The Cave Expedition

"I'll pay it back somehow."

In the heartwarming atmosphere, Allen turned toward the stinging gaze. Francois was staring oddly.

"Why are you looking at me like that, sir?"

"Because I witnessed something amazing. Someone giving up their share to non-family. You're too good-hearted."

"It's not that big a deal."

"Or maybe a fool."

"…."

"Not mockery—advice. If you don't claim your own share, people usually see you as a pushover or an idiot. That's why types like you are so rare."

"I'll handle it myself."

"Spirited. I like it."

While Dennis discussed hospital matters with his comrades, Allen brought up the police station incident.

"Could Roman Company be involved?"

"Too big to topple over a minor issue. They accept anyone for explorer registration, so plenty of customers."

"Perfect disposable pawns, then."

Francois nodded at Allen's words.

"Those guys are already cutting off tails. Mind sending their descriptions?"

"I didn't get the brain expansion procedure…."

"Magitech engineer, right? How do you manage computation and control without it?"

As Francois's suspicion spiked in real time, Dennis finished his call and shared the enemies' info.

"These are the guys."

A moment passed, and Francois's eyes widened into the void. Wanted posters scrolled up one after another. They were the thugs Allen and Dennis's group had taken down.

"They already issued wanted posters. Combined bounties come to just over 15 million coins."

"You take it."

"What about the party members?"

"I'll handle convincing them nicely. Those guys will agree happily."

Francois clapped weakly three times with a bored expression.

"Win-win. Rare heartwarming scene, but let's wrap it up."

Allen placed his palm on the oath document and infused mana. Traces of mana lingered like a finished spiderweb in specific spots.

"The duration's only a month—is such a short trace enough?"

"More than sufficient."

*

Allen had rented a warehouse with his saved money. It was called a warehouse, but the interior was modified to serve as lodging too—a true one-room workshop.

He repaired and upgraded the heavy leopard stored under the workbench. He even worked to boost the exoskeleton's performance.

Above all, he focused on the eyes.

His current hacking was rudimentary, only causing brief malfunctions or halts in enemy magitechwear. But since it interfered with soul stones, Allen judged its potential for expansion and growth to be immense.

Time flew by, and about two weeks after meeting Francois.

Logging into Saramansang, Allen spotted an unusual notice on Breaker's homepage. It was recruiting applicants interested in a large-scale expedition to the caves spanning layers 11 through 20.

Cave (1)

The warehouse was overall dim. One wall held shelves packed with lubricating oil and coating sprays, and below them sat several inactive automatons.

The place reeked of oil and metal—or it should have. Most of it was shrouded in darkness. Only one spot glowed bright: Allen, reading a thick book under the desk lamp.

His whites-of-eyes were bloodshot from hours of reading. Feeling fatigued, he rubbed around his eyes and closed the book.

He pulled down the wall-mounted bed and flopped onto it.

Even with eyes shut, his senses extended. His left eye was navigating Saramansang's infinite world. A casual login showed only 2D windows, but this full dive greeted him with a 3D realm.

A world of light and glows. Ghosts flitted between skyscrapers piercing the clouds. Those phantoms were fellow Saramansang users.

Allen tweaked settings to block them from view. Ads lingered, orbiting him.

A Chilsung ad for half-price brain expansion trailed as a balloon. At his feet waddled a dachshund hotdog made from synthetic meat.

Allen indifferently turned away. His body floated up, soaring over city, countryside, ocean. He ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠arrived at an island: Breaker's homepage.

'A notice?'

Rare non-ad popup—he entered. A massive stone slab materialized before him.

'Expedition for training labyrinth explorers.'

Allen read the top title, then slowly scrolled down.

'First, application qualifications.'

The top noted that Breaker registrants—even non-direct explorers like Allen or Dennis—could apply.

The line about explorer training with direct explorer guides per party was highlighted in another color.

Solos without regular parties were urged to apply boldly.

'Next, precautions.'

First: No liability for accidents from defying control.

Second: 20–30 days expected—bring basics. Supplies if overrun, via Breaker teams.

Thoroughly explorer-friendly. Obey orders, get compensated even for injuries; no supply worries.

Allen crossed his arms, floating before the slab.

'No tuition even. Conditions are stellar.'

Reason for higher spoils fees: Roman at 7%, Breaker a whopping 20%. Without such welfare, it'd be unfair.

Not that he'd join Roman. Breaker offered workshop rentals and heavy explorer investments.

Even floating upside down, Allen pondered deeply.

Unmissable chance. Yet why did Francois's words resurface?

'High chance the collector's in the labyrinth.'

Not planning to use explorers as meat shields, though.

Breaker's so-called "tutelage" expeditions were regular events. Recent two had zero deaths or severe injuries.

So no grounds for suspicion in posting like this.

Allen narrowed his eyes at the slab. His mind rapidly pieced info together to one conclusion.

'Are they really after the collector? Using tutelage as cover to deploy elite explorers for a drive hunt.'

Oath's one-month term made sense: Seal lips until descent. Collector-related, none would blab post-term anyway.

Ignoring the magic binding his heart like an oath, Allen scanned the rest. Unimportant details.

'Dangerous?'

Labyrinths were always perilous. He had no plans to solo anyway.

He checked the bottom: Breaker's published leader list. Accessing popped a new window.

Top: Jake Marshall. Breaker's chairman, active labyrinth explorer, Depth 7 powerhouse.

Depth 7 meant layers 61–70 reached. Allen, sticking to 1–10, was Depth 1.

Depth was the new post-discovery metric. Even same Depth 7, Maze City natives ranked higher.

Maze City's labyrinth was the world's largest—some called it the Great Labyrinth.

Anyway, Depth 7s were top-tier superhumans anywhere.

'With Chairman Marshall, should be safe? Depth 7….'

'Depth' sparked chain thoughts—habit, pro and con.

'What's on 61?'

Unknown now. Knowledge was power, info valuable—even Saramansang's info ocean lacked deep secrets.

At best, 30-layer intel circulated.

'21–30 have ancient creatures. Similar ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to modern species, but massively larger….'

Allen turned back to the slab. Time to choose: join the expedition or stay topside?

*

In the clearing near the labyrinth station, Allen inspected the cart's interior pulled by the leopard. Supplies were neatly packed.

'Food….'

Pound cake boxes first. Ultra-compressed, rock-hard with embedded sugar-soaked fruits. Eat with water or risk broken teeth.

'And the canteen.'

Water solved via magic tool—blessing. Layers 1–20 lacked sources; 30 days' worth would've squared the hardship.

Now he could engrave two rune letters at once—no issue if broken. Best avoided, though.

Vital vitamins and minerals pills sat in place.

For safety, he wedged high-calorie compressed biscuits between tool belt pouches. Hoped never to touch them.

'Pure nutrition—no taste. Explorers calling this 'tasty' probably aren't human.'

Allen swallowed the quip. No familiar faces around.

Dennis's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠party regrettably sat out. Karkda was recovering—would meet someday.

The clearing filled with people. No recent applicants; selected from maze-layer specialists—still 200-plus.

So many freakish looks, Allen's mask seemed mundane.

As he scanned faces, a voice from behind:

"Some young master, maybe?"

The speaker was a goblin. Not ordinary—major body parts swapped for magitechwear.

"No."

"Then what's that automaton? Heavily modded, obvious."

"Leopard I built myself."

"Leopard, not tiger? Now I see—you're a magitech engineer like me. Name's Kiki."

"Allen."

Handshake done, Kiki eyed Allen head to toe.

"No magitechwear? Purist?"

"Natural body, left eye aside."

"Thought you wore pricey gear to look normal—like a rich kid."

As Kiki said, pricier magitechwear mimicked flesh perfectly, fully customizable.

This goblin magitech engineer lacked funds? Head looked robotic—especially.

Brain expanders could protrude with parts/pipes; Kiki was a prime example.

Allen eyed bubbles in the transparent pipe.

"Bubble flow suggests water-cooling?"

No joke. Higher compute/control meant critical heat management—even mages modded similarly.

Karkda praised the era: 'Make talents from nothing.' Bragged no need for huge head gear.

Kiki snapped at Allen's words.

"Bubbles? I paid a fortune for proper handling… Lots of foam?"

"No. Single bubble, about 0.3mm."

"Gone quick. Looks like same Group 6—let's get along. Pulling that efficient? Mind if I check?"

"Exterior only."

"Obviously."

Kiki approached cautiously, inspecting the leopard. Allen stared at his nuque—pipes everywhere, original face lost.

'Uncomfortable sleeping?'

Allen wondered as such.