Cave Ruins (1)
"Feels kinda satisfying, but still kinda iffy. Like a bug crawled in or something—my chest itches."
As was typical for goblins, Kiki snapped out of his reverie in no time. The Greenblood hideout was overflowing with goodies that could snag the eye of any greedy goblin.
"They even gave pouches to the folks who were sleeping. ...So, can I snag a little something too?"
"H-Hey, you little goblin shit. Where'd you leave your conscience? Did you forget it back at the clinic during your body mods?"
"Old timer. I took down one of those muscle pigs too."
Kiki proudly pointed to a spot where a young orc—looking like a newbie with no reinforced exoskeleton—lay sprawled.
If you squinted, the dented edge of a nearby toppled cabinet looked awfully similar to the gash in the orc's skull. Probably just your imagination.
"You just got lucky and stumbled into it. Don't go bragging, you punk."
"Right? Think of me as your kid and hook me up a bit."
"No, are you nuts? I wouldn't take you even if they loaded up ten trucks for free. Scram!"
Taylor shoved away the clingy, obnoxious Kiki. Allen watched the scene and spoke up.
"Kiki."
"What? You gonna give me something?"
"Cut it out."
"Mm, got it... But I worked hard too..."
Kiki shrank under Allen's impassive gaze and quietly started tidying up. If his snout stuck out just a tad more, you could've called him a stork's cousin.
Taylor whispered, one corner of his mouth twitching upward.
"What's gotten into you? Looked like you'd cave if the goblin kept begging."
"Appropriate rewards should only be given for completing work worthy of them."
"Yeah, yeah. You're doing great. If you mess up the reward-punishment balance, punks like goblins climb all over you quick."
Kiki sulked for a while, but perked right up when Allen handed over a pouch of mana stones, departing the warehouse with light steps.
Taylor loaded the worthwhile loot into two trucks and fired up the engine.
Vroom-vroom-vroom!
The rough engine roar filled the air as the truck shuddered like it might fall apart any second.
"What era do you call this? Still using this junk. Trucks run on diesel, right? You know how to drive?"
"Yeah."
He'd learned from Vito during the months drifting after escaping the clinic. Back then it was just to kill time, but now it came in handy.
"The client didn't reveal themselves, though. Guess they approached pretty secretly."
"If they were sloppy enough for us to spot easy, sure. But in cases like this, better not to know. Get tangled up and it turns out to be some big outfit, headaches galore. Let's roll out."
The truck crossed paths with police cars exiting the old industrial district.
*
In the lobby of a five-story building dubbed the Sprout Hall—handling new registrations and shallow-layer explorers despite its modest height due to its vast floor space—Allen and Taylor sat.
"Never thought I'd be reissuing at my age."
Allen peered at the ID from the side.
"20th layer, huh. The one we used last time said 35th layer..."
"Guess that's the signal to retire the old one. Feels weird thinking of it as rejoining. Like I'm doomed to the labyrinth till I die."
"It's a correction, so that's good. But you're here for another reason, right?"
"Oh, right."
Light burst from Taylor's eyes, forming a square holographic screen in the air.
Tedious to explain verbally, but Taylor found this method oddly nostalgic somehow. Like an old grandpa with his grandkid on his knee, spinning tales from the past.
"This is the request. Better to link up with zone-specific jobs than just plunging straight down. Mages or researchers sometimes toss work through the explorer guild like this."
"Good thing it's not babysitting someone down."
"Wouldn't have glanced twice if it was. But this job's a bit different. Upper caves have repeating generate-dissipate defense machines, but lower ones have fixed fortresses or ruins."
"Heard about that."
"Back in my day, begged seniors to teach me. Now everything's on the net. World's come a long way."
Just casual griping. Taylor knew full well key info stayed secretive—like the hidden passage he'd found last time.
"Anyway, not the point. The goal's metal plates or books from fortresses or ruins. New tech usually turns up there."
"If we find any, no problem peeking first, right?"
"Your voice spiked there. Quick on the uptake when it suits you. But don't get hopes up. Labyrinth exploring's over a century old; caves are just transit now."
"But the script found in the labyrinth can't be deciphered even by magic. Like they scribbled nonsense just to mess with us."
"Blueprints are drawings, so interpretable somehow. Drop it, though—headache already."
Allen stood from his chair, still hopeful.
"Be nice to find something new."
"Told you, tough. To satisfy that curiosity, gotta punch through at least the primordial forest."
"You never know."
"Stubborn kid."
Taylor was pleased, though. Allen brimmed with the challenge spirit and drive every explorer needed. Only that kept you alive long in the labyrinth.
Outside the building, Taylor casually asked Allen,
"Got enough Pital Flower seeds?"
"Western Sky? Suddenly...?"
Before he finished, scenes flashed through Allen's mind. Top one: Taylor staring at Yohwa's form for ages.
"For Manager Yohwa, right?"
"Nah. Worried about your body."
"She's at least ten years older—sure that's okay?"
"In an age where we swap bodies, age is... Ahem!"
Allen's lip twitched faintly. He didn't notice; Taylor missed it behind the mask.
Taylor clamped his mouth shut, conversation stalling. Even waiting at the monorail station, silence held.
A hologram announced the next train. Perfect—heading toward Western Sky.
"So... you going?"
Cave Ruins (1)
50 meters tall, 100 meters wide. A pitch-black gate that seized the gaze of any onlooker.
The labyrinth tempted explorers with its treasures and secrets from the very entrance, ensnaring souls with its allure.
Tourists even got IDs just to glimpse it up close—no further explanation needed.
But true explorers, in and out constantly, were jaded; their thrill threshold sky-high.
Taylor—retired after decades in the labyrinth with Breaker—was one such.
"Boring. Hurry up and let us in."
Lines divided by reached layers: 1-20, then 21-40. The first always backed up longest.
Strict meritocracy and rewards.
Satisfaction for achievers; aspiration for the watchers below.
Some quit midway, but competition honed skills and infused fresh blood into the labyrinth biz.
Allen eyed the next line. The 21-40 layer queue moved smoothly, drawing stares whenever a group passed.
Taylor, perched on a cart, pointed at an expedition.
"That's Essel Magic Tower; the ones entering now are Ibex Mercenaries. Mercs or fixers, same breed—but those know what a declaration of war means. Not that they're gentlemen."
"Mercs come here too? Training?"
"Best training ground: earn cash, stack real combat. Those trailing behind are newbies, probably."
Layer-divided lines opened if over half qualified—perk for big orgs only.
"Last time we breezed in... but reissue screwed us."
"Retired, can't help it. So bust through 20th layer quick and switch lines."
"No rushing. Rare word for you... Let's check if your heart's racing."
Taylor pressed his palm to Allen's explorer suit. Steady beats tickled the skin.
"Good, not a golem. Still jump seeing your face mornings."
Taylor's pointless joke worked wonders; boredom flew by.
Post-entry, constant automaton vigilance killed dull moments.
After long march, reaching layer 7, Taylor perked at a hiss and stepped forward. Manhole opening; his weary face lit up.
"Test run before the cave?"
"You first?"
"Suits me. Automatons hit sweeter than orcs. Know why? No fear—they charge relentless; no slacking till end."
Two wolf riders emerged. True to machine hostility, they charged on spotting Taylor.
Metal clashing rock echoed through the silent maze, swelling with their momentum.
Taylor gripped shotgun left-handed, right hand at waist. Barrel swung to the lead foe.
Shotgun? Think compact mana bullet launcher. Power too—magitech-enhanced rounds outdid plain lead long ago.
Boom!
Reinforced artificial muscle and joints absorbed recoil, lifting his left slightly. Rider's torso vanished.
Rider gone, wolf persisted. Red eyes glaring, it crouched low. Blade-teeth aimed at Taylor's groin.
The veteran winced instinctively but held stance. Eyes locked, waiting.
At contact, he snapped back foot, twisted sideways, wrist-snapped the waist blade.
Blue trail flared aurora-like, vanishing instantly. Curtain sliced wolf nose-to-tail vertically.
"Where do you think...?"
Before bisected wolf hit ground noisy, blue light flickered inside Taylor's sealed helmet.
Helmet: EBI. Light: magic prelude.
The stared-down remaining rider crumpled. Wind spell [Air Burst] finished it easy.
Taylor twirled mana sword hilt, sheathing at waist. Only then did severed wolf crash loud.
"All good. Feeling prime. Should've swapped to full magitechwear ages ago?"
"Regrets?"
"One. Would've got company subsidies then; instead bought that grit bullshit..."
Taylor whipped head around mid-sentence. Multiple presences inbound—drawn by combat noise.
"Footsteps say automatons. Four-ish. Your turn to test?"
"I'm good..."
"Do it. Gear's solid—use it or what's the point."
Exoskeleton once lower-body only now covered full. Even Allen's weak frame could punch out pure orcs bare.
Truth, Allen prized hauling heavy materials himself. No more pulleys, carts—what a hassle before.