NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 3 - Floor 1 - Lv.2 Hunter (2)
Chapter 3 – Floor 1 – Lv.2 Hunter (2)
After a few instances of such physical intervention, the girl naturally begins to assist as well.
Her fluid execution of joint locks stands out.
I wonder what kind of backstory the Jung family has concocted this time.
After spending a stretch of time in what was essentially a repetitive task, I stop for a moment to catch my breath.
“Unlucky.”
“What do you mean?”
The girl quickly latches onto my muttering.
“I passed by several places where weapons could’ve been lying around, but they were already looted.”
“But we have this, don’t we?”
She smoothly draws a dagger.
Everyone starts with one as their initial equipment in the labyrinth.
Though it’s called a dagger, its blade is over 30 centimeters long—a proper combat dagger.
But that’s not what I was looking for.
“Subduing every single bastard one by one is inefficient. I need a weapon that makes them immediately realize they’re screwed and fall in line.”
More than anything, it’s an issue of stamina.
My out-of-shape body is already gasping for breath.
Even with my starting stats, there’s a limit to how much force I can exert.
While I’m subduing opponents more with technique than raw strength, it still takes a toll on my stamina.
The gear that spawns on the first floor is usually of poor quality, but still better than a dagger.
Something like a spiked mace that looks deadly on impact or a spear that seems painful just at a glance would be enough for intimidation.
Winning without fighting is ideal.
I need a situation where the scumbags take one look at my weapon and immediately lose their nerve.
By now, I’ve probably sent about thirty survivors up to the second floor.
The internal clock I’ve honed over countless years tells me it’s been nearly forty minutes since I woke up.
“I’m running out of time. I guess this will have to do.”
In an hour, the labyrinth starts collapsing.
It’s a sudden-death mechanism to prevent players from staying indefinitely.
Since this is only the first floor, it’s neither complex nor particularly challenging.
Back in the game days, it was just a way to stop players from looting every last corner of each floor.
That’s why the standard practice was to keep farming right up until the moment of sudden death.
Now that this has become reality, what does sudden death really mean?
To me, it’s basically saying, “Die a lot and get used to it.”
“I seeee.”
Even after my explanation, the girl seems unconvinced, trailing off as if something still doesn’t make sense.
If she had just come from ‘reality,’ it’s understandable that she’d have trouble believing all this.
In any case, my first-floor farming was a failure.
I didn’t even manage to scavenge a proper weapon.
But at least I got lucky with an NPC.
The girl beside me isn’t just valuable for her starting stats—she’s the rare kind of companion that’s hard to come by.
Judging by her school uniform, she must have been pulled in straight from class, yet she seems completely unfazed.
No fear, no anxiety, no confusion.
Instead of the emotions that should naturally come first, she defaults to cheerful curiosity.
It’s not what you’d call normal behavior, but that makes her all the more valuable.
And now, she’s already interested in what I’m doing and following me around.
That’s even better.
Honestly, this is a pretty good start.
In many of my countless runs, I’ve often killed myself right at the beginning just to move on to the next world.
“Still, let’s search for another ten minutes.”
The girl, who likely has no idea what I’m even talking about, follows along without complaint.
The fact that all the weapons that should have spawned were missing meant someone had already looted them.
And sure enough, the next group we encountered was different from the ones before.
Three men, all properly armed with melee weapons, showing no signs of unease in this situation.
Veteran exiles.
But not the kind-hearted type.
Their weapons were already stained with blood.
I sighed.
“There’s always a bunch who group up and start hunting people right from the beginning, no matter which run I’m in. Don’t you think?”
At my words, one of them—wielding a worn but still sharp halberd—chuckled and pointed his weapon at me.
“Hey there, scrawny guy. No idea how many runs you’ve been through, but get lost. We’ll let you live.”
The most common type—the kind with a rotten personality.
Outlaws.
In a world where strength is law and life is cheap, they’ve decided to do whatever the hell they want.
Even those guys tend to form groups.
If I were to deal with each one individually, there would be no end to it.
In some ways, they’re more exhausting than a boss monster.
“Oh yeah, leave the girl behind.”
Men’s thoughts are always the same.
Once they think they have strength and control, they get worse.
Just by looking at them, I can tell they’re practically in heat.
I glance at the girl beside me.
A high school girl with a fresh, vibrant appearance that seems to match her naturally cheerful personality.
It’s no wonder these idiots are drawn to her.
Beauty isn’t much of an advantage in the labyrinth.
Regardless, I shake my head.
There’s no way I’m handing this kid over.
She seems to think the same, as she’s already drawn her dagger.
She holds it loosely now, but that’s only so she can grip it tightly when needed.
I sense no tension from her.
Neither do I.
In reality, these human hunters are usually weaklings.
Even if they’ve gone through multiple runs, they’ve probably never even made it to the kingdom.
Just small-time thugs.
I ask the girl a question.
Part of me wants to test her.
“Can you handle three on your own?”
“Huh? By myself? That’s impossible.”
“I was just asking. Take down two.”
“Isn’t that a bit much for a delicate high school girl?”
Seeing the look on her face as she says that, I can’t help but laugh.
“A delicate high school girl doesn’t smile like that while holding a knife.”
“Oh.”
She quickly covers her mouth, but it’s too late to hide her wide grin.
No hesitation about killing.
Outside, that would be considered a severe character flaw.
But here, it’s different.
Not wanting to do it isn’t an option.
If she has to do it, it’s better that she does it well.
What happened next couldn’t even be called a fight.
It took about a minute for the three arrogant men to collapse and stop moving.
The girl rushed in without hesitation and slashed one’s throat.
The other, panicking, put up a fight but ultimately had a blade driven into his heart.
Unfortunately, I’m not the kind of character with decent starting stats.
I had to struggle through several exchanges before finally managing to kill mine.
Fighting against a weapon with significantly more reach using a dagger is exhausting.
On top of that, they had the advantage in strength.
No matter how well I deflected their attacks, my bones ached from the impact.
If I had been alone, I wouldn’t have even looked back—I would’ve run.
I have confidence in my trained skills, but a 3-on-1 fight this early is too much risk.
It’s practically suicide.
In any case, I was barely holding onto my stamina and was now completely drained.
I really want to avoid any more close combat.
“Are there a lot of guys like this?”
The girl doesn’t ask a single thing about why we killed them.
Maybe my words—”human hunters”—were enough of an answer.
As she steps closer, the stench of blood hits me.
“Your clothes are soaked. You should wash them when we find a healing spring.”
I gesture toward her school uniform.
She dodged their weapons, but there was no avoiding the blood that spurted from their carotid arteries.
A patch of red slowly spreads across her shoulder.
“Oh, blood stains if you don’t wash it out quickly.”
“It’s not like you need to go to school anymore.”
“Mm… that’s true.”
Her response is a bit downcast.
She scratches her nose, looking like she’s thinking about something she regrets.
That’s a good sign.
Some people have no lingering attachments to the homes they left behind.
Those types usually don’t want to return, and who knows what they’ll do within the party.
Some even start seeing wealth and power in the labyrinth as their ultimate goal.
Sadly, the only true motivation this world provides is “going home.”
It’s better for me if she still has a reason to want to go back.
“Anyway, answer the question. Are there a lot of guys like them?”
There’s a hint of anticipation in her voice.
Wait, does she actually enjoy this?
That’s… a little unsettling.
The girl got annoyed, perhaps because she saw my expression.
“Ah! It’s not like that. I’m just asking because it seems exhausting to deal with them.”
“…Well, yeah. There’s a ton of them.”
“Hmm.”
What does “hmm” even mean?
Anyway, I started rummaging through the corpses of the ones who had kindly brought me a replacement for the polearm I couldn’t find.
And then, I spotted something completely unexpected.
“What the hell? Why is there a shotgun here?”
It looked like an old-fashioned rod buried under the corpse of the first guy the girl had killed.
Was this guy some kind of leader?
Now that I think about it, the others kept sneaking glances his way.
But if he had something like this, why didn’t he use it from the start?
If he had, we’d be dead.
The answer hit me as soon as I thought about it.
To the eye, we were just a scrawny man and a high school girl—hardly threatening.
Amateurs.
The labyrinth isn’t a place where you can judge an opponent’s strength like that.
“Wow, I know what that is. It’s a dual-barrel shotgun, right?”
“It’s double-barrel.”
Lucky find.
A shotgun spawning on the first floor is absurdly rare.
At the very beginning, proper firearms are almost nonexistent.
The best ranged weapons you can find are slingshots or bows.
Even the best-case scenario would only give you a crossbow.
A shotgun on the first floor is practically a cheat code for the next few floors.
That said, the shells I looted from the dead man amounted to only ten—not exactly plentiful.
He must have been saving it as a trump card.
Just in case, I searched another corpse, but then sudden death mode began.
A deep rumble echoed from afar as the structure started to sink.
The maze was slowly collapsing from the edges inward, dooming anyone who hadn’t yet reached the lower levels.
The first deaths always happen like this—over and over again—until people finally develop the will to push forward.
It’s a system designed to forcibly teach you that standing still means certain death.
Back in the game, the first floor was essentially a tutorial stage—a low-difficulty introduction to the controls.
Maybe it’s the same now.
Experiencing death forces you to struggle for survival.
To live as an exile, you need a mindset of relentless advancement and adventure.
This world really does operate like a game.
In the end, everyone gets used to dying.
Whether that’s a good thing is debatable, but it’s an essential skill here.
After all, life in this world is practically weightless when you can just revive.
What you lose in return… well, that’s something newbies will learn about later.
But some people don’t take these fleeting lives lightly—they see them as stepping stones for their own survival.
Not that their intentions could be called good.
I nearly died while heading toward a nearby staircase.
The moment I turned the corner, a sharp whooshing sound cut through the air.
Not a trap.
Before I could even register what was happening, instincts honed through countless cycles had already made me roll.
I scrambled back behind the corner just in time—another shot skimmed past my leg.
It wasn’t an arrow.
The shaft was too short—it was a bolt.
The girl quickly snatched up one of the bolts.
“No poison.”
I wanted to ask why that was the first thing she checked, but honestly, it was the right move.
A sharp sting ran through my calf, and blood was visibly dripping down.
Damn it, my jeans are already ripped.
These were precious—I’d only ever see them intact at the start of a new cycle.
I could cry.
“Was it a person?”
“Yeah, two of them.”
One took the first shot, while the other waited as backup in case it missed.
They probably didn’t expect to actually need the second shot.
That hesitation saved my life.
“How far?”
“About thirty meters.”
Right on the edge of the shotgun’s effective range. I could just fire blindly in their direction, but the accuracy wasn’t great at that distance.
“Should we go around? You know another way, right?”
“I do. But it’ll probably be collapsing.”
“Slow collapse” still meant a pace about as fast as a person walking.
The maze had very few straight corridors.
Even if we took a detour to find another staircase, would we make it in time?
“Uh, so do we just charge through?”
“No, we talk it out.”
“Huh?”
“I have the best negotiation tool there is.”
I tapped the shotgun.
If I didn’t have this, I would’ve given up.