Conquering the Labyrinth with a Trash-Tier Trait - Chapter 37

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 37
Screeeech.
Clank.
“Quit your noise, Krang.”
Thud. Bang.
The moment the guard—an ogre named Krang—shut the cell door and vanished, I lifted my gaze and surveyed my surroundings again.
‘Damn it. A guard in his forties with a fourth-stage Class?’
Most of the information windows were corrupted, but I’d caught the most critical detail.
Not quite the complete blackout I’d seen with Jelik, but that was cold comfort.
‘Shit. What do I do?’
No windows—only torches hung on the walls for light—and save for the iron bars and shackles, the walls and floor were nothing but wood, timber that showed no sign of scorching even from the flames.
A vast hollow stretched out in all directions, iron-barred cells lining every side, proof we were inside that enormous World Tree; yet the empty space between them still looked impossibly wide.
The real problem was this:
Hum.
‘Damn….’
The wooden walls and floor wouldn’t permit even Spirit infiltration.
I could still summon Spirits from my body.
‘…But scouting itself won’t work.’
If this were dead wood, an Earth Spirit or Water Spirit would slip through without hesitation.
‘The Corrupted World Tree…. It’s not a dead husk, is it?’
Frustration gnawed at me as I scanned the cells. Across levels 1 and 2, more than a hundred iron-barred compartments, and well over half appeared empty.
The occupied cells held prisoners sprawled across the floor.
All of them stared blankly at the ceiling or the walls, their eyes hollow and lifeless.
That deep, suffocating atmosphere pressed against my skin once more.
‘Damn.’
Then.
“Urgh….”
Bartus, who’d been crumpled beside me, let out a groan.
“Are you awake, sir?”
I adjusted my tone, remembering my role, and his eyes finally came into focus.
“Char?”
“Yes, sir. Are you all right?”
“Urgh.”
Bartus pushed himself up, and even draped in that filthy burlap, his beauty shone through.
‘The boy cleaned up well.’
Handsome enough that such thoughts surfaced even now—but that fair face soon twisted in anguish.
“I apologize. I was lost in thought for a moment….”
“No. It’s my fault.”
“…Sir?”
“I’m sorry. If I hadn’t pushed for that charge back then. If I’d listened to you and retreated instead.”
“Ah….”
“I was too rash. I should have heard you out. Because of me….”
I was caught off guard.
‘In the original timeline, Char should’ve died by Grash’s hand, right?’
When we’d cleared level 5, the old Bartus had told me something I still remembered with perfect clarity.
So the discrepancy unsettled me.
“Me, sir?”
“Huh? The supply wagon. You were the one who said something seemed off about it.”
“Ah…. That…I think I may have hit my head. My memories are a bit muddled.”
My off-the-cuff excuse only deepened the distress on Bartus’s face.
“…I’m sorry. Truly.”
“Not at all. We all made it out whole and alive—that’s what matters.”
“What?”
“We’ll escape this place and start over. We just need to keep our spirits up, sir.”
“…Escape? From the Corrupted World Tree Prison?”
Bartus’s eyes widened.
As if he’d just heard something he’d never dared imagine.
“That’s right. After all, this is still a prison. We just have to break out. Break out….”
Hmm.
Right as I felt something kindle in him again, I hesitated.
“Escape? Fufufu, you youngsters do enjoy amusing dreams. Well, dreams are free, at least.”
A contemptuous chuckle drifted from the cell beside them, the speaker invisible in the shadows.
“Who… who are you?”
But no answer came.
Bartus’s expression had already darkened.
‘What bastard is this…’
He’d barely managed to kindle a spark of hope, and already someone was dousing it with cold water.
“Let’s find a way out. Any way we can.”
“…Yes. We have to. But that ogre was so strong.”
“Right. Strength alone won’t work. So let’s see if there’s another option.”
“Yes, but how?”
How indeed.
While he struggled for an answer, a distant sound suddenly pierced the air: a long, grinding screech.
Thud. Bang.
Heavy footsteps followed, accompanied by a familiar snort.
“Krang. Get moving! Feeding time.”
The moment Krang’s voice echoed through Underground Level 1, rattling the prison walls.
Small feet began scurrying in response.
Pitter-patter-patter.
“Uggh.”
“We… we made it.”
“Another day, safe…”
Another screech.
Clang.
As numerous empty cells swung open, sounds of groaning filled the chamber.
‘Prisoners?’
Among them, some pushed and dragged a massive cauldron inside, then began ladling out something cold and green—a sludgy, murky substance—into what looked like bowls, placing them before each cell.
Some kind of thick, deep-green liquid or gruel, impossible to tell which.
‘Surely not…’
He was staring at it with a grimace when
a shaggy-haired prisoner dragging the cauldron approached their cell.
Along with a foul stench.
“New arrivals?”
“…Yes.”
“Tsk. Today’s meal and water.”
A bowl of that green gruel, studded with indescribable chunks that reeked, and a wooden bucket sloshing with what could hardly be called water—murky waste matter bobbing on its surface—were set before them.
“What… what is this?!”
Bartus’s outburst was entirely justified.
Even I, who’d lived as a beggar in Bartus for half a year, would hesitate to touch something with such a nauseating appearance.
“You don’t mean… this is actually what we’re supposed to eat?”
Just as the prisoner handing out the meal was about to respond,
“You there! Quiet!”
Thud.
Krang’s threatening stomp silenced him, and the prisoner simply passed through our cell without another word.
Bartus, wisely reading the mood, said nothing more.
But his gaze at the green, waste-like gruel and the murky water was one of pure horror.
“…We have to escape before we starve to death, Char.”
He whispered it with a look of grim resolve.
“Feeding time, Krang. You have ten minutes. Second group, get ready.”
Krang left, having said something whose meaning was unclear.
Another long screech.
Clang.
‘Damn…’
Watching his retreating figure, I forced myself to summon memories from my days as a beggar, then tentatively took a spoonful of that unidentifiable meal.
‘Ugh.’
Revolting.
The taste was indescribably vile.
“It’s food! Food!”
“Hehehehe.”
The surrounding prisoners, the moment they received their portions, fell ravenously to eating.
Even the prisoners who’d finished their bowls early were staring at Char and Bartus’s food(?) with gleaming eyes.
‘…Something’s off.’
I’d never been a prisoner before, but I’d lived as a beggar.
Being a beggar doesn’t kill your sense of taste.
Even if you force down spoiled food out of hunger, you’re just filling your energy reserves—you don’t actually think it tastes good.
Yet these men were clearly coveting this swill that made gruel look appetizing.
“Hey, you newcomers. If you’re not eating that, can you give it to me?”
“Give it to me. Me! I’ll clean the bowl completely!”
“No, me!”
“If you don’t eat all that, Krang’s gonna beat your asses!”
[Corrupted World Tree Prison Meal]
-Contains narcotics that make pain and suffering fade away.
(If the number of standard doses exceeds your Stamina stat, chronic addiction results.)
‘…What a bunch of freaks. Damn.’
Why did I even taste this? Should’ve just used my trait.
Never mind my stomach turning—this was something you absolutely couldn’t eat.
The murky liquid in the wooden bucket beside us was just as bad.
[Corrupted World Tree Prison Water]
-Contains narcotics that induce hallucinations.
(If the number of standard doses exceeds your Stamina stat, chronic addiction results.)
Damn.
“…Char. Are you okay with that?”
“No. It’s not safe to eat.”
“…I thought so.”
Bartus nodded at my words without hesitation.
“Feeding people food that even pigs won’t eat…”
Tsk.
“…There’s some strange drug mixed in it.”
“Drug? You? Are you alright?”
“Yes. One taste won’t hurt.”
“Then why’d you eat it in the first place? You could’ve just touched it.”
Good point.
In any case, this Bartus knows about my trait.
‘Well, that tracks.’
If this is a worldline where I’d been working alongside him all this time.
Meanwhile, the prisoners, noticing we weren’t eating, started getting frantic.
“Give it to me. Me!”
“I want some too!”
Thunk.
I shoved the bowl and bucket to the desperately eager prisoners and reprioritized my objectives.
The water wasn’t a concern.
“Young master, we can handle the water…”
“I know.”
Drinking a water Spirit itself would be self-defeating—it’s like swallowing my own Mana back down—so there’s no point to it.
Whoosh.
But I can gather the moisture around us to make drinking water.
The real problem was food.
‘We need to find something to eat first.’
I have no idea how to approach the Purification of the World Tree, which is the condition for a Perfect Clear, and I can’t even guess how long escape would take.
If I collapse from exhaustion before we escape, or end up eating that drug-laced garbage—it’s over.
‘What do I do….’
While I was thinking.
The cell door opened again.
Creeeeeek.
Thud. Bang.
“Meal time’s over. Krang. Team Two, let’s go!”
Clang.
The moment our cell door swung open.
“What are you doing, not coming out!”
At the killing intent in Krang’s voice, we scrambled to our feet in panic.
‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know either. But at least we’re getting out of the cell.’
‘Right.’
We exchanged glances and shuffled forward, dragging the Iron Chains that hung loose around our wrists and ankles.
And then.
“Excuse me, could you explain what this is?”
The cell next to ours was still locked.
I asked the prisoner who’d shoved the food bowl and water through the bars.
“Labor detail, I suppose? Since it’s a prison.”
The prisoner’s hair and beard were so overgrown I could barely make out his face, and he grinned at us wickedly—but before the disgust of the greenish filth clinging to his whiskers and mouth could fully register, a thick, suffocating killing intent crashed over us.
“Get moving!”
Thud.
At the sound of heavy footsteps approaching, we scrambled to move faster.
Krang, who’d been shuffling toward us, finally stopped and took his place again.
“Labor Group Two is starting. Newcomers. Newcomers can do… well.”
Krang turned to look at us while scratching his head.
Even at a glance you could tell there was structure to him, but clearly brains weren’t part of it.
“Mining, foraging, butchering… we have all three. Right now we’re short-handed on… foraging? Or butchering?”
At that moment, one of the prisoners standing in line beside us whispered.
“Butchering, butcher work. It’s a sweet deal.”
Hmm?
I’d already been thinking the same thing the moment I heard it.
The skills I’ve picked up were one thing.
‘To get food here, butchering is the only option. Meat.’
Somehow I had to find a way to fill my stomach in this place.
“I’d like to volunteer for butchering.”
“Char?”
Bartus, caught off guard, fell into line behind me without thinking.
As Krang gestured us forward.
Immediately, snickering erupted from the prisoners on both sides of us.
“You bit on that?”
Fell for it?
Now that I thought about it, roughly twenty prisoners were standing in lines on either side, but our line in the middle was empty except for us.
Besides us.
“Butchering means you all die.”
“Nobody comes back.”
“Maybe you’re not doing the butchering—maybe you’re the ones being butchered?”
Low voices of derision came from both sides, and the sense of foreboding intensified.
“Krang. Foraging, mining—you go on your own. You two. Come with me.”
We had no choice left.
Thud. Thud.
Krang’s footsteps continued downward.
Along the way, the foraging and mining teams peeled off into side passages.
But Krang continued down much further still.
And problems were already setting in.
“Cough. Cough.”
With each level we descended, the air grew fouler.
It wasn’t just filthy—something corrupt seeped into my body, a sensation of decay.
The prison cells visible alongside the stairs grew more numerous as we descended deeper.
Most of the humans or elves inside lay nearly motionless like corpses, but I caught eyes with a few who sat upright or shifted—their presence unmistakable amid the stillness.
Particularly striking was an elf on Underground Level 5 who seemed to glow softly in the absolute darkness—the only light visible in that lightless void.
‘An elf radiating light like that.’
But Krang quickly blocked my view.
“Do not. Talk to lower prisoners. Krang.”
“Yes. Cough. Of course.”
I didn’t have the breath to talk anyway.
Whatever I muttered to myself, Krang’s footsteps led deeper still.
‘Air. I need to use Air Purification.’
Desperate to survive, I willed the Spirit to move.
My equipment had been stripped away(?), but I still remembered the sensations from when I wore the Deep Sea Tuner or Cleanseman’s Panties.
And as a Spirit, I could mimic that flow of power to some degree.
I filtered out the strange energy mixed in the air with a Wind Spirit, absorbed the energy once more with a Water Spirit, then burned it away with a Fire Spirit.
It was a trick only possible because the Spirits could synchronize with my consciousness.
My Mana was depleting in real time because of it, but it wasn’t at a critical level.
Bartus was already purifying the air right alongside me, after all.
He’d coughed at first, glanced at me sideways, then immediately followed my lead.
And he held up his thumb toward me—I couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh.
‘This is genius, isn’t it?’
The talent to succeed on the first try without understanding the intermediate steps or running experiments.
While I was marveling at Bartus’s gift, bright light appeared from below.
‘Hm?’
We’d descended far past Underground Level 5, where the last iron bars were visible.
A vast cavern lit brilliantly with torches hanging everywhere came into view.
“Krung. Humans. Intact?”
“Yes! We’re fine.”
“Hm. Good. Not materials. Become workers.”
……So if we hadn’t made it, we’d be subjected to butchering?
I brushed away the sudden chill that ran across my skin and followed behind Krang.
Beneath the torch-lit expanse of the cavern, I saw corpses of enormous beasts and monsters stacked upon each other.
And in front of them, a group wearing something like gas masks, wielding butchering knives.
“Krang. You came?”
“Came. Workers. Brought them.”
“Ho? Humans? Humans intact here too?”
“Common tongue difficult. You asking?”
“No, confirming. And speak it more often. Krang. It’s an order from above.”
“Krung. Understood.”
He seemed to be an Orc, and judging by how he conversed as an equal with Krang, he wasn’t subordinate.
Yet what seized my attention wasn’t them, but something far beyond.
The ceiling of the vast cavern was covered in the roots of a massive tree. And at the end of the roots opposite the cavern, a brown-skinned Elf was pinned there with her arms spread in the shape of a cross.
That Dark Elf, separated from us by nearly a hundred meters, struck my vision with the force of a brand.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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