Cavalry Charge on Layer Six
It clung to him, its razor-sharp legs fitted with blades aimed straight at Aung's crown.
A razor-edge standoff.
No time even to shout—Allen immediately pointed his staff upward.
"Allen. Why the weapon? It's friendly. We're..."
Before Aung could finish, a blue bolt punched through the spider's plating and struck its power core.
As he fired, Allen's mind flashed to the mana stone and soul stone inside, but the dire urgency left no choice.
While Allen inwardly regretted the waste,
"Urk!"
Aung, pinned beneath the spider, thrashed vigorously. Even accounting for its dozens of kilograms, he seemed unscathed as he wriggled free.
Carlson, checking Aung over, scratched his head in front of Allen.
"I misunderstood from up top. You caught the spider, so we'll handle the disassembly."
Reasonable Carlson and Aung latched onto the spider, prying at its panels.
"Junction here. Tough to budge."
"The arm muscles make it look easy..."
They resembled kids puzzling over how to pluck feathers from a boiled chicken.
Allen, timing it mentally, pulled a pry bar from the folding cart and approached.
"I'll take care of it."
"No need. We're good. Just takes time—we can do it. See? One leg off already."
"Let me demonstrate. Then you can do it easily next time."
They stepped back, and Allen wedged the pry bar into a panel seam. Dismantling machines like automatons relied less on brute strength than finesse.
A faint screech echoed as the spider dismantled faster than they could've managed two legs.
"Cool. No clue how."
"Aung's right. We watched disassembly vids on Omniverse, but it's tricky."
Grateful, Aung pulled the cart as the group pressed on.
The rest of the expedition followed suit. Moving far more cautiously, Allen spotted incoming automatons first and called positions.
Carlson slammed his shield into the ground to block, then blasted joints with his shotgun.
Aung waited for openings, unleashing Wind Blade for lethal strikes.
Watching, Allen sensed something off—something formless nagging at him.
"How do you spot 'em so fast? Detection magic in those artificial eyes? Mana'd run dry with constant use."
"Nothing like that."
"Mana user then? Explains the sharp senses."
Only then did Allen pinpoint the frustration gnawing at him.
Carlson and Aung's gear was solid, but neither had a Mana Heart.
Mana Hearts remained a matter of talent, yet with magitech and magitechwear widespread, even normals delved the labyrinth.
Besides, Allen's depth was layer 1—no elite matches for him.
They weren't lacking; they averaged maze explorers. Allen's standards were just too high.
Better and less hassle to bring automatons...
Allen's gaze drifted to the trophies stacked neatly in the cart.
Others thought the same, but low layers like the maze made cost-effectiveness iffy.
Allen, though, was a magitech engineer who could repair automatons, with mana to spare as fuel.
Executing that meant learning Star Letters for soul stone reprogramming.
Labyrinth (3)
Allen awoke to the labyrinth's gray stone ceiling. No common bugs, just eerie sounds.
Fluid sloshing beyond walls, something slithering.
Pipes embedded in stone hummed occasionally—no danger signal.
Buried in his sleeping bag, Allen fished out the soul stone from his pocket without rising.
Flat and transparent like memory crystals, but cloudy currents swirled inside.
Soul stone language—or Star Letters.
Contrasted with rune letters from Luna, but unrelated really.
Both advanced knowledge; Omniverse yielded only paid services.
Propping up, Allen tapped the soul stone outside the bag.
Bits of soul stone lore existed, but trials proved them shallow or false—unsatisfying his curiosity.
Still, channeling mana per patterns opened a language interface. Not flat—3D.
Milky mist erupted, encircling his face like a sheeted ghost.
Star Letters dotted the mist like braille, evoking a Milky Way.
"Studying first thing? You're something else."
Carlson, escaped from his triangular sleeping bags by the cylindrical heater magitech, pointed at the interface.
"Mastered it already? We earn enough for books yet?"
"No. Couldn't find on Omniverse, so eyeing texts—but intro books top 500k coins."
"Knowledge costs. Grad texts bankrupt salaried folks with a few buys."
"Exactly. Labyrinth explorers risk lives building that tower of gold—fair fee."
"Pirates exist, but hard to verify. Better buy legit. Smart call."
"Planning bookstore run post-settlement."
Chatting, Allen fiddled with Star Letters. Mana-infused pokes made stars vanish or appear.
"Didn't you say you knew none?"
"Just experimenting. Erase this line, centipedes lose leg control. That one, aggression drops."
Who knew uses from the start? All trial-and-error like Allen's.
Aung stirred from his bag, rising like a big pup seeking warmth—hands and face drawn to the heater.
Struggling eyelids revealed bloodshot eyes darting.
"Carlson's watch. Allen. Up all night?"
"Not 'up all night'—just early riser. No worries."
"Good. Sleep deep best."
Eleven days together; camping routine now.
The maze's dark felt familiar, but vigilance held.
From layer 4, manholes birthed shifting automatons—laxity meant ambushes or encirclement.
Combat synced well now, roles familiar—less frustration than day one.
Still, Allen would part ways eventually. Carlson for fall semester, Aung sticking to safe layers 1-3 till his Mana Heart.
EBI magic and deeper dives demanded Mana Hearts—boosting casts, cutting cooldowns.
Allen reset floating stars, pocketed the soul stone.
Camped near layers 5-6 border, downhill slope doubling as rest spot—other explorers' presences faintly registered.
Packing traces, Carlson broached,
"Hit layer 6?"
"Brave. Death."
"Not brave—reckless. Not baseless; I trust Allen. Look."
Aung's eyes followed Carlson's finger to the cart: a centipede coiled like a roll cake, primed to move.
"Precise shots to power circuits. Sense or x-ray vision?"
"Agree. Hm... good."
Majority ruled descent, but they deferred to Allen.
He eyed them briefly.
Saldos folk met so far: mostly kind. Worlds apart from Ranka's rough tempers.
Source? Nature? Wealth? Education? Environment?
No easy generalization.
Few encounters—likely luck. Allen brushed it off, answering,
"Maze layout unchanged, but layer 6 shifts automaton types. Let's check. Stairs vicinity only. Objections?"
"Fine by me. Deep dives worry; time to log data anyway."
Consensus streamlined: Aung cart, Carlson assist, Allen scouting downward.
Scree~.
Layer transition's odd sensation washed over Allen—like a missed mosquito lurking under desk. No issues yet, ignored.
Labyrinth tinnitus hit sensitives, vanishing off downslopes.
Layer 6 starkly differed. Just one down, yet no other explorers.
Caution redoubled. Upper layers: numbers made automatons punching bags. Now reversed.
Even chatty Carlson hushed—then something flickered ahead.
Spotter Carlson raised arm, voice low.
"Enemy sighted. Cavalry type. One."
Closing distance clarified the foe.
Automaton rose, spotting intruders. Wolf-like mount, rider a spear-wielding mannequin.
Blank mannequin face, eyes glowing white then crimson.
Clank clank!
Charged. Metal paws scraped stone, sparking wildly.
Maze wide as two men arms outstretched—unhindered cavalry.
Carlson deployed shield field, anchoring—but Allen judged insufficient vs. momentum.
"Aung! Cart forward!"
"Hup!"
Ten days synced—no elaboration needed. Aung wheeled cart barricade before Carlson.
Cavalry undeterred. Wolf leaped cart like hurdle, wall-kicked mid-air pursuit.
Carlson shotgun stalled it—minor dents only, speed held.
Crouched rider thrust spear at Aung full tilt.
Clang!
Wind Wall timely blocked.
Normal foe might drop spear or tumble; automaton absorbed, lunged at Aung.
Divided roles: rider jumped Aung, wolf gaped at trailing Allen.
Allen's eyes scanned field. Carlson shield-rammed rider.
His task: wolf. Allen swung staff—like passive bunt.
Clang!
Staff tip met wolf snout.
Normal Allen body: drop weapon, numb agony, roll floor.
Thud!
Sound from ceiling. Staff's engraved [Flight] launched wolf upward.
Aiming finisher, mana-charged eyes failed to lock power source—