Dream (2)
Only one person here knew the language, and that person was Alan.
Someone out there must know the training method I found in the Labyrinth. The world is wide, after all.
But the only one in this room who did was himself.
In Alan's palm lay a cube roughly the size of a golf ball. It was black overall, and like the Wish Fragment he'd seen before, its surface shimmered and rippled.
As he studied the cube, the Panther, which had been lying still, rubbed its body against Alan's leg.
“I know. I feel it too.”
In his right eye he saw the cube; in his left, the footage relayed by the scout spiders. The spiders he'd positioned on all sides observed several mages approaching the commander's office.
“What's going on?”
“The mages.”
“Fair enough. An explosion just went off—no one's going to sit still after that.”
Even Alan would try to investigate if noise broke the silence of a quiet place, so their reaction was only natural.
The door burst open, and the Glasses Mage who had guided them here appeared. She waved the mages following her back outside and stepped in alone.
“No matter how angry you are, you must not destroy a relic.”
“That didn't happen.”
“I'm joking. So—did you find something?”
“No.”
His heartbeat, his tone, his complexion—nothing changed. Alan's expressions had been coming back to life ever so sloooooowly lately, but in moments like this he was exactly as he'd always been.
Taylor was such a veteran that he was an expert at reading deception, and Shiva's beard and hair made it nearly impossible to study his face. Frankly, when the species was different, it was hard to gauge anything at all.
The mage pushed up her glasses with her index finger. The eyes behind them gleamed with a subtle light.
“Something is hidden here, isn't it.”
“That's speculation.”
“I never expected you to find it within mere hours of arriving at the relic.”
“I said I didn't find anything.”
“Why do you persist in this? Between people who know.”
The mage's sharp gaze swept quickly over the room and Alan's party. Of course, the cube was tucked away inside the Power Suit, making it difficult for her to spot anything.
The mage licked her lips with her tongue. It called to mind a serpent flicking its tongue.
“Do you want compensation? I don't have any on me right now, but I've got quite a bit of money stashed on the surface.”
“We were simply trying this and that, and an explosion happened. That's all.”
“I also hold plenty of Essel Magic Tower stock. Mana stones, too—”
“I said no.”
When Alan kept denying it, the mage stared at him for a long while with a disappointed expression. She kept fussing with her collar, then finally returned to the campsite.
The moment her presence had completely vanished, Taylor clicked his tongue.
“Mages are mages, through and through. She leaves her friends waiting outside and then starts talking about money stashed on the surface? If she were handling this under Essel Magic Tower's name, she'd have mentioned Lorenzo. She was planning to swallow it all herself.”
“The thirst for discovery is the engine of growth. I didn't find her all that unpleasant, honestly.”
“Essel's a megacorp. You can overlook one individual going off the rails, but it piles up, and eventually the wound festers.”
“You have to seize opportunities when they come.”
“Tch. Don't tell me she's planning a night raid.”
“Judging by her mana, she's a fire mage, but the heat resistance I built into the Panther alone is more than enough to handle that level. Besides, she's closer to a researcher than a combatant.”
No matter how much firepower someone possessed, if they weren't accustomed to actual combat, the battle itself could sweep them away in the very heat they carried. Even a tank is helpless against a single grenade that slips inside.
“So, are we done exploring for today?”
“Let's call it here and rest.”
“That's what I've been waiting to hear.”
That night, Alan opened his eyes while fast asleep. And he realized, quickly.
This isn't the tent.
Even in a situation that warranted panic, he calmly surveyed his surroundings. No—before that, his head had already turned on its own.
Alan's body moved without his will. No—Alan was looking around through someone else's gaze.
I've experienced something like this before...
When he'd first felled the Royal Guard and passed through the door, he had briefly seen the past through the guard's eyes. What was happening now felt similar.
He'd had a similar experience in the past. After felling the Royal Guard and passing through the door, he had possessed the man's body.
Alan had witnessed the era when the palace on the 20th floor still stood intact. Overhead there had been no cavern ceiling but a clear sky, and the buildings had gleamed without a speck of dirt on them.
What did that place look like back then, in its day?
It had been a pity that the possession—or the vision—ended so quickly. If it had lasted longer, he might have witnessed how they lived, or even what their leader looked like.
He wanted to see it with his own eyes. Of course, assuming it wasn't some prank by the being that created the Labyrinth.
It would be sad if it weren't a real place that once existed.
Because then every person in the world would be nothing but a plaything of the Labyrinth's creator. If it were all an illusion, the efforts of the explorers descending to uncover the truth, and the scholars burning midnight oil, would all turn to nothing.
Alan folded away his thoughts and focused on the dream. First, he needed to examine the situation that had crashed into him headlong.
So what have we this time?
It appeared to be the interior of an upscale residence. The broad garden visible through the window was covered in grass, and several unknown animals darted about.
They seem friendly with the people—or rather, the Undergounders. Pets, probably.
Alan's head—or more precisely, the gaze of the being he was inhabiting—turned inward. The room's layout resembled the present day's. Naturally, the furniture did too.
Presumably, similar body forms converged on similar conveniences. Aside from their height, the Undergounders had two arms, two legs, two eyes—exactly the same as modern humans.
Big, thick hands. High probability of being male.
The man sat on a soft sofa, gazing toward one side. The door to what seemed to be the inner chamber opened, and a woman of graceful appearance stepped out.
Fitting for an Undergrounder, her figure was long and slender. Seeing the man, she broke into a bright smile and extended her hand.
The two clasped hands and walked slowly. Sunlight poured in through the windows lining the corridor, and each time they passed through a bright beam, warmth reached the skin.
So sensory sharing goes this deep too. It's more intense than last time. If the pain gets too severe, will my own mind take damage as well?
While Alan was lost in thought, the man and woman crossed the long corridor and arrived at an enormous door. A ferocious-looking dragon was carved into it, breathing fire in all directions.
That was merely Alan's impression—people of this era might well have thought it looked magnificent.
Beyond the door lay a dining hall brimming with luxury. Windows cut into the ceiling and walls caught the sunlight and reflected it every which way, and thanks to that, the interior was brilliantly bright.
Upon a stately hardwood table sat tableware crafted with delicate care. The wood of the table seemed to be alive—branches and shoots sprouted from it. When the couple took their seats, the branches slid smoothly into motion, carrying the food to them.
Across the table sat a young Undergrounder girl, presumably their daughter, with a servant helping her eat at her side.
Huh?
The daughter's face struck Alan as inexplicably familiar. If those red eyes carrying a wild gleam, and that swaying black bob of hair, turned shaggy and grimy...
That's Alpha, isn't it.
She looked so much like the girl wrapped in a bear pelt—Alpha—that they could have been twins.
Considering the Labyrinth's floors are linked, it must be her.
The Alpha Alan was watching now looked a year or two younger. Whenever she fumbled her spoon and splattered food onto her bib and face, the servant would attentively wipe her clean.
The woman laughed at the sight. Eyes brimming with love gazed at Alpha, then shifted to the man as well.
Their mouths opened. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but one thing was certain: they smiled at each other, savoring this moment, right now.
The instant Alan tried to peer at the man's face through the woman's eyes, time seemed to lurch forward, and the scenery around them changed in sudden jumps.
The man, finished with his meal, kissed the woman's lips and Alpha's forehead, boarded the airship settled in the garden, and set off somewhere.
That was how it read, but only a second or two had actually passed. When his vision returned to normal, a man was standing right in front of him.
A full-length mirror. The man Alan was inhabiting was looking at himself in it. His mature face carried a stern firmness, and his uniform suggested a soldier.
Red eyes and black hair on this one too.
Before seeing his true form, there had been speculation that he might be the Destroyer, but that had evaporated now. The colors matched—nothing else did. His appearance was entirely different.
The man took a deep breath while facing the mirror. Even though his trained body implied he'd cultivated his mana to considerable depth, he was nervous.
Something important going on?
The man walked down a long corridor with a high ceiling. Statues lined up in a row one after another, modeled on creatures of the Primeval Forest and monsters still seen today.
It's as if they're alive.
As Alan observed the statues, following the man's gaze, his conjecture hardened into near-certainty.
Abstract magic circles were drawn across their surfaces, and blue light flickered along the mana circuits. Sometimes a mana stone was set into them as well.
The statues were all golems. Their purpose was surely defense and offense. Or possibly the owner's hobby.
The man's footsteps stopped before an enormous door. Instead of statues, Undergrounder guards in bulky Power Suits stood here.
Body size and the size of one's energy-generation organs are usually proportional, so their output must be staggering.
The guards stood at rigid attention even as the man approached. Paying them no mind, the man straightened his clothes once more and went inside.
Beyond lay a chamber as vast as the corridor itself. It wasn't mere size, though. It was large enough that the Blue Lady could have coiled up inside it.
The man headed for the center of the chamber. There, a circular pool sat—but it was anything but ordinary. Because instead of water, it was filled with roiling, boiling lava.
Someone was soaking their body in it. The man moved with the utmost care. With lava right in front of him, only a cool chill reached his skin.
As he drew closer, he could see someone's profile. Man or woman, child or elder—he could not begin to guess.
When the someone opened their eyes, a vertically slit pupil came into view. That alone had a fixed shape.
“What is it?”
The someone's voice rang out clearly. But no sound at all emerged from the man Alan was inhabiting.
“You seek my permission for even such a trifling matter?”
When the someone's irritation became apparent, the man bowed low. Naturally, all Alan could see was the floor.
“Raise your head.”
When the man lifted only his upper body a little, the someone's legs came into view. Brilliant crimson scales clung to them here and there.
A beastman? Don't tell me—a dragonkin?
It was easy to understand why a man who must have held quite a high position—even if this being was a dragon—was floundering so helplessly.
“The tide has already turned. No matter how you struggle. Hm? You've brought something along.”
When the someone extended a hand, a powerful force clamped down around Alan. Even as Alan worked his mana, the chains writhed and tightened all the harder.
“How fascinating. What on earth is this?”
The vertical pupil drew closer and closer. The man's prostrate body floated up weightlessly, his face thrust out toward the someone.
Alan stimulated his own mana. Normally he left it alone for fear of damaging his body, but if necessary, he was prepared to accept the risk.
This isn't mere possession, is it? Why is my mana moving?
Such deliberation was a luxury in this situation. When Alan opened the dam he'd kept sealed, mana came flooding out. A great deluge. The only effort Alan could make in this state was to channel the flood's direction, little by little.
Even that much was remarkable. If it had been anyone but Alan, they would have lost control entirely and burst apart.
Alan used the flood to strike hard at the mysterious chain. Once wasn't enough, so twice—and when that still wasn't enough, again.
“Hoh?”
While the someone let out a short sound of admiration, Alan became free. Though his mind was still trapped inside the man, so he couldn't flee anywhere.
“Heh. What on earth are you? I cannot even fathom your nature.”
When the man said something, the someone shook their head.
“No, that's none of your concern. Just keep the Cube well guarded. I can roughly guess what's going on.”
The vertical pupil glared at the man—no, at Alan inside him.
“To slip free of my binding so easily—”