DUNGEON FILE 008:
REPUTATION IS A CHEAP COMMODITY, ANYWAYS
"Thank you," I mentioned to both of my companions upon receiving the sword. Yes, even asshole-in-shining-armor.
I couldn't afford to be ungrateful, not after what Mendell had done for me. Even if he was a jerk about pretty much everything else, and I understand why people aren't inclined to do favors for the guy.
"If I might ask, what are the stats on this sword? I don't know much about weaponry, but they have different qualities depending on origin and creator, yes?"
"Do you not have your own [Stat Check] spell, dear one…?" Niamh tilted her head and inquired.
"I do not. If I ever needed to know such a thing about a weapon back on the Topworld, I would ask my father or one of the guard to tell me. It isn't a lady's place to wield magic in the Obsidian Empire."
"Well, that just won't do!" she murmured and began to rummage through her cart. "This one's on me. I have about a hundred of these in a drawer because they are so dreadfully common, nobody buys them. They're little more than paper weights at this point, so even I wouldn't dare charge you for something like this."
She takes my hand and gently places a glowing pink crystal within it, inscribed with the text, "[Stat Check]", of course. I accepted the crystal, its warmth surprising against my palm. It felt smooth, almost glassy, with a subtle hum of energy emanating from within.
I was already aware the process of absorbing a spell is quite simple, I've seen men do it. I'd merely have to crush the crystal in my hand, allowing the dust to seep into my skin. The magic would then integrate with my own [Essence], granting me access to the spell.
Thus, I closed my fingers around the crystal, applying a slight pressure. The crystal shattered easily, crumbling into a fine dust that clung to my skin. The pink glow flared momentarily, then faded as the dust fully absorbed, disappearing completely. It wasn't painful, but rather an odd, almost invasive feeling.
I then held the Jian before me, its polished steel catching the dim light that filtered through the mist.
"[Stat Check]," I recited aloud.
A faint silvery shimmer ran along the length of the jian's blade, streaming to and fro from the guard to the tip a few times in a pretty type of flowing way.
As if it were extracting information, (which seemingly took quite some time) words only I could see began to engrave themselves upon the metal of the blade itself: the name, its strengths, even some history on the origin of the sword which was quite surprising.
Unfortunately, it was uncomfortably difficult to read the tiny text on the blade's metal.
"Having trouble, dear one?" Niamh asked kindly. "Try scaling the interface, if you would. Do you know how?"
"Ah, no. How might one do that?"
"Place two fingers upon the blade's projection, then outstretch them as one would when spreading a length of fabric taut."
Following her instructions, I touched the flickering text projected above the blade and spread my fingers. Instantly, the text expanded, detaching from the sword itself and hovering in the air before me like a glowing, translucent sheet. (Thank you, Niamh!) Now, let's see what this thing can actually do…
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NAME: Abyssion
TYPE: Jian | Straight Sword
DESCRIPTION:
A well-crafted jian originating from the Land of Ivory, impeccably maintained by the previous weilder despite evident age. It is noticeably quite cold in your hands.
BASE ATK: 115
ATK% INCREASE: +41.3% (A)
AFFIX: Standard
PROPERTY
Severing the Bonds of Waking: When the wielder's HP falls below 30%, the weapon channels the energy of lingering spirits, increasing ATK by 20% and movement speed by 10% for 12 seconds. During this time, the wielder's attacks have a chance to inflict [Weaken] on enemies, reducing their ATK and DEF by 10% for 5 seconds. This effect can only occur once every 30 seconds.
————
The stats were exceptional. The combination of power and versatility that seemed almost excessive for someone like me. Even the base damage looked terrifyingly high; I had never used a weapon with such potential. Well, I had never even used a weapon at all…
Swiping the stat display off the metal without a thought, I turned the Jian over in my hands, considering its limitations. A sword could be sharp, well-balanced, and perfectly forged, but without the skill to wield it, these numbers meant nothing.
Just how much had Mendell paid for this, exactly?
Suddenly, the somewhat extravagant amount of silver coins I watched him hand over to Niamh didn't seem like nearly enough.
"It's really good!" I beamed at Mendell. "Seriously, it's still far too good for me, so I really appreciate it. I'll learn how to take full advantage of this."
"Yeah," Mendell murmured, before lowering his voice to a whisper. "A-tier scaling on merely a standard affix is quite hard to come by… Don't let Niamh know, but I'm not sure why she seemed so eager to sell it at a lower price than I would have expected. It kinda threw me off."
"Maybe the special property isn't good for many people?" I guessed, thinking aloud. "Most experienced fighters probably try not to let their health drop below 30%. Good armor, dodging skills… they might never trigger the bonus. That might have made it hard to sell to anyone other than someone who's likely to die."
"Maybe, but I'm sure you'll make plenty of use out of it."
"Don't tell me I'm going to die like you're so certain about it!"
Mendell huffed and raised a hand in mock surrender. "I'm just saying, if anyone's going to get the most out of that sword, it's you!"
I frowned at him, but before I could respond, Niamh, who had been idly sorting through a small chest of trinkets behind the counter, clicked her tongue.
"Hah. You make it sound like I sell defective goods. That sword's worth more than what you paid, sure, but Aya's right. I don't like keeping things that won't move. Some weapons sit too long on the shelf and start feeling like bad investments." She leaned on the counter, eyeing Mendell with vague amusement. "Bad inventory turnover eats into profits. Sometimes you cut your losses on items that sit too long, even quality ones."
Mendell gave her a look of feigned offense. "So I was doing you a favor by taking it off your hands, then?"
"Don't flatter yourself." She fidgeted with a small silver ring onto the counter. "You haggled me down far too quickly. Makes me wonder if I should have held out for more."
"I wouldn't have let you," Mendell smirked before turning back to me, instantly shifting gears. "Oh, Aya, going back to the much more important matter of useful abilities, did you know you can also use [Stat Check] on people?"
"On people?" The idea hadn't occurred to me.
"And Dungeon beasts, too!" Mendell nodded. "I wouldn't recommend just throwing it around—it's not exactly polite—but it has the same principle as checking a weapon. Just direct the spell at someone instead of an object, and it should work the same way. It's usually how Hunters gauge people's strengths without wasting time." He leaned forward slightly, an amused glint in his eye. "Go ahead. Try it on me."
"I'm not sure about just scanning people like that. It seems quite invasive. Just how much information gets revealed? Do I get to see all your secrets?"
"Nah, not everything," he replied with a slight smirk. "But it'll give you a good idea. You won't be able to see what's going on inside my head, for instance. That's a whole different level of complication. This just gives you the basics—stats, maybe current status effects, resistances if they're notable. Surface level stuff." He waved a dismissive hand. "And probably best not to stare too hard at the numbers or my weaknesses; trying to analyze complex builds without experience will just give you a headache."
I sighed, exasperated. "Fine. But don't blame me if I see something weird. You offered."
Okay, deep breath. Focusing my gaze on Mendell, I muttered, "[Stat Check]." And the same sensation from before—the one I had felt when casting the spell on the jian—swept over me.
The familiar shimmering aura appeared in the air, coalescing into a neat, compact list of his stats etched into his arm under his sleeve like a glowing tattoo. I expanded this text with the finger motion again; It flickered briefly before solidifying into readable form, etched into the air as though it were written on glass.
————
Mendell Gagnepain [Page 1]
LEVEL 3475
TOTAL ESSENCE: 173750 [+500 UE]
HP 1585 [+200]
MP 300 [ +65]
STR 1101
DEX 1432
JDG 49
VIT 831
HST 62
RUN SPEED: 31
FOL -26
ELEMENTAL DMG RES
NORMAL: 20%
FIRE: -20%
FROST: 20%
POISON: -30%
WIND: 20%
LIGHTNING: 00%
LIGHT: 50%
DARK: 00%
————
I frowned, scanning the details in equal portions of confusion and awe. I didn't understand what all of it meant, but from what I could guage, his stats were, admittedly, impressive. A balance of dexterity, vitality, and strength, with an unusually high investment in haste.
His magic affinity in both judgement and amount of mana power were low, which made sense given his focus on physical combat. An estoc required some strength, but I presumed both that and his crossbow would require a considerable amount of DEX, which he had in spades.
"Well, you weren't exaggerating about being strong."
"I do try."
For someone to reach this kind of level, one had to fight... and kill... an absurd number of people. I realized then, with an unsettling clarity, the implications of his power:
He's been here since he was at least a child. That many years in a place where death is meaningless, where he's killed and been killed, where bodies are harvested for essence over and over. The thought made my stomach churn…The sheer number of deaths he'd caused to build up such high experience levels was staggering.
"You're telling me you've been down here for only sixteen years, and yet you have stats that look like they would take a century to accumulate?"
Mendell shrugged. "I suppose a lot of people in here have higher stats than they should. The Dungeon has a way of pushing people to extremes. Haven't I already explained the benefits of being a Hunter, and why I'm going down that path? I suppose that makes me good at my job."
"And that's what you've been doing all this time?" I asked, unable to suppress the tinge of disgust. "Killing anyone you find, all for more levels? Even if it's for the sake of reaching Ardenne, it seems completely wrong."
Niamh, who had been silently observing us with an almost indifferent look, finally spoke up. "Don't let that man tell you that 'violence is just the way the [System] operates'…" she hummed with a dry, almost bored tone. "You'd be surprised at how many decent people despise Dungeon Hunters like him. Anyone who cares about respect stick to killing beasts instead of human prey. It's difficult to find people willing to sell you goods at [Sanctuary] when the shopkeep might be someone who you've stabbed in the gut and still holds a grudge."
"Wow, Niamh. High praise. Not that you would care much about respect, hm? You're one of the only ones in this entire Dungeon who doesn't mind me coming to shop around, as far as I can tell."
"I've got a business to run," she replied without missing a beat. "And you pay up without causing trouble. But don't mistake your apathy for wisdom, Mendell. The troubles of Dungeon don't make people better—it just makes them more hurt. And not everyone wants to be a part of that. It's a messy business, what you do."
Mendell clapped his hands together abruptly, his smile tight and forced. "Well! Business with you is a pleasure as always, Niamh! We're done here, no need to dwell when nobody's mind shall change, hm? Let's go, Aya."
Niamh didn't respond at first, but when she finally spoke, her voice was colder than ice. "Yes, go," she said with finality. She turned her attention to me and then smirked a final time. "And you, sweet thing, stay alive. Would be a waste of a fine sword, not to mention that scoundrels coins, if you were to lose it."
I simply nodded, swallowing the sharp sting of my pride. Of course I'd survive! I had to...
Mendell, meanwhile, strode ahead with his usual carelessness.
I wanted to thank him again, properly this time, for the favor of paying for this beautiful weapon again. Maybe even apologize for snapping at him earlier.
Just walk, Aya.
Thanking him could wait.