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Translator: penny
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: 025
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"Fuck this shit. Fine, then pop up explanations for the stat skills I bought.
No, wait. Not that simple crap about corrections...
Tell me in detail what shit like Insight or Mind even means."
Strength: Related to physical power for moving heavy objects.
Agility: Related to quick movements, body flexibility, and hand dexterity.
Stamina: Increases resistance to fatigue, physical durability, and bodily resilience.
Magic Power: Related to the effectiveness and destructive power of skills and magic.
Insight: Related to sensory abilities like observation and dynamic vision, as well as reasoning, crisis response, and trap detection. Assists in using magic and skills.
Mind: Related to concentration, skill efficacy, resistance to various mental magics, shamanism, and primal mental abilities (charm, taunt, etc.), as well as mental durability and fatigue.
"...Ah, fuck, I knew it.
...I bought the wrong fucking skills. Should've just gone for Virility...
Goddamn it... Bought Magic Power without even learning any magic,
Oh man... Should've read the manual first..."
Sudden massive regret hit me like a truck.
If I'd known, I would've dumped it all into Virility.
'...Hmm, well..., at least investing in Strength, Agility, and Stamina is never a bad call... Insight and Mind seem useful too...'
Forcing myself to calm down with some mental gymnastics, I decided to head back to the first floor.
The system read my mind instantly and sent me back down.
I took a deep breath, then gripped my gun again.
- Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! -
'Huh, feels way lighter and snappier than before. Must be the stat boosts kicking in?'
With my stats up, my body felt light and quick.
Strength seemed boosted too.
Feeling refreshed both physically and mentally, I was blasting away happily when...
A fucking brilliant idea flashed through my head.
'...Shit, hold up... These zombie bastards are drawn to my gunshots, right...?
So if gunshots come from somewhere else, not where I am...?'
Battlegrounds 2 has decoy grenades.
Most players hate even picking them up, calling them useless... Basically grenades that just make gun noises.
In the game, they're fucking worthless, just taking up inventory space... but...
I'd shoved every item I could find into my Subspace Storage, so yeah, I had these decoy grenades too.
'...Just chuck this shit super far. Got tons of 'em and they're useless anyway...
...Ah, fuck. Why didn't I think of this sooner...? Could've thrown grenades or flashes far away to pull aggro.'
I shot zombies as much as possible,
Killing them until I was out of their sight...
Then from the windows between apartment stairwells, I hurled a bunch of decoy grenades as hard as I could, way the fuck out there.
Hoping to pull their aggro away from me toward the distance...
Chuck 'em in multiple directions far off.
'...Whoa, flying super far...'
Easily over 100 meters.
And from the 10th floor, chucking max distance, it arced like nearly 200 meters.
Might be the Strength and Agility bumped to Lv.4 giving that correction; went ridiculously far.
Old me couldn't have thrown half that.
- Bang! Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-a-tat! -
- Rat-a-tat-a-tat! Rat-a-tat! Rat-a-tat! -
The far-flung decoys started pulling their weight.
Blasting all sorts of gun sounds, scattering zombie aggro elsewhere.
Zombies trudging toward my apartment turned toward the thrown spots.
Aggro pull: massive success.
"...Whew, fuck..."
Still couldn't relax fully.
Tons of zombies had swarmed here from my earlier shots.
I'd slapped suppressor parts on most of my guns where possible.
Not enough for all, but I did what I could.
From now on, no using unsuppressed guns for a while.
"Suppressors don't make it silent, but way better than nothing..."
Using my suppressed Glock pistol, I carefully descended to the first floor,
Cleaning up any zombies not lured by the decoys.
- Pfft! Pfft! Pfft! Pfft! Pfft! -
On the way down, the grenade blast sites were total wreckage.
Auxiliary railings trashed, concrete chipped—felt the power.
Probably would've been even more devastating on flat ground..., I thought.
Reached the first floor.
Most zombies were aggro'd away by decoys, over 100m from my building.
Quick-cleared the first floor, then stealthily climbed back to the 10th, quiet as possible.
At room 1004—Hye-jeong's place—I knocked: 'knock knock.'
No response.
"Hey. Hye-jeong. Open the door."
"..."
"Hye-jeong. Open up."
"..."
I faintly sensed Hye-jeong's presence beyond the door.
She was right there, behind it.
But fuck, not opening?
"...You wanna die? I'm counting to three—if you don't open, I'm kicking it down and beating your gut raw."
I growled low, and her shaky voice replied.
"...Y-you have to say 'Pussy Slave, open the door'..."
"...Oh, right. Pussy Slave, open the door."
- Click. Clunk. -
"...Y-you're back? M-Master...? ...G-good work out there."
"You fucking bitch. You're so dead. You're not sleeping tonight, no way."
"...Eek!"
I stepped in and shoved Hye-jeong flat on her back.
- Click. Clunk. -
Door shut behind me.
Apartment stairs cleared of zombies...,
Nothing left to interrupt our entranceway fuckfest.
Hye-jeong needed to rescue her sister quick, but...
With this insolent Pussy Slave right here, no mercy.
"...What? Calling me a rapist punk who hasn't even tasted blood?
You're fucked today, for real. You, my Pussy Slave? So dead.
Starting today, pussy training hardcore.
Gonna train you so fucking good you become a loyal sex slave."
Fuming, I grinned wickedly, shoved her down,
And spread her legs, slamming my dick into her pussy.
Hye-jeong always went no-panties, bottoms optional per my orders,
So no need to strip or yank anything off.
"Ah, hng. Ahh! ...M-Master."
"Fuck... Can't forgive this... Hye-jeong. You Pussy Slave...
Daring to curse me out and throw attitude...? Fuck..."
I was pissed as hell, but...
Also deeply wounded that my training had totally failed.
Why isn't the training working...?
In breaking porn, girls go crazy, chanting 'Master Master' and pledging loyalty to my dick...
Even now, Hye-jeong was just acting, peeking at me while faking moans.
Awakened from illusion, I saw through her act now...,
And once I did, it was obvious, kinda gross...
'Insight stat up making me notice useless shit like this...?
Said it boosts observation and dynamic vision...? Fuck... Reality sucks balls...
Just kill Hye-jeong alr—'
— GAAAH!!!!! YOU BASTARD!!!! HOW DARE YOU TRY TO KILL MY PUSSY!!!! MY SQUELCH-SQUELCH SLURP-SLURP PREMIUM PUSSY!!!!! MY PUSSY SLAVE TO IMPREGNATE AND BEAR MY CHILD!!! —
'Nooo, my Solomon dick! Why rage? Why scold me?!'
— GAAAH!!!!! SHUT YOUR YAP!!!!! WHERE ELSE AM I FINDING A PUSSY SLAVE LIKE HYE-JEONG!!!!! —
'Ugh..., y-yeah... Can't argue that... Got it.
I misspoke. My Solomon dick, you're right.
Thinking of killing Hye-jeong... My soda-pass disease flared up again...
My Solomon dick, you're all right. Where else a Pussy Slave like her...'
Bad thought crossed my mind briefly, but killing her over some trash talk? Pussy's still good.
Our bodies have that tragic flaw: bullet to head or heart kills the pussy too.
If pussy breathed on even after heart death, Viewtopia dream..., Pussy Utopia would be real...
The shrink who diagnosed my borderline intellectual disability and mild multiple personality loved the Viewtopia fantasy, mouth agape in awe...
Vague memory of him saying my ideal was too brilliant, needed to study and report to academia...
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