The Pitch-Black Entrance
Jin-cheol, staring at the pitch-black entrance, kicked the ass of Metidoti, who was hanging back to one side, gauging their moods.
A pathetic yelp escaped the creature. “Lead the way, asshole.”
“I-I don’t know the path to the temple either! The underground is too dangerous!”
“What? You were gonna sell info to Haeta, you fuck. How do you sell info you don’t even know?”
Metidoti glanced nervously at the two of them and crawled forward as he spoke. “Th-the entrance... anyway, the info on the entrance is real...”
“What? So getting from here to the temple is up to whoever goes in?”
“...That’s how the business always worked. Most guys who wanna sneak into the Sun Temple are shady types like tomb raiders or thieves, and none of them ever came back out from down there...”
What? No one’s ever come back out? Isn’t this fucking dangerous as hell?
Jin-cheol turned to Peran. Sensing his doubt, she spoke up.
“From what I know, the underground city is very deep and complex. Like a maze. Even if you enter here, there’s a high chance of getting lost.”
“And us?”
Peran smiled faintly and tapped her breastplate twice. The silver armor began to glow softly. Then, as if hearing a faint sound, she closed her eyes and raised her hand, pointing into the deep darkness.
“That way.”
Nice. Navigation function too? These future fuckers really thought of everything.
But with all those smart brains, why couldn’t they figure out how to avoid extinction?
Peran opened her eyes and spoke, still pointing into the darkness. “I can’t know the exact path, but I can get the direction. It’s not without unease, but at least we won’t lose our way.”
Jin-cheol immediately kicked Metidoti’s ass again. “You hear that? Forward!”
“Wh-why? I told you I don’t know the way...”
“You’re mine clearance.”
“M-mine? Isn’t that the bombs the Lavitos use? Why would they be here...”
“Keep questioning and die here.”
At Jin-cheol’s cold voice, Metidoti let out a whimpering groan and slowly took the lead. Aiman chuckled deeply and followed, with Peran and Morel moving after. As Haeta passed Jin-cheol, she gave a quick eye-smile and whispered.
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“...For saving me earlier.”
With that, she hurried to catch up with the others. As Jin-cheol watched her back and let out a soft “heh,” Udim shoved his face in and whispered.
“Jin-cheol.”
“Fuck, you scared me. What?”
“That one. Blackfoot Kampoeni.”
“Metidoti? So?”
“I’ll watch him close. If he tries shit, I’ll cut his legs and grill ’em.”
“...You said no more people-eating.”
“No eating. But grilling skills need practice. All cooking, really. Lucky a good cut showed up.”
“...Yeah. Handle it right.”
Jin-cheol couldn’t hide his unease and let out a hollow laugh. Then his eyes met Metidoti’s as the creature glanced back, and he gave a sympathetic smile.
Gorilla Hannibal’s got your legs in his sights. Hang in there, Metidoti.
Metidoti, seeing the smile, let out a terrified “hic” and scurried forward. Chuckling at the sight, Jin-cheol brought up the rear as the group entered the darkness.
The moment they did, a brilliant light flared from the center of Peran’s armor—like car headlights. The passage ahead lit up instantly.
“Seriously, every damn function imaginable...”
Leaving his short admiration behind, they passed the narrow corridor to find stairs leading down. Descending revealed a somewhat wider space stacked with wooden crates and junk. Peeking inside one showed liquor bottles and hefty mechanical devices.
“What’s this place?”
Metidoti, leading, glanced at Peran and Morel before whispering. “Warehouse.”
“What kind?”
“Bootleg booze... small engines... dodging temple taxes...”
Peran’s expression didn’t change, but Morel scowled as he scanned the room—like he was memorizing it for a later visit. At the end was a passage barred by iron grates. This warehouse seemed somewhat maintained, but beyond the grates, cracks ran through walls and ceiling, with some collapses—looking hazardous. It reminded Jin-cheol of the lab that had collapsed for no reason. Shit, hope it doesn’t suddenly cave in.
Metidoti opened the grate and hesitated. Seeing this, Jin-cheol strode up, startling him into crouching and fumbling the floor. Soon, he found a transparent wire at the passage’s base and dismantled a small device on the wall connected to it.
“What’s that?”
“...S-security device.”
Jin-cheol smacked the back of Metidoti’s head. “Why didn’t you mention it sooner, fucker?”
“D-disarmed! It’s gone now!”
“Good. Forward.”
The creature whimpered like a mangy dog and advanced, Peran lighting the way, Udim’s eyes gleaming dangerously at him.
As they entered the proper underground passage, the biggest change was the air. Cold, damp, with a musty earth smell that had lingered too long—heavy air filling the lungs, thickening the blood. The artifact light revealed a floor slick with moisture, water trickling from cracks in the split walls and ceiling to form shallow puddles. Their steps splashed through the murky water.
At junctions, Metidoti would glance back. Each time, Peran closed her eyes, seemingly listening to her armor—whether she actually heard anything was unclear—and unhesitatingly chose a path.
Stairs to elsewhere appeared occasionally. Following them led to collapsed rooms or flooded passages impassable. They’d backtrack and find new ways. Paths were littered with debris—most eroded into unrecognizable dirt mounds after ages. The identifiable bits were shattered porcelain or glass shards.
After a long quiet trek through the unfamiliar maze, someone spoke.
“We know the direction but not the path—gonna be a bitch getting out.”
“Oh! Right! What about the exit?”
Haeta startled at Aiman’s words and cried out. Oddly, Udim answered.
“Memorized. I lead out.”
He eyed Metidoti slyly—a look foretelling the creature’s fate post-mission. Metidoti shuddered, sensing it from behind.
“Good thing. I can’t tell one spot from another. Dizzy from all the turns.”
“Yeah. If it was just us, we might’ve wandered like that fucker planned and starved.”
Aiman and Haeta’s voices echoed slightly. They exchanged smiles. Though Haeta was taller, Aiman’s aged face made them look like a short old man walking with a girl. Watching from behind, Jin-cheol spoke up casually.
“What’s your deal, you two? Not blood, right?”
Their gazes turned to him, then back to each other. Haeta beamed.
“I’ve known Uncle Aiman since I was born. Mom’s friend.”
“Over fifteen years already?”
“Sixteen. I’m an adult now.”
Haeta puffed up proudly. Aiman chuckled, but Jin-cheol felt dizzy. Sixteen and adult? Not like Joseon or medieval times.
“...No kidding. Roughly matches up.”
He shook his head slightly. To him, sixteen was still a kid.
“He’d visit when I lived with Mom, bringing weird gadgets as gifts. I still remember the moving soldier he gave me at three.”
“You remember that? Broke quick. I recall your mom fussing to fix it.”
Haeta giggled and turned to Jin-cheol. “After Mom died, I’ve always been with Uncle. He taught me so much. Not blood, but my travel master, uncle, friend. Closer than family.”
“Heh heh. That’s right.”
Aiman agreed fully, Haeta grinning at him. Jin-cheol, recalling their fiery spat last night, found it amusing. Family, huh.
“What about that pirate Harmen? Old acquaintance too?”
“...”
Haeta and Aiman met eyes quietly. Aiman spoke first, gravely.
“Can’t say. Secret. Sorry, but we’re just temporary allies for a shared goal, right? All I can say is it ties to our mission.”
“Got it. Won’t pry.”
As Jin-cheol backed off easily, Aiman glanced back oddly.
“...B-but if you learn swordsmanship from me, you’d be my disciple first—”
“Uncle!”
“Ahem...”
Peran, choosing the path, stopped. A staircase split up and down ahead. As usual, she sensed the way eyes closed, and they descended.
The wide stairs evoked subway steps. Below loomed a vast hall.
“Whoa...”
Worth Haeta’s awe. Peran’s light didn’t illuminate everything but outlined the space: a circular hall with piled stone rubble at center, surrounded by varied debris. To Jin-cheol, it looked like a shopping district or residential area. Dust-caked clothes reduced to thread balls, rusted-mashed machines unrecognizable, weathered flagstones, shattered signs hinting at old glory.
“Even a shitshow looks decent after time...”
A bitter smile tugged Jin-cheol’s lips. Scattered over ages, the ruins still carried modern civilization’s faint scent.
“What’s that?”
Haeta spotted something in the central rubble and hurried over. In her hand, a familiar metal piece glowed like Peran’s armor, lighting her feet. Not just a hologram portrait device.
She went, Aiman followed; Metidoti fled Udim’s hot glare and tagged along, Udim shadowing. The group split briefly.
Perfect timing, Jin-cheol said. “You okay with this?”
“Pardon? Oh, no worries about the light dying. It’ll last all day.”
Peran mistook it for artifact concern. Jin-cheol shook his head.
“Those two. They’re sneaking into the Sun Temple. Without us, the prison pirates vanishing could’ve caused chaos.”
Peran blinked, staring calmly. Then she tilted her head with a slight smile.
“...You’ve been testing me since we met today, Jin-cheol. Worried I’ll signal hidden warriors once inside? Or that we dragged you in for some other scheme?”
Smile steady, she continued softly. “I’m an Antela warrior. As long as my heart beats and the sun’s light shines, I live and die for that honor. It elevates Antela’s name and guards my soul—they’re one and the same. And now, that honor whispers those two are allies, not foes. Like I told you earlier: no tricks, unite for the goal.”
“...People we just met before entering here?”
“Exactly. And you’re our link to them.”
Smart or just naive as fuck. Jin-cheol averted his eyes. Believer’s gazes were hard to meet—his heart too barren to share it, too weary to mock such faith.
He turned to the others. “Sightseeing’s fine, but let’s recall our goal. Time to move.”
“...Right. Let’s go.”
Morel, who’d listened quietly, joined as the three followed. But Jin-cheol’s “reminder” rang hollow as his own jaw dropped like the others’.
“...What the hell. A tank?”