urger near Wayford. They were hooked, opening up fast.
Once friendly, he stroked their professional pride with classic bait: vs debates, or "strongest" arguments.
What should a 3rd-grade be capable of?
Could a 4th-grade really handle several 3rd-grade heteromorphs at once?
A 5th-grade facing off against a pack of fiends...
The women just smirked and brushed it off, but the men—true to form—unleashed boasts: how tough 3rd-grades were, kill counts, one-upmanship.
Same for 4th-grades. By 5th-grade talk, nearby tables joined, debate heating up.
A 5th-grade should handle this. Some dojo senior instructor cleared how many floors. A 5th-grade warrior beat three advanced dojo masters...
Still grounded in experience, a rational discussion.
Then Hwan-in poured oil on the fire.
He passed frothy cold beers to the flushed debaters, amping the mood.
Booze dulled reason; like fandom wars, they spilled hearsay on idols: a 6th-grade's feats here or there, fanboying 7th-grades soloing 6th-grade heteromorphs.
No TV or internet here.
Fascinating world tales flowed freely, drawing in even the prim women. The vibe boiled over.
Wahaha~!!
Kuhahaha!
Kya~!
Retreating to a corner by the entrance bar, Hwan-in watched the drunken revelry and pondered amid the noise.
7th-grade rumors abound— even civilians know the basics. But 8th-grade? Scarce whispers.
Suddenly, percussion and strings kicked in with a black retro funk backing track. Cheers erupted at the familiar beat.
The thumping rhythm filled the air uncontrollably. Flushed women climbed tables for club-style dances.
This world's women were all beauties.
Beauties dancing amid music and cheers? Men clapped, whistled, whooped.
"......?"
For a moment, Hwan-in wondered if he'd stumbled into a modern pub-club hybrid. The dissonance was jarring.
As chest-thumping beats pulsed, dancing women shed tops and bras, baring their breasts. The tavern nearly exploded.
Thumping club beats, ear-piercing cheers, women's catcalls.
Bare-breasted girls grinding in Girls' Love-evoking intimacy. Chandeliers dimmed, strobing red, blue, yellow—mood from hot to boiling.
Soon, it was full club: beastly men and women dancing under tables.
Hwan-in sipped his beer, bemused by the emotional peak.
Gazing at the central table's entwined women—like slugs in heat—he mused.
7th-grades were roughly equal: strong enough to solo large 6th-grade heteromorphs. Beating one solo marked the peak.
Hard to grasp without Earth ties.
Earth soldier analogy...
Ignoring techniques, raw power: 1st-grade unknown, 2nd like pistol soldier.
3rd: SMG or rifle. 4th: anti-tank missile.
5th shifts paradigm: warrior/tower like armored car. 6th: light tank. 7th: medium tank. Hwan-in's guess.
8th felt like fighter jets from tales.
One could sway battlefields with 10,000 troops total deployed.
5th-7th had gaps by rank, but 7th-to-8th was sky and earth.
Even hordes of 6th couldn't top 7th; 7ths couldn't touch 8th. Consensus vibe.
From debates: total 8ths across Lukrang species barely a handful.
Wayford a small city. Midsize above, then holy cities. Capitals excluded as hubs.
Holy city Parhist—one 8th-grade warrior.
More in capitals; Hwan-in figured at least one per holy city. Capitals: three-four, maybe 9ths.
Baseless hunch. Differentiation from small/midsize demanded it.
Thump thump, thump-dudum-thump—
In moments, the tavern transformed. Staff shoved tables aside, clearing the center for dancing patrons.
Watching the dance frenzy, Hwan-in caught his waitress's eye as she grooved subtly. He raised a small hand.
"Yes? You called?"
"The bill?"
"One sec!"
Seemingly assigned guests, his original waitress brought it. He paid at the counter and exited the rowdy spot.
Nearly 200 drinks, yet just one silver. About a million won.
5,000 per—five heated irons. Quality dark brew plus ambiance: not bad.
"Hey, that tavern's lit. Let's go."
"Whoa, sound carries here. Tavern keeper hit the jackpot today?"
Conversations drifted as Hwan-in walked post-tavern.
Two hours yielded external labyrinth info plus rank power gaps.
One silver well spent.
Such sensitive intel—barred from dojos—came only from long fieldwork.
Lightless labyrinth danger: as expected.
Wayford intel matched waitress tales from pros.
Depth: 17 floors.
Forest from 16; stairs to 17 blocked, Wayford regular warrior unit stationed nearby.
To prevent core-smashers wrecking it.
Questions, but later.
Five adapted 4th-grades could hit 16.
Map complete: five silvers for floors 1-15.
Spawns: low invertebrate heteromorphs, 1m bipedals. Rare half-beast variants.
Neurotoxin/blood antidotes, mid-low heals, disease cures. With Isilite...
Prepared, 15 floors feasible.
3rd-grade maze as 4th-grades—no hot blood rush, but solid first dive.
Wait, already did 6th-grade forest maze...
Blurry indoors/outdoors—no real maze feel. Just beasts in wilds.
"Hey! Black-hooded cape ahead!"
Heading to the garrison's sole exit, Hwan-in turned at the specific call.
A gray-furred wolf-headed man beamed there.
High-end men's shop attire, warrior aura. From countless Wayford faces, Hwan-in gauged him ridiculously young: late teens, maybe mid.
Rich kid.
As Hwan-in stopped, the man approached joyfully.
"Yes! You're the one who bested the advanced fist art instructor at Haien Advanced Dojo with skill."
"Embarrassing to confirm myself."
"Hm. I'd spread it for cred, but you're humble."
The gray wolfkin beamed white teeth, face screaming This guy's it!
Hwan-in puzzled.
Maze-adjacent familiarity. Reaction hinted lesson request.
Party invite? Nah.
"Late intro: Leshim, sword warrior. Pleased."
"Hwan-in. As you see, nothing more."
Leshim grinned undeterred.
Fine gear, attire. Defense arts lesson?
Sure enough:
"Got time? Lunch on me, if ok."
A normal pro? Polite decline.
But young wolfkin, fancy dress, refined speech—unheard in Wayford—stoked curiosity.
Why seek him?
"Can't refuse; piques my interest."
"Ah... haha, won't disappoint! Not for here—I'll guide."