Livelihood Dungeon! (English Version)

"I'm Peter. Welcome to our family," Peter said cheerfully to his new pets.

Peter squatted in front of the chickens. At the moment, he was sitting in an awkward position, as if perched on a toilet bowl. He did this so he could be at eye level with them, hoping to show sincerity and respect so they would trust him more easily.

Carefully, he opened the cage door and slowly stepped back.

Peter let out a sigh of relief as the pair of Frosty Chickens gradually stepped onto the ground of the Livelihood Dungeon.

The two stood proudly in front of him, heads raised high.

Peter flinched at their unusual behavior, so different from ordinary chickens. Unlike his Silkie chickens, which had been fearful when they first met him, these two carried themselves with arrogance and confidence.

Although slightly worried, Peter still attempted to initiate a soul contract with the two Frosty Chickens using the Crest of Friendship.

Soon, he discovered that his concerns were not unfounded. The pair's haughty attitude made it unsurprising when the first attempt was rejected. What surprised him, however, was that the second attempt succeeded with only one of them.

Peter looked at the Frosty Chicken that had accepted the soul contract.

The rooster acted majestically, but Peter could immediately tell it was only a façade. Once the contract was established, he could faintly sense its emotions.

The other chicken—the hen—seemed far more arrogant, so Peter decided to focus on the rooster first.

"How are you? Can you understand me, Mr. Rooster?" Peter asked curiously.

"Kru kru." "Of course, human sir."

The rooster even raised one of its shimmering blue wings like a gentleman.

!!

Peter's mouth slightly opened in surprise before he smirked at the discovery.

He realized that unlike the docile Silkies, the Frosty Chickens were far more intelligent. At least this one clearly demonstrated intelligence—and familiarity with humans.

To further confirm his suspicion, Peter continued questioning the rooster, and it answered without hesitation.

"You know I'm human?" Peter asked directly.

"Kru kru." "Of course."

Peter wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but the rooster seemed to be looking down on him.

"How?" Peter asked.

"Kru kru kru?" "You really don't know?"

A vein popped on Peter's forehead as he confirmed he was indeed being underestimated.

Calm down, Peter. You still need this chicken. Breathe.

He forced himself to stay composed, afraid he might act rashly.

"Yes. Can you enlighten me?" Peter said in a gentle tone.

"Kru! Kru!" "Fine, since you insist!"

The rooster sighed as if doing him a favor.

"Kru! Kru! Kru! Kru! Kru!" "You are clearly far from the capital, and not just that—you are probably living in a very poor village. That much is obvious from your ignorance about our kind."

"So what if I am? There's nothing wrong with living simply," Peter countered.

"Kru! Kru! Kru!" "We Frosty Chickens are well-known in the capital and among aristocrats. We are extremely important to them."

Peter could feel the pride in its voice through the soul contract.

"Please elaborate," Peter said, pretending to be impressed.

He could feel the rooster swell with pride.

"Kru! Kru! Kru! Kru!" "We are bred by aristocrats because of our eggs. They consume them to create an army of your kind called spiriticians."

Peter nodded.

"So they really are bred for extremely valuable reasons, huh?"

Peter felt that the chickens' arrogance was somewhat justified. They were clearly highly valued by those in power despite being mere chickens.

He couldn't help but feel slightly elated.

He had struck gold with this deal.

However, he also felt a slight doubt.

"Why would Thomas sell such valuable creatures to me? There must be a catch..."

Still, he decided to set that thought aside for now.

Soon, the Silkie chickens approached.

The rooster frowned internally.

"Who are these clowns?"

"Oh right," Peter said. "These are my first type of chicken pets—the Silkies."

The rooster quickly suppressed any prejudice, knowing it might cause trouble.

"Shadow, Cotton, Grey, and Silva," Peter introduced them.

The rooster nodded at each one.

However, it internally judged them.

"What is the use of their colorful feathers? I don't sense any power from them. Just for aesthetics? Wasteful."

It proudly fluffed its own ice-laden feathers.

"This is how it should be."

The Silkies, for some reason, felt irritated by the rooster's attitude.

"By the way, Mr. Rooster doesn't have a name yet, so I'll just call him Mr. Rooster for now," Peter said.

The Silkies' eyes lit up and they smirked, feeling superior for having names.

Peter awkwardly laughed as he sensed the rising rivalry between the two groups.

"Hello, Ms. Hen?" Peter called.

The arrogant hen ignored him.

Grey, the Silkie, stepped forward angrily.

"Kru! Kru! Kru!" "How dare you disrespect Master!"

Before things escalated, the hen struck Grey with its wing.

Grey was sent flying, but was caught by her father, Shadow.

The other Silkies were about to attack, but—

"Stop."

Peter stepped between them.

"Back off," he ordered firmly.

The Silkies obeyed.

Peter frowned at the hen.

This one was far more troublesome than expected.

He originally intended to name both Frosty Chickens together, but that would have to wait.

Unlike Silkies, Frosty Chickens required a pair to produce eggs, which was ironic compared to his system.

Without further hesitation, Peter returned the hen to its cage.

She needed discipline.

Otherwise, he might have to abandon her entirely.

...

Several days passed in the Village of the Beginnings.

"Tomorrow, we're leaving, Peter. If you want, you can come with us to the city of Seaham."

Thomas made the invitation while they were talking inside the tavern, which caught Peter off guard.

"Uhm..."

Peter couldn't respond immediately due to the sudden invitation.

Thomas noticed his hesitation, so the traveling peddler was forced to reveal his true thoughts.

"You may not be aware of the danger brought by the Frosty Chickens. If Boris finds out that you own a pair of them, that man will lose his mind and won't hesitate to kill you."

Peter swallowed hard at Thomas' serious warning.

Unlike what the traveling peddler assumed, Peter already understood the gravity of the situation directly from its source—the man behind the Frosty Chickens himself.

A single pair of Frosty Chickens was enough to attract trouble, especially from greedy and ambitious aristocrats.

Although Peter already had a suspicion of who Thomas was referring to, he decided to confirm it anyway.

"And Boris is..." Peter said meaningfully, deliberately leaving the sentence unfinished.

"Boris is the lord of the Village of the Beginnings."

Peter nodded once his suspicion was confirmed.

He fell into deep thought as he noticed Thomas waiting for his answer.

After a few moments of silence, it was broken by a deep sigh.

"I'll stay here for now, my friend," Peter said with a smile, having made his decision.

"It seems your mind is made up. Be careful, my friend," Thomas replied, smiling, though his concern was still evident.

Peter appreciated the man's concern.

He would remember Thomas well.

Peter left Old Man John's tavern, as he no longer had any reason to stay.

He understood the danger of remaining in the village while in possession of the Frosty Chickens.

However, he also had his own concerns about traveling with Thomas to Seaham.

As long as he held the pair of chickens, he would remain a target. People would continue to covet them because of their immense value.

In his own assessment, traveling to Seaham—a place he did not know, filled with unfamiliar and potentially untrustworthy people—was nearly as dangerous as staying in the Village of the Beginnings.

This was the thought process of the master of the Livelihood Dungeon.

He would rather strengthen himself and prepare using resources he could control.

And that was exactly why he left the tavern.

It was time to begin his preparations.

...

"Are you really not going to change your mind, Peter?"

Peter shook his head at the traveling merchant's repeated question.

He then glanced behind Thomas upon hearing a sound he was certain was a snort.

His gaze landed on the ranks of the adventurer party known as The Harbor of Surging Rocks, the group currently serving as escorts for Thomas.

He briefly looked at the only woman in the group.

He had recently learned that she was a highly regarded spiritician from one of the most respected—and feared—professions in the world: adventurers.

She made no attempt to hide her displeasure toward Peter.

The woman openly scoffed at him the moment she noticed his gaze.

"Cassandra!"

The leader of The Harbor of Surging Rocks immediately reprimanded the female member.

Cassandra simply turned her back on her leader in response.

"Sorry about Cassandra, Peter," the leader said, scratching the back of his head.

"It's alright," Peter replied.

And so, the traveling merchant Thomas and the Rank C party The Harbor of Surging Rocks, led by Liam, finally left the Village of Beginnings to return to their hometown.

...

Inside Thomas' wagon as it made its way toward Seaham—

"Why did you do that, Cassandra?" Liam scolded the female spiritician.

"What?" she replied irritably.

"Why did you treat Peter like that?"

"Why are you defending that fool, Liam? Weren't you the one who was suspicious of him in the first place? You should be glad you've got someone on your side. What did he even feed you, huh?" Cassandra shot back sarcastically and provocatively.

"That's not what I mean, Cas. You shouldn't have treated an important client's transaction partner like that. We need to remain professional. Even if I have my doubts about Peter, I keep them to myself and don't show it."

Liam quickly explained.

"Heh! Whatever. I just don't like that guy. He's too cowardly. Thomas already gave him multiple chances to avoid danger, but he still refuses to take them."

The woman muttered, clearly irritated.

"Women..." Liam sighed in frustration.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the bumpy wagon, the two remaining party members didn't know where to look, awkwardly caught between the long-standing argument of the group's two senior members.

Thomas, on the other hand, continued driving the wagon as if nothing was happening.

He could clearly feel the resentful gazes of the two male adventurers.

If looks could kill, he would have already been dead with a hole through the back of his head.

It was only now that the two of them realized they had been outplayed by the merchant.

Thomas truly lived up to his reputation as a veteran trader.

He had enough experience to know exactly when to avoid a dangerous situation.

It might seem unusual for a merchant capable of hiring a Rank C adventurer party to be the one personally driving his own wagon...

But that decision had saved him from the extremely awkward atmosphere currently filling the vehicle.

...