Chapter 8
Chapter 8
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: [Abyss Miner] Power of Civilization
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Whoa, this shit's solid as hell."
A matte black telescoping baton, electric shock device, bear spray, heavy-duty self-defense spray, thick anti-slash suit, and a rugged motorcycle helmet that looked tough enough.
With just this gear, even that Viper bastard wouldn't scare me.
"Alright, stash it all for now."
"...Four slots?"
Way stingier than expected.
'Called it small, but damn, it's tiny as a rat's tail.'
I tried slotting in the essentials one by one.
Anti-slash suit, helmet, telescoping baton, self-defense spray.
Exactly four items, and it was full.
"Fuck, no room for the stun gun."
I eyed the buzzing stun gun in my hand, smacked my lips, and finally set it down.
The stun gun was nice, but its range was too short.
Viper's reach was way longer than an arm's length, and with his monster stats, if I reached out to zap him, my arm would snap first.
The baton, though?
Solid impact on hit, and best of all, it kept distance.
Safety first.
Blind him with bear spray, then crack his skull with the baton.
'Perfect.'
Regretfully, the electric grill session could wait.
I repackaged the stun gun for return shipping to soothe the disappointment.
Prep complete.
The moment I went to log into [Abyss Miner], Arin's parting words echoed in my ears.
'Do it. And for fuck's sake, wash up and live like a human! You stink so bad I can't stand being near you. Body wash is in that shopping bag—use it. Please.'
My little sister, but damn, she's vicious.
Still, considering she even brought side dishes, I'd humor her once.
I sniffed my clothes.
"...Kinda rank?"
After rolling in the mines, sweat, dirt, half-assed drying—yeah, stale body odor too.
"Fine, shower time. I'm filthy."
I rummaged through Arin's shopping bag.
Shampoo, body wash, foam cleanser, scrub towel.
The full bathhouse set.
"Mom packed all this too?"
Feeling guilty toward family again.
Next to the toiletries, a crumpled sheet of paper.
Unfolded, it was a printed post scraped from some online community.
[Humans, Wash Like This, Please]
The title was aggressive as hell.
The content worse.
1. Scrub your scalp like a 100-won coin's worth. Don't just wet matted hair—scrub the scalp raw.
2. Once foamed, rub behind ears, nape, back, armpits, groin, asshole, between toes. That's where the stink hides.
3. Brush your tongue when brushing teeth. Scrape off that morning breath till the white stuff's gone.
4. Lotion after. Don't walk around like drought-cracked fields.
5. Read this? Sprint to the bathroom. Execute.
"......"
Not Mom.
100% Arin.
Absurd. I burst out laughing.
Treating her brother like some beast pup.
"Fine, got it. Washing 'cause I'm dirty and gross."
Crumpled the paper, tossed it in the trash, headed to the bathroom.
Did as told.
Scrubbed ears, armpits, brushed till my tongue stung.
Trimmed nails beforehand.
Out of the shower, bathroom mirror showed me.
Water-soaked hair, squeaky-clean skin.
"Hmm, decent now?"
Way better than the greasy mess before.
Thought it was placebo, then a system message popped up.
"......What?"
I stared blankly into space.
Debuff? Stench & Filth?
"No fucking way. Just a wash, and charm jumps 8 points?"
-2 still ain't brag-worthy.
Still negative, ugly as sin.
But -10 to -2? Near rebirth level.
Hastily opened status.
"Whoa... for real."
Unbelievable.
Luna treating me like a bug? Face played a part, but stink too.
Guards at the entrance plugging noses? Made sense now.
"Fucking embarrassing."
Face burned.
Now understood Arin's freakout.
I reeked like rotten orc.
"Whatever... it's up, that's what matters."
Positive spin.
Chatting with Luna would be smoother.
"Alright. Feeling fresh—dive in?"
Paused.
Body peak condition, but mentally not ready.
Dive meant instant life-or-death; one slip, game over.
'Rest a few more days.'
Time stop available—no rush.
Simulate in reality, master gear first. Safer.
Three days passed.
Didn't just laze in my room.
YouTubed [Telescoping Baton Real Combat], [Bear Spray Spray Angle], [Anti-Slash Suit Mobility], trained accordingly.
Beat a pillow pretending it was Viper's head, hundreds of swings.
"Die! Die! Die!"
Pummeled till feathers flew, confidence surged.
If I had cash, snag a hunter longsword.
No sword permit, no hunter ID, paycheck pending—no dough.
Too lazy for hunter registration.
Nearly gassed myself practicing bear spray indoors—practiced on rooftop, wind at back.
"Whew."
Time's up.
Mirrored my determined face.
Squeaky clean, well-rested—peak condition.
Gear perfect.
Hygiene solid.
"Let's go."
Before [Abyss Miner] login, set inventory.
Perfect.
Dive straight to combat ready—no fumbling.
"Wait up, Viper."
I'll gouge your eyes.
Fwoosh-!
Vision warped.
Familiar dizziness, reality faded—replaced by the mine entrance at red sunset.
And.
"Die!"
As space-time linked, Viper's roar hammered my ears.
Time resumed: massive fist plunging at my crown.
Killing intent wind crushed my face skin.
No fear this time.
I'm prepared.
Right hand gripped cold metal can already.
Safety pin? Long gone.
'Eat this, you fuck!'
No hesitation—triggered at Viper's face.
Hssssshhhh-!!!
High-pressure red capsaicin gas slammed his mug.
5m range—Hokkaido bears flee mommy-crying. This stuff.
"Gaaaahhh!!"
Viper screamed.
But fist unstoppable, inertia-plunged into my skull.
Bam-!!
"Ugh!"
Stars exploded.
Neck nearly snapped from impact.
Crack-!
Helmet shattered.
Plastic shards flew, visor split.
Reeled back, distance opened naturally.
"Arrrgh! My eyes! My eyes!"
Viper rolled on ground, clutching face, thrashing.
Spectacle worth watching.
Bear-chasing capsaicin direct to eyes—no hero withstands.
"Hah, hah......"
Staggered, regained balance.
Warm liquid trickled forehead.
Helmet inner cracked, lacerated.
'Fuck, no helmet? Truly dead.'
Would've been brains on ground.
Half-smashed, but did its job.
Trait: Earth's Blessing Active
Recovery Speed Increased
Luckily grounded—dazed head cleared fast.
Pain tolerable.
Tossed shattered helmet.
Just vision block now.
Stowed bear spray, swapped baton to right hand.
Shwick-!
Wrist-snapped grip adjust.
Cold metal palm-transmitted.
My turn.
You're fucked, assholes.
Test-whacked palm during practice—hurt like hell, remembered.
"Hey."
Called rolling Viper.
"Aaaah! Eyes! Can't open! What! What'd you spray?!"
Couldn't respond, rolling riot.
Face-clutched, beast-howling—pathetic.
Red mess: snot, tears, drool everywhere.
"B-Big Brother?! What's wrong?!"
Pockmark and Lackey panicked, lost.
Sudden helmet spawn (never seen), boss screaming down—confusion.
"You... fucker... what'd you do......!"
Viper crawled, raged.
Tough bastard.
Eyes burning, still swiped for me.
"Like your boss's state?"
Whish, whish.
Swung baton air, glared Pockmark—he yelped backpedal.
"Y-You fuck... cowardly weapon......"
"Cowardly? Bullshit. You three ganged morning—who's talking?"
Strode to Viper.
Still blind-rolling, rubbing eyes.
"Where! You fucking fuck! Catch you, kill! Gaaah!"
"Right here, asshole."
Raised baton high.
"Die!"
Crack-!
"Gaaaah!!"
"Fuck."
Baton shin-smash—shock transmitted, curse slipped.
Like bricking wall.
Mid-boss sturdy as fuck.
Luckily, no mana/aura user.
Thud. Thwack.
"Gak, grrrk…!"
Same spot twice more—crisp bone-break, Viper shrimp-curled.
"Die! Die!"
No stop.
Spare him, trouble later.
Crush thorough—no dare touch me again.
Thud! Thud! Thwack!
Shoulder, thigh, forearm, ribs.
Ribs, ribs, ribs, asshole.
Mad beatdown.
Snap.
Ribs cracked probably.
"Guh! Krk!"
Won't kill.
Unlike him, newbie outsider—no base.
But pain to wish death? Yes.
"Mercy... ugh! Mercy! Sorry!"
Viper crawled, begged.
Tear-snot face spectacle.
But rage not sated.
"Where's that morning vibe? Huh? Die? Rat?"
Thud!
"Fucker, picked wrong guy. Real rat-beat death."
Final backhand smash.
Crunch.
Finger bones shattered.
No punching now.
"Hoo, hoo."
Panting, turned.
Pockmark quaking aspen-shake.
"You're next? Enjoyed the show?"
Baton thrust—screams, fled.
"Fucking wait!"
Ditched boss they called brother—loyalty zero.
Ditch bro? Infuriating, wanna bash—but Viper too tanky, palm throbbed.
Earth's Blessing heals, but time.
Let 'em flee.
Won't mess now.
'This enough.'
Distant murmurs—miners off-shift.
Caught like this? Hassle.
Quick-stowed baton, suit.
Gathered helmet shards.
Modern tech exposure? Bad.
System screen blocked view.
"Oh?"
Nice haul.
'Strength now 14 rounding decimals?'
Top 0.001% non-awakened max ~16—near superhuman.
Plus skill.
[Clubbing (F)]—trashy name.
YouTube called it telescoping baton art—why this crap?
Whatever, effects matter.
Grabbed dropped iron ore sack.
Rifled Viper's pockets, took wallet.
Spoils sweeten victory.
"Medical bill, moron."
Spit on Viper's face, strolled out mine.
Guards still posted.
Saw my state—freaked.
Bloody face, torn clothes.
Obvious monster brawl survivor.
"Hey."
Beckoned guard.
"Viper's floored inside—clean it up. Blocking the way."
Guards gawked.
Sardine they ignored wrecked mine-village named thug Viper—understandable.
This is civilization's power, fucks.
Ignored dumbstruck guards, sauntered to guild building.