20. The Final Chamber

The night withdrew in silence.

Yet the darkness did not vanish. The sky still hung heavy with black clouds, as though ready to pour down tears at any moment.

The expedition busied themselves with preparations for departure before the rain could break. The noblewoman changed into exploring clothes, fixed her hair, and even dusted a little powder onto her face.

They ate salted pork and hardtack softened in water, then strapped on their packs without a moment's rest — the first drops of rain had already begun to fall, one by one.

"We're going in now!"

The expedition drew their staves and mounted mana orbs upon them. Thus three orb-staves lit the front, the middle, and the rear of the column.

The passage leading underground was so cramped that they had to descend one at a time. Roots dangled like whiskers from the earthen walls, which gave off a smell of ancient soil, and insects crawled about ceaselessly.

Even when the lady glimpsed a centipede the size of a thumb scuttling along the dirt wall, she merely sucked in her breath — she did not shriek like some sheltered noble maiden. That was the grit of a woman bold enough to pour a fortune into an expedition that might well come to nothing.

Climbing down through the endless, pitch-black, suffocating passage, Yurik felt as though he had been swallowed whole by an enormous serpent.

Just when it seemed they had been descending for ages, a thud echoed from the front of the line as someone's boots struck level ground. Before long, Yurik too stepped onto flat floor. From here on, the walls enclosing the space were no longer raw earth but hewn stone — granite, by its shape and texture.

The stairs had ended, but not the passage. It had, however, widened considerably. Recadi, the commander who would direct the exploration, reformed them into two columns. Of course, at the very front stood Acho alone — a tomb raider who insisted she was not a plunderer but a trap specialist. Hers was the task of finding the physical traps that mana detection could never reveal.

Yurik held a position near the middle of the line. Beside him was Dimnos the archer, whose hawk-sharp eyes swept ceaselessly in every direction.

Through the long passage there was not a single voice — only the shuffling echo of dozens of footfalls. Whenever a hand signal from the front called a halt, the expedition would freeze in near-perfect unison, faces taut with tension, eyes darting around. If a trap sprang, they would need to react at once.

Yurik cast mana detection again and again toward the gloom far down the passage. So far, there was nothing worth guarding against.

"Short rest here!"

They hadn't come all that terribly far from the entrance stairs, but moving one cautious step at a time had drained a good deal of time and strength. Still, a safe exploration simply took time; there was no helping it.

"Don't touch anything around you! Sit exactly where you are and rest!"

Recadi issued the warning to his men. In a dungeon, touching whatever caught your fancy was the cardinal sin — a rule of rules.

The expedition sat down and chewed on dried meat and dried fruit.

"Something better ought to turn up. That's how we get a bonus on top of the pay."

Bald Victor was clearly hoping that, since they were suffering anyway, a trove of treasure would spring forth and pad his purse with an extra gold coin or two.

Of course, not every dungeon paid out big. Some were utterly empty, or stuffed with nothing but worthless junk, or riddled with traps set with the sole intent of slaughtering every intruder who stepped inside.

Rest over, the expedition set off again along the passage. Each breath drew air so cold it seemed to stab into the lungs, thick with the damp smell of wet earth.

After walking for what felt like a long while more, they finally emerged from the passage.

"……A room."

The space had opened up — but this was hardly where a dungeon would end. Naturally, there was not a scrap of treasure to be seen. Not even a scrap of garbage.

It was one enormous chamber. Perhaps the size of a common inn's main hall. But its vaulted ceiling rose so high that it would take three or four grown men standing on each other's shoulders to touch it.

All of it, of course, the handiwork of an ancient mage. If digging dungeons underground had required battalions of laborers, this land would never have come to hold so many of them. In that age, most mages had been Word Mages — they carved the earth and cut the granite and raised the walls with nothing but their voices.

I'm glad I came to a dungeon. It feels entirely different from reading about it in books alone.

Yurik felt, viscerally, just how extraordinary a single Word Mage must have been. It was surely thanks to beings like that that humanity had held back the demons forever pressing at their borders, and still managed to let civilization blossom. And it struck him that perhaps the mages of today, shackled by the chains called runes, were the ones whose possibilities had been limited.

"Commander, I don't see any other passage down here."

Aside from the passage they had entered through, no other route showed itself in the underground chamber.

"There'll be a mechanism. Everyone search. Do not touch anything!"

The commander had the lady and the two laborers — neither of whom would be any help — sit in the middle of the room and rest, while the rest circled the chamber hunting for anything unusual.

Yurik, scanning his surroundings meticulously, noticed that one section of a wall was recessed ever so slightly. It was a difference so fine that a casual glance would never register it as an anomaly. Without his practiced eye, they might have wandered about for ages searching for it.

"Over here — I think there's something!"

"What? There?"

At Yurik's shout, the expedition crowded around. But no matter how they looked, it seemed nothing more than a wall.

"Magic? I can't see a damn thing."

"No, the wall is recessed. Very slightly. I think it's some kind of press mechanism."

At that, several of them pressed close to the wall and checked for differences in height.

"He's right. It really is lower — by a damn hair!"

"Must be the mage's eye, huh. Sharp as anything."

Commander Recadi gestured to Acho to double-check. She drew from the tool bag at her belt a brush made of deer-chest fur and gently swept the dust from around it. There was, certainly, something like a seam. She slid a very thin rod into it and moved it slowly, feeling for anything that might catch. For now, at least, there seemed to be no trap mechanism in the seam.

Acho then combed over the floor and ceiling as well — to avoid disasters like a volley of poisoned arrows or a collapsing floor or ceiling.

"It seems safe, for now."

There was no such thing as perfectly safe in a dungeon. There was only probability.

Then Acho had everyone fall back as if to say wait, and, still watching her surroundings, slowly pushed the wall. On the far side, directly opposite the entrance they had come through, a wall swung open with a low grinding rumble.

"There we g—!"

Fortunately, there was no trap — only a passage leading onward to the next place.

The expedition advanced once more through the dark passage. The thick, garish cobwebs draping down from its ceiling lent the gloom an extra shade of bleakness. The air of excitement that had gripped them moments before chilled to frost in an instant.

It was then that Yurik sensed a mana reaction for the first time. Not far away.

"Commander."

Yurik called to Recadi in a low voice, and the man gave a small nod — he had felt it too.

The passage ended after only a short run, opening into yet another chamber. A far larger one this time — so large that the glow of the mana orbs barely grazed the far wall.

"There — a door!"

This time there was no need to search for a hidden passage; a door stood plainly visible on the opposite side.

But their gazes did not rest on the door alone. They fell also upon what stood beside it — a stone statue, easily three meters tall.

The three mages used mana detection almost the instant they laid eyes on it — and felt a mana response coming from it.

"…A golem."

An ancient war-machine wrought by the Word — a golem.

Even the Mage's Tower could produce golems, true, but only tiny ones; the likes of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this they would not so much as dare to dream of. Such things were created by Word Magic itself, in an age when no crafting methods had ever been written down. Great relics of a time modern mages could not even begin to interpret.

"Shit — a golem right out of the gate…"

And golems were notorious for being among the nastier foes a dungeon could offer.

"Everyone — battle formation!"

The expedition scrambled into formation. Those who would be no use in a fight retreated back through the passage they had just come from.

At that very moment, the golem awoke. A tremendous pulse of mana surged, and its eyes flashed crimson. Yurik sensed that the creature's mana wavelength was faintly, subtly unstable. The mana orb embedded in the golem's body had suffered some flaw over the centuries. Given the right shock, it might well shatter from within.

The two vanguard, Engelgard and Madarot, moved up and planted their shields. Immediately behind them, Haral gripped his sword tight, ready to spring at a moment's notice.

The three mages readied their spells as well — though considering the golem's defenses, their chances of doing more than expected were slim.

I need to send a shock through its body and shatter the mana orb inside.

Even as the thought formed, the golem was already thundering toward them at alarming speed. And it swung its blunt fist straight down.

—!

A sound close to an explosion cracked through the air, and Engelgard, shield and all, was hurled clear across the room and slammed into the wall. Immediately after, a mana bolt struck the golem square on the head and burst against it.

Yurik could have used something far more powerful, but he had to account for the chance that the impact might crack the walls and bring the ceiling down on them all. Erasing the golem only to bury the entire expedition alive — that was to be avoided at all costs.

Better Mass Magic than mana bolts that could go astray, then.

Struck by the mana bolt, the golem lost a chunk of its head — and, utterly unbothered, swung its other fist. This time Madarot took the hit and went flying.

The thing's strength was beyond anything a single person could stand against. Each blow carried destructive force nearly on par with magic.

Then old Haral darted forward and slashed at it — but unless he were a master whose swordsmanship had touched the heavens, no strike like that could wound a golem. The matchup was hopeless to begin with.

—!

The golem swung its arm again, but Haral flattened himself and slipped beneath it, then rolled aside from the hammering fist.

Watching for an opening, the archer Dimnos loosed an arrow dead into the golem's eye. Useless, as expected. She had hoped it might be a weak point — a vain hope.

Bald Victor, watching Haral dance around the golem's attacks, finally spat a curse and rushed in as well. He never got a single strike in; one blow of the golem's fist sent him sprawling. Judging by the way he lay twitching on the ground, the impact had been considerable.

The commander and the middle-aged mage fired mana bolts at the golem once more — this time at its torso rather than its head.

And in the instant the bolts struck home, Yurik brought a hammer of Mass Magic crashing down on the creature's skull. The golem pitched forward with a boom. Even so, it seemed barely scratched.

"Smash it to pieces!"

Engelgard and Madarot, barely back on their feet, charged in, clambered up the fallen body, and hacked away at its back with axe and shield. But before they could land enough blows, the thing rose first.

"Move!"

At Yurik's cry, the two dove aside to either flank — and a mana hammer swung with full force into the golem's chest.

BOOOM—!!

Under the massive impact, the golem toppled backward. This time the damage was real — proof of it in how violently its mana wavelength wavered.

Its arms twitched as it tried to push itself upright, but its movements had slowed markedly. At that, the mercenaries swarmed in and hammered its chest without mercy, and each blow made the thing flinch. At last they carved its chest away entirely and destroyed the cracked core within.

Only then did the golem fall fully silent.

The mercenaries collapsed where they stood, sprawled across the floor, cursing magnificently and heaving for breath. Acho and the non-combatants ran to them, checking for wounds.

"Damn it, every bone in my body aches!"

"I think my left arm's in pieces."

The three mercenaries who had taken the golem's blows head-on had broken bones in several places. Yurik hurriedly dug through his pack, pulled out a bottle of potion, and had each of them take a sip.

"Bleurgh — shit! What the hell is this?! Did you scoop it out of a sewer?!"

"It works, so don't spit it out. Cracked bones will knit right up in no time."

"Mine feels a bit loose, though."

"Even that'll set. Just takes a little longer."

Everyone carried a potion or two of their own, but a free potion always tastes better than your own. …Mind you, this particular one tasted like drinking ditchwater.

Its potency was beyond doubt, though: Engelgard and Madarot shook themselves off, sprang up at once, and flexed their arms as if nothing had happened.

"Tastes like ass, but it works like a charm. I'd say I'm already healed?"

"It may look that way, but it hasn't fully set. Rest a little longer."

"Shit, you lucky bastards."

Victor, who still looked like he was dying of pain, clicked his tongue at the two who were already up and about.

The lady had crept out of the passage, and her face — having just witnessed the battle — showed that only now had she truly grasped what danger a dungeon held.

"The commander's eye for talent really is something. That Yurik kid's the real deal, huh? Thanks to him, we got through that easy."

Engelgard ruffled the youngest's hair into a mess. Honestly, none of them had expected him to perform this well. The only one unsurprised was Commander Recadi, who had already recognized his genius.

The expedition took a long rest in that chamber, eating a proper meal. Then, refreshed and reorganized, they opened the entrance to the next room.

They expected another mechanism, but fortunately the door opened as plainly as any door would. It was simply a slab of granite so heavy that Engelgard and Madarot had to throw their shoulders into it together to push it open. They had considered shattering it with magic, of course — but there was no need to court unnecessary risk.

And so a dark passage appeared once more. This one stretched considerably long.

"……How much time has passed?"

"Past noon for sure. My belly clock's never wrong."

Short of catastrophe, even the largest dungeons could usually be cleared within a day. Normally half a day sufficed, and a small one could be done in less. Mind you, large and small were relative terms between dungeons — every dungeon was enormous in its own right.

Acho, walking at the very head of the column, finally found a trap. The moment she did, she signaled a halt, and the line froze as one.

"Don't step here."

She wet a strip of paper and laid it over the spot that must not be trodden — a warning to avoid it. The expedition moved around it.

"The final chamber is coming up soon."

A room beyond a trapped passage almost always meant something important lay within. Especially before the final chamber — traps clustered there with hardly an exception. Which meant that now was the moment Acho the trap-specialist would shine brightest.

"From here on, everyone be careful. There's nothing more bitter than dying with the treasure right in front of your nose."

As expected, the traps were many. The ones hung from the ceiling were deadly enough that a single lapse in attention could kill.

Having passed a full four traps, they at last stepped into the final chamber.

…Ah…!

It was a room markedly different from all the others. Its stone was not granite but luxurious marble, and it was so vast that the light of the mana orbs could not even reach the far wall. They lit several more orbs to brighten the space.

"The treasure?! Where's the treasure?!"

"Shh. Calm yourself, madam. It isn't over yet."

The commander steadied the lady. The mercenaries kept their guard up. If this truly was the final chamber, there was no way it stood undefended. A room that could set a golem in the last one — this one would have more.

They advanced in formation. …And slowly, something began to come into view.

……!!

What caught the expedition's eyes was a statue of gleaming white marble.

It was not a golem. It was, if anything, closer to a treasure.

"Oh…!"

The marble statue stood behind an altar. The expedition approached the altar with their eyes on every shadow around them.

Yurik cast mana detection again and again, but there was nothing here. The room was as empty as though it were not the final chamber at all.

"Ah…!"

There was, to be sure, something on the altar. Several dozen gold coins, and three jewels. But that was all there was.

Disappointment carved itself plainly into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the lady's face. Measured against what she had invested, it was not even a drop in the bucket. The jewels would fetch a fair price, granted — but she had not endured all this hardship for a handful of gems.

"No one touches them yet. There may be a mechanism."

The commander, naturally, did not lay a hand on the treasure. This altar in particular looked suspicious as anything — the kind of thing that fairly begged for a device.

"Acho, inspect it."

"Yes, Commander."

Acho examined the altar and everything around it with exhaustive thoroughness. It inevitably took time.

In the meantime, the expedition sat resting on the steps where ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the altar had been raised.

"Awfully anticlimactic."

"Maybe this isn't the final chamber after all."

"Then why's it done up fancier than a bloody palace?"

"What if somebody already cleaned this place out and cleared off?"

"Then why'd they leave that behind?"

"Too heavy to carry, that's why."

"Bullshit. Any mercenary worth his salt would haul it out even if he had to stuff it up his—"

"Fair point."

Their tension easing a little, the mercenaries snickered.

While they joked, Yurik drew near the marble statue and examined it.

There was, unmistakably, writing carved upon it. It differed little from the modern script, though a few characters he could not read.

It was a dedication honoring the deeds of the hero Tuvalu. The marble bore three figures: the hero Tuvalu at the center, the mage Tithon on the left, and, it seemed, the priest Norbert on the right.

…Could this be their tomb?

Yurik read the words beneath the figure presumed to be Mage Tithon as well.

At that very moment, someone let out a small gasp of awe.

"Look at the statue in the middle. There's a sword in its hand — that's not real, is it?"

The commander pressed a mana orb close to the statue to check. It was certainly no piece of carved marble — it was a real sword. He had failed to recognize it at first because the blade was a pale grey-white.

The lady's eyes lit up at once. It looked every inch a hero's statue — and if the sword was real, it had to be a treasure of staggering value!

"So that's the true treasure of this dungeon. I must have it!"

Gold coins and jewels no longer interested her in the slightest. Even to her, ignorant as she was of swords, that blade was unmistakably something wondrous.

"We have to confirm whether there's a trap first."

"Trap or no trap, I'm taking it! Something like that is worth the risk."

The commander ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had Acho inspect it. She called Bald Victor over, then climbed onto his shoulders.

"Christ, it's heavy!"

"Don't you go wobbling, you bald oaf!"

After a stubborn, exhaustive examination, Acho discovered some kind of device in the statue's hand. What it connected to, however, she could not find.

"If we pull this out, something will happen. I just don't know what."

By all principle, they should have left it alone.

But the lady showed no sign whatsoever of retracting her demand. Her resolve to take that sword, by any means necessary, was iron.

"It might be the very mechanism that opens the way to the true final chamber, mightn't it? Where is it written that this room is the final chamber?"

The lady's argument was not entirely absurd. The commander shot Acho a questioning look, and she allowed that the possibility wasn't zero. Slim, but not zero.

"I say we try it, Commander."

In the end, the final authority rested with the lady who had hired them. The commander nodded that he understood.

"Then we'll draw the sword. There's a device on it, so everyone get into position and prepare for whatever comes."

The expedition took up their formation. The laborers collected the gold coins and jewels, which had been judged safe to take.

Once he confirmed everyone was ready, the commander ordered Acho to draw the sword. Perched atop Victor's shoulders, she drew it out with the utmost care.

"………?"

Nothing happened.

"The device… it must've rotted through and failed to trigger!"

At Acho's cry, everyone let out a breath of relief.

And at that very moment, Haral pressed a finger to his lips and hushed them.

"……Old man? What is it?"

"You don't hear that?"

Everyone strained their ears.

…There was, unmistakably, some sound coming from the passage.

And immediately after—

FWOOOOOSH—.

A colossal torrent of water began pouring out of the passage.

"Oh, shit—!"

Everyone stood frozen in shock, not knowing what to do. Water began slowly filling the chamber.

The trap was a flood?!

"Goddamn it! I knew we shouldn't have touched anything!"

Vile curses erupted. The lady, lost to panic, could do nothing but tremble.

Yurik, too, faced with something he had never experienced, went blank for an instant.

…No — no! Pull yourself together! Pull yourself together! It isn't over. There's a way out. There has to be.

Yurik took a deep breath and shook his head fiercely from side to side.

Meanwhile, the water was already licking at their ankles.

"Commander! Wh-what do we do?!"

"Shut up and let me think!"

"Shit — shove the sword back in! Put it back in!"

"It went back in ages ago, you idiot! It won't stop!"

The water kept rising. The mercenaries clambered up onto the high altar and the marble statue — not that it would buy them much more time.

"I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die like this!"

Yurik racked his memory for what he had seen — everything, from the passage to this room.

Think. Calm down. Think. Think, damn it…!

It couldn't be hopeless. There had to be a way.

There has to be a way…!

And in that instant, something flashed across Yurik's mind.

The words of Mage Tithon.

And then he saw it.

Mage Tithon's outstretched arm — and the finger standing at its end.

The path forward.

The final chamber.

"Everyone — get ready to move!"

Yurik's roar tore through the panic, sharp enough to snap every dazed mind back to attention.

And he brought his mana hammer down hard upon the wall the finger pointed to. Once, twice, three times…!

With a thunderous crash, the wall at last gave way.

"Run for it! Move, move!"

The expedition ran.

Through the passage revealed beyond the broken wall.

Toward the final chamber.