Breeding Uncle Meets the Viral Snack
I left Jina Arwen snoring away in bed the next morning.
Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Of course not.
From the moment she stepped into the room, she hadn't even bothered to wash up before collapsing onto the bed and passing out—what kind of suspicious shit would happen then?
I'm not some psycho trying to prove I'm not a criminal by forming a party, only to turn around and face-fuck her like it's some doujinshi. That'd land me straight in prison.
As I entered the Swordsmanship Guild, there was Valeria, waiting with a scowl on her face.
"You're here."
She glared at me, scanning me up and down again.
"What're you planning after training ends, tubby?"
"Heading to the dungeon—"
She swung the sheathed sword at me, hilt and all. Maybe it was the metal fittings and buckles, but it hurt way more than getting whacked with a wooden bokken last time.
"First off, lose the weight and learn the basics before you even think about dungeons. You wanna die quick without knowing shit about swordplay? Second, stop stuffing your face. Start dieting now."
"No, it won't come off, I told you. You think I want to look like this?"
"Then turn all that fat into muscle. Become a fucking muscle pig. Right now, you're prime marbled beef even a butcher would love."
Squish. Splat. Her sheathed sword sank effortlessly into my massive gut.
"Fuck, even the spoiled noble brats I saw gorging and lounging around didn't have bodies this pathetic. I'm gonna remodel you over the next few months into something resembling a human."
"Haa... I'll try my best. But I have to hit the dungeon. I need money."
"Hey, you rotten fuck, didn't I tell you not to talk back? If you're broke, just buy a house or something. You a beggar or what?"
"Yeah."
"...Fine. Your whole family beggars too? No way you got zero coin—"
"Parents are dead."
"..."
She scrunched up her face, pondering like it pained her, then let out a deep sigh.
"Jesus... Fine, you rotten disciple. I'll give you a room. That Beatrice bitch is just as annoying as you—"
Oh. Jackpot. My housing crisis solved just like that???
"But."
"Yes?"
"I'm controlling what you eat. No booze. No simple carbs like bread. No desserts. No meals over a set amount. You eat only what I give you."
A god? She was feeding a guy who'd skipped dinner last night without batting an eye?
Valeria, this woman had to be a saint. She'd fit the temple better than a meat fetishist like Beatrice.
"Uwooo, Lady Valeria...!"
Thwack—
"Don't make that face. Ugh, pissing me off already. Dungeon? Whatever, beggar boy—go make your coin without dying and get off my teat ASAP."
She started twirling her sword idly.
"Alright. First lesson? I'm pissed, so let's get it over with quick. Guarding and footwork today. You'll drill this forever from now on. Until it sticks."
Boom!!!!
I barely read her attack with Dragon Eye and blocked the sheathed sword diving at my head.
"Don't use that."
"Huh?"
"Hah, you think I'm an idiot? No cheats. Whatever skill that is, your eyes give it away every time they sparkle."
Ah. She knew.
Valeria clicked her tongue and tsked at me.
"Don't underestimate a former Sword Master, punk. I've sliced up guys with 'amazing eyesight,' 'super speed,' even 'time stop' bullshit. And they were all—"
Crack!!! She pierced my guard and smashed my left shoulder.
"—stronger than you. Looks like your level's even lower than those clowns. Listen to me, yeah? Build the basics first, kid."
I barely twisted my sword to parry her incoming strikes. A thrust at my solar plexus, a curving horizontal slash at my legs, then a heavy blow at my waist.
Slower than yesterday. She was clearly pitching them to teach blocking, matching my pace and level.
"You've got so much to learn."
I warded off her attacks on a razor's edge when she stomped my foot with her boot, kicked me down, and began elegantly beating me with her sword.
"Footwork first. Your guard's passable on reaction speed, but you have zero proper steps. Worst case—anything hits your legs, you're done."
"At least—ngh—teach me something—"
My master sneered at me.
"Hey, you think I'd teach sword secrets to a clown like you? Might as well learn exercise from a book. Swordsmanship is!"
Whoosh—
"All about real combat. Watch and learn."
No way was I eating another roundhouse. From then on, I blocked and took hits while mimicking her footwork. Not full steps—tilting on the ball of my foot, ready to plant anywhere with a quick thrust.
One foot forward, the other bracing the rear. Suddenly, I felt a flicker of smoother, faster balance without toppling.
"There ya go~ Mimic what you see. Empire swordsmanship doesn't suit trash like you anyway."
"What?!"
"You even know what Empire swordsmanship is? Figures a bumpkin like you wouldn't."
She paused her attacks and drew her sword.
The blade glowed red, terrifyingly sharp and deadly just to look at.
"This suits me best. Sharp. Light. Fast—that's my jam. So my style? I made it myself. You need to master something for your weapon, your body."
"Not Empire style, then."
"It's for normal folks. Standard stuff. Especially not for weirdos like you."
She whistled and prodded my cheek with the sheathed blade.
"Not even 5'6". You're a 7-foot lummox. Slow as shit too."
"So what style fits me, Master?"
"Dunno... I'll sketch something later. Anyway."
Her sword whipped out fiercely again.
"Before your dungeon joyride this afternoon, let's get you dodging light attacks."
I finally dragged myself back to the guild office to meet Jina, covered in bruises from the endless beatings.
"Holy shit, what the hell happened to you while you were gone those few minutes?! You pick a fight with some thugs or what???"
"Training."
It wasn't as bad as last time. But my hands and arms—mostly what blocked or took hits—were bursting with burst capillaries and creeping bruises.
Jina gawked at them like she'd seen a ghost. A stranger stood beside her.
"Jina, why'd you recruit a creep like that? I said no shady-looking fuckers."
"You the 27-time offender? What the hell are you doing out of jail, roaming society?"
The woman whipped her head to glare at Jina.
"Hey! You told him?! I said keep it quiet, not blab!"
"Well, Ye-jun's party now, so he should know. I told you all about him too, Nix. We're relying on each other now!"
""No thanks.""
We answered in perfect sync, then whipped around to stare at each other.
"Breeding Uncle??? What the fuck do you do to get that job, and why does it even exist? Stay the hell out of my 5-meter bubble. I got weapons—touch me and you're shredded."
"You think I like this? I'm scraping for party quota fodder, worried this career-criminal bitch'll steal my coin pouch while I sleep—"
"I saw your skills at the office, asshole. Gaslighting? Brainwashing? Uterus Punch? Nothing but creepy shit—"
"Yeah, yeah. No criminal record here. You've got theft skills galore, unlike you—"
Despite Jina's attempts to intervene, we bickered nonstop, still slinging insults and gripes right up to entering the dungeon. Nix and I? We fucking hated each other.
The portal ahead glowed red. Dozens of guards secured the Dungeon Portal.
"Hey, next party! Get in already."
"Just try stealing my shit—I’ll rip you in half. Think I won’t? I counted every coin, every supply."
Nix wasn't great at trash talk. Bad matchup, maybe. Our logic war had drained her ammo.
I hammered her past and job, leaving her parroting body jabs like a broken record. Victory? Sure, if mutual scars count.
"...In and out fast as possible."
"Agreed."
We stepped into the glowing red portal and entered the dungeon.
"Where... is this?"
"Where else? Some unknown spot."
Dungeons aren't user-friendly for humans.
How nice it'd be if they spawned infinite safe farms for monster grinding.
But infinite spaces breed finite monsters and loot, boiling down to two tasks for humanity: endless exploration and monster suppression.
Untouched zones spawn monster hordes. Clear 'em all? The area vanishes before others scout.
So we scout: hunt, loot, map. Flag big threats for outside.
We'd landed in an unexplored zone. Red portal behind us, pitch-black massive cave ahead.
"Jina, got detection or scan skills? Check before we dive."
"Uh, well..."
"I do."
Nix pulled two long L-shaped rods from her bag.
Dowsing rods? Those bent sticks for finding water veins?
"I see that look. Special gear. Detects decently."
"What exactly?"
"Items. Monsters. People. Coin. Passages. Most shit."
I lit a torch from my bag. Nix extended the rods like antennae, and we advanced.
"If it ID'd what it finds, it'd be gold. Usually."
Hummmm—
The rods crossed into an X with a eerie hum. Nix pocketed them and scanned around.
"Ooh. Iron ore."
"Valuable?"
"Mine it for payout. Got a pick?"
Nope. Mining's not our gig. Just reporting the spot pays well at the guild. Profitable already.
Flinch—
Nix froze.
"You hear that...?"
"What."
"Crying."
"Job perk? Jina and I don't."
Nix shot me a grim look, like she'd heard something vile.
"Before my... year in the slammer, I dungoed a bit. Never heard shit like that."
Jina paled, spooked.
"Cr-crying??? Eek—that means—"
"Hey, don't scare Jina, bitch. More monster sightings don't make you special."
I drew my freshly sharpened beloved blade with a shing. Gripping it tight brought calm.
"Anyway, kill it or run. That's scouting—report threats, don't linger."
Jina frowned at me.
"No running, got it? I took a chance on you. Earn that quick party slot."
"Yeah, yeah."
As we delved deeper, weirdness piled up.
This was clearly...
"A goblin nest."
"No goblins, though?"
Cold firepits. No food scraps. No trophies of other races, beasts, or humans.
Abandoned? Why?
Goblins don't nomad. They root down, breed like mad, expand—or bust.
Doesn't add up. Not like goblins I knew...
"Something scared 'em out."
"Why?"
"Dunno. Or..."
They hunkered deeper. Unlikely—nothing beat us here.
The deeper we went, the weirder: dead goblin corpses.
Headless goblin corpse.
Limb-less goblin corpse.
Faceless goblin corpse.
Jina puked at the egg-smooth green blank face.
Unsettling. Human-like goblins? This mystery corpse lineup ratcheted our dread.
Whoever did this had sick tastes.
"Jina, snap out! We've only seen bodies. Black out here and we're fucked."
I grabbed her shoulders as she teetered on breakdown. Should've expected it. Jina's too sunny. Flawed party's baseline.
First gore fest like this? Brutal for her. Panic now = disaster.
"Nix, calm her. Hug, talk, whatever."
"What? That much?"
She eyed me like I'd lost it.
Glare.
Fuck. Precious mage down—sass me?
"Just do it. I can't comfort her. Girl on girl."
I whispered in Nix's ear:
"No shields or reflects in panic? We both eat shit. Get her straight before mobs."
Nix glanced, nodded.
The corpse parade worsened: back-to-back twins fused in death.
Three-necked Cerberus goblins.
Four mashed like kid's clay helicopter—ish.
Jina deteriorated: trembling, ragged breaths, teary eyes.
I covered them.
"Nngh! What the hell?!"
"7 + 11=?"
"What're you—I'm asking—"
"Answer. 7 + 11?"
"18..."
"Good. 37×16?"
She huffed seconds, then:
"F-Five ninety-two!"
"There. Calmer? You panicked hard. Breathe."
I glared at Nix. Useless ex-con "comfort."
"Hey, Jina. Day off after? Haven't toured the city. Day two here."
"R-Really...?"
"Yeah. Show me around? Blind here."
"Okay..."
Docile now. Stabilizing.
"Scouts see this shit sometimes. Today's extreme. Usually not this twisted. Trust me."
I dunno. Need dungeon XP. Like village quests?
As I soothed her for more scouting, water dripped.
No—a lot. Heavy vibrations, loud echoes reached us.
Nix grimaced, drew her dagger.
"That sound... whatever I heard!"
I gripped Jina's shoulder firm.
"Battle stations. Kill what's coming, bail. Scout's done."
"Got it!"
Jina fixed—now what the fuck was that tumbling toward us.
Kieeeek! Kraaarrgh!! Kyaaack!!
Ever hear of a rat king?
Rat king, king rat, Rattenkönig—that freaky phenomenon.
Rats' tails naturally tangle alive into one mass. Can they live normal? Nah—they thrash to death. Omen of doom.
Causes? Debated: twisted like earbud cords, glued by pus/blood/mud. Heat-melted. Prank. No consensus.
Pics online aplenty—even squirrels. Nasty enough I buried the memory.
These goblins? Rat king on steroids.
Not tails—whole bodies fused. Numbers so vast they balled into giants. Some heads or arms or legs protruded, screaming. More inside, surely.
Dozens rolling at us mad.
Outer/inner shrieks cursed the air. Rolled long—green goo of their blood coated outsides.
What to call 'em? Slime-y, so goblim? Go-tteok? Chewy-gob?
Nix's eyes bugged huge. Jina? Catatonic—staff limp, staring void. Fuck. Not now—
But I ain't dying. No time wait. Pray she snaps to.
"Fuck this, everyone! Battle ready!!!!" I bellowed, charging the rolling masses to kill.