Cave (2)
While Allen was lost in thought, Kiki finished her cursory observation and returned to his side.
"You're really not some young master from a fancy family, are you?"
"... "
"I mean, you've got nothing but magitechwear on, yet you call yourself a magitech engineer. That Lynx of yours could probably sweep through the Labyrinth just by reading the runes etched on the outside."
"It's not quite that impressive."
"Well, the water golems are pretty tough, I'll give you that. Even wolf riders are hard to ignore when they swarm. But still..."
Just as her suspicious questions were about to continue, a line of Breaker aerial vehicles appeared one after another and landed in the clearing.
Explorers in all sorts of clothes and gear disembarked, and last of all came Jake Marshall, who despite being over sixty had not a single white hair. His gray locks were slicked entirely back, exposing his forehead completely.
The direct subordinates who had exited headed toward their assigned groups.
An escort arrived in front of Allen and Kiki as well—a figure whose head was completely covered by a pitch-black helmet that radiated considerable mana.
Why does this feel familiar...?
As Allen stared at the escort, his eyes began analyzing on their own.
Name: Sion
Race: Human
Green lines traced the outline of her body, confirming the match, but the clincher was the bag slung over her shoulder.
It was the same bag Sion had shown him back in the workshop district. No doubt it was still stuffed with Chilseong and Hextech swords.
Allen's eyes met hers—or rather, his eyes met the jet-black visor of Sion's helmet.
Sion spoke to the explorers without missing a beat.
"The ten of you here just stick with me and you'll be fine. No need to worry..."
"Hold on—this is my group. What do you think you're doing?"
A thick, familiar voice cut in. It was Francois, the one who had handed Allen the pledge form.
Sion's black visor fixed on Francois steadily.
"This is... Group 9, right?"
"Group 6. The number six. I showed you the compartment map in the vehicle."
"I must've read it upside down..."
Francois wrinkled his nose and pointed toward where Group 9 was waiting.
"That's your group. So why are you wearing combat gear?"
"... "
Sion turned wordlessly and walked off. Her helmet disengaged and vanished like magic, her pace oddly quick, whipping her hair fiercely behind her.
Cave (2)
Group 6 had a total headcount of thirteen: leader Francois, two direct subordinates tending the oxen pulling the cart, and ten members following behind.
With roughly twice as many people as Dennis's party, the Labyrinth's passages felt cramped.
In the Labyrinth at least, a large group was both an advantage and a drawback.
If the vanguard was soft as tofu, it would sweep up the rear mages and supporters too—but if it was solid, nothing could break through, letting everyone focus calmly on their roles.
This time, it was the latter. The vanguard bought just a moment's time, and the ranged attackers—mages included—mopped up the automatons in seconds.
Francois had only watched at first, but after a few fights, he nodded.
"Nothing more to see here. Any members think there's something to learn from the Labyrinth? We checked your reached layers before approving you, so probably not."
He'd planned to blitz through from the start. After all, the applicants for this expedition were already at a level that came and went from the layers regularly.
A bit much for Depth 1, a bit short for Depth 2.
"Let's pick up the pace, then."
With that, Francois broke into a brisk stride that rivaled a slow jog. Even a slow run was several times faster than walking.
The explorers showed signs of strain at the sudden forced march but said nothing.
Allen stuck close behind them. Good thing he'd bought the exoskeleton to reinforce his legs and waist.
If I'd been bare-bodied, I'd have ended up riding the cart.
He could ride, but then he couldn't deploy the Lynx in combat, or he'd have to build an extra automaton.
That was fine, but unless it was a special circumstance, sitting idle was peak inefficiency for Allen. He couldn't rely on the cart forever—he needed practice moving under his own power too.
Allen eyed the ceiling ahead. The fog parted, and a manhole suddenly popped out.
The automaton that emerged with a hiss boldly blocked Group 6's path, but whether wolf rider, buffalo, or lobster, it got shredded by the lead direct subordinates no matter the form.
Even with Francois just spectating and only the baggage handlers stepping up.
The members who'd been swallowing nervously, thinking they might match those baggage guys if not the leader, all fell silent.
Allen was too busy absorbing the combat to entertain such thoughts. Even if he had the spare attention, same deal.
Direct subordinates—full-timers—aren't just baggage haulers, then. Makes sense; you never know what'll happen, so they have to be able to protect themselves at minimum.
Group 6 reached layer 10 and paused to catch their breath. They'd pushed non-stop for nearly a full day, yet Francois showed no sign of sweat.
He eyed the passage ahead briefly, then asked the group.
"Anyone want practice if a water golem shows? ...None. Alright, up you go. Time to move again."
The members groaned as they rose. Kiki sidled up to Allen and pointed at the cart.
"Mind if I hitch a ride? My joints are gonna give out at this rate."
"Prosthetics are tougher than real legs."
"My precious lube's draining away. Please!"
Kiki's knees looked fine. Despite her whining, Allen agreed readily. Even with most of her body swapped for magitechwear, a goblin stood about 120 cm tall—far lighter than any Labyrinth automaton.
With the cart freeing her up, Kiki struck up a quiet chat.
"Water golems don't pop up just 'cause you want to see one. What explorer runs into them every time they hit layer 10?"
"...And the competition's fierce."
"Exactly. So why'd you look like you had to pee when the leader asked? You actually want to fight one?"
"... "
"A magitech engineer for real? I was joking, but you're serious. You're one weird guy."
Allen just shrugged. Truth be told, he did want to test his capabilities, but after a full day of marching, his condition was shot.
His body was weak to begin with; overexerting against a water golem and missing out on cave experience would be his loss. Allen's goal was exploration—the water golem was just a waypoint.
They'd covered about half of layer 10.
As if the proverb "words breed reality" held true, a massive manhole formed, and a water golem hauled itself out wholesale. Unlike the ones that whistled and detached to pursue.
Even with the water golem appearing, Francois showed no sign of slowing. The members flinched but followed. Faith in Breaker's direct subordinates.
30 meters. 20 meters. 10 meters.
Francois, who'd shown no reaction till now, reached into his coat and pulled out something thermos-shaped.
Francois vanished.
Allen's body couldn't keep up, but his eyes clumsily tracked the motion.
The dark red liquid turned into an axe.
Thus equipped with twin axes, Francois went to work. So fast it looked like a stuttering film reel.
No great exertion either. He flicked his arms like a painter with a brush, and the golem's limbs separated from its torso. Head too.
"Halt!"
The vice-leaders signaled to stop, and the water golem collapsed. They grabbed the core parts from its prized cyclops eye and explosive hammer.
Francois, axes already stowed, pointed at the loot.
"Didn't think you'd actually get one after that idle talk. The eye and parts go to the two members who've earned the best reviews in the cave so far. Keep it up."
Stoking their rivalry, he strode off. With the water golem down in seconds, nothing stood in the black-clad orc's way.
They blazed to the end of layer 10. Group 9 under Sion was already there.
"I win."
"This isn't a race. I've stressed a hundred times: member safety and experience come first."
"I got here first."
"... "
Was that vein on Francois's neck a trick of the light? Allen glanced past Sion. Her group lay sprawled on the ground, utterly spent.
Francois scratched his nose briefly and asked Sion,
"Has the chairman already headed down?"
"Probably. Said he'd clear the dangers up front. I'm going now too."
"We're resting first, then moving. Slow your roll a bit. Don't act like you're solo as usual."
"The vice-leaders'll handle the headaches. Alright, everyone up!"
Her group practically convulsed at her words. Allen had thought their descent insanely fast, but now he saw Francois had been holding back.
With the lively leader and her zombie entourage gone, the layer 10 campsite felt deserted.
As Allen prepped his meal, he finally noticed his pound cake was gone. It was melting into Kiki's pot.
"What are you doing?"
"You nodded when I said I'd show you Labyrinth cooking."
Allen rolled his eyes. He vaguely remembered. He'd been focused on Sion and Francois's exchange, half-assing his response to Kiki.
The soup in Kiki's pot was thick. Chunks of pound cake, jerky, and biscuit floated around. It looked just like...
"Kinda like someone puked, right? Looks gross, tastes fine. Here, try it. Come on, come on."
Allen took the bowl and spooned it up, trying his best not to look down.
"Well? Pretty good, huh? Thoughts?"
"Just improve the presentation."
"Tough in the Labyrinth. Gotta sacrifice something with limited resources. And my secret seasoning? Trade secret."
Kiki chattered on about unasked details with glee.
Meal over and cleanup done, they headed down. Labyrinth tinnitus plagued Allen again, worse now transitioning from maze to cave than layer to layer.
His eyes met Francois's, who was hanging back. The orc scratched his nose and spoke.
"Anyone with bad Labyrinth tinnitus?"
Allen raised his hand, and a vice-leader pulled out a terminal to log it. A few other members followed suit.
"Not giving extra points, so be honest. This is for medical stats."
Francois's clarification dropped the hands. Kiki's included.
*
"Kieeeek!"
An underground dweller bursting from the cave wall screamed as a spear impaled it.
With the dweller out, the wall reverted. The grotesque sight—like birthing from an egg sac—felt unreal.
The underground dweller resembled a human. The difference: white skin flaking like stone.
That's why the explorer who'd killed his first living thing lost focus. Automatons screamed "monster" as machines, but these could pass for unwashed humans at a glance.
"Urgh..."
The spearman flinched, and the gut-stabbed dweller forced itself forward to cling. The shaft reddened with its thrashing.
Whoosh—thunk!
An axe whistled through the air, embedding in the dweller's head as it lunged for the explorer's throat.
Francois barked at the blood-soaked adventurer.
"Get it together! They don't quit till they're dead!"
The training-disguised combat proceeded under strict control. Once in the cave, Francois hung back, watching the members fight and intervening only at dire moments.
After the fight, Allen wiped the blood from the Lynx's mouth with the dweller's rags. Chunks of flesh clung on—unsightly.
"Who is the creator of the Labyrinth"