Gamers of the Underworld Chapter 47

Translator: Atlas Studios  Editor: Atlas Studios

The three selected gamers with the highest Reputation Points were NotWearingPants, Arthur, and Sylvanas.

The other gamers were disappointed since they had worked very hard for the selection.

Sherlock perked himself up and admired himself in the mirror provided by the Dungeon Core. After affirming his dominance, he walked out of the Main Hall.

The three selected gamers were already waiting. NotWearingPants said to Arthur, “To complete this hidden mission, I canceled a date with my girlfriend. I wonder how long it will take.”

Arthur remained silent. He was wearing the normal Diamond Seam armor and wielding a Short Sword. He said without any emotion, “I don't know.”

Arthur didn't use the auctioned armor or sword. The other gamers also did the same, handing their equipment to Sherlock for safekeeping.

NotWearingPants sold his Plate Leggings to BurningChestHair, while the other winning bidders sought Soul Binding and insurance for their legendary items.

Sherlock planned to purchase all the required items in Winterfell. He couldn't possibly use a Teleport Scroll to travel to Winterfell just for the six legendary items.

Sherlock didn't tell the gamers that he didn't want to waste his Teleport Scroll. Instead, he told them that the Equipment Insurance required time to manifest. After the pieces of equipment were Soulbound, they were given to Sherlock for safekeeping.

He wouldn't let them be fully armed when attending the conference since they were just attendants. It was meaningless for them to carry weapons. Instead, they would wear Tuxedos.

Though the three gamers already had Tuxedos from the Winterfell Merchant Band, it wouldn't cost much to get them more presentable Tuxedos.

Sherlock let the three gamers store their equipment in the Dungeon Core Main Hall. Then, he took out a Teleport Scroll and said to the gathering of chatting gamers, “Brave citizens of the Eternal Kingdom. Because of your valor, we defeated the evil Houndhead Men and were invited to the Winterfell conference. This honor is not solely for me. The honor belongs to you, my brave warriors. Your feat will be known throughout the Underworld…”

Sherlock tore the Teleport Scroll. As the gamers cheered wildly, the magical teleport rings engulfed Sherlock and the three gamers before they vanished.

“Has the plot ended?”

“What do we do now?”

“We continue to carry bricks. Have you earned your private land?”

“Nope… two square meters for a silver coin. How could I earn that…”

“Let's carry the bricks.”

“Forming expeditions! Hunting Spiders!”

“Why are you forming expeditions? Sherlie isn't in, so who's going to revive you?”

The gamers chatted as they worked diligently.

Sherlock was transported to Winterfell amongst the wild cheering of the gamers.

NotWearingPants and Arthur had been to Winterfell before, but it was in a rush, and they didn't have time for sightseeing. It was the first time for Sylvanas, and she was in awe of Winterfell's grandeur.

When she saw the Orcs, Abominations, Werewolves, and Sirens strolling by the Teleport Portal Reception Hall, she stared.

“We had the same expression when we came the first time. Moroes was sitting there checking the tickets. That location,” NotWearingPants said excitedly to Sylvanas. There was another Gnome at the exit. Arthur remained silent as usual.

When Sherlock passed by the great ceiling painting of the Devil, NotWearingPants said, “This is the great Devil, Michelangelo, destroying the Surface World in 'World Destruction'. The great Devil almost destroyed the world.”

“How do you know? This isn't on the official website,” Sylvanas said in disbelief.

“I wrote about this in my Strategy Guide. Perhaps you didn't read my post. I'm not bluffing. When I was with Arthur during the first mission, Sherlie introduced the painting to us, but he didn't do it this time. I suppose he would only introduce it the first time.”

Sylvanas was envious.

Sherlock brought them out of the Teleport Portal Reception Hall and onto the streets.

The simulated sun emitted gentle light rays upon them. Sherlock looked at the “sky”, which was created by Mana, and marveled at its realism. It was early morning, and there was quite a while before the start of the conference. Sherlock was able to shop for their new clothing and purchase items like Teleport Scrolls. He needed to rent a Beetlemon as well, a wild one!

A Beetlemon charged around in the northern tunnel of Winterfell and bellowed wildly.

The other Beetlemons and other crawling insects were shocked by the charging Beetlemon and dodged in a hurry.

On top of the wild Beetlemon were a Devil and three Goblins. One of the Goblins shouted arrogantly, “Move away! Move away!”

The pedestrians looked in fear at the Devil and the Wild Beetlemon.

The Beetlemon dashed around recklessly and almost knocked against the buttocks of a slow elderly Beetlemon. Fortunately, the wild Beetlemon brushed against the side of the tunnel and avoided a tragic accident.

“Slowcoach, are you looking for death?”

Furious shouts faded as the Devil and Beetlemon receded into the distance.

“S*it, who are you? Shout at me if you have the guts!”

On the slow-moving Beetlemon was NotWearingPants, who pointed at the distant Devil and shouted furiously.

There were two Goblins beside him, Arthur and Sylvanas.

They weren't normal Goblins. They were gamers from the otherworld.

Behind the three Goblins was the great Devil Lord Sherlock.

“Why aren't we transported to the conference location after the end of the Plot Animation? Why do we have to sit on this slow Beetlemon?” Sylvanas asked, puzzled.

“This is normal. The Beetlemon is slow as to let us familiarize ourselves with the cityscape. Just like familiarizing ourselves with the environment of a new map,” NotWearingPants replied.

“Do we have to travel slowly on our rides? I would like to suggest having a Teleport Point so that we could travel faster on the official website. Aren't the games operating like a fast-food restaurant?” Sylvanas asked.

“I like the speed. In the previous World of Warcraft, before the 1970 series, there weren't any flying rides. Everyone worked hard to get the expensive horses. It was fun, though…”

NotWearingPants reminisced sweetly while Sylvanas rolled her eyes.

“Uncle, how long ago was that version? You have revealed your age.”

“Aren't you revealing your age with your name? You are most likely born in the 1980s, at most 1990s. Impossible to be after 2000,” NotWearingPants said.

“Who said that people born after 2000 don't play World of Warcraft? I did,” Sylvanas said.

Arthur didn't say a word. Then, after a long time, he shouted, “I'll be back in five minutes! I'm picking up a parcel!”

After that, he emitted uniform breathing sound. He wasn't sleeping but was merely offline.

Sherlock sat irritated behind the three Goblins. He had to endure the slow Beetlemon and the wild chatting of the gamers. To be more specific, the chatterboxes were NotWearingPants and Sylvanas. Arthur only chipped in occasionally.

They chatted for an hour!

Who knew why these otherworld gamers had that much to talk about?

Even if the Beetlemon was slow, it was still faster than their walking speed. After an hour, they had almost reached their destination. They saw other creatures moving in the same direction along the way. Most likely, they were also attending the conference.

Sherlock wasn't trying to save money on the Beetlemon rental. Even if he was poor, he had 4000 Magic Stones, and it was no issue buying the clothing and renting the Beetlemon.

When Sherlock wanted to rent a Beetlemon, there were no more Beetlemons available because there were many creatures attending the conference and they had rented all available ones. There was only one elderly Beetlemon left, and the rental boss had actually put it in retirement. In the end, the rental boss rented it to Sherlock for 200 Magic Stones. Sherlock decided that it was better than walking for hours.

Arthur came back online. He straightened his back and asked, “Haven't we arrived yet? I would normally have ditched online games with such poor gaming experience.”

“This isn't the usual online game. You can destroy your gaming capsule if you don't like it.”

Sylvanas pointed to the front as she shouted, “Have we arrived yet?”

Sherlock was waiting for the three gamers to quarrel and provide some entertainment when Sylvanas shouted. Sherlock lifted his head and looked into the distance. A group of huge buildings appeared.

They had almost arrived.

Chapter end