Chapter 43

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Translator: MadScientist

Chapter: 43

Chapter Title: Steel Tower (5)

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"W-Wait a second. Hold on!"

Bran ignored the pleading guard and swung his sword.

Slash! The blade sliced through the man's neck like butter and emerged on the other side.

"This is going smoother than expected."

He muttered as he watched the headless body collapse.

Blood dripped from his chin.

Behind him lay ten armored corpses and ten severed heads with eyes wide open in shock.

Well, yeah. Golems are the main force here, not humans.

The guards were no match for Bran.

It was only natural.

Human guards here were mainly for managing researchers and facilities.

Still, without five days of training, it wouldn't have been this clean.

"Worth the effort."

Ten minutes into the first skirmish.

Bran's party pressed toward the lab's center, cutting down golems and sentries they encountered.

Their steadily improved stats were higher than expected, making progress smoother than anticipated.

"Haha! This is the best!"

Ilrak's performance stood out the most.

She had long since torn off the ill-fitting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠suit.

She clearly suited combat more than espionage.

Thud! Ilrak landed in the midst of tightly packed guards and grinned, baring her teeth.

"Hello."

"Eek."

They didn't even have time to scream.

She gripped the hatchet handle with both hands and spun in place.

Kwaaaaang!

Dismembered bodies flew up like a macabre dance.

"Ha."

A rain of blood poured down.

A red shimmer rippled along her spine.

Now Bran understood why he had insisted she use a weapon.

The 2-meter-wide, double-headed axe longer than its width was nothing less than a tool for harvesting lives.

Then, a mechanical voice echoed from behind the panting Ilrak.

Ilrak whipped her head around.

"Huh?"

A new-model golem armed with a massive war hammer charged toward her with heavy thuds.

Seeing its height towering two heads above her, Ilrak curled her lips into a smile.

"Your turn now?"

Her pupils narrowed to slits.

Unlike fragile humans that tore at a touch, this opponent whetted her appetite for battle.

The specially forged hatchet blade began heating from her body temperature.

"Hup!"

Ilrak shot forward like a bullet.

As she swung the axe, searing lines etched across the golem's body and hammer shaft.

Kwaaaang!

The moment they crossed, the bisected golem crumbled.

Crunch! Ilrak landed, scraping the floor, and let out a scoff.

"Hmph, nothing special."

It was about time for a stamina refill.

As she caught her breath to call Kael—

"What?"

The mechanical voice came from right behind her.

The moment she spun around in alarm—

Clang! The severed war hammer flew and smashed into her face.

"Kwahk!"

Her head rang. Her nose felt broken.

As she fell on her butt, Ilrak's eyes widened.

The golem's upper body charged at her with ferocious momentum.

"Eliminate. Eliminate. Eliminate."

"So tough..."

Ilrak gritted her teeth.

Its arms propelling it like legs made for a grotesque sight.

As she rose using her tail to smack the floor and prepared to counter—

Puk!

A white sword blade sprouted from the golem's chest.

"#@... damn..."

"...!"

Ilrak froze.

The light in the golem's eyes faded.

Thud. The rampaging torso flopped to the floor.

Bran approached with heavy steps and yanked his longsword from the golem's back.

"You didn't smash the core. Should've aimed higher."

"Bran...!"

"As long as power's supplied, they keep moving. No different from undead."

To fully kill a magitech golem, the core had to be destroyed.

Core locations varied by model; this new one was dead center in the chest.

Having faced them countless times in the game, it wasn't hard to get the feel.

Ilrak clicked her tongue.

"...You're right. I got careless."

She had forgotten key intel in the heat.

Couldn't deny the thrill of bloodshed had excited her.

Time to cool her head.

Crack. She reset her crooked nose and spoke.

"Kael. Heal me up."

"Y-Yeah, coming!"

Kael scurried from his hiding spot.

He had been stealthily following, casting buffs.

Anxious, but undetected so far.

It works, at least.

Bran raised an eyebrow.

Good call giving the kid the stealth cloak.

The two cloaks from Zelban's leather specialized in stealth and defense.

Kael stopped before Ilrak and aimed his staff at her face.

Shaaaa...

Warm rays like a spring morning poured out.

"Sunlight of healing."

"Ha. That's the stuff."

Ilrak laughed heartily.

Her wounds healed rapidly.

Nosebleed stopped. Crooked bones realigned.

Subcutaneous bruises faded as if never there.

"Solid performance."

Bran whistled.

Kael's new main heal: Healing Sunlight.

A skill blending holy power and mana to emit restorative light.

Among recovery spells common for circle 2+ clerics, it was top-tier.

A notification appeared for Bran in the light's range too.

No wounds, but combat fatigue melted away.

Kael finished healing Ilrak and turned to him.

"Want some too, Bran?"

"I'm good. Not the end yet—manage your mana."

"Yeah. Just say when!"

Kael lowered his staff.

With wounds and stamina restored, Ilrak cracked her neck side to side with a grin.

"Perfect. I can take down another thousand now."

Bran felt he'd assembled the party well.

Her stamina was still poor despite heat control improving efficiency.

But with Kael attached as a backup battery?

Reducing the third floor to rubble before she ran dry was feasible.

"Wh-Why no response?!"

"No idea! Second and fourth floors aren't answering!"

Then.

A panicked voice echoed from beyond massive machinery.

Peeking around the corner revealed guards clutching mics and stomping in frustration.

"Damn it! Contact the chief administrator directly!"

"Th-That won't... Ack."

The young man collapsed mid-sentence.

Bran had snuck up and slit his throat.

"Give it up. No one's coming."

"Gahhhh!"

Another head flew.

No reinforcements would arrive.

Thanks to Bran's player-knowledge-based plan.

Right after the first clash, he'd destroyed the third floor's comms relay.

There's a reason wars bomb broadcast stations first. Can't have Silien spotting us yet.

A tactic unique to the third floor, unlike the alarm-blaring fourth.

Now, communication here was shout-only.

Made reaching the center much easier.

Suddenly, an enraged shout rang from afar.

"There they are! Get 'em!"

"Target sighted. Initiating elimination protocol."

Looking up, guards and golems swarmed like shock troops.

Far more numerous than previous groups.

As expected of the massive third-floor lab.

Reason newbie hell and level-up spot coexisted as nicknames.

As Bran pondered countermeasures—

"Found 'em! Those bastards are the intruders!"

"B-Bran! Over there!"

Voices came from the flank this time.

Kael pointed in horror; a force equal to the front charged from the side.

This was tricky. Over twenty golems.

People numbered three digits by eye.

Bran sighed lightly and gripped his sword hilt two-handed.

"Well. This is why we're here."

"Haha! Short on confidence, so overwhelming numbers?!"

"Raweina...!"

Heat haze rose over Ilrak's shoulders.

Kael, cloak tight, closed his eyes in prayer.

Morning light, brighter now, coated their weapons.

Bran said,

"Breakthrough the front."

Silence meant agreement.

All three surged forward.

Midway, Kael peeled into an empty alley.

Kwaaaaang!

Bran and Ilrak clashed with the front mass, unleashing a metallic explosion.

Transparent messages heralded the battle's end.

His body burned hot. Bran wiped blood-soaked face.

"...We made it."

The path ahead cleared.

No idea how much time passed, but not long.

Kael and Ilrak panted beside him, having survived the gauntlet together.

"Haa... haaa..."

"Th-Thought I was dead."

The two non-Kael members looked like slaughterhouse workers.

Crushed eyeballs or gut bits no longer fazed them.

No status window is a shame. Bet EXP skyrocketed.

Key point: enemies dead, we live.

Hundreds of corpses and golem wreckage littered their path.

Vast lab meant more foes, but none visible now.

Ilrak looked up.

"So. This the central sector?"

"Yeah."

Bran nodded curtly.

They stood before the isolation wall of the third-floor lab's core: central sector.

Mandatory stop to prevent Steel Tower's fall—passage to fourth floor.

Sole entrance: thick alloy door.

"Haa... Step back. Big sis'll bust it open."

Ilrak rose from atop a golem head.

Tough job, but dealers bore it.

Heat from her chest spread along her spine.

Spt.

She spat on her hands and gripped the axe solemnly—

Beep-boop.

Smooth mechanical whir; the door slid aside.

"...Huh?"

"Whoa. It opened."

Ilrak stood dumbfounded.

Bran scratched his head awkwardly after inputting the passcode.

Don't give me that look. Saves energy, right?

"...How?"

"Beats me."

Bran chuckled dryly.

Honestly hadn't expected it to work.

Security like some backwater army!

Still the same password after all these years.

Anyway, easy entry was good.

"Let's go."

"Uh... yeah. Right. In we go."

"H-Heal up first, everyone!"

Bran led through the wall.

Apparently all-forward deployment; no guards inside.

Straight path flanked by massive iron cages.

Step.

Footsteps echoed—

"Eek! Don't kill us!"

"Kyaa! It's here?! You finally came!?"

"What?"

Frightened voices burst from beside them.

All three eyes widened.

In an unusually spacious alloy cage, pale-skinned folks huddled together.

"W-We don't know who you are, but we've done nothing wrong! Please spare us!"

"You guys..."

Maybe twenty at most.

All in white coats, ankles shackled like Linhite at first meeting.

Bran nodded.

"Ah, gathered the researchers here."

"Y-You know us...?"

"Of course. I do."

Odd they were missing.

Third-floor lab researchers.

Dragged here, reduced to slave-like geniuses.

Usually hounded, but vital assets evacuated preemptively.

Perfect. No time for rescue op anyway.

"No plans to harm you. Stay put. We'll free you after."

"Wh-What job...? Who are you... No, where you headed?"

"Basement fourth."

"Whaaat?!"

Researchers gasped protests, but Bran ignored.

Risky, but necessary to stop Silien's collapse show.

Stairs to fourth at path's end.

Come to think, visible from here.

Entering, Kael and Ilrak gasped.

"Fuck. What the hell."

"Th-Those all people...!?"

Gazes fixed on flanking iron cages.

Precisely, their contents.

Over a hundred men and women in orange jumpsuits sprawled asleep.

Bran said,

"So violent, they sedated 'em. Smart call."

"Wh-What kinda people? Why like that..."

"Prisoners. Secret to smart new-model golems. See the head incision lines on some?"

"...Secret?"

Bran grimaced wryly.

Indeed, dotted lines marked temples on some.

Kael pondered, then covered his mouth.

"N-No way!"

"Yep. New-model golem cores made from human brains."

"This fucking..."

Ilrak spat curses reflexively.

Core material for breakthrough new golems: human brains.

Silien's true face, genius magitech engineer.

"Most death-row inmates. Sneaked violent scum worthy of death. First time seeing 'em sprawled like this."

"Wh-Why death-row...?"

"Best efficiency on rampage. No need to order kills—just release limiters, and they slaughter everything in sight."

No murder training needed for most new golems.

Explained their obnoxious speech patterns too.

Struck by a good idea, Bran snapped his fingers.

"Right. Release these bastards. Leave researchers be."

"I-Is that okay? Death-row?"

"That's why release 'em. Meat shields to buy time fighting guards."

Fodder to delay pursuers if played right.

Scum anyway—no guilt.

Time to act.

As Bran scanned for handles—

A red alert popped before his eyes.

New type. Chills raced over his skin simultaneously.

Danger.

No reason known.

No immediate threats visible.

But instincts never failed him before.

Whoooong—

Bone-chilling wind poured down the steel cage alley.

"Get back!"

"What?! Why all of a—"

"Gah!"

Bran spun and shoved them hard.

As he embraced Kael and Ilrak in a fall—

Kwaaaaaaaaaang!

White explosion erupted where wind passed.

Mysterious white flames devoured everything in 10m radius, writhing.

Shaaaa...

Following smoke enveloped the three.

"Eek. Freezing!"

"F-Fuck... what is this?"

Kael and Ilrak paled.

The mist was extreme cryogenic chill.

Dense gas laced with ice particles.

Bran frowned ahead.

"Ah. Damn it."

Prisoners caught in blast: frozen statues.

Frost coated floor, walls, bars.

One in Steel Tower used such tech.

Suddenly, an old man's voice echoed from frosty path's end.

"...Heh heh. What in the world is this racket."

Whoosh! Frost split left and right.

An old man in work clothes appeared.

Short, white hair and beard, but no pushover.

Same aura as Silien shimmered over his shoulders.

Figures it'd go too smooth.

Bran glared, biting his lip.

"...Rudel."

"Hm? Who might you be, young one?"

Instead of answering, Bran silently placed hand on hilt.

One misstep, journey ends here.

Old codger: Rudel Asberg.

Secret lab ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chief admin, Abyss mid-rank matching Silien's shoulders.