Chapter 13: Floor 2 – Dungeon: A Thousand Spider Eyes (4)

Yoo Hana opened her mouth.

I was staring at the slaves—particularly Rita—and turned my head toward her.

“Hm?”

 “W-what are you going to do?”

 “Mm… we clear the dungeon, of course? It’s not even that hard here.”

 “N-not that…”

Yoo Hana’s gaze momentarily shifted toward Oren.

“What are you going to do about him?”

 “A-are you going to kill him?”

Kill.

Anyone can say that.

 Koreans, in particular, have a vocabulary of a dozen ways to say they’ll kill someone’s parents.

 Memories of the old days, desperately trying not to lose your parents in the Rift, are still encoded in our DNA.

But to say it with murderous intent—to genuinely declare you want to kill someone because you can’t hold it in—is another matter entirely.

 Those words carry a suffocating weight, like being pulled into a swamp just from hearing them.

Yoo Hana’s words were like that.

 She sincerely wanted Oren dead.

 So much so that she looked ready to kill him herself.

It was the result of growing desensitized to killing, starting with the patchwork golem.

 She no longer feared death—not others’ and not her own—and didn’t hesitate to kill.

 It was inevitable.

 There’s a reason people call her a Massacre Witch.

“I could wipe them all out, you know. I could s-slaughter them before they even open their mouths. I could do it. I can do it.”

 She said this with a confident look on her face, as if she’d start firing off spells the moment I gave her a nod.

But I gave a bitter smile and shook my head.

 “I have a plan. Don’t worry.”

“Ah, okay! I-I’ll do as you say, oppa.”

 Yoo Hana immediately dropped the murderous intent and clung to me. I brushed her hair and tilted my head slightly.

Oren’s death was already set in stone.

 It didn’t have to come by Yoo Hana’s hand.

“……”

 Rita’s face reflected in my eyes.

***

The regressor felt insulted.

 How dare someone repay kindness with rudeness?

 Truly intolerable.

Even lowlifes in back alleys would click their tongues and say, “That’s a bit much…”

 If I still had the chronic condition of regressors—namely, the “F*ck This Life Syndrome”—Oren would’ve already been reduced to spider food, limbs torn apart.

But I’d already overcome those nasty side effects.

 Sure, the passive mental illnesses still cling on, but the particularly destructive “Soda-Burst Artery Syndrome,” where I killed people just for pissing me off, was cured ages ago. I graduated from that around run #50.

So, how does a mellowed regressor get back at someone who disrespects them?

It’s easy: turn their intentions upside down.

“You’re injured. Here’s a potion. Drink it.”

 “Gasp! You’re bleeding! Here, take this bandage and stop the bleeding, quick!”

 “Oh no! Your intestines are spilling out! Stuff them back in and chug the potion! What? You’re worried it’s expensive? Don’t be ridiculous! Your life’s more important! I won’t even charge you later!”

They try to reject kindness?

 Then just shower them with more kindness.

Slaves are essentially trauma victims.

 And unlike certain green dinosaurs on TV, these people don’t just say “thanks” and move on. They get so flustered about not being able to repay you, they can’t sit still.

Case in point—look at the slaves’ eyes.

 Not a hint of hostility.

 They stared at me with guilt, gratitude, and admiration—as if I were a savior.

If Oren dropped their favorability toward me to 100, I was returning it with a 1000.

 That alone was enough to sway their loyalty.

“Th-thank you…”

Rita was no different.

 Just before entering the dungeon, her red eyes looked like she might take her own life.

 But now, there was a faint glimmer of life in them.

Praise makes whales dance, and unconditional kindness wins over even slaves.

 I gently patted Rita’s messy hair as she blushed and looked up at me.

“It’s nothing.”

 “Ughh…”

 “If you get hurt again, come to me right away. I’ll heal you.”

 “…Are you sure?”

 “Of course. Don’t worry about it. I’ve got plenty to spare.”

 “Y-you actually look more like an oppa than an ajusshi.”

Ah yes, I believe you now.

 You’re a good person.

 I shall protect you for life.

“Thanks.”

I ruffled Rita’s hair and stood up—just as Yoo Hana silently appeared behind me like a ghost.

“I’m the only one who gets to call you oppa. Or do you prefer little girls now? Then I’ll just use magic to make myself younger. Oppa has to be my oppa. If you’re someone else’s oppa, then you’re not mine.”

For once, she whispered without stuttering.

Scary, Hana…

Messing with a mild-mannered regressor?

Yeah, that’s just asking to get f*cked.

From that perspective, Oren had already lost from the beginning.

 Trying to trample a regressor’s goodwill?

 Unforgivable.

So I didn’t forgive him.

Thanks to that, my 500x kindness strategy was thriving.

“Yunseo-nim! Watch out!”

 “Ooh! Thank you, Pascal!”

 “Ha ha! This is nothing! Hup! Careful ahead!”

 “Ah! I’m indebted to you again!”

 “No worries! Compared to the grace you’ve shown us, this is a mere scratch! I’ll try even harder!”

 “Oi oi! Damn! I knew I could count on you!”

 “…Why are you talking like that?”

And this continued throughout the dungeon.

My approval rating among the slaves pierced the heavens, and I was effectively crowned the dungeon’s president.

Asking each of them their name—and remembering them—probably helped, too.

(Not that I needed to ask. I already knew.)

“…Tch.”

But when one becomes king in a power struggle, another is inevitably demoted to a withering old has-been.

Oren’s voice quickly lost power.

 His usual barking orders and petty tyranny during breaks all but vanished.

Because the physical distance between his group and ours had narrowed.

Even Oren wouldn’t dare mistreat the slaves when I, the freshly crowned president, was staring daggers at him.

Of course, the slaves weren’t outright rebelling.

 They were still slaves after all—still had to think about what happens after leaving the dungeon.

So while they were warm to me, they kept some distance.

But that was fine.

 The fact that Oren’s schemes had fallen flat was enough.

‘He’s probably fuming inside despite looking calm.’

Guys like Oren are always the same.

 Can’t stand being beneath someone they look down on.

 They have to crush others to feel alive.

I’ve killed enough people to recognize the type.

But right now, there was no way Oren could touch me.

 I was outperforming him in combat, had the slaves on my side, and Yoo Hana—the magical time bomb—was firmly planted next to me. What could he possibly do?

Even if he screamed “KILL HIM!” right now, no one would follow him.

 There’d be hesitation, guilt—some form of resistance.

Which would only backfire on him.

And he knew it.

 So he’d be waiting for another chance.

What chance, you ask?

The final camp before entering the boss room.

 That’s when he’ll try to kill me in my sleep.

 Then take Yoo Hana as his personal slave.

And the assassin of choice?

Rita.

 Quick on her feet, light on her presence—a perfect pick.

So, I’ll make my perfect move too.

The day Oren sends Rita…

His head will be liberated from his torso and declared an independent state.

I can already hear his decapitated head thanking me as it soars through the air.

Ahh, freedom!

“O-oppa, you’re thinking something weird again, aren’t you?”

I ignored Yoo Hana.

***

Third day of dungeon clearing.

Screeeeech…

“Phew…”

Oren pulled his sword from the eyeball spider’s pupil, letting out a deep sigh. Mucus and bits of flesh dripped from the blade’s tip.

‘How many is that now?’

His eyes darkened as he looked over the corpses strewn about.

‘At least a hundred. Far beyond what I expected.’

He hadn’t come here to clear the dungeon.

 This was a scouting mission.

 Just gather info on behalf of the guild that hired him, maybe kill a few monsters and sell the loot.

But look at the state of things.

This wasn’t scouting anymore—it was wholesale slaughter.

 It felt like they’d wiped everything out but the boss before the actual raid team could arrive.

Way too much killing.

And that’s a problem.

Dungeon monsters do respawn over time.

 But it’s not quick.

 Minimum one year. Sometimes up to five.

You think the guild’s going to wait that long?

Hell no.

 They’re going to scream, “We said scout, not exterminate!”

If he’d just killed a few, they might’ve let it slide.

 But this? Triple digits?

 No way to cover this up.

He couldn’t even imagine how much the penalty fees would be.

 Just thinking of the guildmaster’s smiling face as he delivered the bill gave him chills.

‘It’s all that bastard’s fault.’

Oren clenched his teeth inwardly as he glared at Baek Siyoon, who was brushing his hair back.

He thought he was just another nobody, and frankly, he was.

 But Baek Siyoon had managed to win over the favor of the slaves.

 Because of that, the slaves began actively participating in battles, and that had led to this situation.

In Oren’s mind, Baek Siyoon had long been reborn as a complete bastard.

Whether it was the truth or not didn’t matter.

 At least not to Oren.

“Are you alright?”

 “…Yes. I’m fine.”

Feeling Oren’s gaze, Baek Siyoon asked with a light smile.

 Oren answered with an awkward smile of his own.

Oren glanced subtly around Baek Siyoon.

Blood dripped smoothly down the black blade he held.

 The severed remains near him were all cleanly sliced—clear proof of his skill with a sword.

His breathing hadn’t even faltered. That meant his personal combat strength was far from negligible.

He probably learned swordsmanship before transmigrating. And at quite a high level too.

‘Still, he’s just a guy from Earth. He probably doesn’t even know how to handle mana properly, and compared to our world’s sword arts, his skills would be laughably crude. If I wanted, I could kill him anytime.’

The only reason he didn’t do so was because of the mage standing next to Baek Siyoon.

A genius who could already cast magic right after completing the tutorial, despite being from Earth.

 If he went after Baek Siyoon with murderous intent, there was a chance he’d get taken down instead. A mage’s ability to sense killing intent shouldn’t be underestimated.

‘So I’ll wait—at least until just before we reach the boss room. After that, I kill Baek Siyoon, and take Ha Yuna as a slave.’

Originally, Oren had planned to enslave both Baek Siyoon and Yuna.

 But not anymore.

Now that Baek Siyoon had become a thorn in his side, his death was inevitable.

‘You dare to get into a power struggle with me? You arrogant bastard. I’ll make sure you die in the most painful way possible.’

Losing one slave climber would be unfortunate, sure.

 But the other was a mage—and that more than made up for the loss.

If he brought her back, the guild master might even overlook the excessive monster culling.

 After all, a mage slave was immensely valuable on its own.

‘And the best part would be killing him right in front of Ha Yuna. If I give him a mana suppression drug I brought, he won’t even be able to resist.’

Thinking that, Oren let out a low chuckle.

“…”

Baek Siyoon stared at him with a blank expression.

***

Fourth day of the dungeon raid.

They had finally discovered the boss room.

A massive nest woven from crimson webs.

 At its center sat a single spider, composed entirely of hundreds of eyeballs.

Each time it twitched, one of the eyeballs fell off and began to shake violently.

 Soon, the optic nerves started behaving as if they had minds of their own.

 The nerves formed legs that propped themselves up, while the eyes stretched their pupils wide and let out ear-splitting shrieks.

Thus, a new monster was born.

A creature not birthed through reproduction, but through division.

It was a fascinating ecosystem—but the feeling of disgust far outweighed the curiosity.

The boss’s appearance, composed entirely of eyeballs, was grotesque.

 Even worse was the process of its “birthing.”

 The way the long, squirming optic nerves formed into spider-like legs—it was something straight out of a nightmare.

Fortunately, none of the party members had a weak stomach, so no one threw up.

“Let’s take our final rest before entering the boss room,”

 Baek Siyoon suggested.

Everyone nodded.

Camp preparations were made swiftly. Everyone laid out their tents and lit a campfire in the center to warm the air.

Then, they all brought out the food they had packed and began eating.

Oren’s group had nothing more than some jerky and dried fruit. Even that was too little to be filling. In contrast, Baek Siyoon and Yoo Hana’s meal was so luxurious that calling it a feast wouldn’t be an exaggeration.

Bread, soup, fruit, meat — it was an extravagant meal by dungeon standards.

“If you’d like some, please help yourselves. We have plenty left over.”

Baek Siyoon didn’t even try to keep the food to himself. He ate just enough to fill his stomach and gave the rest to the slaves.

The slaves hesitated at first, but when Rita cautiously reached out for some bread while watching his reaction, Baek Siyoon smiled at her. That’s when the others began to help themselves as well.

Baek Siyoon gently patted Rita’s hair with a satisfied smile.

“Eat slowly. It’ll be bad if you choke.”

“Y-Yes, thank you very much.”

Rita bowed her head and expressed her thanks. Oren narrowed his eyes as he watched the scene.

‘Disgusting eyes.’

Baek Siyoon’s black eyes — where the line between iris and pupil was blurred, void of any liveliness, like dead eyes.

Just looking at them made Oren feel sick, and he quickly turned his head away. Baek Siyoon glanced at him, then went back to stroking Rita’s hair.

Soon, dinner ended. The group discussed how to take on the boss and prepared for the final rest. Of course, they also assigned night watch.

The first shift was Pascal. He boasted confidently to the others, then sat cross-legged by the fire. Baek Siyoon wished him good luck and entered the tent with Yoo Hana.

Shortly after, the tent’s light went out.

Seeing this, Oren sneered and gathered the slaves.

“As you all know, our goal in this dungeon isn’t conquest — it’s reconnaissance. Taking down the boss ourselves is impossible.”

“……”

“So tonight, we take out Park Yunseo and Yoo Hana and escape the dungeon. Any questions?”

Oren spun the dagger in his hand as he spoke.

Silence followed. Oren smiled with satisfaction.

“Good. I’ll lay out the plan. Listen carefully.”

“……”

“Our primary target is Park Yunseo. But we won’t kill him right away. First, cut the tendons in his arms and legs so he can’t move. This needs to be done fast — we need someone with quick hands. Number 128, you’ll do it.”

“M-Me?”

Rita’s pupils trembled as she repeated his words. Oren shoved the dagger into her hand and smirked.

“What? Can’t do it? Got attached in just a few days? Do I need to carve you up right here to set you straight?”

“……”

“Don’t question orders. Shut up and obey. You’re tools — livestock lower than animals. Obey and die. That’s the only life permitted to you.”

Rita bit her lip hard and gripped the dagger. Oren punched her in the head and continued explaining.

“128. From the moment your shift starts, keep watch on the tent’s interior. If they seem asleep, go in and give this to the girl first.”

Oren handed her two glass vials.

“One’s a narcotic. The other’s a mana blocker. Once she drinks them, she won’t be able to resist anything you do. Then, cut Park Yunseo’s wrists and Achilles tendons. If that’s too hard, use the paralyzing poison — coat your blade with it. It’s highly toxic and acts instantly.”

“……”

“Then subdue Yoo Hana. You may injure her, just don’t leave scars on her face. That would reduce her value. Got it so far?”

“……”

“128. I’ll ask again. Do you understand?”

“…Yes.”

Rita replied in a voice that sounded squeezed from her throat. Oren grinned from ear to ear.

CRACK!

“Ugh!”

Oren grabbed Rita by the hair and forced her head up. He stared into her face twisted in pain and whispered.

“If you fail, you die on the spot. If you don’t want to die, kill someone else.”

“……”

“And remember. There is no salvation for you. Understand?”

“…Yes.”

“Good.”

Oren let go of her hair. He flicked the strands of blonde hair caught in his fingers like they were filth, then moved on to assign tasks to the others.

“…Hic.”

Rita took the dagger and the glass vials, crouched in a corner of the tent, and hugged her knees.

Soft sobs quietly filled the space, blending in with Oren’s low voice.

No one noticed her crying.

***

Four hours after everyone went to sleep.

“…128. It’s your shift.”

Rita’s turn for the night watch had come.