Chapter 63
Chapter 63
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: Solo Auto Clear (2)
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Entering the dungeon using the jump booster.
This was something that absolutely had to be done—important enough to mention once more.
If you're wondering why we jumped in before entering the dungeon, the first thing to point out is the physical distance between the sea and the dungeon entrance.
But what about the jump booster itself?
Why did it have to be the jump booster, specifically?
On the realistic side of things, it was definitely 'inefficient'.
We blasted magic power to trigger an explosion, launching the hull high into the air.
As a result, 17% of Illinois's current magic power was consumed.
17% of her total magic reserves.
That single strike had been that precise and powerful.
It lifted Illinois's massive body in an instant while fine-tuning the output to avoid damaging the warships waiting nearby.
A failure would've meant not entering the dungeon at all—instead smashing straight into the Golden Gate Bridge—so success on the first try was non-negotiable.
From the outside, it must've looked pretty damn cool, diving right into the dungeon like that.
That one moment.
Just like a hunter charging into an S-rank tower, Illinois had followed my orders to inspire faith in the masses.
Even if it meant—exaggerating a bit—burning through about a fifth of her magic power.
But there was no giving it up.
Inefficiency? That's just romance!
Results speak for themselves.
If that 17% waste led to a failed clear, it'd be my screw-up. But pull off the clear with room to spare, and suddenly it's a meaningful flourish.
It's not like in games where people mash the jump button just because it exists—blindly hitting some 'jump key' to barge into the dungeon.
There wasn't even a jump key in the first place.
Just the ship controls.
And most fights ran on auto-combat anyway.
'Mana down 17%? Handicap's all it is.'
Kwaaaaang!!
Monstrous birds struck by missiles explode, plummeting into the sea.
Illinois made sure none of those things could even graze her hull for physical impact—instead of just detonating the missiles mid-air, she slammed the warheads straight into their torsos, blowing them apart from the inside.
Kwaaang!!
Another explosion.
The monstrous birds lunging for the bridge scattered in the anti-air barrage—some blasted backward and detonated mid-flight, others losing momentum and dropping straight down.
Hundreds, thousands of them.
The birds were huge to begin with, and for every one killed, more monsters spawned from the clouds above, swarming toward Illinois.
Even so, her magic power still hovered above 70%.
That's right.
Brushing aside these A-rank-looking monstrous birds inside the dungeon used way less energy than the jump booster entry.
"Dry. The combat recording drones are holding up, right?"
"Yeah. Some are literally bolted to the hull, so footage is fine. The flying ones, though... ah."
Dry, fiddling with the combat camera drones, suddenly froze.
Paa-ang!
Drone. Boom.
Illinois had unleashed a storm of anti-air fire in all directions, and moments later, one of the drones went up in smoke.
"What, did the rookie screw up? Or Dry, you...?"
"Neither. Does it look like an AI glitch to you, O Goddess?"
"The Goddess jests."
"You know a god's bad joke brings divine punishment, right?"
It wasn't the anti-air that hit it.
"One of the birds flew into it. Chunk of dead carcass followed."
A monstrous bird shredded by mana flak rounds—its body Swiss-cheesed mid-air—shed flecks of flesh that smacked into the camera drone, sending it spiraling down.
"Tch. All on the U.S. Defense Department budget."
"It's fine, Commander. They had to expect a few drones getting trashed. Hell, they'll love it—their warships holding the line inside an S-rank tower, unleashing overwhelming firepower on the monsters. All caught on tape."
Dry popped a small video window onto one of the bridge screens.
"Scenes like this? Raw as hell. They'll eat it up."
Tududududu!!
Footage of Illinois spewing multicolored barrages like some space opera battleship gone wild.
"Not real shells, sure, but slap some CG explosions on those blasts? Straight to a war movie blockbuster."
"Fair point. On a grand scale, this is humanity's war with the Towers."
The drones capturing Illinois's gunports firing 'magic shells'—true to their caliber, punching clean holes—had caught a flak-riddled bird tumbling right into frame, then spinning toward the camera—
"Urp."
"Ah, sorry. Pre-mosaic, it got a bit grotesque."
A monstrous bird's eye socket slammed dead-on into the drone lens, freezing the feed.
The drone itself cartwheeled downward, but that final plunge captured the bird's pupil staring straight into the camera until blackout.
Title: Humanity's Bane.
Wouldn't be a bad name for it—the dead bird's eye brimmed with malice and grudge toward humankind.
If you wanted to read into it, anyway.
'In reality, just some flailing monster's death glare.'
A shiver-worthy stare, sure—but that's the stuff of victory history.
The drone feed streaming live via Bluetooth to Illinois's bridge cut off with the crash, but its parting gift—the battleship's combat data—would live on in the servers.
Kwaaaaang!
Not just the exploded drone; the other cameras captured Illinois's battle in vivid detail.
"...Lucky they can't see this from outside? Or a shame?"
"Air it raw on broadcast TV, and every network worldwide slaps an 19+ rating. Gore and violence, double whammy."
Elaine mimed stabbing a finger into her own body, hole-punching gesture and all.
Fair enough.
Even in comics or games, puncture a human body on-screen and the higher-ups go 'ahem' with the censorship.
Not always wrong, not always right—but when kids huddle around the TV, yeah, better tread light.
'Kids watching monster bodies get Swiss-cheesed and popping? A tad much.'
An S-rank tower raid, not by a human hunter, but a 'warship hunter'.
Fueled by magic power or not, it looked every bit the U.S. Navy vessel.
"Let's clear it quick and beam the footage out. Show the folks outside what conquering an S-rank tower really looks like."
Flaaash.
Main guns. Charge complete.
"With overwhelming firepower."
Kwaaaaaang!!
A blue wave sliced the black sky, and monstrous birds rained into the sea.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Human greed knows no bounds, and it repeats the same mistakes.
Most folks try not to screw up the same way twice, but greed's still greed.
"...Man, really wanna see it."
A certain company office in New York City, USA.
A Black man in front of a massive screen, sipping Americano, smacked his lips at the scene playing out.
"Master's fight."
"Shall I replay that clip where he dominates Iron Blood? Chairman?"
The white secretary calling him Chairman aimed the projector at the screen, but he waved her off.
"Nah. Seen that one hundreds of times—later. We're in a meeting now."
"...Watching the Golden Gate S-rank tower raid live during a meeting? They could pop out any second."
"Yep. Could take days, one day, or just a couple hours—who knows."
The chairman took another swig of coffee and slumped into his chair.
"We gotta ride this wave. In this dog-eat-dog capitalist market crawling with sharks, sitting still means losing ground."
"But Chairman, we're just a toy company."
"......"
"Even those Japanese B-rank hunters' Powered Ranger plamo line..."
"Ahem. Enough. Who saw Pink caught in the middle of Red and Blue stabbing it out in some love triangle? But Master? Different story."
The chairman yanked open a drawer, dumping a bunch of figures in front of the secretary.
"These are...?"
"Maid Elaine and Agent 4...7? 7700? Whatever—figures of all confirmed summons so far. Took real effort to snag 'em. Maid one especially? Paid a premium."
"You're not planning something weird, are you?"
"Of course not. Just thinking of setting something else right beside 'em."
The chairman stretched his arms out next to the figures.
"Battleship Illinois plamo. Start production and sell now—how many units you think we move?"
"Well... succeed in the Golden Gate clear, and market value's a no-brainer. But Chairman, other companies are probably moving already."
"Yeah. Late to the party. But latecomers can still lop off the frontrunners' heads."
The chairman splayed five fingers.
"We move first anyway. While tooling up Illinois, prep mass-production for Master's next summon as plamo."
"Which one...?"
"Obviously."
The chairman covered his dark face with a hand, grinning.
"Death Star."
The chairman.
He made block toys.
"Build it around Master. Find a contact, whatever it takes. 10... 30... hell, 50% of sales. Just seal the deal."
The chairman flung his arms wide at the screen.
"He's gonna be this country's hero!"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Caaack, caaack.
The battlefield echoed only with the pitiful cries of monstrous birds.
Not even real cries, though.
Just audio from footage of the final moments—every last bird was already dead, none left to whimper.
Illinois's search radar still spun, ready to blast any red dot that pinged.
Right now? No enemies on radar.
Just floating bird debris everywhere, and none of what should be visible.
"Elaine. See anything?"
"Nothing, sir."
Contacted Elaine up on the prow—no dice there either.
"Hmm..."
The path to the next floor.
Boss room or not, clearing this floor led to the next...
"Ah."
Come to think of it.
"Kiharu. Mind if I 'pilot' for a sec?"
"This one?"
"Yeah."
Elaine could've handled it too, but Kiharu's view felt more intuitive, so I picked her.
Phone out. Game launch.
Not just the game—the [Fermata 8X] in the summoner management app.
And...
"There it is."
Kiharu's field of view showed the game world.
Real-world scenery, but rendered in Fermata's graphics.
Slide.
One hand to my face.
The other gripping the phone forward.
"Fer."
Eyes peering through my fingers at the screen.
"Ma."
The hand clutching the phone hits a special button.
"Ta."
Tap.
The moment my thumb pressed it, the phone world washed gray.
Then, a very special pink glow appeared.
"Southeast, 15,040 meters."
The path lit up.
"Tracking... initiated."
These days, mobile games that don't kindly highlight quest paths get trashed as garbage.
"Let's go. Next stage."
These eyes see the path.