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Chapter 3
E-Rank Dungeon: Den of the Hidden Ghouls (2)
Marlin, who had been cautiously approaching, suddenly took two steps back—her face twisted with disgust.
“…What’s wrong?”
“I’ll… I’ll stay over here.”
“That hurts my feelings.”
“Please don’t say that with a face that doesn’t move an inch. It’s terrifying.”
Just how awful do I look right now?
I realized I had no idea what my current self looked like—no reflection, no mirror, no clue.
First thing after we escape this dungeon—find a mirror.
“Don’t wander too far. It’s dangerous.”
While warning Marlin, who was edging away, I began inspecting the corpses scattered across the field.
As the girl had said earlier, they were all moderately decomposed—a few days old, perhaps.
Disgusting, but not nauseating.
Unfortunately, what I needed was a fresh corpse. These were too far gone—unfit as sacrifices.
So the game won’t let me cheese my way through after all.
Reality wasn’t as forgiving as the game. It seemed I’d have to take the dangerous route.
“Marlin.”
“Yes?”
The girl, who had been keeping her distance, reluctantly stepped closer.
“Do you… need more bodies?”
“Yeah. But we’ll have to move. There aren’t any usable corpses in this field.”
“…‘Usable corpses’?”
Marlin’s tail thumped against the ground in exasperation.
“And where are we supposed to find those?”
“In the ghouls’ lair. Deep in the forest.”
“If we get caught, we die.”
“You’re absolutely right. Which is why we won’t get caught.”
Ghouls were strong—fast, intelligent, even cunning. But in the end, they were still monsters.
If we were careful, there were ways to slip past unnoticed.
“Back.”
Abel returned just then, hands and pockets full of round stones.
“Will these do?”
“Perfect. Thanks.”
With everything ready, it was time to move.
“Put these on.”
I stripped the dead explorers of their tattered clothes and handed them to the siblings.
Despite matching the sizes as best I could, the two of them looked horrified.
Maybe the design was too rustic?
《Various filthy and worn garments. Reeking of decay. Truly, are you going to wear this?》
Of course I was.
“The sun’s coming up soon. Hurry.”
While they changed, I caught Marlin staring at me with wide eyes.
“…What are you looking at, pervert?”
“……”
Her ears twitched as she shuffled behind a thick tree to change. Abel simply threw the rags over his shoulders like a cloak.
“All done?”
“Yes…”
“Good. Let’s move.”
I gathered their old clothes into a pile, then led the way into the forest.
The siblings flinched at the first whiff of the stench I was deliberately spreading.
“It’s fine. Ghouls are only sensitive to the smell of living flesh. These rags mask your scent.”
“Oh—so it hides our body odor?” Abel asked, relieved.
“Exactly.”
But Marlin, a bit sharper than her brother, wasn’t convinced.
“…What if they see us?”
I didn’t answer. Just patted her shoulder kindly and kept walking.
“Wait! What happens if a ghoul spots us, Mister?”
“Shh. Keep your voice down. They’re not great with hearing, but no reason to tempt fate.”
“…Are you sure this’ll work?”
“Keep walking. If we bump into a patrol, we’re done.”
Marlin finally stopped talking.
Step. Step.
The three of us moved soundlessly.
Even my own heartbeat felt too loud. If we got caught now, there’d be no moonlight to save us.
《Ghouls are nearby.》
I immediately ducked into a bush, motioning for the siblings to follow.
Moments later, five ghouls prowled past, heading toward the field we’d left behind.
“They came this way…”
“The scent’s faint, but it’s here.”
“Khhheheh…”
Only when their guttural voices faded did I signal to move.
Every patrol route was burned into my memory. Avoid them all. Don’t fight. Don’t be a hero.
“Come out, intruders…”
“Where are you hiding…?”
“We know you’re there—!”
Their voices echoed through the forest. The air reeked of rot; my nose had long since stopped working.
The canopy above blocked most of the light. We could barely see a few feet ahead.
But that was fine.
A cultist of Ridni, god of twisted truth, thrived precisely when the senses failed.
《Behind you.》
I didn’t hesitate.
Dove behind a thick tree. Crawled through brambles. Climbed when I had to.
The deadly game of hide-and-seek continued—one mistake, and we’d become food.
By the time we reached our destination, my back was drenched in cold sweat.
“We’re here.”
Northeast of the ghoul colony.
A small building touching the edge of the woods—built in an oddly deliberate style.
《The Hidden Ghouls’ Food Storage. In other words, a place where corpses are kept fresh through magical means.》
“Stay alert. They’ll be nearby.”
Marlin crept behind me, tail stiff as a board.
“The smell’s awful… they must be keeping bodies here.”
“Exactly.”
Ghouls fed on corpses—but not just any corpses.
For all their monstrous appearance, they preferred perfectly aged flesh, much like humans preferring aged wine.
“They built this to keep their meals fresh.”
“…So it’s basically… a refrigerator?”
“Right. A high-end one.”
You could even call it a corpse-kimchi fridge.
“Open this.”
“Yes, sir.”
The professional thief—Marlin, age fourteen—took out a lockpick and began working.
Click.
“All done.”
Five seconds flat.
A prodigy, truly.
“Abel, keep watch.”
The boy nodded, ears perked.
“Marlin, with me.”
“…Okay.”
Inside, the air was cold and heavy. Rows of bodies lay stacked like butchered cattle—maybe ten in total.
It was a new dungeon, barely a week old, so the count wasn’t high yet.
I approached cautiously, examining each corpse.
Choosing the wrong one would waste the ritual.
Thankfully, I had a very helpful assistant.
《Wildhorn, age 28, Beastkin. Member of the Tidal Guild. Cowardly, died hiding while his comrades fought. Not suitable for offering.》
《Ronpo, age 37, Human. A poor alchemist who joined this expedition for money. Despicable, unworthy of offering.》
Not this one. Not that one either.
My temples throbbed from reading too much divine text, but I pressed on.
《Bold, age 26, Human Hunter. Lacked talent; remained low-ranked despite years of training. Acceptable as a sacrifice.》
Found him.
A thin, gaunt man.
Even in death, his face was frozen in terror.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “But I need this more than you do.”
“Help me move him to the center.”
While Marlin dragged the body to the open space, I began laying out the ritual materials.
First—a small raven idol, its eyes hollowed out.
It had been in my inventory since the moment I woke in this world.
Next, the stones Abel had gathered—placed carefully around the corpse.
Finally, two candles—one by the head, one by the feet.
When I lit them, the flickering glow cast long, trembling shadows across the cold walls.
A crude altar—but an altar nonetheless.
“…So it’s time for that, huh?”
I nodded.
“Begin the offering. If it’s too much, just turn around.”
It was time to prepare the sacrifice.
I drew my ritual dagger—a cultist’s basic tool—and got to work.
Shrrk—shrrk—
The sound of blade against flesh echoed through the silence.
Each stroke spread the metallic tang of blood wider and wider, painting the gray floor red.
This is harder than I remembered.
The dull blade made the task exhausting.
Sweat trickled down my face.
All I needed to do was separate the head—but the tool barely cut.
“Why… why are you cutting off the head?”
Marlin, tail covering her eyes, peeked between her fingers.
Terrified—but curious.
“Because Lordney is particular about his meals.”
“…Meals?”
“He prefers them like shrimp—head removed. He finds impure thoughts distasteful, and heads are full of them.”
“……”
Crack.
The head came free at last.
I stretched, wiping sweat from my brow, and lifted the result of my labor.
A hunter’s head, frozen in eternal fear.
“Phew…”
I set it down gently.
Above it, black letters shimmered faintly.
《This man once vented his frustration over his lack of talent by secretly shooting innocent goblins. A sinner unworthy of wisdom. Separation was appropriate.》
As expected.
My divine skill had chosen the perfect offering—no guilt necessary.
Then, methodically, I plucked the corpse’s teeth one by one and placed them upon the chest.
Crunchy garnish, if you will.
I even sorted out the rotten ones.
I would’ve liked to add more ingredients, but this would suffice.
I placed my hand upon the chest and began the invocation.
“For the One who holds all twisted knowledge, who governs the arcane and the profane alike… your daily meal has been prepared.”
The rest of the chant was too long and too tedious to recall.
In the game, you just clicked through the options.
“…You know the rest, my Lord.”
Then, stepping back, I finished with the only line that mattered.
“Lordnet, your meal is served.”
