Chapter 85
Chapter 85
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 85
Chapter Title: [Abyssal Miner] You Gotta Nip It in the Bud
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'Where the hell is that bastard going?'
I hid myself in the shadows, keeping my eyes glued to the blond guy's big head as he walked ahead.
I didn't have a stealth skill, but the action correction from Blessing of the Earth let me stalk Kyle as quietly as a cat.
A cat's footsteps are so hard to hear, they even show up in Norse mythology.
In Kyle's hand was a long bundle of cloth. From the shape, it looked like it could be a weapon... or maybe a tool.
The path he was taking grew quieter and more secluded by the minute.
It was like those spots in a galge where guards warn the heroine not to go in—especially at night—because it's no place for a woman.
But you know there's an H-event waiting in there, so the game nudges you to check it out later.
'Is this guy seriously heading to a brothel or something?'
Oh ho.
This straight-laced prick acts all prim and proper by day, but sneaks off to buy women at night?
If I play this right, I could snag some real dirt on him.
Just drop a casual hint in front of the other heroines later, and it'd be a show worth watching.
One slip, and his image goes straight to hell.
'Please fall from grace. Come on.'
Not every protagonist has to be some saintly gentleman.
Hell, being true to your desires makes you more human.
So hurry up and head into that alley with the suspiciously sexy lanterns...
But against my desperate wishes, Kyle passed right by the red-light district and kept going into even more deserted streets.
After walking quite a ways, he stopped in a wide clearing surrounded by crumbling old ruins overrun with weeds and littered with broken bricks—an abandoned lot no one ever visited.
He stood in the middle, unwrapping the cloth bundle.
What came out was...
"...A wooden sword?"
A roughly carved wooden blade that looked homemade.
That was it.
'What a letdown. Boring.'
All the steam went out of me.
I'd gotten my hopes up for something juicy, but this guy was squeaky clean.
Kyle gripped the wooden sword and started warming up with some light stretches—rotating his wrists, rolling his shoulders.
Then he stood in a proper stance and swung down at the empty air.
Whoosh!
"One."
Whoosh!
"Two."
Just training, huh.
The original story did have a few passing scenes of him practicing like this.
From a reader's perspective, training montages are boring and pretentious anyway.
Modern audiences don't want 'em, so they keep 'em short.
Protagonists are supposed to get strong off plot armor and cheats, not actual effort.
I watched his session from behind a crumbling wall.
'Hmm...'
Downward slash from above.
Reset stance, downward slash again.
I wasn't exactly an expert, but it was just the same monotonous motion over and over.
Still, his eyes burned with utter seriousness.
"Hup! Ha!"
Under the moonlight, his blond hair shimmered with every swing, sweat beading on his forehead, trickling down his jawline and sparkling like diamonds.
It was like a painting by some famous artist who'd poured his soul into it.
'Goddamn it.'
Watching this made me want to curse.
Anyone would think he was filming a movie.
Handsome guys make even taking a dump look artistic, and this was proof.
If I'd been out there swinging a stick at night, the guards would've pegged me as the local lunatic and hauled me off.
'What a lucky bastard.'
It pissed me off so much I kicked a pebble on the ground.
The guy started with a killer body, a pretty face, and a great personality.
And now he's putting in the work too?
God isn't fair—that's academic consensus—but this is ridiculous.
Staring at him like this was starting to bore me.
What was I even doing here?
Spying on some dude working out.
'Screw this, I'm out.'
No dirt to leverage anyway.
Better head home and crash.
As I turned to go, a bit from the original story popped into my head.
This was early in the arc.
Kyle's future master should be arriving in the village soon.
The hidden expert who spots his talent and takes him as a disciple.
Some retired old sword saint grandpa or whatever.
Once he starts training under the guy, that sloppy form of his will tighten up.
'Then he'll be even more insufferable.'
He was annoying enough now—what happens when he masters the sword and starts strutting around?
Just thinking about it soured my mood.
I'd already swiped his big opportunity, the Spirit's Flower, but could I steal the master event too?
'How, though?'
The old man's a cranky type—won't even look at you if he doesn't like you, and he only takes talented disciples.
If I tried apprenticing, he'd shut me down.
All my strength came from stats, skills, and traits—not raw talent.
If I had real talent, I'd be like those national-level hunters, getting praised just for humming a tune.
Defying my parents' warnings never to touch a weapon, the day I first gripped a sword, I'd slice some noble kid who'd trained his whole life.
Hell, I'd probably make a killing in stocks with an AI dog app or something.
Point is, no way I'm getting taken in by the sword saint.
What kind of master only picks talented kids?
A real one raises the scrubs too.
Makes me think of Master Herschel.
Just pure light itself.
Weird that he's not in my summon list, but whatever.
Anyway, lost in those thoughts while watching Kyle train, a sudden realization hit me.
'Wait a sec. Has Kyle actually done anything wrong to me?'
Let me think it over.
That day I came back loaded with ore and monster parts.
I was jealous hearing he'd already hit Floor 2 and was getting praise.
So I ignored the line and demanded they settle my stuff first, thinking this nobody was getting cocky.
Our first meeting, I'd just watched from afar, but when our eyes met, he nodded politely first.
He'd smile when we crossed paths in the mines sometimes.
'Hmm...'
He's not a bad guy—in the original, he was endlessly kind.
Objectively, I'm the jerk picking fights with an innocent guy and exploding with inferiority complex.
From Kyle's view, even if he hits Floor 3 soon, he has no clue about stuff like the Spirit's Flower...
Like how a non-virgin stays one even after regressing—me knowing I stole his snacks beforehand doesn't change the facts.
'...Did I go too far?'
My conscience poked at me.
Being handsome and talented isn't a crime—it's not like he chose to be born lucky.
The author, the world—that's what made him that way, not him.
'But I can't forgive him.'
Still hate him, though.
Simple reason.
'Luna's into him.'
That's his cardinal sin.
The way her eyes light up around him versus me? No way I see him in a good light.
Until I date Luna and add her to my harem, that guy's my number one rival.
I'm not big-hearted enough to spare a love rival just 'cause he's nice.
Speaking of, "big-hearted" is a made-up term, right?
Apparently some comedian from decades ago coined it, and it caught on.
Thud, thud, thud.
Around then, footsteps echoed from the alley mouth—multiple sets.
Not one or two. Six? Seven presences, maybe.
'Who're they?'
Kyle sensed them too, stopping his training and turning.
Out of the darkness stepped seven rough-looking men.
All scowling thugs with clubs, bats, and iron pipes in hand—walking billboards for "bad guys."
"Hey there, Kyle buddy. Out for a workout?"
"Who are you?"
Kyle lowered his wooden sword, eyes wary.
"Who? You don't remember us? Few days back at the mine entrance, you spun my jaw like a top, punk."
"Ah... You guys picking a fight back then."
"Picking? You hit first!"
"You bumped my shoulder first."
"This punk's talking back? Time for a lesson."
The leader up front.
Face rings a bell.
'Ah, that guy.'
Got it.
Early extra thug from Volume 1.
Started shit with the protagonist, got his jaw shattered in one panel, and tapped out.
He tried the same crap on me when I first got here to Abyssal Miner.
I was weak then, so I let it slide.
Never knew his name then, don't need it now—irrelevant extra.
Lost 1v1 last time, so now he's bringing backup to gang up.
Weaklings always swarm and yap.
True powerhouses are lone wolves, solo in school or society.
'So it's tonight.'
Original episode clicked.
Kyle ambushed at night by vengeful thugs.
They jumped him for payback, and he beat 'em in a group fight.
'During training, huh.'
Skipped details since no heroine, forgot the setup.
Abyssal Miner's world has diverged a bit from my meddling, but the flow's similar.
Some things happen regardless.
He's been killing it in the mines lately, getting Luna's praise—must've pissed them off.
Losers hate seeing winners win.
"What do you want?"
Kyle gripped his sword tighter, tense.
"What? Hmm. Pony up some medical bills, maybe we'll let it slide. Heard you're raking it in."
"I don't have money."
"Bull. Liar."
"Really."
True to canon, he sends almost everything home to his little sister, keeping just enough to scrape by.
She only gets name-drops, never appears—total MacGuffin.
Ugh... wanna kill the author for real.
Might track him down IRL later.
Even if serialization stopped, if I can snag a setting bible or something with cash...
"Lying sack. Get him!"
"Urk..."
"Grab him!"
"Surround him! Guy's strong—don't let up!"
The thugs charged.
Kyle swung his wooden sword in resistance, but numbers overwhelmed him quick.
Talent or not, early-game protagonist's raw—good physique, no finesse.
Against armed goons with a crude stick? Predictable beatdown.
They stomped the downed Kyle.
Thud! Thump! Smack!
"Guh! Ack!"
Brutal assault.
Yeah, and next is obvious.
Beaten bloody, left groaning in the alley...
Groaning...
'...Hold up.'
That's the problem.
Bleeding out, abandoned—then Luna happens to pass by.
Spots him.
[Oh my! Kyle! What happened?!]
Shocked Luna helps him home.
Cleans him up, nurses him like she did me.
All night—wiping sweat with a cool cloth, applying salve.
Holding his hand as he deliriously calls his sister's name, eyes misty...
And that subtle spark ignites.
'No way.'
Women melt for wounded guys triggering their maternal instincts.
Hot guy, badly hurt, doting brother? Free pass to her heart.
After that, I'm sidelined.
With him around, who'd notice me?
Took forever to grind Luna's affection to 32, sweating bullets.
This prick skips ahead?
No forgiveness.
'And I haven't even gotten in her bed yet—ain't letting him soil it.'
I'd die before seeing that.
Blood boils just imagining.
To block this event: Keep Kyle unhurt, or clean him up before Luna finds him.
But no telling when she passes.
If I grab him and she shows? Suspicious as hell.
One option left.
'Guess I gotta help.'
Shit.
Me saving that little dickhead?
Not even a heroine?
Hate the thought.
Plus, with his personality, if he finds out it's me...
[Thanks, Lee Jun! You're a good guy!]
He'd cling like a bro.
Already too nice—add a rescue, and he'll push the buddy act hard.
That sticky male bonding...
'Gags me just thinking.'
Bromance? Bullshit.
BL wrapped in macho crap—puke-worthy.
Stories that BL-drift get 5700-char roasts for a reason. Never do it.
I like women.
Came for a harem, not bromies with sweaty dudes.
Hate owing favors, hate entanglements.
But gotta do it.
Fine.
'Hide my identity.'
Glanced around.
Anything to cover my face?
'Nope.'
If inventory had space, I'd carry junk.
Screw it.
Ripped the hem of my shirt, tied it as a mask over my lower face.
'This should work.'
Dark night, he's getting pummeled—no time to study my face.
Deepen my voice, perfect.
Weapon... no.
Bloodcalling Morningstar or Midweight Iron Demon-Slaying Sword? They'd kill 'em.
Then later:
[Wait, that weapon? No way! Lee Jun? From back then?]
Gotta preempt that crap.
'Bare fists it is.'
No need for weapons or Body Reinforcement against scrub thugs.
Brawl skill and base stats suffice.
Thwack! Pow! Biff! Crack! Smack!
Thugs stomping Kyle with glee, grins plastered on.
Forgotten nobodies, but seeing their joy reminded me—this was payback too.
Day one here, they dissed me hard.
'So helping Kyle's just my revenge, right?'
Mind eased.
Planned to thrash 'em someday—perfect timing, assholes.
You're dead tonight, you fucks.