Chapter 36

Every now and then, I glance up at the clouds in the sky—they each drift along with their own distinct shapes. Clustering and dispersing at varying heights, they form that pure white we all know so well. The spring sky has a charm of its own, one that’s quite pleasant to behold.

A silvery gleam. In my hand rests a mithril pickaxe, faint traces of purple shimmering ever so slightly as I head northward. Slung over my shoulder, it’s clear to anyone who sees me that I’m unmistakably a miner. I chuckle to myself at the thought—miner, farmer, logger, fisherman—I’ve got no shortage of professions mastered.

My tattered clothes hang loosely on me. Glancing down at the fraying cuffs of my sleeves, I realize there’s yet another task added to my list.

I could just buy new clothes, but… I find myself pondering if sewing might grant me some skill points. Maybe it’s because self-sufficiency has become second nature by now, but I can’t help but try doing everything myself.

With a dramatic flick of my wide sleeves, I stride through the windless forest until I reach the mine, where a pungent smell greets me.

“Huff…”

Descending into the mine, the air grows sticky and hot, like a summer incarnate. Dust and rock particles cloud my vision in an almost oppressive manner. The sensation of my lungs slowly deteriorating is chillingly familiar.

Level 1. It feels good to step on solid ground again after a while.

As I wander through the tunnels, occasionally chipping away at bits of iron ore along the way, it’s satisfying to see how easily the chunks fall off now without much effort. Back in the day, I had to put my whole body into every swing, leaning into it with all my weight. Yet strangely enough, I never seemed to tire back then. Every time I worked, I’d end up gasping for breath.

The heat creeps up on me again. The damp, suffocating air of the mine makes it feel worse than any summer sauna. Pushing forward, I aim for level 20.

Here, the silver sheen of mithril appears. These were the ones I’ve been waiting for. Without stopping, I mine them all, continuing deeper.

Though I don’t know exactly how the mine resets daily in real-time, judging by the way the minerals are always embedded in the walls when I arrive, it’s evident the reset works perfectly.

“Ugh…”

A zombie-like groan echoes as my pickaxe swings down in sync with my exhalation. Is this weak moan even considered a battle cry?

Where did I learn that breathing technique? Somehow, it feels natural, and I keep exhaling steadily as I mine, channeling experience into action.

Clang! Clang!

The rhythmic sound reverberates through the caverns. With practice, I’ve reached a point where I can maintain a steady beat. If anything, I might deserve the title of “Mine Drummer.”

Silver fragments fly everywhere, sometimes interspersed with flashes of red, purple, and yellow gemstones. Though these gems will likely be sold to nobles or wasted as warp materials, I’d still love to show them off someday to the princess in the capital.

How much value do these gems hold for the nobility when the system barely gives me anything for them? Such thoughts pop into my mind during work.

By level 50, the temperature starts rising, signaling the arrival of different ores.

About halfway through the mine and feeling peckish, I sit down to rest. As I munch on a sandwich, I stare blankly at the reddish glow around me.

“Grh…”

That low-pitched growl scratches at my chest. A zombie approaches.

Though monsters aren’t common in mines, they’re not entirely absent either. They say even dogs leave people alone while they eat, but does that apply to zombies?

I hastily cram the rest of my half-eaten sandwich into my mouth. The delicious combination of ingredients fills me with joy—it really was a tasty sandwich. The zombie drags its feet closer. Pulling out a cool steel sword, I reflect the dim red light surrounding us, approaching the creature cautiously.

Swinging my blade, I feel the heat radiating from the zombie’s flesh. The fiery warmth seems ready to ignite.

Ah, level 50 and below. We’ve entered volcanic territory.

Every step emits a warm heat. Sweat trickles down my forehead, soaking my cheeks and pooling at my chin. My back is drenched, and I feel like I’ve stepped into a steam room.

Yet, touching the pickaxe handle feels refreshingly cold. The unique chill of mithril helps lower the ambient temperature around me. Taking a deep breath, the scorching heat brushes past my throat—a strange sensation indeed. Exhaling, I watch my breath turn into misty vapor and can’t help but laugh bitterly. What kind of harmony is this?

Dragging my weary legs forward, I lose track of time. Deep underground, where the flow of hours becomes meaningless, this happens often. Without a UI, I’d probably sleep whenever I got tired. Knowing the time somehow provides a comforting sense of stability. Checking the clock, it’s well past evening. Still feeling energetic, I decide to pitch my tent further down.

“Ooh!”

Black ore catches my eye. While it won’t upgrade equipment, obsidian has its uses.

Next to it glimmers golden ore. Orichalcum. Seeing it right away upon arrival brings a smile to my face. To be honest, this deep dive into the mine was mainly for collecting orichalcum.

Clang!

The resounding noise pierces the air. Just like the first time I faced mithril, orichalcum proves equally sturdy, showing only slight surface scratches.

Clang! Clang!

Repetitive labor ensues. Leveraging my entire body’s flexibility, I transfer power smoothly to the pickaxe tip—a skill gained from leveling up mining. This method allows for long-term efficiency with less strain.

Golden fragments scatter like dust. After hundreds more strikes, the orichalcum finally pops free. It’s the first piece earned through hard work.

Obsidian, on the other hand, shatters easily. Though unable to retrieve intact pieces, I accept its brittle nature.

Levels 55, 60…

I mine all visible gold. Mithril appears less frequently here, likely due to the intense heat matching the frequency of orichalcum.

Most abundant remains obsidian. Carefully stepping over its sharp black shards scattered across the path, I marvel at how my custom-made chain boots (level 29) protect my feet despite visible wear from the obsidian.

Level 63. Clearing out the nearby monsters—a burning golem and red slime—I set up camp using the game’s rule that prevents monster respawns on the same floor until reset.

Setting up my tent, I spread out mithril tools and ores around me. To combat the oppressive heat making sweat trickle endlessly, I place items strategically to cool the area slightly. Whether absorbing heat or emitting cold, the effect creates a livable temperature allowing me to lie down inside the tent. Despite being soaked in sweat, I forego washing and simply strip off my clothes before drifting off to sleep.

—

In my dreams, I’m buried under volcanic ash, struggling to breathe as flames fill my lungs.

—

“Hnn…”

Morning? Midnight? Who knows. No sunlight exists here in the perpetual red glow of the mine.

Heat permeates everything. Sensing temperatures higher than any modern summer, perhaps nearing 40°C, I realize I’d have woken immediately without the cooling effect of mithril nearby.

Dehydrated from excessive sweating, I gulp down water to alleviate mild dizziness, finding relief as the cool liquid slides down.

Packing up the tent, I neatly store surrounding mithril tools and ores into my bag. Heading toward level 100, I resolve to explore the mine’s depths since achievements require it anyway. Might as well collect the bountiful rewards too.

Sleeping past midnight prevented the daily reset. Around that time, I noticed the mine quivering slightly, likely signaling the reset process.

Thus, I learn: sleep either before or after midnight to avoid inconvenient monster respawns.

Keeping this lesson firmly in mind, I continue onward. My chain boots feel unbearably hot, though wearing them beats getting shredded by obsidian any day.

Mining resumes.

The clangs and bangs grow familiar. The piercing sounds of mithril and orichalcum colliding resonate clearly in my ears. Golden fragments burst forth spectacularly.

Before I know it, resting, mining, eating, and repeating lands me at level 80. Here, the environment shifts once more.

Darkened areas bear scorched marks. The searing heat subsides, making the relative coolness refreshing—a transition akin to leaving a sauna for springtime warmth. Smiling faintly, I adjust accordingly.

However, gray ash swirls everywhere. Thankfully, I purchased a mask for such occasions. Without it, I’d have torn fabric from my clothes to make one; the floating ash irritates my eyes terribly.

Regardless, the conditions remain challenging. Seeking veins of gold and silver, I swing my pickaxe with renewed vigor at the sight of increased orichalcum and mithril deposits.

“Long time no see, old friend.”

Adamantite. Its eerie purple hue emerges gradually. Though lacking direct utility, it finds use in magic and alchemy. Mining it proves no harder than mithril, though orichalcum remains the most time-consuming.

Breathing slightly faster but unfazed, I push deeper into the mine. Thankfully, the repetitive structure simplifies navigation, sparing me the trouble of wandering aimlessly.

Levels 90, 95…

Finally, level 99. A white door adorned with a skull greets me. Instead of stairs, something else leads downward. Strange yet welcoming, I grasp the handle without hesitation.

Creaking loudly, the stubborn door finally opens with a little force.

“Whoa.”

A pedestal stands before me. Black and ominous, it supports a single box at its center.

The reward varies with each playthrough. Sometimes it’s powerful gear, rare potions, eternal elixirs, or even maps leading to treasures.

Anticipation builds as I wonder what awaits within.

The box resists opening initially. Handling it carefully to avoid damage, I pry it open.

Click! A soft glow emanates from the box as I blink to adjust my vision.

“Huh?”

What is this?

Before me lies a black oval object, resembling an egg.