Chapter 68 - The Thing That Should Not Be Unearthed
The sound of confident footsteps approached.
A vintage light brown jacket with jeans.
Tall leather boots.
And stylish sunglasses to top it off.
The woman with golden hair flowing as she walked forward looked like a trucker traversing Route 66 in America.
Of course, real truckers rarely looked that stylish.
After all, crossing thousands of miles on a continent was practically a 3D job—dirty, dangerous, and difficult.
What kind of style could you expect from someone who stacked crushed cans of coffee in the passenger seat like a mountain?
That would be asking too much.
But if you worried about such things, life would be unbearable.
So what mattered was the vibe?
The aura?
That indescribable something!
Back in Jin's homeland, people would compare such traits to "faces" or "types."
Fruit face, puppy face, snake face—there were all kinds, right?
So wouldn't it make sense for there to be an "American West face" too?
And the woman who took a seat across from him on the sofa had just that kind of presence.
"...Meeting you is as hard as ever."
She removed her sunglasses with a faint smile, her gaze locking onto Jin.
"It's been a while, Jin."
"Oh. It's you."
Jin clapped his hands together before he even realized it.
Memories he had forgotten resurfaced in a vivid panorama.
Natasha Vermouth.
A Level 3 solo and a trucker, who had caused a whirlwind of chaos by kidnapping the Linker who betrayed her.
He recalled how, just before they parted, he had suggested she drop by Anekdote to look for a new job.
Ah. Right. That happened.
Jin's expression twisted in realization.
"Do you actually remember, or did someone tell you in advance?"
Natasha's gaze sharpened slightly, filled with suspicion.
"You sure you're not faking it?"
"What, want me to show you my abs like last time to prove it?"
Jin playfully tugged at his shirt, making Natasha chuckle.
"So you haven't completely forgotten, huh?"
For reference, they had exchanged numbers before parting ways.
Of course, the device containing Natasha's number had heroically melted away during Jin's battle with Killgit.
Whether Natasha had tried to contact him afterward was a mystery beyond observation.
Not that it mattered.
Jin greeted her brightly.
"This place is nice. The owner bakes great cookies."
"...Jin?"
A low voice sounded from behind.
Jin subtly shifted his eyes to the side before returning them to their original position.
"Anyway, it's good to see you. Thanks for agreeing to come along."
"I should help. I owe you one from before."
"Oh, right—"
Just as Jin was about to ask what happened with the money she was owed—
Ding.
The store's door opened, and a stranger walked in.
"Ahem."
An unfamiliar space, unfamiliar faces, and all eyes turning toward him.
He cleared his throat awkwardly under the sudden attention.
A young man carrying a large backpack.
But he was short.
Even with his back straight, he barely reached Jin's chest.
At best, maybe in the low 160s?
Perhaps even shorter?
And Jin knew his name.
He had received a heads-up from D'Andre.
What was it again?
Something about a shorty showing up, so don't be surprised…
"Maximo?"
The man turned his head at the mention of his name.
Maybe it was because of his short-cropped hair, but his round face resembled an acorn.
With short strides, he briskly walked over and extended his hand. When Jin grasped it, he felt the calluses.
"That's right, I'm Maximo. Nice to meet you."
"Jin, this is—"
"Natasha."
She gave him a slight nod of acknowledgment before adding,
"So you're the peddler. I've heard a lot about you."
Jin glanced at Maximo with fresh interest.
Seems like he had some reputation.
"Since we're all here, let's get started with a quick briefing."
With all three solos gathered at last, Khalifa pushed off the wall.
As he walked toward the sofa, his shoes clicked against the floor.
Ding.
Once again, the door opened.
Now who was it?
Heads turned in unison—
And a Linker with dreadlocks stepped inside.
"...?"
"Don't mind me. Just do your thing."
As Khalifa narrowed his eyes, the newcomer casually waved his hand and leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
And then, quite seriously, just stood there, silently watching.
Sharing the same air was important, after all.
"Why is he here?"
Maximo looked mortified.
"...I'll just start."
Shooting a look that practically said, "What the hell is this?" Khalifa began her briefing.
She outlined the tunnel's location, Underheart's organization structure, and the squad deployed inside.
It wasn't a long explanation.
"This is all I can tell you for now. There's barely any known information. Frankly, no one's even tried to find out."
With that, Khalifa locked eyes with Jin.
"So don't push yourself too hard."
"Why are you looking at me?"
"Then who else should I look at?"
"Huh?"
With Jin's blank face as the last thing in sight, the briefing concluded.
The first to speak was Natasha.
"Shall we take my car?"
"Oh, a truck."
"Sounds good."
The other two agreed without hesitation.
Just as the three of them naturally rose from their seats—
"Jin."
Hearing the voice from over his shoulder, Jin turned his head to see D'Andre approaching with a small notebook in hand.
"What's this?"
Jin took it since it was being handed to him, flipping open the clasped cover with a snap as he asked.
D'Andre replied,
"Remember that guy who passed me some info? Henato."
"Oh. Yeah, I remember."
"That bastard used to ramble on about all sorts of things. I put everything he blabbered about in there. He was sick of living in tunnels, so all it took was a little nudging, and he'd start spilling secrets about the organization on his own. Hope it helps."
Jin looked down at the notebook.
Well, damn.
From cross-sections of the underground passages to detailed info on crew members—
The pages were packed with dense writing, enough to make him instinctively admire the effort.
"I'll use it well. Thanks."
Jin tucked the notebook inside his coat, gave D'Andre a light pat on the shoulder, then waved to Khalifa and Po before turning away.
"..."
As he silently watched the three leave the shop, D'Andre plopped down onto the nearest chair.
Then, he turned his head toward Khalifa and Po, who were watching him expectantly, and said,
"No need to be too grateful. If it's for my team's success, I can offer this much support any time. That's what a Linker does, right?"
Feeling quite satisfied with his own words, D'Andre slowly stood up.
"...Tonight's gonna be a long one."
Hands in his pockets, he began walking away when Po called out,
"Since you're already here, how about a cup of cof—"
"Forget it."
Khalifa cut in mid-sentence.
Her gaze remained fixed on the departing Linker, who was clearly enjoying the theatrics of his exit.
"Just let him have his moment."
***
Bounty criminals.
In other words, the scum marked by the city government.
Of course, the severity of their crimes varied wildly.
Take Styx, for example—
A group where each member was strong enough to turn an entire district upside down.
Or the Face Collector—
A long-standing embodiment of evil whose years of bad blood with the government earned him a bounty starting at a minimum of ten billion.
And some even had an extra zero tacked onto that.
If Jin knew, he'd probably experience cosmic horror and pass out on the spot.
That said, such bounty numbers were largely symbolic.
They merely converted immeasurable danger into a universally understood human value—money.
As a result, no bounty hunter was dumb enough to throw their life away chasing them.
At this level, it was rarely about money anymore.
It was about deep grudges or ideological battles.
Of course, clueless analysts who loved ranking things would argue—
A 30-billion target is stronger than a 20-billion one.
But a 30-billion target is weaker than a 50-billion one.
Mindless number games, really.
But whatever—let's not waste time refuting it.
It's not entirely wrong, after all.
Back to the point.
Just as there were monstrous criminals who wore their bounties like badges of honor—
There were also those who were just... well, average.
These were the ones truly on the run.
Realistic bounties.
Realistic levels of power.
And a whole lot of people after their heads.
Nothing's worse than being stuck in the middle.
If you weren't strong enough to be untouchable, then all you had to do was glance around, and you'd see countless people ranked above you in this city.
So what could they do?
How did these mid-tier criminals keep their heads on their shoulders?
The answer had remained the same throughout history—
They banded together.
They formed groups, established systems,
Created a structure that made it too much trouble for pursuers to get involved.
Underheart was one such group.
A crime syndicate that ruled over the underground passages in the 40s district.
Originally formed by war criminals who committed countless atrocities during the corporate and family wars, the organization had long since solidified its own underground kingdom over decades.
Some referred to them as scavengers of the deep.
Their leader?
The mad bomber, Damir Havovich.
A second-tier mage specializing in explosive magic,
Credited for significantly expanding the abandoned tunnels...
Jin flipped through the notebook.
His eyes darted side to side, filled with curiosity.
Considering he usually lost interest in anything longer than a three-line summary,
This was a rare sight—
A testament to just how valuable the notebook's contents were.
"...He really organized this well."
Jin muttered as he turned toward the small resting area in the truck's cab—
A tiny space with a built-in cot.
"Didn't expect D'Andre to be this competent."
Maximo, who was seated there, responded.
"That guy's always been meticulous about work. It's just that his image is trash."
"How'd that happen?"
"Look at his face. He looks like a loan shark boss. And then he tried recruiting solo operatives?
Dumbass attracted every freeloading leech in the city.
A Linker needs to know when to filter people out, but he wanted to 'save' them all.
Probably even handled jobs those losers couldn't finish himself."
Jin nodded in understanding.
"I think I got the gist of it."
Turning his head forward again, he added,
"You better do a good job, at least."
"Who knows? Maybe if all the pests around me are cleared out, I'll consider it."
Maximo shrugged with an indifferent expression.
Being so short, even when he sat cross-legged on the bunk instead of lying down, his head didn't touch the ceiling.
Yet, for someone so small, his backpack was ridiculously large.
Jin couldn't fathom why Maximo insisted on carrying such an oversized load in the passenger compartment instead of stowing it in the cargo hold.
He could only assume it was some kind of sentimental attachment.
"By the way, why are you guys heading into the tunnels?"
At Maximo's question, Jin replied without lifting his eyes from his notebook.
"Oh, there's something I need to find."
"I'm here to help Jin. I owe him from before," Natasha added before glancing at Maximo through the rearview mirror.
"What about you?"
"Nothing special. Just thought I might be able to snag a decent artifact or two from an ancient underground ruin. Feels like I'm kind of late to the party, though…"
His round, nut-like face sneaked a glance at Jin, who sat in the front passenger seat.
"But hey, we do have a supernova with us, so..."
A quiet murmur to himself.
Naturally, Jin didn't hear it.
He remained unaware of how his reputation was soaring by the day, simply keeping his eyes fixed on his notebook.
The only distraction he allowed himself was occasionally checking in on his chat with the sibling duo, Jecky and Jenny.
He had just sent them a long apology for unintentionally postponing their dinner plans at Lumpumpum for weeks.
[Just don't get hurt.]
[Good luck!]
Smirking at their replies, Jin turned off his device and leaned his head against the window.
The cargo truck arrived at its destination late at night.
Area 41—Untitled Town.
Once envisioned as a brilliant planned city, the land now lay desolate, skeletal steel structures looming in the darkness.
At its heart stood a rusted, circular sign.
[Metro Web / 40th Division]
Creak, creak—
A wobbling signboard swayed.
And below it, a staircase leading underground.
"…This place is kind of creepy."
Maximo shivered slightly as he flicked on his flashlight.
Click.
The beam of light revealed nothing but a circular staircase spiraling down into the depths.
"We're not too late, are we?"
"Let's just go."
Jin stepped onto the stairs and began descending.
The ruin they were searching for was on the third basement level—
One floor below even that.
Repeating the information in his head, Jin led the way, step by step, until the group set foot in the underground passage.
That was when they were greeted by the thick stench of blood.
The metallic tang of death.
It filled the air, saturating the space to the point of nausea.
Jin silently pressed forward.
Through the subterranean path leading into the criminals' cradle—
Their kingdom.
Who knew what had happened here?
With the ruins half-destroyed, they advanced in silence for an indeterminate time.
Then, Jin's eyes caught something.
A bloodstain on the floor.
Slowly, he traced it with his flashlight.
Up along the wall—
Where a message was smeared in red handprints.
[Turn back!]
The ominous warning barely registered before a new screen flashed before Jin's eyes.
Unlike anything he had seen before.
────────────────────
「(Dungeon!) The Thing That Should Not Be Unearthed」
— Find ??? in the underground ruins.
Reward: XP 18,000 (Unknown) will commence.
────────────────────
…A dungeon?
Jin squinted, bringing his face closer as if his vision had gone bad.
Yeah.
It definitely said "dungeon."
Slowly, he shut his eyes and muttered to himself.
This is fucked.