Eye (2)
The galaxy emitted by the bird's soul stone was gradually diminishing. To be precise, his left eye was devouring the Star Letters.
He'd only told the orc doctor it was an Oparts because explaining Nobak's homemade eye was too much hassle.
'Who knew it'd turn out to be a real Oparts.'
Allen rubbed his eyelid with a mana-infused finger. The stimulated eye spat out the galaxy.
A brilliant swarm of stars enveloped him, dotted here and there with patches like ink stains.
'These are bad sectors. Probably from forcibly equipping an unstable item.'
They were stubborn spots that wouldn't wipe away easily, but once the eye absorbed the entire galaxy from the bird's soul stone, the borders cleared up just a thread.
'Absorbing the soul stone? Or devouring the Oparts?'
He'd found a way to repair the eye, but it remained uncertain until he acquired more Oparts.
The eye was unfinished to begin with. Nobak's crude traces were visible everywhere—even basic errors like overlapping inscriptions amid the dense Star Letters.
Magitech engineers were classified as artisan, master artisan, grandmaster. Only grandmasters handled Oparts with ease, so this was inevitable.
Their fees were beyond ordinary folk, and even if you could afford it, they wouldn't see just anyone.
'Nobak was barely between artisan and master artisan, so no helping it.'
Allen wasn't too worried. If it was unfinished, he'd complete it step by step. Impossibility never crossed his mind. Call it youthful bravado.
That good mood deflated when he checked the price of the beginner's Star Letters interpretation guide on Samraman.
'Five million?'
It was ten times the entry-level book's price.
For mages, Star Letters interpretations were like secret grimoires, so the markup made sense—but as the one who needed it, it stung.
Glancing at the intermediate price nearly broke his spirit, so he closed Samraman and turned to the leopard in the workshop's center.
'No choice but to descend the labyrinth for what I want.'
Layers 1 through 7 had been easy, so he planned to reach layer 10 next expedition.
Eye (2)
Morning's humid, heavy air settled over the city. Still, citizens formed long lines on the roads heading to work.
Overpacked buses and subways that choked the breath, plus traffic jams—anyone would call it a nightmare.
Even as roads clogged like blocked arteries, Maze City's residents remained indifferent. Too familiar to waste emotion on it, they accessed augmented reality or Samraman via artificial eyes instead of watching the scenery.
The labyrinth entrance queue was the same. Blue lights flickered from the eyes of the lined-up explorers.
Emitting light seemed wasteful, but artificial eyes had potential for illegal recording, so they had to indicate activation.
Thus, blue glows filled the air. From the sky at dawn, it would look like fireflies marching toward the black gate.
Allen ignored the crowd, checking his gear. He might join them someday, but for now, the massive gate still quickened his pulse.
'Helmet.'
He thumped the shell with his fist. The solid thuds traveled from the hard outer layer to the soft inner lining.
'Gas mask.'
A deep breath drew in air filtered pure by the plants woven into it, free of contaminants.
'Clothes.'
It resembled SWAT tactical gear. The difference: Allen's was streamlined, swapping body armor for a deep navy jacket.
Hardened steel plates inscribed with [Hardening] at vital points added weight, but his mana reinforcement made them unbreakable.
Nearby explorers glanced at Allen on his cart—more precisely, at the mechanical leopard pulling it.
'Too much? Seems just right to me.'
The memory of his sawblade greatsword being effortlessly sliced during the knight fight had led him to add extras.
"What's that? A tiger?"
"Uh... the pattern looks like a leopard or jaguar?"
"Low layers and he's hauling an automaton. Wonder if it turns a profit after maintenance."
"Must, or he wouldn't. Or maybe product testing."
The densely inscribed runes on its outer armor evoked a beast's pattern. Its bulk intimidated layer 1-3 regulars.
Such stares vanished upon entering the labyrinth. Everyone scattered toward their goals.
"Left. Right. Advance."
At each maze junction, Allen issued commands, and the leopard executed flawlessly—faster than walking on foot.
Layers 1-3, teeming with explorers, saw no other automatons as usual.
Not until mid-layer 4 did he encounter a wolf, which he let the leopard handle without intervening.
The wolf charged despite the tiger-sized foe. Not truly alive, and the labyrinth defied common sense.
The leopard waited, then slightly raised its upper body, forelegs arcing upward.
As the wolf lunged—thwack!
Its foreleg swing landed—a so-called kitty punch turned devastating by combat weaponry. Any cuteness flew far away.
Crunch!
The wolf's neck snapped with a breaking sound, head thudding to the floor. Cables dangled wildly from the body.
Allen dismounted, inspecting the leopard's foreleg and torso first.
'Thanks to [Cancellation] and [Elasticity], joint wear is minimal. Could crank output higher.'
The leopard even had a used mana furnace. Far better conduction than plain mana stones meant less waste, more power.
His wallet was on life support, but Allen was satisfied. Crafting and knowledge trumped money—a mere tool and waypoint.
Thus, up to layer 7, Allen fought none. Minor scratches on the leopard's armor were expected.
He dismounted for layer 8, freeing the leopard fully. A conscripted deer automaton took the cart reins midway.
Layers 1-3 were for day-labor explorers, 4-7 to feel the labyrinth's reality, 8-10 the first filter for the unskilled.
Automatons grew slyer now, charging less recklessly.
'Like this.'
Allen halted as manholes burst from walls and ceiling, front and rear pinched.
Hiss!
All manholes opened, spewing steam. Fog filled the maze, lantern light revealing thickening particles.
'Where?'
Manholes birthed automatons targeting him—numbers unknown.
A trick: they might match manholes, or none at all.
Neither this time.
'Above!'
A faint friction sound made him look up. Red eyes glared close.
Too late for most. A scythe blade pierced the fog from above, sharp enough to slice vapor.
Allen's body froze—but his left eye gleamed sky-blue.
Blue glow pierced steam to the foe.
Screech! Thud!
Like slammed brakes, a spider lower-body, mantis upper-body automaton dropped from the ceiling.
The waiting leopard pinned its belly; Allen prodded the armor with his staff.
Thump, thunk!
A mana bullet pierced the resilient spot. He reached in, extracting mana stone and soul stone.
Allen's dexterity shone, honed by repetition.
Fog cleared. Scattered manholes vanished like skin blemishes.
"Resume advance."
Pocketing pricey circuits, Allen pressed on. Leftover automatons sank into rock.
It wasn't a defect that halted them.
Allen's eye power—the bird's trait.
'Didn't know birds had command ability.'
Why automatons swarmed in packs.
'Not perfect control—more like incitement.'
True minions would mean facing packs, not lone knights.
The soul stone's transfer mutated it in his eye, but highly useful.
Hacking magitechwear was known; seizing labyrinth-born automaton control? Unheard of.
'Either no one knew, or they kept it secret.'
Allen wouldn't blab. He had an alibi ready if spotted.
'Say telekinesis or mana pulse. Works fine for now—barely noticeable, might pass as glitch.'
Pondering Star Letter combos for the ability, he halted.
Layer 8 campsite—layer 9 entrance clearing—teemed with people. Solo Allen drew brief glances before they scattered.
He found space, unpacked cart parts for quick use, tinkering.
'More people than expected.'
Rumor-chasers for rare spawns, or descending parties overlapping.
Allen looked up from his work. Some explorers stared.
Magitech engineers were rare. The bias they focused on study over combat held some truth.
Bold souls chased dual hares, but none famous now.
Mages had potential—their spells read runes their way.
Most explorers had never seen a lone magitech engineer in the labyrinth.
Allen glanced at their faces—eager, like the gang members seeking repairs.
'Expected this.'
He pulled a small sign from the cart, planting it.
[Magitech Gear and Magitechwear Repairs. Price Negotiated in Advance.]
Showing gear might spark fights, but magitech engineers could legally inspect others' legally.
For Allen, it built knowledge; repair fees were mere side income.
Watchful explorers rose tentatively.
"Can you fix this?"
First customer brought a mana stone lantern. Unlike directional headlamps, this omnidirectional type.
"I'll check the condition first."
Allen activated his eye's measurement on the dented lantern.
Nobak, a magitech engineer, had crammed in pro-grade eye functions—now thriftily used by Allen.
'Circuits twisted in the dent.'
He prolonged inspection to sate curiosity, despite quick diagnosis.
"Thirty thousand coin."
"For real? No breaking after a day."
"Won't happen."
"Good. Fix it."
Allen drew heating pliers from his jacket—like regular pliers, but heating metal for easy reshaping.
Crinkle-crinkle. Like dented cans, then the lantern regained form—smooth enough.
Rune pen fixed circuits, metal plate sealed it.
"Done."