episode_0048

Gift, Synthesis.

Its ability was simple.

[Gift] Synthesis (B) ◇Harmonizes the properties of different materials.

That was its power.

At first glance, it didn’t seem particularly special. But I knew that among gifts, the simplest ones were often the best.

The reason? The bastard who dropped me into this world.

“There’s a gift called Synthesis, and it’s seriously broken.”

Those were the words of someone who had poured tens of thousands of hours into a single game. If he said it could rival even some S-rank gifts, I had no choice but to believe him.

So, I chose it.

I combined the Poison Arachne Queen’s spider silk with the wire. Holding the two materials, I focused on the thought of synthesizing them.

Then, a light emanated from the materials as they slowly fused into one.

[Item] Shadow Reaper Possesses the hardness of steel and the sharpness of a blade. ◇Self-repairing if severed.

“…Oh.”

It turned out even better than I expected. Though slightly less sharp than the wire Durin had given me—

“If it has a self-repair function, I can use it for all sorts of things.”

I pondered how to utilize the Shadow Reaper—perhaps attaching it to a weapon to throw or setting it up as a trap.

Then, a thought struck me.

What if I stored it in my hidden space?

“…There’s room in the bag.”

Durin had even provided a separate bag for the wire, so I didn’t have to worry about its contents getting damaged.

I recalled the gift Vulcan had left in my bag.

Iron pellets.

Though entirely made of iron and heavy, they might just withstand the Shadow Reaper’s sharpness.

“Should I make a tiny hole at the end?”

I drew the blood-soaked sword.

Then, I activated Blood Spirit Art.

A crimson aura gathered around the blade. I wanted to refine it into something thinner.

“What are you trying to do?”

“I want to shoot the thread part.”

“Shoot the thread?”

“Pierce a hole here with the Shadow Reaper and fire it directly.”

“Hmm, so you’re planning close combat?”

“That’s not a bad idea either.”

If an enemy specialized in aerial combat, I could restrain them by shooting the thread.

I focused on creating the tiniest flaw in the iron with the blood-soaked sword, channeling Blood Spirit Art.

But the Blood Spirit Art was too large.

It didn’t seem like it would work properly.

As I struggled, Lisiel spoke to me.

“Of course it wouldn’t. To refine energy into something as thin as thread, you’d need at least level 35 in swordsmanship.”

“Really?”

But I had a different idea.

A feeling.

If I used the dexterity from Thief’s Ultimate, I might be able to reduce the sword energy.

“My swordsmanship is only level 20 right now.”

At level 30, I’d be able to wield sword energy.

And at 35, I could manipulate it freely?

I focused on the sword.

The moment I did, the surrounding sounds faded. All I could see was the blood-soaked blade.

As I tried to shrink the sword energy, it resisted—like a rebellious force.

Blood Spirit Art.

The power steeped in crimson began to defy me.

It was an odd sensation.

Not something a mere swordmaster could comprehend.

“…Absolute Theft.”

One of the most useful among my gifts.

It began reacting to the ego within the Blood Spirit Art.

“…Can I steal this too?”

If so, what would happen?

Would it linger beside me like Lisiel?

The thought crossed my mind, but it seemed unlikely. It wasn’t a sentient being like her.

Then—

“I’ll steal its size.”

An absurd conclusion.

Yet, I realized Absolute Theft could do it. I closed my eyes and concentrated.

“A gap just large enough for the thinnest thread to pass through.”

And I stole only that much of its size. A sensation—as if my hand slipped through somewhere—and the feeling of grasping something—

And then.

“Stolen.”

The moment I thought it, the Blood Spirit Art thinned out like a thread.

“…Did you just steal its size, not its soul?”

Her eyes widened.

“Yeah.”

“That’s possible… No, if you can steal souls, then most things are negligible anyway.”

Lisiel stared at me with a baffled expression.

Her gaze seemed to ask, Where the hell did you even come from?

Regardless, I pulled out the Blood Spirit Art and created a space for the thread.

“Now what?”

“Can’t I just fire it like this?”

If I tried, I’d have to attach something heavy to the end and throw it, but—

“…That’d be too lame.”

I pondered for a moment. Was there a way to shoot the thread?

I focused on the hidden space. Could I store the Shadow Reaper inside and fire it from there?

I hid the thread in the hidden space, letting only the tip protrude from beneath my wrist.

“What if I inject mana into it?”

Crackle.

A purple lightning sparked.

As I thought, manipulating the thread with mana was possible, but—

“…Too slow.”

It didn’t seem practical for real combat.

Perhaps sensing my frustration, Lisiel gave me a pitying look.

“But I have one question, my liege.”

“What is it?”

“Couldn’t you have just asked the dwarf?”

“Oh.”

…Well, I’ll find a use for it in this labyrinth.

While I fiddled with the Shadow Reaper, the party had reached a consensus and were drinking potions.

Rosenne was left out, while Erme, Teresa, and Glasses drank theirs.

“Ugh… I lost.”

“There’ll be another chance.”

“Next time, I’ll win and drink the potion. By the way, aren’t you drinking one, Yuseong?”

“I recently had a good one, so drinking that wouldn’t do much.”

“Right, I heard the more high-quality potions you drink, the less effective lower-tier ones become. Though long-term, it’s better to drink higher-tier ones if you get the chance…”

“Well, yeah. But it’s fine, right?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“For Rosenne, alcohol is her potion.”

“…”

Rosenne clenched her fist.

“Do you know what happens if you hit someone’s head hard enough?”

“…”

“…Sigh. I’ll let it slide just this once.”

Wasn’t she usually timid?

It seemed she’d discovered her inner violence while dungeon-crawling. I should never let her drink in the labyrinth.

—

We stepped outside.

Though “outside” just meant returning from the 2.5th floor to the 2nd floor.

Still, it was better than the spider-infested depths…

“Kieeeek…!”

A monster’s cry—likely a hobgoblin.

I turned to see a hobgoblin wailing.

Its leg had been severed by one of my traps.

Five hobgoblins lay scattered like that.

“…Huh. Useful.”

I drew my sword and harvested their heads.

Then, a rising sensation.

“…Experience.”

Their mana flowed into me, making me stronger.

No, not just mana—it felt like my soul was growing sturdier.

A strange feeling, as if I could ascend to a higher plane.

“That’s leveling up for you. Some beastmen and elves call it ‘ascension’—the evolution of the soul.”

It made sense.

The soul itself grew stronger, as if reaching another dimension. The body merely followed.

“Let’s move quickly. We wasted a day, so the boss must’ve been taken by now.”

“No need to rush. We got plenty of experience from the 2.5th-floor boss.”

That was true.

At level 3, goblins and hobgoblins barely gave any experience.

If it felt like only a negligible amount was filling—

“It’s already over halfway.”

The experience from the Bone Devourer had been substantial, but this was abnormally fast.

We pressed forward.

I didn’t know the layout well, but I had a map in my mind.

The past week of rest wasn’t just for recovery—it was also preparation for unforeseen events.

After a few more hobgoblin encounters, we reached the boss room entrance.

“As expected, the boss is already dead.”

It’d be a lie to say I wasn’t disappointed, but we’d gained enough already.

Inside the boss room, numerous people had set up tents.

“No monsters spawn near the boss room, so it’s safe. The only threats are people, but in large groups, even they’re less of a concern.”

Come to think of it, Hilda—who’d grown oddly kind lately—had mentioned something.

Clans under the Adventurer’s Guild had a policy: if anyone caused trouble in the boss room, the guild would impose severe penalties.

So, places like this were ironically the safest.

“Hilda said that?”

“Yeah.”

“She didn’t glare at you coldly or anything?”

“Glare?”

She’d always smiled warmly at me. A woman I owed much to—she’d thanked me every time I did something.

“…This must be what pretty privilege is.”

“You’re not bad-looking either.”

I glanced at Glasses.

Despite the glasses, he was quite handsome.

In my past life, he could’ve been a movie star without issue.

“But my face is just too unfair.”

I’d spent an absurd amount of time customizing it.

My face was on par with that male idol hailed as the epitome of visual perfection in my past life.

“Does that mean we can drink here?”

Rosenne, who’d been listening, suddenly spoke up.

Well, it shouldn’t be a problem.

But if Rosenne drank, the party’s discipline would crumble, and if someone attacked while she clung to me, I wouldn’t react in time.

“…I’ll hold back.”

“Good. Drinking now isn’t bad, but it’d be better to celebrate after clearing the labyrinth with everyone.”

Whether it was Glasses’ or my persuasion, Rosenne sullenly set up her tent.

“…Her love for alcohol is a flaw, but everything else about her is a strength.”

“Really?”

“You wouldn’t know since Rosenne’s your first priest party member, but priests are lazy by default. It’s their nature. And because of the pain from healing, they’re all addicted to something.”

“…”

I’d heard about priests before.

But it always felt surreal. How could such high-tier forces be left unchecked?

Wouldn’t specialized training be better?

The entire system seemed lax.

“…Well, high-level priests are different. They operate like the military—especially in the Abyss. Only rigorously trained priests are there.”

“But those priests only exist in the lower floors. There are plenty of them, and their reputation isn’t great.”

At Erme’s words, Rosenne spoke softly.

“Exceptional ones like Rosenne receive special training, right?”

“H-Haha… My gift is a bit畸形, but I did undergo training. Though, as you know, my gift is… unique…”

“Monasteries teach endurance of pain, not restraint from pleasure. So Rosenne wasn’t treated well.”

“H-Haha…”

Rosenne laughed awkwardly at Erme’s words.

Well.

Unlike other things, resisting pleasure required immense self-control.

From our perspective, that was a good thing.

It was why we could recruit her.

“But.”

Why had the system called her a Saintess Candidate?

That bothered me.

The system itself had said it. Sword Saint Candidate, Erme. Looking at her, it seemed almost certain.

“It feels like a given.”

I didn’t know the details.

But she was someone to watch closely.

“Let’s assign night watches this time.”

Despite the safety in numbers, we decided to take shifts in case of emergencies.

The order: Erme, Teresa, me, Glasses, then Rosenne.

Fortunately, the night passed without incident.

“Everyone, be careful.”

Finally, we headed to the 3rd floor.

—

“…Ah.”

Countless spiders and ants.

The 3rd floor was a domain of insects.

But there was a problem.

“Damn it…!”

Erme cursed under her breath.

The reason was simple.

Another party, fleeing from monsters, had tried to redirect them toward us.

In the process, one of them died to my arrow, and we got caught in the aftermath.

“Of course.”

Lately, I’d been realizing—

“Nothing in the labyrinth ever ends peacefully.”

I gave up and charged at them.