Here’s the translation of the novel excerpt, adhering to the provided glossaries and maintaining the original tone and style:
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382 City of the Tower, Babel #2
“We’re all here. This is the Mars Guild building! Didn’t take too long, right?”
Contrary to my initial suspicions, Briol turned out to be a genuinely kind and good-natured guy. Who would’ve thought he’d be generous enough to do a good deed without expecting anything in return?
And it wasn’t just Briol—most people wandering around this city called Babel seemed remarkably at ease. Their faces were full of smiles, a stark contrast to the citizens of Sodomora, who trudged to work every morning with deathly expressions.
The streets were clean, with not a single vagrant or drunkard in sight. And there were elevators, street lamps, and all sorts of modern conveniences.
For a moment, I wondered if I’d chosen the wrong starting point.
“Well then, I’ll be on my way. May the light of Baldur, who shall return to you all, shine upon you—”
“Outsiders who worship heretical gods should disappear quickly…!”
Step, step—
As I watched Briol’s retreating back, I turned my gaze toward the Mars Guild building ahead.
A magnificent structure soaring up to Babel’s third-floor ceiling—so grand it made Sodomora’s newly built Mars Guild look shabby in comparison. There was even a towering statue, likely depicting the Warrior God Mars, standing proudly with a drawn sword.
Since this was my first time visiting a Mars Guild in another city, everything felt fresh and fascinating.
So this is the Mars Guild of Babel.
Just like the first time I stood overwhelmed before Sodomora’s guild, I felt a bit crushed by the sheer grandeur before me. This was no shabby altar—it was a temple fit for a god, a testament to the Mars Guild’s prestige in Babel.
Swoosh—
I slowly stepped inside. The marble floors were so polished they reflected my face, nearly blinding me with their shine.
Look, it’s a Silver Tier adventurer.
Was there someone like that in the guild? Never seen them before.
Eyes turned toward me as I entered the guild lobby. Iron Tiers, Bronze Tiers, and even fellow Silver Tiers wearing necklaces like mine eyed me with curiosity, sizing me up.
Look, they’ve got a Nymph with them. Is that the Nymph of Ditch Water?
Must be a Demigod if they’ve got a Nymph following them.
Hearing the murmurs, Paranoi, who had been shrinking behind me in awe of the building, suddenly mustered her courage and shouted:
“All shall pay respects…! For this is none other than Hassan, the Great Duke of the Darkest and Most Powerful Hell, the Liberator of Nymphs, the Despair of Serpents, the Rider of Dragons…!”
Paranoi’s introductions were as flamboyant as ever. I wondered how she came up with such grandiose titles on the spot. Maybe she spent her days in an office researching how to best embellish names.
“And I am the foremost of the Nymphs, the future Hellfire Imp Paranoi, destined for greatness…! And also, there’s one more person who isn’t very important…!”
Paranoi finished her self-aggrandizing speech with a brief mention of Elpride. Then, as if expecting a reaction, she glanced around—
Hassan?
That name sounds familiar.
Didn’t they say a new god opened a shrine in Sodomora? Some guy claiming to be Pluto’s son. Is that him?
But is that even real? He looks strong, though.
Idiot, how could Pluto marry a woman and have a child? Nothing can be born from d*ath.
The crowd’s murmurs grew even more chaotic.
Reactions were mixed—half intrigued by me, half dismissing me as a fraud. Ignoring the stares, I made my way to what looked like a reception desk.
There, a small girl—or perhaps a young woman—wearing glasses blinked up at me.
She was a modest-looking Nymph with orange hair, short pointed ears, and braided hair.
So the receptionist here is a Nymph. Interesting.
On her chest was a small tag:
”Hired under the Nymph Quota System. Be nice or I’ll cry loudly—Arnoy.”
Nymph Quota System? Whatever. So this bespectacled Nymph’s name is Arnoy?
“Um, uh, wh-what brings you here…? I-I’m Arnoy, the Nymph of Ditch Water, the receptionist!”
Arnoy, Babel’s receptionist, was quite the stutterer.
Ah, another Nymph of Ditch Water like Paranoi. No wonder she seems a bit slow.
Arnoy fidgeted as if on the verge of tears. Paranoi chimed in from beside me:
“Ahh, Lord Hassan…! You mustn’t scare the Nymphs of Ditch Water…!”
“Scare them? I didn’t do anything.”
“G-glaring down at them like that will frighten any Nymph of Ditch Water—except for the brave Paranoi, of course…!”
Tch, d*mn it. Nymphs are so finicky.
Forced to soften my tone, I spoke as kindly as I could:
“Arnoy, was it? I came to the guild for business.”
“B-business? Y-yes…!”
“There’s an adventurer named Shilaya. Shilaya, the Gold Tier. I’d like to meet her. Possible?”
“Sh-Shilaya is in her office right now!”
“Good. Thanks.”
As I gave a half-hearted thanks, I heard a tsk and Elpride muttering behind me:
“Nymphs… What a pain.”
If Hippolyte’s office resembled a field barracks, then Shilaya’s—a fellow Gold Tier adventurer and Amazon—looked like a high-ranking general’s headquarters.
Both had armor and swords on display, but Shilaya’s space was far more refined, adorned with ceramics, flowers, and paintings.
Though, bizarrely, the walls also featured the skulls of strange creatures.
Beneath them were labels:
”Sublevel 5, Beast. 21 days.”
”Sublevel 12, Monster Boss. 15 days.”
Probably trophies from her own hunts.
“You came quickly. So, what brings you to our Mars Guild?”
Shilaya sat behind a massive, antique desk fit for a president, sorting through stacks of documents as she addressed me.
After taking in the surroundings with my companions, I finally got to the point of why I’d traveled two days by carriage:
“I need to ask Bacchus something. Can I meet him? If there’s any way to help, I’d like to.”
If Bacchus recovered, maybe I wouldn’t even need to go to Ideope—I could learn the secret of nectar straight from him.
Swoosh—
Shilaya closed the document she was working on.
“Explaining won’t do it justice. Follow me. We’re heading underground.”
“Underground?”
Elpride cut in:
“This city has an underground?”
“Yeah. It’s one of Babel’s most important places.”
Elpride fell silent. As usual, she only spoke when necessary. Shilaya didn’t ask who she was, either—seemed uninterested.
Clack, clack—
We followed the sound of Shilaya’s high-heeled greaves to a corner of the guild.
There, we saw a magical device similar to what the elf woman Briol had shown us earlier—an elevator.
Two guards standing at the entrance crossed their halberds but quickly moved aside upon seeing Shilaya.
Once we all boarded, Shilaya pressed a button—beep—and the device activated.
“First time in Babel, right? So, what do you think of the city?”
The question caught me off guard, so I answered casually:
“Clean and nice.”
“That’s what everyone says—until they see the underground. What you’re about to witness is the city’s underbelly. Don’t be shocked.”
Whirr—
Groan—
As Shilaya muttered cryptic words, our position steadily descended.
Hummm—
Just as the strange sounds and vibrations of the magical device were starting to bore me, a bizarre, pungent odor hit my nose, making me grimace.
Creak—
Clunk—
The mechanical door slid open.
What lay before me wasn’t the neat, orderly streets of the first or third floors—but the wreckage of half-built, abandoned structures.
Makeshift shelters, like dug-out caves or tents, filled the space. But worse were the people sprawled everywhere.
Sodomora’s drunks had a reputation for rowdiness, but compared to the lifeless husks here—
“Ughhh…”
“My head’s spinning…”
—they were practically saints.
These people had no will to live, their eyes hollow, drool and snot dripping from their faces.
Swoosh—
Elpride covered her nose and muttered:
“Fertilizer. They’re using vagrants as fertilizer. Just like Albrheim’s World Tree. Exploiting them to nourish the upper layers.”
“You’re an elf, huh? No wonder you give off a weird vibe.”
Shilaya finally seemed intrigued by Elpride but didn’t wait for a response.
“Right. It’s a method from Albrheim. To maintain the peace above, the vagrants down here ‘pay taxes.’”
Elpride asked:
“Taxes… as in mana?”
“Yeah. The mana-absorption barrier elf mages laid underground siphons their mana—or life force—as tax. The upper layers benefit from it.”
What kind of messed-up system is this?
I was reminded of 21st-century Korea and the country just across the border.
Starving people sacrificed for Pyongyang’s “peace.” Every shiny surface hides its own filth.
Noticing my frown, Shilaya added:
“It’s not forced, though. They get 5 silver a month.”
“Seriously?!”
Five silver a month was enough to live on. Not luxuriously, but enough for basic meals and occasional treats.
“Then why are they like this?”
“Babel’s underground has a dungeon as vast as the city itself. Magic herbs grow there. These people spend all their money on the leftover dregs after potion refinement.”
I knew about magic herbs—Antiope smoked them like cigarettes. For men, they had potent effects.
The dregs, though, seemed to function like drugs.
“Their lives, their choices. Not worth pitying. Just fools.”
Shilaya even spat on one of the writhing vagrants.
For a moment, I imagined what my life would’ve been like if I’d settled here instead of Sodomora.
Lying around, living off 5 silver a month. Suddenly, Sodomora—the city of betrayal—seemed heavenly.
“So, Bacchus?”
“Almost there. Sublevel 4. He’s recovering in the barrier’s central zone, purified by high-density mana. There—that ‘building.’”
She gestured toward a shabby tent, hardly worthy of being called a structure.
Not exactly the place I’d expect a god like Bacchus to recuperate.
The tattered tent reminded me of the soup kitchens I’d visited as a slave.
“Seriously, there?”
“Hard to believe, right? That’s why no one would think a great being resides there.”
Ah, a smokescreen. Made sense.
I pushed open the tent flap and stepped inside.
There, on a surprisingly wide bed, lay a man gasping for breath—
“You came, friend. I’ve been waiting.”
“What the hell.”
Bacchus, whom I’d expected to be frail and sickly, looked far healthier than anticipated.
“Ahh! Yes! More! Please! Ahh! Ugh…!”
“K-kiss me…! Touch my chest too! Make it bigger—make my chest grow…!”
Two women groveled at his feet, moaning.
My vision swam at the surreal sight.
“What the hell is this.”
“What does it look like? I’m making Demigods. Don’t you do this with your followers?”
“I—well—I don’t know how to answer that—”
Unmentionable acts continued on the bed. Elpride frowned, while I covered Paranoi’s eyes and ears.
“Why only cover Paranoi’s eyes and ears?! I also want to know how to make my chest bigger and how Demigods are made…!!”
“Shut up!”
Point was, Bacchus looked too healthy. His complexion was golden, not poisoned.
d*mn it. I got fooled again.
Hiding my shock, I calmly asked:
“What’s going on? Weren’t you poisoned? You look fine, but I’d like an explanation. I came all this way to see you.”
“Technically, I was. I’m still dying. Just holding on because I’m strong against poison. Tough liquor, you know.”
I see. Looked fine, but apparently not.
Swoosh—
Bacchus stopped moving and draped a robe over himself, casually kicking the women aside.
“You’re dismissed.”
“Aww…!”
“So cruel…”
Strangely, they seemed to enjoy the rough treatment.
Guess this is Bacchus’s legendary decadence, second only to Jupiter’s. Should take notes.
As I pondered, Bacchus narrowed his eyes at me.
“Wish you’d brought some humans. Especially ones with pointy ears—can’t trust those lately.”
He clearly wanted Paranoi and Elpride gone. Understandable, given his ordeal with Nymphs and elves.
“You two, step outside.”
They left without protest. Now, only Bacchus and I remained in the eerie tent.
Sensing their absence, Bacchus spoke:
“How much did Shilaya tell you?”
“That the elf-manipulated Nymph Ignoy poisoned you.”
“That’s what I let her believe. But no. The elves deceived poor Ignoy, but the one who ordered my assassination was—”
Hiss—
A chilling aura enveloped us as Bacchus paused. In the eerie silence, his face darkened.
“The one who wants me dead is a human. A human from this kingdom. They marked me as a sacrifice. You probably know them.”*
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Let me know if you’d like any refinements!
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