Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: A Coincidence for the Protagonist (4)
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"Would you mind waiting a moment? It seems the high-end items are in the vault, so it takes a bit of time to retrieve them."
Joseph said this as he led Jang Man and Dung Beetle into a luxurious room.
From the entrance, a faint perfume scent wafted through the air, and the floor was covered with a carpet made from the hide of some monstrous beast he'd never seen before.
It was a room as opulent as the homes of chaebol heirs he'd occasionally glimpsed on TV...
But the moment he stepped inside, Dung Beetle wrinkled his nose.
Amid the perfume... there was an uncovered stench of blood and oil.
It was a foul smell. Utterly vile in a different way from the chilling odor he'd smelled in Mignium's dream.
Dung Beetle glanced at Joseph and Jang Man, but the two seemed oblivious to any smell.
That meant only he could detect it...
‘Is it because I can handle mana now?’
Ordinary people see things others can't, hear sounds beyond normal ears, and smell what shouldn't be smelled.
An explanation from a superhuman documentary he'd watched long ago with his colleagues floated into his mind.
Just to be sure, Dung Beetle focused his senses on his ears instead of his nose.
Hurry up! From the underground vault... get it out!
Grab the silver bullets! If not now... no chance to sell...
GP... tracker! Can't... let him escape...
Faintly, he could hear the footsteps and shouts of employees outside the room.
Even though he'd heard it with his own ears, Dung Beetle tilted his head in disbelief.
‘Is it really this easy?’
Enhancing senses with mana was different from simply boosting muscle strength.
The superhuman in the documentary he remembered had said it required years of training to sharpen the senses.
So what was this result?
Without any special effort, just by concentrating his senses, Dung Beetle could hear sounds from a very distant place.
Had the documentary lied? Or was it Mignium's...
"Old timer, still no tea for you?"
Joseph's remark snapped Dung Beetle out of his thoughts. Perhaps finding the wait awkward, he pulled out a teapot and began brewing tea himself.
"What tea for a sailor... booze and water are enough."
"Haha, I figured as much. And for our guest?"
"I'm good too."
"Oh, what a shame. It's quite fine tea."
Joseph poured water into the teapot. Steam rose, carrying the aroma of black tea.
It was a rich black tea scent strong enough to mask the blood and oil.
Freed momentarily from the foul smell, Dung Beetle checked his senses one by one.
Eyes, nose, ears...
As he focused on his newfound senses and Joseph finished a full cup of tea...
Clunk!
The door opened, and ten subordinates entered carrying bags of various kinds.
"Haha, we've kept our guests waiting too long. I guarantee you won't regret the time."
Joseph's men swiftly set up a makeshift stage. They installed a platform and lighting, then lined up ten cases side by side.
Joseph stood with his back to the prepared cases. He bowed exaggeratedly to Jang Man and Dung Beetle, like a home shopping host.
"Shall we start with the guns?"
He opened the leftmost bag and began explaining.
"It's best to start light, right? M231! An improved version of the M16, familiar to any Korean."
Inside the bag was a gun that looked like an M16 assault rifle shortened to shorter than a forearm.
"Small, lightweight, but with plenty of lethality. Historically, the number of mages killed by this thing is in the hundreds—what's the reason? Reliability any Korean knows, plus that familiar grip! Nothing better for sneaking a bullet into a mage's skull from behind."
Joseph continued his cheerful explanation like a real host. He demonstrated firing stances and quickly disassembled the gun to show its internals.
Jang Man watched Joseph, who seemed genuinely excited, then sighed and interrupted.
"Joseph."
"Yes, what is it, old timer?"
"This guy's a civilian—no service."
Joseph's face twisted for a moment, then quickly recovered. He opened his mouth with a smiling face, as if the previous expression had been a lie.
"Then, have you had separate firearms training...?"
"...No."
"Ah, then no need for Korean military gear."
The moment he heard Dung Beetle's answer, Joseph turned and gestured to his waiting subordinates.
At the signal, they moved efficiently without complaint, clearing the first through sixth bags out of the room.
Six were military gear?
Seeing only four bags left, Dung Beetle felt regret for the first time about being a draft dodger.
"No need to be too disappointed. The real gems always come last, right? Everything left is superior to the military surplus."
To lighten the mood, Joseph immediately opened the seventh bag.
This time, it revealed a gun just a bit larger than an adult forearm.
In other words, too big for a pistol, too small for a rifle.
"Remington MH750. A pump-action shotgun modified for anti-mage use, loved worldwide."
Shotgun? Seeing Dung Beetle's interest, Joseph added.
"Special silver shells are pricey, but nothing more efficient against necromancer-raised corpses. Simple to use and reload—even a child could handle it."
Click. Joseph kindly demonstrated loading. Capacity was just three rounds, but each shell held an enormous amount of shot.
Seeing Dung Beetle's interest, Joseph grinned and opened the next bag.
"Next, EK-33 Grenade. One of the U.S. military's finest works. The best grenade for non-experts."
Inside this bag, fist-sized grenades were lined up in a row.
"Throw one over a zombie wall onto a necromancer's head, and you'll see him literally die happy."
Modified shotgun and grenades.
After introducing these smuggler-worthy weapons, Joseph stood before the ninth bag. He paused briefly and said.
"From here, some rather special weapons."
Clank! Unlike the previous bags, this one had a heavy lock from the start.
And the item inside was completely different from the prior weapons.
A sword.
In the case lay a long iron sword.
"A sword supplied to imperial knights during the last war. Made with special ores unavailable on Earth."
"...."
"To an ordinary person, just a sturdy iron sword. But against a mage's barrier, it's as devastating as a bazooka."
Joseph continued explaining, but Dung Beetle couldn't tear his eyes from the sword.
Because it was beautiful? Tempting? No, not that.
That sword... was exactly like the Player's.
Not just similar.
The image of the Player wielding an identical sword was seared into his retinas like a brand.
‘Supplied to imperial knights...?’
A clue to tracking the Player.
Facing this unexpected stroke of luck, Dung Beetle resolved: he had to buy that sword, no matter what.
"It seems the sword really catches your eye. Well, weapons from beyond the gates have a special allure unlike Earth's."
Misreading Dung Beetle's gaze, Joseph grinned as if the deal was done and added.
"If you like this, the final item will please you too."
Joseph approached the last bag.
This one was long and horizontal, shaped like a scabbard.
For some reason, he didn't open it immediately. He briefly locked eyes with Jang Man.
Jang Man gave a small nod, and at that signal, Joseph opened the final bag.
Psssh—
Smoke billowed as it opened, revealing...
A stick...?
The ivory-glowing rod had horse-like carvings at both ends and wave patterns engraved along its body.
More like an exquisite artwork than a weapon.
"Don't judge by appearances. Its true value lies elsewhere."
Joseph didn't touch it. He raised his hand, and a subordinate fitted him with pristine white gloves.
It didn't seem like mere show. His face was deadly serious as he carefully lifted the rod.
"Made by a dwarf—a master craftsman dwarf. Meant as a handle for an axe or hammer, but sadly, Stalin gassed Gu-bong Mountain, leaving only the handle complete."
Handle? Dung Beetle finally understood its shape—and a question mark popped up.
Why was a handle a weapon?
As if answering, Joseph continued.
"But as a product from the Gu-bong Mountain era, it holds immense value on its own. Care to hold it?"
Joseph carefully handed the rod to Dung Beetle.
He wondered if he should touch such a precious item barehanded, but refusing would be odd, so he grabbed it.
And in that instant, something spoke in Dung Beetle's mind.
[Never held a woman's hand, a perfect virgin. Yet your soul reeks of corpses and fire. Cursed, perhaps?]
Startled, Dung Beetle looked at Joseph, who grinned, gums flashing.
"Did you hear the voice? As expected, a superhuman. I figured since the old timer brought you."
You assumed I was a superhuman? A puzzling remark, but Dung Beetle asked about the rod first.
"...What the hell is this?"
"The material is a unicorn's horn."
"...."
"No idea what technique, but the unicorn's will is fused into it. Those with mana often hear it speak."
"...So, it's haunted?"
"And it grants resistance to all poisons and corruption."
Joseph boasted.
"Won't block radiation or acid, but excels against mana-based poison gas or curses. I guarantee, against a necromancer, this beats ten priests."
Dissatisfied with Joseph's pitch, perhaps, the rod added to Dung Beetle's mind.
[Virgin who holds me, don't delude yourself. No corruption escapes this horn's sanctity! I don't know radiation, but I claim it blocks that too.]
Dung Beetle glanced between the rod and Joseph, and when it seemed about to say 'virgin' again, he quickly returned it.
"How about it? These items should suffice against any ordinary necromancer."
Modified shotgun, grenades, anti-mage sword, unicorn horn.
Even to Dung Beetle, with only basic knowledge of necromancers, every one was perfectly suited.
The problem was...
"Not sure I can afford all four."
"Haha, no need to worry about price. I'd never fleece the old timer's guest."
Implying he'd fleece others, but Dung Beetle let it slide.
"All four weapons for the two money bags you first offered. Deal?"
A long smile crept across Joseph's face.
"In return, plenty of grenades and shells."
Joseph demanded his entire fortune without batting an eye.
Dung Beetle considered haggling, but glanced at Jang Man beside him and dropped the idea.
Without Jang Man, he wouldn't be here.
Haggling would shame his introducer, who said nothing.
"Two money bags. Deal."
"Haha, as expected. A guest of the old timer!"
Dung Beetle set down his bag. He promised to have the absent second bag delivered.
Money for years of leisure... but no regrets.
Money wasn't what mattered to him.
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