Dream (3)
“There must be a reason. You're a being from another timeline, aren't you. I can't imagine what method you used.”
The man spoke again, and someone shook their head vigorously.
“No. It's a good thing. Why else would you have crossed over from another era if not because we won? That alone is proof of our victory. A resistance? Honestly, having something like that makes it all the more enjoyable.”
Alan opened his eyes. This time, it was his own eyelids that moved, not the man's. The bizarre room and the suspicious figures were gone, leaving only the sight of a dark tent. In the corner, Box and Leopard were pressed tightly against the wall.
Leopard sensed his master stirring and turned its head.
“Get some more rest.”
Alan replayed someone's words in his mind.
A resistance? No, that's not it.
He hadn't been sent back by anyone from that era — the Labyrinth's mysterious workings had guided him here. After all, in the present world, there were no beings who could even be called Undergrounders at all.
No, wait. There's the Destroyer. Which means others could still be out there...
Some Undergrounders might have hidden themselves away like the Destroyer, while others might have altered their appearances and lived on in plain sight.
Or they might be locked away in underground facilities built by the megacorps or the government.
Soul Stones only came out of the Labyrinth. People could produce close imitations, but matching the full performance was another matter. Something was ever so slightly lacking — a difference smaller than a speck of dust, one he simply couldn't pin down.
If an Underminer who knew the manufacturing technique had been captured, the market would have been thrown into chaos long ago.
With his eyes closed, he could sense the unsettled atmosphere outside. Unidentifiable shouts pierced through the tent.
Alan could have woven a soundproofing tent from runes, but he chose not to. If anything happened out there, he needed to hear it and respond immediately.
Just as he was about to step outside, the tent flap opened and Taylor's head poked in.
“You're awake. Come on out, quick.”
“What's going on?”
Alan asked as he stepped outside, Leopard and Box trailing at his heels. Taylor shook his head.
“I just woke up myself. I've got a rough idea what's happening, though.”
“...?”
“Another group must've entered the ruin. You think mages are going to sit quietly? They'll puff their chests out, and if the other side is confident in their skills, they'll push right back.”
Just as Taylor said, the mages and the newly arrived group were standing off at the ruin's entrance.
“We claimed this place first. Turn around and go home.”
“Says who? You think we'll just fall in line because Lorenzo tells us to?”
“It's Lord Lorenzo to you. Did Damas teach you no manners?”
The names alone told Alan most of what he needed to know. Damas Industry, Damas Tech. Subordinates of the disciple who was locked in rivalry with Lorenzo had located the ruin and moved in.
“I'll say it once more. Go home while we're being polite.”
“And if we don't? You planning to attack us in defiance of Tower Lord Lumiere's orders?”
Lorenzo's mages scowled deeply. That scowl was, of course, the full extent of their rebellion.
Taylor watched the scene and shook his head.
“If it were me, I'd have thrown the first punch already. How do they stand it?”
“Proof that their identity as mages runs deeper than their identity as explorers, I suppose. The Tower Lord's influence must be stronger than I thought. They follow his orders to the letter even inside the Labyrinth.”
“You've seen what Jake's like. When a man like that gives an order, are you telling me you'd defy it?”
“If I needed to, yes.”
“...Right. Unlike you, those guys are actual employees.”
Hearing Alan's answer, Taylor rolled his eyes in a full circle before looking ahead again.
Lorenzo's subordinates were grudgingly clearing the way, their faces sour. Apparently they'd decided it didn't matter — the important finds had already been secured.
< Dream (2) > — End
< Dream (3) >
Even after the mage subordinates of Damas — Lorenzo's rival — arrived at the ruin, the investigation continued. The two groups growled at each other whenever they crossed paths, but things never escalated into open violence.
The superiors commanding each group judged that any unnecessary fighting would only interfere with the survey, and passed down orders to steer clear of one another whenever possible.
Once the situation had settled, Taylor remarked:
“Thought it was going to get ugly, but they worked it out somehow. Alan, you were right — they're more researchers than fighters.”
“Fighting would just be a waste of time. Resource consumption would spiral, too.”
“So how long are we planning to stay here anyway? About time we headed back up.”
“We agreed to thirty days before we came. Did you forget?”
“Ah. Did I?”
As Taylor tapped at his temples, Shiva sidled up beside him.
“Brother, something is wrong with your head again—”
“There is nothing wrong with my head. Now, uh, give it a little blessin', will you?”
Taylor, who would normally have snapped and snarled, sat there meekly while Shiva breathed a soft white glow into his skull.
Well, that's a first.
Alan watched the peaceful scene for a moment, then turned his head. Their current location was the hangar — a facility presumably used to store massive boarding-type war machines.
Looking up, he saw a ceiling of interlocking plates fitted together as snugly as a row of teeth. Judging by the structure, the war machines must have come and gone from the hangar by vertical takeoff and landing.
Based on the mounting racks that remain, the machines must have been at least twenty to thirty meters. What did they use for a power source?
His thoughts drifted to the cube they'd found in the mural in the commander's office. A gut feeling told him it was the same object as the Cube mentioned by the dragon-like figure in his dream.
Just as Alan reached into the interior of his Power Suit to take out the Cube—
Wheeeeng!
A strange sound rang out, echoing through the inside of his skull. He pushed his visor up and tapped his forehead.
“Hm...”
“What's the matter?”
Taylor, mid-massage, appeared in front of him before he knew it and studied Alan's face.
“Labyrinth Tinnitus. It only ever happened when I passed through the passages connecting one floor to the next, but I'm feeling it here too.”
“Folks sensitive to mana do tend to suffer that worst. Still, first I've heard of it flaring up inside a floor itself. Here, try this. Wrap your mana soft and gentle around your ears, then knead them light as touching cotton. Switch the direction of rotation every two turns.”
The tinnitus wasn't quite pain, but it grated on the nerves. Alan had been frowning faintly at the interruption to his research — then his eyes widened slightly.
“That's one of the tinnitus relief methods published in a recent paper. How did you know it?”
“Just picked it up browsing the Pan-Cosmos.”
“It was a fairly long article, though. Someone must have condensed it and posted it.”
Alan gave Taylor a look of fresh appraisal, then turned the same gaze on Shiva.
Shiva was on his knees, hands clasped together — the very picture of a devout worshipper offering an earnest prayer.
What's gotten into him...? Am I dreaming?
This was the same Shiva who insisted that prayer had no required form and had done his devotions every day lying on his cot in a half-doze. The posture he was showing today was strikingly unfamiliar.
And there was something else strange. Today's Shiva hadn't touched a single drop of holy water.
Shiva had brought a truly staggering amount of holy water into the Labyrinth — stored where, nobody could guess. Naturally, most of it went into Shiva himself, and the rest was confiscated by Taylor.
Did he drink himself sick of it, like water?
Alan entertained a thought that would have earned him a scolding for blasphemy, had any dwarf overheard it.
Just as they were wrapping up the hangar survey and heading for the exit, they ran into Damas's people. The mages scowled, but stepped aside to let them pass — remarkably courteous behavior for a group intruding on a ruin occupied by another faction.
Which left only Alan, who had been quietly ramping up his mana in case of trouble, feeling rather foolish.
Back in the tent, Alan sat on his field cot and ran through the list of everything they'd surveyed that day. The mages had stripped the place clean, so there was nothing to salvage — but even simply examining the facilities yielded knowledge and clues.
Blinking tired eyes, Alan turned his gaze across the tent's interior. Just in time to catch Box stealthily creeping up on Leopard.
“Now, now, no fighting. Let's all get along—”
Alan started to mediate, then gave up. The two hadn't even been squabbling in the first place.
Box settled its belly flat on the floor and prodded at Leopard with its grasping claw. Box could manage minor repairs — it had fixed the slight dent in its own outer plating before — and right now it was acting as if it were checking whether something on Leopard had broken.
It was a curious sight, because the moment Box tried to touch him, Leopard recoiled in horror and swatted the claw away with a forepaw. And after batting it off, Leopard would come pad over and settle down near Alan. Box, with its master right there, only rattled its claw a few times and gave up.
“When did you two get so friendly?”
Beep—
A beep sounded — whether from Box or Leopard, Alan couldn't tell. No, come to think of it, he had never once heard Leopard make a sound.
As he watched the two of them having suddenly grown close, Taylor sat down on the neighboring cot.
“They're both creations from the same magitech engineer's hands, aren't they? And they've been stuck together ever since, so it's only natural. Weapons made by the same craftsman sometimes resonate when they meet on a battlefield — a phenomenon caused by the homogeneity of their mana. Supposedly you can avoid it by tweaking the mana array during manufacture, or swapping out the materials in the mana circuits.”
“I'm sorry — what?”
Alan echoed back. Not because he hadn't understood, but as a way of asking why on earth Taylor knew all of that.
He studied Taylor's face quietly. The moment anyone so much as breathed the word magitech, the old man would shut his mouth and wave his hands — but today was different. There he was, talking eagerly, and at length, no less.
“What are you doing, gawking like a kid at the zoo? Is it really that strange, hearing me say this stuff?”
“Yes.”
“Straight to the point, aren't you. Wounds a man's feelings. I've lived as many years as I have — you think I wouldn't know one simple theory? I knew it all along. I just let the years bury it, that's all, and stopped reaching for the easy answers.”
Taylor stepped out of the tent, saying he could use some fresh air. Strange things did happen, but it was a positive change, so Alan chose to see it in a good light.
Off to one side, Shiva was still at his prayers. His body was so sturdily built that even after kneeling all day, he showed not a hint of discomfort.
The research continued.
“We were here first.”
“No. I entered first.”
“You sprinted in with a haste spell and went in alone? If that's how we're playing it, we'll just slip one of ours in ahead of you too.”
“Suit yourselves.”
Lorenzo's people and Damas's people bickered childishly. Hardly becoming of mages, who always ranked near the top of any intelligence league table.
While the two groups argued outside the warehouse, Alan's party simply walked in first.
“What do you think you're doing? Is this a joke? You don't see us waiting here?”
“We assumed you were busy with other matters. Please, take your time.”
The mages glared at each other all over again. They'd only been standing off in the first place because neither side wanted to yield.
They say that when whales fight, it's the shrimp whose backs get broken — but Alan was no shrimp, and so he reaped the fisherman's profit instead. Ever since they'd arrived at the ruin, things had been moving in their favor.
Back inside the tent once more. With his attention absorbed by the ruin all this while, Alan finally remembered the Cube he'd stowed against his chest.
How could I forget something like this, no matter how many distractions there were?
The moment he reached into the Power Suit, toward the spot where the Cube rested—
Zeeeeng!
Labyrinth Tinnitus assailed him again. Far more intense than before.
“Hm...”
Alan tried every method he knew to ease the ringing. Taylor's technique was among them.
The tinnitus lingered all the same, an unpleasant drone — but that was that, and this was this. Suppressing his discomfort, he reached for the Cube once more—
BOOM!
This time, the explosion came from outside the tent. Shiva shot up from his prayer with a start, and Box and Leopard, sitting there so amicably, sprang to their feet.
“Alan!”
Taylor, who'd been outside getting his air, came diving into the tent.
“What's happening?”
“The spell-slingers just started going at each other!”
“What? Why?”
“No idea. Someone threw the first punch, that's all I can figure.”
Just how was anyone supposed to handle a situation like this? Those men weren't hired contractors — they were fully registered mages of Esel Magic Tower.
His heart wanted to take Lorenzo's side, but if he did, Damas would hardly sit still for it.
And judging by how Damas's people carried themselves, they were every bit as formidable as Lorenzo — and they would come after the explorers instead, forcing Alan to face a mage of Lorenzo's caliber.
He didn't think he would lose outright, but he expected the fight to be a treacherous one. And like the fire mage before, they wouldn't come at him alone.
As Alan ran the calculations through his head, Taylor seized his arm.
“I know what you're thinking, but not now. You don't get mixed up in a fight like—