SSS-Class Revival Hunter-Chapter 160: The Great Snail Empire (3)

The Viper, the Black Witch, and everyone else also looked around with frowns on their faces. They also probably received a quest, and it wasn’t difficult to guess what it was.

They also have to help their species escape.

The Inquisitor smiled. Perhaps a quest was given to him as well, and it wasn’t difficult to guess what his was either. He said, “I received a quest, haha! I have to stop your exodus and defend the empire!”

Of course, it was the exact opposite of our quests.

“I believe you probably received a mission telling you to liberate each of your species from the Slime Empire. Hmm, interesting. Our goals conflict.”

There was a strange silence between us, but the shouts coming from the underground city’s colosseum slowly consumed it.

The Inquisitor stroked his chin. “I see. Everyone, surrender to me.”

The Black Witch frowned as if wondering if she heard him right. “What?”

The Inquisitor’s smile didn’t go away, as if he just made a perfectly rational statement. “I know you’re all upset right now! Even though you have known your species for fifteen days max, you affectionately cared for them, but they have been reduced to nothing but slaves. I get that you don’t understand why I’m asking this, but this is the fastest way!”

Fastest way to achieve what?

“If I hadn’t intervened, the creatures of this world would have wandered around for thousands of years! Thanks to my timely intervention, the people of this world entered the historic era in just two hundred years. That’s very fast!”

“Inquisitor, even if you’re right, using religion and slavery like this...”

“I’m not saying my method is perfect, Black Dragon Master! Imagine the lives that would have been lost over thousands of years of our history. Even if my civilization mistreats hundreds of thousands of creatures as slaves right now, it’ll only be for a few hundred years! I’ll make history flow even faster,” the Inquisitor said.

Torches were burning all over the underground city. The huge dog statue cast a long shadow over the Inquisitor.

“From the historic era to the medieval era, from the medieval era to the modern era, and finally to the contemporary era, as quickly as possible, I’ll put an end to all the mistakes, misunderstandings, and massacres that humanity had no choice but to endure!”

The Inquisitor’s voice was filled with certainty. His smile communicated to us that he could do it.

“Everyone, please surrender to me! I’ll stay behind in this world and guide these guys. In four hundred years, no, three hundred and sixty years, I’ll bring their civilization to our level!”

“You’ll stay here for another three hundred sixty years...?”

Under the pillar engraved with the scripture of the snail civilization, the Inquisitor smiled from ear to ear. “Yes! Please trust me and leave, everyone!”

***

We had a meeting but were unable to reach a conclusion. Some of my colleagues suggested leaving the stage to the Inquisitor while others vehemently opposed it. In the end, we couldn’t reach a consensus even though two hours had passed.

“First, let’s see how our species are doing,” I suggested. “I sense that we lost our composure. If things continue like this, we’ll just lash out at each other. Let’s take a look at how our people live. It’ll help us come to a decision. Tomorrow, we can meet up and discuss again. Okay?"

My colleagues nodded, holding back sighs and groans. We scattered to find the areas where our species lived.

I, of course, went to look for my people. Most of the goblins lived in salt mines.

“Today’s day shift is over, lime! Go back to your quarters!”

“Fungi, except for Pit Chiefs, are not allowed to walk around outside after shifts are over!”

“Line up in an orderly manner!”

Snails waved their tentacles. The goblins trembled as they entered the pits dug right next to the salt mine. These pits were the goblins’ living quarters.

I was struck speechless for a moment and could only groan. “This doesn’t make sense. Pits? Goblins love mud, but the only thing these pits have is a salty smell. At the very least, their living quarters should be damp.”

—I agree, the Guardian muttered. They’re looking for water.

Goblins crawled out of hundreds of pits, one or two at a time. They had red bands around their necks and were carrying water jars around their waists.

Pit Chiefs, the leaders of each pit, were trying to fetch water. They were mostly mothers, and I immediately understood why.

“Why is that kid accompanying you?”

“Kerrr, he won’t stop crying if I’m gone. Please make an exception, ker...”

“Tsk!”

The Shellmount supervisors ordered that goblins, except Pit Chiefs, not to wander around outside their shifts. However, they didn’t stop the mothers from bringing their children with them. Therefore, if a mother goblin was elected as Pit Chief, both she and her child could go outside to bring back not one, but two jars of water.

“Gorrrr!”

“Water! Ke, water!”

The young goblins jumped into the cave spring.

Splash, splash!

While the children swam, the mothers gathered water. Their ceramic jars weren’t even glazed, so if they were dropped, they would break easily. However, they were still valuable to the goblins, who were living as slaves, so the mothers were careful not to break the jars.

The more I saw, the more I couldn’t believe my eyes. The time to gather spring water was the only free time the goblins were allowed. During their precious break, the mother goblins mixed sand into water, trying to imitate the texture of mud. Using that prickly mud, they slowly drew markings on their children’s skin.

“Gorr!”

“Goreuk, goreuk!”

The children liked the feeling, though they didn’t really know why. One child used his frog-like hands and got dirt on his mother to do the same for her. It was more like a scribble than a proper marking, but the mother didn’t erase it.

Their work continued.

“It’s time for the night shift, lime!”

“Don’t dawdle, fungi!” the snail supervisor pressed them.

The snails called goblins fungi as a derogatory term. In the Shellmount language, a fungus was pronounced org, and the goblins had “gorr” in their vocabulary. That was why the snails gave them that kind of nickname.

“Hurry up and get out of the quarters!”

“Don’t drag your feet, you lazy orgs.”

I was speechless at the cruelty of calling a species derogatory terms just because they pronounced things funnily.

The goblins weren’t the only ones called derogatory terms. Skians were backfires, and Bloodborns were bloodsuckers. When it came to Fingills, they were simply called fish.

Under the Shellmounts’s reign, the unique characteristics of the species were reduced to subjects of ridicule.

“Get to work!”

“Begin the night shift!”

Thump!

The goblins struck the rock salt with their stone hammers, mining big chunks of hard salt. The goblins’ nighttime job was to chop the rock salt until it was small enough to eat.

“Kerrr...”

“Kerrrr. Kerrrr.”

Rock salt broke off from the wall, giving off a foul smell, resembling that of rotten egg yolk.

Thump, thump, thump!

The goblins crushed rock salt for hours on end. The awful smell numbed their long noses.

“Kerrrrr...”

From a distance, the goblins looked like they were just swinging pickaxes but, upon close observation, I could see their fingernails were all broken from tearing at the rock salt. Blood flowed from their wrinkled fingers and seeped into the rock salt. The goblins groaned from time to time but continued their work as if they were used to this.

The snail supervisor looked up. “Lime.”

There was only one hole in the ceiling of the cave located in the heart of the underground world. Sunlight poured in from there during the day, and moonlight at night. I could see the stars in the night sky.

“Shift’s over!”

“Night shift is over, lime!”

“All slaves, return to your quarters! Put all the pickaxes back in place. Any fungus who tries to take them away will get fifty lashes! Laime! Don’t forget! Any fungus who takes their hammer gets fifty lashes!”

The goblins lowered their heads and returned to the pits.

“Kerrr... Gor.”

When they returned to their pits, their water jars and a few carp-like fish that the supervisors threw in were waiting for them in the pits. These fishes had been caught by the Fingills. The poor mermaid folk slaves had to catch fish to feed their fellow slaves on the land.

Smoke rose from hundreds of pits as goblins grilled their fish. Children kept reaching for the fish, though it wasn’t cooked yet. The mothers, exhausted from digging rock salt all day, weakly slapped away their children's hands as if they were shooing away flies.

Still, the children kept going after the food, so they were the first to get the taste of the grilled fish, gobbling it up.

The snail supervisors on their night shift snickered.

“No matter what they eat, they always burn it before eating it, lime.”

“This is because their digestive system is less developed than ours.”

“They’re actual barbarians. How can they eat charred food?”

“By the way, the candidates that are to be sent to the colosseum next are...”

Late into the night, the goblins went to sleep. The supervisors played jackstones or dozed off in the watchtowers. Drunkards made a fuss in the distance, but the underground world slowly fell into silence. By this point, I already made up my mind.

“I think I’ll need to apologize to Raviel later,” I said.

As if the Guardian expected I would say that, he crossed his arms.

—Are you going to regress?

“Yes, if I go back and talk to the Inquisitor, it’ll be possible to create a different future.”

—What if you can’t get through to him?

“Then I will keep trying. After all, I have about two hundred years to talk to him.”

The Guardian rubbed his nose.

—I’m against it.

“Why? Do you agree with what the Inquisitor said?”

The Guardian scratched his head.

—No, it’s not that... How should I explain this so a punk like you will understand? Let’s say I’m your son for example.

“What?”

—I said for example. For example! Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. Anyway, I’m your son, but I came back from school after I got beaten up a bit. Are you going to go back a day ago and make sure I don’t get my ass kicked?

“What are you trying to say?”

The Guardian looked straight at me.

—Think about it from my perspective. If I had an accident and it unfortunately killed me, then you should regress. Don’t think twice about it. Actually, you should die and save me no matter what. Got it?

“Huh?”

—But if you go back a day just because I got beaten up, then it means the beating never took place. Don’t you think I would feel very shitty? I’m the one who got beaten up, so why the hell would you go back a day without giving me a chance?

“What chance?”

—The chance to kick my bullies’ asses back. Actually, someone told you a similar story before. Just a few months ago, the guy who raised you scolded the hell out of you.

The Guardian was talking about the orphanage director’s story about Wu Zixu.

“But...”

—Just have some faith in them.

“Who?”

—The guys around you. And yourself, by extension.

I pondered, the rats living in the cave providing me with some background music thanks to their squeaking.

—Huh? Hey, Zombie. Look at them.

“What?”

—Your guys. The goblins.

I turned my head in the direction the Guardian was pointing.

—They aren’t sleeping.

It was true. The goblins secretly crawled out of the pits, one or two goblins from each pit. After making sure that the supervisors were dozing off at the watchtowers, the goblins left with muffled footsteps.

Updat𝓮d from frёewebnoѵēl.com.

—Huh, they’re going to the mine.

Indeed. Inside the mine, the shafts were intricately intertwined like an anthill. The snail supervisors were relatively vulnerable to salt, so they couldn’t go this deep in the mine. They always managed the slaves from outside.

“Kerrr... “

“Keruk, keruk.”

The goblins whispered to each other as they walked. The deeper they went, the narrower the mine shafts and the lower the ceiling became. Whole place was like a maze. However, the goblins found their way around with skill, as if they had already been here several times.

The Guardian was amused.

—Would you look at them! It’s said that it’s the darkest under a lamp[1], but they really created a secret passage right under their superiors’ feet.

The goblins went deeper and deeper, passing through hundreds of intersections. If someone who wasn’t familiar with these tunnels stumbled upon them, they would definitely get lost and die.

Finally, after going down for over an hour, the tunnel gave way to a wide mine cave.

“Ker.”

“Kerruk, kerr.”

“Kerrrrr...”

Torchlight was weakly illuminating in the dark cave, making the outlines of the goblins waver. There wasn’t just one passage leading to this place, but several. Not only were there the goblins I was following, but groups of goblins had come in from another location.

The Guardian was impressed.

—Man... See? I’m always right! They are doing everything they can, too. They aren’t just sitting around and waiting for someone to come save them!

Perhaps in response to the Guardian’s words, the Tower whispered to me.

[The Terras’ secret meeting has begun.]

1. It’s a Korean idiom about how an obvious truth is sometimes the hardest to see. ☜