Parasite? – Overflow Onslaught
‘Parasite?’
The Collector had earned that name by gathering the ‘brains’ of people with special talents. Naturally, he possessed extensive knowledge about them.
‘They must have implanted it for mental domination.’
It was a fact Allen knew well. He’d only posed the question aloud due to the jarring difference between reading about it and facing it in person.
Sensing the sinister aura from the black mage, Francois drew his jet-black axe.
“Are you his puppet?”
“How dare you call my great master ‘that thing.’ Would you stand for it if I insulted your precious chairman?”
“Of course not.”
“Same here.”
By now, the black mage held a black flute in his bony hand. The mouthpiece reached his lips faster than Francois could hurl his axe.
Thwack!
The belatedly flying axe pierced the black mage’s barrier. Its blade halted right before the enemy’s forehead.
The black mage ran a finger along the axe blade. The moment it touched his skin, blackened, dead blood trickled down his hand and arm.
Even with the wound, the black mage grinned ear to ear, as if delighted by something.
“What a shame.”
“Not at all.”
The instant Francois shouted, the axe blade morphed into a pointed spear and pierced the black mage’s forehead. A few parasites crawled out from the tiny gap between the spear and skin.
“Heh heh heh.”
Yet the black mage didn’t die. His creepy laughter filled the clearing.
“Did you think you were thwarting my master’s plan? No. Far from it—you’re helping. Sacrifices are better the stronger they are.”
“What’s your game?”
“Ask your esteemed chairman.”
The black mage redeployed his barrier and formed hand seals, while Francois charged to stop him.
Allen wanted to observe their fight, but he had no time for that. The flute the black mage played interfered with the Labyrinth, just like the old whistle.
The solid cave walls bubbled like boiling water. Shadows visible from within multiplied rapidly.
“Overflow! Rally up!”
The vice-leaders, grasping the situation, gathered their teams.
This confirmed the assumption that the Collector had acquired Oparts or knowledge allowing him to interfere with the Labyrinth.
“Frontline forward! Mages, prepare!”
But there was no time to dwell on that now. Countless underground dwellers and automatons were tearing through the walls to emerge.
Francois and the black mage vanished behind the horde.
The two vice-leaders blocked front and rear, with the frontline forming a circular defense around them. Mages didn’t just hang back—they held shields and fought alongside.
The automatons, under the underground dwellers’ command, behaved differently from maze beasts. Even surrounded, they didn’t charge recklessly, waiting for an opening or orders.
“Huff huff. Damn it all.”
Kiki moved unlike the typical dumb, cowardly goblin. His two wrists folded back completely, sharp awls springing from within.
Once prepared, Kiki—himself protected by the frontline—planted himself squarely in front of Allen.
“Just trust your brother, boss. You’re the first person to ever be kind to a goblin like me. So you can’t die.”
“...”
Allen couldn’t grasp what qualified as ‘kind.’ He’d simply responded when spoken to, let him ride the cart for sore legs, answered magitech questions. He’d do the same for anyone.
Either way, no time for idle thoughts now.
The murmurs from the underground dwellers grew louder as they positioned massive automatons—bulls, rhinos, stag beetles—at the front.
Allen focused on the automatons. The more mana his eyes drew, the brighter their blue glows intensified.
Cave automatons had stronger magic resistance than maze foes. But as Allen explored and accumulated knowledge, he grew too.
His vision shifted gradually. His eyes pierced the thick outer armor. He tracked complex parts, spinning gears, circuits feeding accelerating cylinders.
At the end: mana stones and soul stones.
The power in Allen’s eyes forcibly breached the soul stones’ security, invading within. What appeared was stars filling every direction. The stationary stars began orbiting at his will.
His left eye handled the automatons; his right observed the underground dwellers. One aimed a pistol-like device at the ceiling.
Snap!
The automatons charged in unison. The explorers gulped at the pressure of their bulk.
But they couldn’t run freely. At most five steps, then—like falling dominoes—the automatons slammed their heads into the ground.
“What the—?”
“Defective units?”
“Snap out of it and focus! Plenty more where that came from!”
The vice-leaders scolded the explorers. Shaking off confusion, the team attacked the underground dwellers and automatons.
Kiki instinctively glanced up at Allen. Being so close, he noticed.
It wasn’t coincidence. The halted ones shared one trait: they’d been in Allen’s field of view.
Cave (5)
Could the Labyrinth’s monsters be called living beings?
They ate, had body heat, bled, adapted to situations like using explorers’ magitech, and grew if left alone.
The Labyrinth birthed and reclaimed them, so no reproduction, but otherwise, they qualified as creatures. Even intelligent underground dwellers existed.
Yet magic didn’t make them speak your language, and attempts to capture and drag them out resulted in unexplained death the moment they stepped from cave to maze.
Countless scholars descended into the Labyrinth seeking dialogue, only to return with murderous intent.
They inherently hostile to Labyrinth explorers; once battle began, they’d sink teeth into the ‘impurities’ even at cost of their lives.
“Graaah!”
“Damn beasts!”
One frontline explorer blasted an underground dweller’s head—screaming and aiming a mana pistol at him—with a shot.
Thanks to Allen’s mass hack, the charge lost momentum; some riders atop automatons tumbled headfirst to grim ends.
But seeing them crawl with broken legs using arms sent chills down any spine—human or otherwise.
The grimacing frontline thrust his arm forward. His pot-lid shield emitted a translucent mana field, blocking the enemy’s ranged attacks.
Impacts from mana bullets rattled his bones through the deflection shield. Still, he performed admirably.
Automatons tripping over themselves? No—some ally had acted, and his stable defense enabled it.
“Good! Automatons tripping themselves up—charge lacks power! Thin their numbers now!”
At the vice-leader’s booming command, several frontline pulled mana pulse grenades from their packs. Cave automatons’ magic resistance meant limited effect, but they could damage circuits and cut output.
The grenades arced and burst midair, blue static netting briefly flashing before vanishing.
Automatons surviving Allen’s hack crumpled under the follow-up; underground dwellers raged at unresponsive mounts.
An underground dweller atop a crab-like automaton shrieked.
“Kakikikya!”
Not mere rage—it was their incomprehensible language.
Seeing them scurry post-screech, it roughly meant ‘you idiots, hold position!’
‘Or urging another charge.’
AllEN’s guess proved right. Automaton riders squeezed through fallen comrades or leaped over, barreling into the explorers’ formation.
Thud thud!
One frontline met a golem-armed fist head-on. He’d stepped up confidently, but the bouncing deer charge sparked doubt.
‘Can I block it?’
Block it he must. A breach meant damage behind, crumbling the hard-held line. That led to death.
Endure wounds if needed—block at all costs. Doubt allies? No. In the Labyrinth, where only each other remained, trust was foundational.
As distance closed, the deer lowered its head, thrusting blade-like antlers forward, malice aimed at the wounded.
“Come on! You’re not getting through!”
But defying the frontline’s resolve, the deer’s front legs stiffened, slamming its head naturally into the ground.
Coincidence? He seized the chance: smashed fist into the deer’s neck for a deep gash, stomped the staggering rider’s neck amid the fall.
The underground dweller’s neck snapped with a sickening crunch. Limbs paralyzed, it still gnashed teeth at his ankle.
Admirable effort, futile. Even if it bit, combat boots rendered it useless.
He soccer-kicked the head away, using the fallen automaton as barricade. Others followed suit, bolstering the defense.
Yet overflow was no trifling threat. Enemy numbers—at least double their six squads—and underground dwellers weren’t fools.
“Kraaak!”
Screams, clanging metal—amid battlefield chaos, the roar stood clear. Judging obstacles hard to surmount, enemies advanced slowly, automatons forefront.
They’d blocked the steamroll, now faced numerical violence.
“They’re coming! Coming!”
Kiki’s shrill scream turned to Allen, hoping for another display.
“Can you hack again this time?”
“Overload right now—it’s tough. Should ease as we hold them off.”
“Overload, huh. No wonder the glow dimmed. Can’t be helped... I’m a man who keeps his word.”
Kiki, far smaller, blocked Allen’s front. Surrounded anyway, it diluted ‘protection,’ but still.
Allen eyed the maggot at Kiki’s feet—speared by his awl after slipping between frontline legs.
Leaving the dutiful goblin, he summoned the panther.
“Forward.”
Frontline startled at the sudden leopard but felt reassured by its bulk and rune letters.
Then—clash.
The panther lunged, clamping the mechanical bull’s neck. Drill fangs pierced plating, sparks flying like fireworks in its maw.
Ripping the bull’s head free, it targeted the rider—the underground dweller. Allen’s laser hit the chest dead-on.
Pop!
Something burst; the upper body pulped. The crater matched the panther’s paw perfectly.
With the panther rampaging through enemy lines, frontline gained vigor.
“Should I run one too?”
“Got the funds?”
“Profits drop, but stability rises.”
“Not a magitech engineer—can you afford repairs?”
“Still...”
“Quit whining—hold that shield right!”
Brief chatter, but they held roles perfectly. Deflection shields bought time for mage support or elite vice-leaders silencing automatons.
Still, sheer numbers breached lines sometimes—or they let weak/injured slip.
“Kiyot!”
Then Kiki stepped up. Flailing arms thrust awls. Clumsy, but as non-magitech goblin untrained in technique, better than nothing.
“Gaaah! Mercy!”
Goblin limits or not—