Cave Ruins (3)
A faint flash flickered.
"Artificial eyes are Oparts, right? Every time I see them, they have some new function. And you're amazing for cramming Star Letters into them. I can't make heads or tails of them even looking at books."
Taylor plugged the cable into the port behind his ear, and Allen shrugged while manipulating the spider.
The spider climbed to the top of the ramparts and captured the fortress interior with its camera eye. Buildings made of rock stood in neat rows, and armed underground dwellers emerged from within.
Everything looked brutal and barren. Facilities or furniture for daily life were mere imitations—hollow shells like empty tin cans.
The only intact parts were weapons and equipment for combat. Naturally, the underground dwellers moved mechanically, without a shred of doubt.
"They really look like automatons programmed by someone."
"People aren't that different, are they? Aside from the composition, they're like well-designed golems."
"Oh..."
"I don't know where I picked you up, so let's not debate this. Might overload my brain."
Allen hid his regret and focused on the spider again. In the fortress center—what seemed like a plaza—heavy armored soldiers sprouted up like bamboo shoots and headed for the main gate.
"Power armor suits? Anyway, the mercenaries hit the jackpot. They'll fan out at the gate and harvest the enemies one by one."
As Taylor said, the heavy soldiers exiting the main gate knelt one by one under the mercenaries' firepower. The mercenaries deftly dismantled the suits with practiced hands and tossed out the mangled underground dwellers.
The harvested spoils were loaded onto waiting carts, and when the pile grew large, transport teams headed to the surface. Others filled the gaps.
It was something only a large organization could pull off. To sustain the endless cycle, they needed manpower. The whole process evoked a slaughterhouse.
Once all the heavy soldiers were slain, the fortress gates closed. With no intention of gutting the goose, the mercenaries just stared blankly.
Taylor unplugged the cable and spoke.
"The collector was holed up in the cave's lower levels, right?"
"Yes."
"I was out of it mentally then, so just confirming. Looks like he caused a shitstorm around here."
"If it's still like this after he left, the Labyrinth must see him as a major threat."
"So it'll keep churning out soldiers from the fortress endlessly."
As the recon spider squeezed into a small gap at the base of the ramparts, Taylor pointed to one spot.
"No need to worry about this place, so let's keep going. The ruins are right there."
"What about Ibex?"
"When I was prowling these parts, only Breaker and a few megacorps knew. Probably the same now. They're cheap bastards—they hoard any profitable intel."
This time, too, stroking the wall made the rock slide away smoothly. They followed a gentle downward slope for a while until a library-like space appeared.
Bookshelves twice the height of an adult stood in domino-like rows. The heartbreaking part was that everywhere Allen looked, they were completely empty.
Taylor nodded as if he understood.
"It's structured to generate metal plates or books over time, but since it's spotless, someone raided it recently. Probably swept it clean while investigating the collector incident."
"Ah..."
A sigh thick with disappointment. It was so poignant that even Taylor, who'd seen all sorts of chaos, felt a twinge of gloom.
"Maybe something's left or newly spawned. Let's search thoroughly."
"But was it always this messy? The shelves are all jumbled."
"Not usually this bad, but who cares? The books are what matter."
Allen nodded. The spiders dormant in the cart stirred in response to their master's zeal and scattered across the library.
"Please be there..."
"Yeah, hope so. If something looks promising, you read it first and sell to a research institute on commission. Junk goes to brokers."
"Research institute makes sense, but why brokers?"
"Displaying Labyrinth paper scraps in their studies is a trend among the rich. Flaunting how cultured and knowledgeable they are. To me, it's just posers with shit for brains. Bonus: money laundering."
Allen made a face like he couldn't comprehend. Books had value in exploring their contents—why just collect them?
"Your face muscles work after all. How's a commoner like me supposed to get rich folks' hobbies? Ah, here's an idea. Make me rich, and I'll do the same and share my thoughts."
"Bored?"
"Truth is, books and I don't mix. My skin gets all bumpy. Paper allergy, see?"
"You're cold. Suspected the artificial skin was too cheap, but goosebumps prove it was a good buy. Seller must've fat-fingered the price."
"Happens sometimes. Some cancel, others are angels and just send it."
After scouring the entire library, they found just two books. Naturally, the contents were illegible.
"Maybe these are actually letters we know, but distorted by the Labyrinth's mystery?"
"..."
Taylor pretended not to hear and rummaged through shelves. He sneaked a glance to see what Allen was doing.
Allen had his eyes closed, tapping his forehead. On the metal plate before him, spiders danced.
Worried Allen was acting out from heartbreak, Taylor rushed over and looked at the dots stamped on the plate.
Thanks to Allen's endless explanations of Star Letters, the dots somehow looked similar.
"Looks like Star Letters."
"You think so too, right?"
"Don't ask since I don't know."
Allen hadn't really sought an answer anyway, so he began voicing his compiled thoughts.
"The bookshelves' arrangement felt familiar. If each one is a Star Letter, we can decipher it."
"Really? We tried something similar back in the day—no dice."
"Did the collector come by then?"
"Nah."
"The collector can interfere with the Labyrinth. So he'd use black magic beyond layer limits. Same here."
Finishing his words, Allen dashed around the library, nudging the bookshelves' positions. His exoskeleton helped immensely.
"Need a hand?"
"It's a bit off. 2 cm right. Now 1 cm left. Too little this time."
"I'll just stand still."
Without Taylor's interference, it went faster. After about two hours, Allen finally wiped the sweat from his brow.
"Next?"
"Follow me."
Allen headed to a library corner.
"If the shelves are Star Letters, this is the starting point. It reads, 'Light the darkness with a lamp.'"
"Black magic asshole and his lamp bullshit... No change, huh."
"Not done yet. Hope I'm right."
Allen pressed his palm to the floor near the shelf. Mana infusion light flashed, followed by silence.
Before two breaths passed, a faint vibration hummed. Turning, a new passage yawned open.
The newly revealed passage sloped downward. A single layer had ups and downs, but this drastic shift was unprecedented.
As Allen observed the phenomenon in wonder, Taylor patted his shoulder and took the lead.
"Gonna have to hike later—too early to be amazed."
"The Primordial Forest?"
"Yeah. It's nature raw. The continent before civilization must've looked like that."
A new darkness welcomed Allen as he exited the passage. The lower level felt utterly different from the library above.
A straight corridor stretched ahead, flanked by rooms divided by dark rock walls. Rusty iron bars marked the boundary between rooms and hall.
"A prison...? Library above, but why something like this under the hall of knowledge?"
"Both are repositories of knowledge."
"Huh?"
"Library has books, prison has torture. Waterboarding—you know, 'water knows the answers'?"
"Spirits of water overhearing careless words?"
"You don't know?"
Taylor's eyes widened, then he mimed grabbing something with his right hand and shaking it up and down with full commitment.
"Glug, glug."
"...?"
"Didn't know that? Surprisingly innocent side. Feels weird explaining."
Yet his vivid description followed: dunking a face and botching desperate breaths on pulls, reviving the fainted by resubmerging.
Allen responded calmly.
"Necessary? Use brain-eater summons or pry open neural expanders to read. Torture wrecks the mind—can't get truth, or they spit lies from spite."
"Going darker than me. Anyway, don't try understanding the Labyrinth with common sense. Could open a bathroom door to a prairie."
Their conversation bounced off the side rooms like echoes, whispers from ghosts in their ears.
Checking cells one by one, they advanced until a distant sound pierced the air—high, shrill, bursting. A scream.
Allen and Taylor exchanged glances, raising weapons. The collector wouldn't have crept here just to explore quietly.
Silent, they crept toward the screams. The prison formed a straight line—watch ahead only.
Tension sharpened senses. Air felt chillier, heartbeats louder, footsteps thunderous.
Squelch!
Small, but impossible to ignore.
Allen looked down; his headlamp illuminated dark red liquid. Strange flesh squished under his walker oozed foul juices.
"Straight ahead."
Allen peered forward. Pulsating flesh blanketed the prison. Like tree roots replaced with veins.
Advancing cautiously, Allen spotted something in a cell for the first time.
"Right side."
A figure buried in flesh—humanoid.
Taylor pried open the broken bars and entered. Using pipes from the cart, he peeled back the flesh. A rancid stench exploded.
Not human—a underground dweller. Thick scales and pallid skin differed sharply from explorers'.
Taylor examined the half-melted body and shook his head.
"Wrong. No guts left. Miracle it's still alive. No clue what the collector did."
"Black magic, probably. Toying with life, using flesh and souls as ingredients. Deeper he goes, less people are people— just meat lumps."
Not just black mages. Some mage towers, corps, nations' secret labs ran these experiments now.
Allen didn't think Nobak Clinic alone did this. World was vast, full of weird, rotten folks.
Anyway, key was the collector made this. And Allen knew from experience.
"Fire knows the answers."
"Copying me? What the fu— what is that smell..."
Flames from Allen's staff incinerated the flesh. Taylor pinched his nose and backed away in horror.
The flamethrower of [Flame], [High Heat], [Jet] burned hotter than against black mage blood, shriveling the veiny mass rapidly.
"No smell for you?"
"Mask helps."
"Gonna ask sis to make me one."
"Handmade