Chapter 72
Chapter 72
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: Drifter from Another World ~Latter Part~
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A garbled, emotionless voice, riddled with noise, emanated from the half-broken speaker of the wrecked cleaning golem. The tone shifted unnaturally from moment to moment, coming across as nothing but eerie static.
"Well now, come on in, young ones. It's not much of a space, but make yourselves at home."
The three of them could make out Abraham's voice amid the golem's noisy racket. Even that soothing, gentle tone of an old man that put listeners at ease.
"If this were my estate, I'd at least have some tea to offer you. A pity. As you can see, this room's got nothing but dust and scrap metal. Just the one chair, too..."
The cleaning golem's wheels rattled as it moved.
Tara watched it intently for a long moment, hesitating, before asking with desperate longing. It might have been closer to a scream.
"Are you... really Abraham?"
Yes, came the reply. She wasn't sure if she should feel joy or pain, unable to tell which.
A red light blinked from the golem's lens, as if pondering.
"I've given that philosophical quandary quite a bit of thought already. Even though I'm stuck inside this tin can... I still consider myself Abraham."
The battered cleaning golem circled the barren room as if giving a tour. Only then did Tara take in the cramped space's sorry state.
The compartment where the golems were stored was, naturally, no place for a person to live. The windowless, sealed-off room was lined with similar cleaning golems stacked in rows. No interior decor whatsoever—just bare walls and an entrance. Not a single amenity for living.
It made perfect sense. Golems weren't people, after all.
The only standout object was a crude chair, seemingly cobbled together from scrap metal. It reeked of profound loneliness. Had Abraham been waiting here for someone?
So, if someone had to live in a place like this—truly devoid of everything, condemned to endless years with no end in sight—how could they hold onto themselves?
The three could read Abraham's answer on the walls.
Words densely scratched into the walls with metal shards. Sometimes diaries, sometimes vague impressions, explorations of the surroundings, or reflections on himself. And every line converged on one destination: humanity.
The dungeon walls bore a map sketching the interior layout. Trap positions and power levels marked, along with攻略 methods. Beside it, notes on stargazing techniques and how to make a perfect fried egg.
He seemed to have decided to use his final days in this bizarre predicament for the sake of others. Abraham said,
"What defines my existence is myself, or so I believe. That's why I'm Abraham."
It was Abraham, through and through.
Even with a deteriorating metal shell, a speaker spewing unwelcome noise, a creaking internal spring, and barely one mechanical arm for cleaning attached.
[How... how did it come to this...?]
"Well, I'm not entirely sure myself. I was counting the stars one moment, and when I opened my eyes, here I was. At first, I thought I'd fallen into hell, but soon realized it was another life."
Abraham replied nonchalantly.
Though she'd phrased it as "how did it happen," the group had their suspicions about why Abraham had ended up like this.
Shoving a human soul into a golem with no flowing blood... It was one of the many ways an evil god might torment a harvested soul.
Bennett ground his teeth. Rage boiled within. Wasn't being brutally murdered not enough? They had to subject him to this? Why? For what purpose?
Meanwhile, Abraham rummaged through his memories. No matter how he searched, he had no information on them. Probably tucked away in the 20% of memories that had been erased.
"You all seem to know me, but I'm sorry. I have no recollection of you."
"Abraham, we..."
As Tara started to recount past memories, Bennett extended an arm to stop her. He stepped forward instead, succinctly laying out the situation.
"We're people who owe you a debt. With nowhere to go, you invited us to your estate, Abraham."
"Did I?"
"Yes."
"Heh heh, so I did..."
That "heh heh" chuckle sounded ominous through the distorted mechanical tone. Not wanting to leave a bad impression on these rare visitors, Abraham decided to hold back his laughter.
"Might I hear a bit more? About how we... met."
"We met near the slums at a recycling station. We'd been mugged, so we must've looked pitiful to you. You showed us kindness."
"Yes, that's right! Thanks to you, Abraham, we got clothes... and more."
[You taught us all sorts of things over those few days. It was fun.]
"We watched the stars together, learned about your research—oh, you even showed us the university. And..."
[A wonderful breakfast too.]
Once the words started flowing, Nioire and Tara began sharing stories. Perhaps hoping to reknit the severed threads of their bond. But the more they spoke, the more they testified to those few days with Abraham, the clearer it became.
The void. A connection that might have felt a little like family... was already gone. Tara choked up. Grief and pain welled up to her throat, silencing her.
Abraham watched quietly through his worn lens.
"Curious thing. There seems to be a time discrepancy between us."
"...Looks that way. How long have you been trapped in this dungeon?"
"You call this place a dungeon? No way to track time without clocks or anything. No windows here, after all."
"No doubt about that—it's no place for a person. That... chair, did you make it yourself?"
Bennett pointed to the crude chair. Pointy and unfit for sitting, but assembling that shape with a crude mechanical arm must have taken immense effort and time.
"Made it in case guests ever came. Figured someone else might wander into this odd space someday. Looks like I was right again."
"And those writings on the wall?"
"This place is pretty dangerous. No idea who set them up, but there are nasty traps that could easily kill. So I marked them."
Bennett gazed at Abraham's mangled form. He could guess the cause of the damage—sustained while exposing and mapping traps.
Tara turned away, hand over her mouth. She didn't want Abraham to hear her sobs. Nioire stared intently at Abraham's scars, lost in thought.
[.........]
"The one upside to this mechanical body is I can tackle rough work without hesitation. Trapped in a lifeless shell, no need to fear joint pain the next day."
"You've been doing all that alone, with no one ever coming?"
It was incomprehensible to Bennett's rational mind. By Abraham's information, he didn't know this structure was a dungeon people occasionally entered. His dedication might not help anyone.
Had it been an abandoned dungeon with no visitors, all his efforts would have been for naught. Yet he'd pressed on. Why?
"One question, Abraham?"
"Ask away."
"Even in this body, in this situation... how could you?"
"Honestly? I had nothing better to do. Can't just lie here like I'm dead, right? And—"
Abraham quipped before continuing.
"I believe in it. That goodness has power. That human benevolence holds a mystical force to guide the world right. It's the only occult I subscribe to. That's why. Believing it'd help the world, even a little."
"........."
"And... isn't it cool? Helping others."
Abraham probably grinned sheepishly. Much like when Bennett once asked the old man—under threat—why he kept researching, his eyes sparkling boyishly.
Even trapped in a cleaning golem, ironically, he lived oh so humanely. As if outward changes or lacking abilities meant nothing, steadfastly walking toward the light of his inner star.
The records Abraham left on the dungeon walls weren't mere trap locations or knowledge. They pointed to something grander: the old man's life.
Incomprehensible to reason, but the heart understood. What kept a human human was conviction. The future remained dark, waves of layered miseries crashing in.
But if you knew where to go, no reason to wander.
Bennett nodded with a smile. He'd thought of Abraham as a pitiful old man tormented by the evil god's whims, but no. Even with his soul trapped in a golem's horror, wasn't he taking firm steps forward?
The hesitating black mage, seeing the old man, chose admiration over sorrow. And to pay proper respect. Knowing Abraham would appreciate it, he spoke plainly.
"Indeed, it's cool. Abraham."
"...Ahem, you're embarrassing me."
To Abraham, whose lens blinked red rapidly, Bennett said there was something he needed to learn.
"We need the password to the safe holding your research data."
"Not for anything nefarious, I hope?"
"No. Abraham, your research will save many lives. We plan to make it so."
"Then here it is: 0714. My daughter's birthday."
The group obtained the safe's password.
"You must be busy with important matters to explore such a dangerous place, and I've held you too long, perhaps."
"No, no... we have plenty of time... sniff."
Tara sniffled, eyes red and puffy. Even after two handkerchiefs, the tears wouldn't dry, so she blinked minimally to evaporate them.
She knelt before Abraham, grasping his mechanical arm.
"Abraham... come with us. Out of the dungeon... to the outside. There's so much I want to show you."
"........."
Bennett moved to stop her, but Abraham spoke first. Refusal flowed from the half-ruined cleaning robot.
"I appreciate the thought, but I'll have to decline."
"...W-why, Abraham? Better than staying here, in this...!"
"Tara, enough."
Bennett pulled her back by the shoulder. The cleaning golem was at its limit. Cumulative damage from trap disarming made even this movement a miracle.
Nioire's expression showed she knew too. Abraham's life was nearly spent. Even rushing him to the Golden Magic Tower for repairs was iffy at best.
Beyond that, living in a golem's body was torment for Abraham.
Why else were magic swords called cursed blades? Souls couldn't endure inorganic flesh, driving them mad. Souls in golems fared the same. Prolonging Abraham's life would be selfish.
Unless he wished it, but he seemed content without extension.
"Those who must leave should go."
"........."
Tara glanced at the cursed sword on her hip, then at Abraham. She understood now. Tears fell in drops.
Bennett sat beside her, stroking her back as he advised.
"...Say what you need to. Tara."
"........."
Emotions surging, throat hitching with sobs. Tara managed a few words at a time.
"I... though short, had... such happy times with you, Abraham. Truly. Like family... so warm. I..."
"Tara. Slowly, deep breaths."
"...Hic... so. You left so suddenly, too soon. Couldn't say it then, but I wanted to tell you. Should've said sooner..."
Tara swallowed rising sobs desperately. Stammering, voice thick with tears, but with Bennett's help, she got it all out.
"That I was... so happy..."
"I was happy too. Our time together was surely joyful."
Tara hugged Abraham and wept freely. For a good long while.
Even trapped in a mechanical body, Abraham's spirit operated keenly. From the gaps in the young ones' words, he gleaned much information.
Something bad had likely happened to him. Caught in some bizarre incident, badly hurt... or perhaps dead.
He could sense it through his old lens from their eyes and actions. They grieved his death deeply. One carried guilt. Though memoryless, they'd been close.
So he consciously probed no further. Why make them turn away and weep sadly? He played upbeat and hale instead.
The old man trapped in machinery pondered.
No regrets in life. Lived doing what he wanted till old age, and even in this body, true to himself. Lived honorably, so scant remorse.
Only one lingering worry: his daughter.
The night they'd gazed at stars together.
Abraham's daughter Isaac began obsessing over strange occult after glimpsing something from the cosmos she shouldn't have—like one who'd seen forbidden sights.
She started living for religious faith over her own life.
Thus the fights, and Isaac leaving home. Abraham wanted her to live for her happiness; she, for her god.
He'd only wanted to share what he loved most, yet that choice remained his deepest regret.
Thus, Abraham had one request for these youths.
"Might I ask a favor?"
"Of course, Abraham."
"I've a daughter I'm estranged from. She's fallen into odd beliefs, so we're distant for now, but I believe she'll return someday. Live for her own happiness. So..."
In this body, he couldn't wait for her. Abraham shared his sole wish.
"Take good care of Isaac."
"...Yes. We will."
Bennett nodded.
Composing themselves, Tara, Nioire, and Bennett bid farewell and wrapped up. Dungeon training continued; duties awaited. Regret and grief must be swallowed.
Tara left the room, still weeping, supported by Nioire. As Bennett turned to go last, Abraham called him back.
"Bennett, was it?"
"...Yes. Abraham."
"You seem like me. So I have something to say. Might be an old man's fancy—don't take it too hard."
"I'll keep it in mind."
"Life is harsh, storms rage, fierce waves always crashing to devour you. Even so, don't lose yourself. Losing that is as good as losing life."
Bennett nodded gravely.
The three departed. The cleaning golem remained alone. Wheels creaked, spring faltered. A miracle it held till conversation's end.
Less damaged, he might've checked the left fork's traps too. Or chatted more with the youths, building new bonds beyond lost memories.
Noise crept into the lens feed. Springs seized one by one. He keenly felt his functions shutting down. Thought to etch final words, reached for a shard—but stopped.
Words to share were already shared. With the troubled young man.
His body floated. Some pull tugged. Abraham sensed his soul being drawn away. Liberation from the mechanical shell.
What came next? An afterlife? As he wondered,
Abraham found himself in a stark white space, seeing a girl. Blonde twintails, tears streaming. Instinct told him she was his creator—or akin.
"God? Come to greet me?"
"...Yeah. You did well, Abraham. In there, out there. Sniff."
"So you exist. Life was so rough, I figured not. Lived half my life atheist... punishment?"
"No. An accident. He... didn't mean it. Hey, Abraham. Any wishes? A boon. Take your time—we need an educator anyway..."
God was more emotional and chatty than expected.
So thinking, Abraham was taken in by the Violet Magic Tower Master.
The three steeled themselves, each in their way.
Tara finished her final goodbye. To family, to Abraham, to herself for not being there at death's moment—resentment eased somewhat through those words. A step from regret.
Yet fury toward the Silver Twilight Church grew fiercer. If unchecked, it might consume her heart whole.
Nioire took inspiration from Abraham's way of life. Instead of writhing in guilt over the life she couldn't save, press on. Amid her abilities, goals, self-sacrifice. She knew she must advance.
Yet her steps teetered on fanaticism's edge. She might yet hurl herself wholly for some cause.
And.
Bennett lit a star in his heart. Faint for now, but guide enough. Amid friends, siblings, black mage and swordswoman, tangled crossroads. He vaguely set his path.
And whenever that star shone bright, it would lead his heart true.
Thus, once more, the session's day arrived.