How to Get Girls, Get Rich, and Rule the World (Even If You're Ugly) Chapter 71: How to Uncover a Massive Corruption Scheme by Ac

The keys jingled in the coat pocket as I moved forward, shoulders tense, eyes sweeping every inch of the shadowed path. The internal structure of that damned place felt more like the intestines of stone and tal than any rational construction.

Corridors bent at unnatural angles. Doors opened into rooms either too small, too large, or just wrong—filled with the stench of old despair and blood-faded runes.

I passed a side wing where three glass tanks bubbled with an amber liquid. Inside, organic masses floated: bundles of preserved nerves, perhaps, or full brains, each connected to runic crystals embedded at the base of the tanks.

One of the glasses was cracked. A red rune glowed faintly, like it was begging for silence. Or rcy.

[Insight Gained: Illegal mory Preservation Unit]

→ Status: Active

→ Ethics: Non-compliant

→ Alert Level: System Recomnds Docuntation – Equipnt Missing

Perfect. As if I had a damn cara in my pocket.

I sighed, clenching my fists. The proof was right there. Everything I needed to expose what was happening in Antoril. But without a record, without images, without witnesses—I was just another lunatic with good intentions and blood on my sleeves.

I kept moving.

Iron stairs took to a lower floor. The passages grew narrower with every turn until I had to walk sideways through so sections. The air was more humid, the stench of mold hit stronger—now with notes of sulfur, sweat, and black candles.

I heard a mana filant crackling overhead, radiating energy into a sh of conduits running across the walls like tallic roots.

[Update: Local Infrastructure – Ritual Grade]

→ Mana Conduits: Overloaded (72%)

→ Detected: Intermittent mory flux, unregulated access

→ Risk: Containnt breach potential – 23%

Terrible place for a stroll. Perfect place to die.

I turned right, following a corridor marked with a "Δ" carved into corroded tal. That’s when I heard voices.

Low. Cautious. Male. Two.

I stopped at the corner and crouched down, the coat dragging dust across the floor. I peeked through a gap in a cracked wall.

An improvised storage room.

Crates stacked in zigzag patterns. Entire shipnts of sealed mories in glass vials, each labeled with date, origin, and... nas. Hundreds. Maybe thousands.

But none of that held my attention.

It was her.

Thalia.

Tied with runic cords, gagged with dark fabric, eyes half-lidded and forehead slick with sweat. Stuffed like cargo into a transport cart, wedged between two tal trunks. Her legs bent awkwardly, like she’d been tossed in last-minute. Like she was just another item on the list.

My stomach turned to stone.

The two n stood nearby. One wore a reinforced vest with leather plating, the other had gloves stained with magical ink. They spoke in low voices, staring at her with the smug indifference of butchers appraising overpriced at.

"She talked too much," said the one in the vest. "Knew too much. Said too much."

"And now she’s all quiet. It’ll be a problem if soone finds out."

"Temporary problem. We’ve got a shipnt scheduled. Just a few more hours."

The blood in my throat caught fire.

[Mission Triggered: Priority Target Acquired]

→ Objective: Save Thalia

→ Enemy Count: 2

→ Risk Level: dium

→ Emotional Modifier: Rage 8% (Combat Initiation Boost)

[Combat Readiness: 92%]

→ Equipnt: [Pickaxe – Ready]

→ Buffs Active: [Disguise / Position Advantage]

→ Penalties: [ntal Fatigue – Minor]

I stood up slowly.

My hand was already on the weapon.

My heart pounded like a war drum inside a muffled chamber.

"You’re not laying another finger on her," I muttered—quiet enough that they couldn’t hear.

Not yet.

One step forward. The tip of the pickaxe clicked softly against the ground.

The two n turned at the sa ti.

— "Who the he—?"

I was already moving.

[Action Chosen: Aggressive Reveal First Strike]

→ Battle Comncing...

→ Allies Present: 1 (Restrained)

→ Chance of Rescue: 67%

→ Tactical Modifier: Surprise Attack – First Round Advantage

And in that second—when my eyes t hers, even through the gag—I knew: it didn’t matter how rotten this place was.

I would bring down every damned brick if I had to.

The rune-lights flared in a sharp flash the mont my fists t the first opponent’s face. The sound was muffled by damp walls, but I felt the bones give under the impact. As a half-orc, my strength was nearly monstrous—1.5× that of a normal man—and each strike carried that weight. His skin—thin and cold—ant nothing. It tore in red bursts.

[Combat Status: Dante]

→ Strength: 150% Normal (Brutal Impact)

→ Defense: 85% (Fragile Skin, Bleeds Easily)

→ Abilities: Jab, Bite, Fire Magic

The second guy recovered fast, brandishing a rune-lit staff. With a sharp gesture, its tip began glowing with raw mana. The room itself seed to hum with the spell’s pressure. I felt the system chi in:

[Battle Alert]

→ Enemy Count: 2 ( 1 Boss incoming)

→ Threat Level: High

→ Health: 100% → 92% (Minor bleeds)

→ Rage ter: 10% (Protective Instinct Triggered)

He conjured a line of fire ant to knock back. But before the spell solidified—I opened my eyes and grinned. The fla flowed toward —and I breathed it in. Covered in blood, adrenaline, and fire, I exhaled a searing blast right into the mage’s face. His spell fizzled—and the room exploded into chaos.

Fireworks.

Runic "decor" and canned spells lining the shelves lit up like magical pyrotechnics. Bursts of light cascaded in waves, walls trembled. Dancing flas painted shadow-play illusions around —half-beast, half-human—while I stood drenched in blood and rage. My hair shimred red under each crackling blast.

[Environnt Effect]

→ Spontaneous Spell Triggers

→ Area Detonation: Minor Explosions every 3–5 seconds

→ Visibility: Reduced / Chaos Level: High

Half-orc virtues, human curses—I dropped the second man with a brutal chain of punches. His cheekbones collapsed under the force; the sound was like brittle twigs snapping. He dropped to his knees, tried to rise—

But I was already on him.

I bit into his arm—feral, violent, primal. The taste of iron was vivid, intoxicating. His scream never finished. One more corpse. One more silence.

[Combat Stats Updated]

→ Enemies Killed: 2

→ Player Health: 90% (Second bleed active)

→ System Buff: "Brutal Bite" 5% damage next strike

Amid the flickering inferno, I turned to Thalia. She trembled, tied down, sobbing, eyes wide with terror. I knelt, unclasped the bindings with a shaking hand—and for a mont, even in my state, I pulled her close.

She told , through broken sobs, that she’d said too much. That it was so much worse than we thought.

And guilt hit like a gut punch.

[Emotion System]

→ Thalia Condition: Fragile, Tearful

→ Dante Emotion: Protective Surge

→ Bond Reconnected: 10% Synchronization

Runes shimred faintly over her skin—fear-born pulses. Her face twisted in pain.

— "You weren’t supposed to co, Dante..." she whimpered. "It’s... so much worse."

I turned slowly, arms still wrapped around her. At the back of the room—a silhouette erged.

A man.

Or... sothing close.

Tall as a tower. Muscles carved like living stone. A face that didn’t quite make sense—too primal. His skin was grayish. Eyes glowing. Not human. Not fully.

He smiled—but not with joy.

[Boss Encounter Initializing]

→ Enemy: "Gray Titan" – Massive Strength & Unknown Magic

→ Threat Level: Boss (Imnse)

→ Dante Status: Injured but Ready ( Rage, Protect)

→ Thalia: Held – Emotional support required

The corridor still trembled with wild magic. So minor spells continued to burst. My fire had set the entire place alight. Chaos burned bright and hot. The titan raised one massive fist—and stones peeled from the floor beneath him, levitating like soldiers waiting for orders.

Thalia clung to , sobbing.

The monster—no, the titan—took a step forward. Each footfall was a quiet quake. Part of the ceiling cracked and collapsed behind him. He didn’t flinch. Fear was not part of him.

I straightened my back. Pickaxe in hand. Breathing ragged. Wounds aching. Skin slick with drying blood. My arms still lit with flickering fla.

And I felt it. Deep in the back of my skull—the certainty of the system:

[Combat Advisory]

→ Boss Strength: 200%

→ Dante Strength: 150% Fire Buff?

→ Tactic Suggestion: Push aggression, Keep distance, Use Fire Magic carefully

Thalia looked at —her eyes a mixture of desperate hope and silent apology.

And in that mont, I knew this wasn’t about conspiracies anymore. Not about incriminating files. Not about the web of secrets.

This was about survival.

About getting her out.

About ripping this nightmare open with my own hands.

The titan inhaled—and the floor shivered beneath us.

It was ti to make history.

— "Bring it on, you bastard," I growled, voice hoarse with hate and exhaustion. A shout that roared even louder than the explosions. "You’re about to find out what a half-orc’s really capable of!"