Uprising in the Mine
He thrust his sword at him. The King ducked forward slightly to dodge the blade, then clamped down on the swordsman's wrist with his gauntleted hand.
Crack!
A dwarf's grip was powerful enough already, but enhanced by his training? The sound of something twisting in the swordsman's wrist echoed out.
At the same time, Shiba twisted the wrist. The swordsman's body was yanked downward, his head following along. Shiba's shoulder-mounted fist launched straight forward.
The bell-like toll rang out three times. The swordsman, who had taken two extra hits compared to the others, went limp.
"Yaaah!"
Just then, another enemy charged straight at him. Shiba grabbed the swordsman's ankle and swung him like a weapon.
Clang!
The foe wore magitechwear over his face, judging by the metallic clash.
"Don't underestimate dwarves again."
Shiba dropped the two limp bodies and hurled himself forward.
He had tried to buff himself, only to get debuffed instead, and his mana pack had emptied out far too quickly—who knew how they'd managed that. But that wasn't all.
Boom!
The mana shot launcher aimed at Allen exploded spectacularly. One went off, and the others in the magazine followed suit in a chain reaction.
In the scorching air, the Manager glared at Allen.
Negligence has its limits...
There had been some corruption in the supply chain, but he'd never received gear this shoddy before. This mess was clearly someone's sabotage.
An old man with full-body mods and a dwarf charging in despite being a healer—they weren't clever enough for this.
That leaves one person.
Naturally, it was the magitech engineer providing fire support from the rear. His calm, sweeping gaze—like he was commanding the battlefield—twisted the Manager's guts.
DT-10, the camp, and now the mine.
No matter how he spun it, his career was over. This was beyond what even his superiors in the chain could cover for.
His mana heart boiled in response to his rage. Mana seeped into every corner of his body, and the prosthetic arms attached to his shoulders swelled up.
He kicked off the ground hard. His target: that bastard at the end of the straight line.
"No!"
The cyborg—whether playacting an old man or the real deal—shouted out. His panicked expression was delightful. I wonder what face he'll make when something precious breaks.
The old man was tied up in a pincer attack and couldn't spare anyone to stop him.
Thump!
A familiar sound rang out. That was the noise. The mana shots fired alongside it had turned the camp into an inferno and sown chaos.
The Manager thrust his hand forward. Normal mana shots exploded after flying a certain distance, when their internal fuses aligned, triggered by impact.
So if he deflected them smoothly... In the accelerated time of his reflex axle, the Manager's hand lightly grasped the side of the incoming shot.
At the same time, his eyes spotted the dwarf charging this way. He'd let a healer into the camp, and this was the result.
He flung his hand sideways, sending the mana shot hurtling toward the dwarf.
Kaboom!
Hot heat washed over his back. Still, the Manager laughed. Now, nothing stood between him and the magitech engineer.
The kid stared back with that same impassive gaze. Even if I rip off his ears, gouge out his eyes, pull his teeth—could he keep that up?
A cruel smile curled the Manager's lips as he noticed his peripheral vision staining red.
Where have I seen this light before?
Before he could recall, a crimson heat ray slashed across him. The power was so immense that both his legs were pierced and charred in an instant.
Allen glanced at the leopard poking its head out from the tent where he'd been hiding, then looked down at the Manager sprawled before him. He was still reaching out toward Allen, refusing to give up.
"Damn it..."
Clang! Clang!
Allen's reply was harsh metal clangs. He raised his staff high and bashed the Manager's head repeatedly. The clear ring suggested his skull had been replaced with metal.
The battle ended the moment the Manager collapsed. Taylor approached, looking ragged.
"Glad you're safe. I forgot about the leopard myself."
"Do you need treatment?"
"Can't you tell?"
"Your magitechwear looks fine, but the flesh parts are hard for me to judge."
Taylor nodded at the very Allen-like response and pointed to one side with his hand. Shiba lay there spread-eagled.
"Not right now."
"Is Shiba badly hurt?"
"Don't you remember? He took your mana shots and ended up like that. We call that friendly fire."
"That was the Manager's..."
Allen shut his mouth. Either way, he'd been the one who fired them. Taylor's voice settled over the now-quiet battlefield.
"No threat to his life, so he'll wake up soon. Dwarves are tough as hell. But who heals the healer when he goes down?"
At that moment, Hashy exchanged glances with a few miners. The number of overseers had dropped below 30%, just as Allen had promised.
The commotion outside had tightened security, but with fewer bodies, holes were inevitable.
Hashy pulled the mana stone hidden in his underwear and slotted it into the pickaxe's groove. The handle vibrated in response.
It works.
He swallowed hard and steadied his breath. With mining halted, an overseer approached from behind.
"You! You little shit! Wanna die?"
Knowing about the camp fight, the overseer's tone was sharper than usual.
"Get your head straight!"
His patience shorter than normal, the man stomped toward Hashy's back, planning to crack his skull as an example to the others.
"We go easy, and you think we're pushovers?"
"Easy? You bloodsuckers saying that?"
"You gone mad... Gahk!"
The overseer's eyes rolled back. The cause: Hashy's pickaxe buried in his solar plexus. It should've deployed a shield against fast-moving objects, but the magitech stayed silent.
Hashy gripped the handle tightly with trembling hands. He'd half-expected it to fail anyway, but crushing the shield? That he hadn't anticipated.
Chaos erupted among the remaining overseers.
"That guy!"
"Kill the bastard!"
This was a forced labor camp. They ruled through fear, so they couldn't afford to be looked down on. If one got hit, the rest had to be torn apart.
One overseer dropped his rubber-bullet gun and reached for his mana sword's hilt, intent on lopping off limbs for a proper warning.
"Urk!"
But his plan never came to fruition. A crouched miner sprang up and swung his pickaxe into the overseer's back.
As another overseer fell, the mood shifted. Years of pent-up rage exploded in an instant.
"Caught by these losers? With gear that doesn't even work?"
"Kill 'em! Kill 'em!"
"We're not slaves!"
Emaciated or not, the momentum from a hundred men was terrifying. The overseers hit the dirt before they could react, beaten senseless.
Even those whose shields worked couldn't withstand the barrage of pickaxes.
"Let's escape to the surface like this!"
"Together, we'll make it!"
The miners charged out of the mine with fervor, only to halt as if by agreement. DT-10 lay sprawled in their path.
No one was ignorant of what DT-10 was.
"How the hell do we deal with that?"
"Uwaaah!"
"No, wait! Look! It's stopped!"
The spreading panic calmed at someone's shout. Good thing the mine entrance was narrow; if all hundred had seen it at once, even that might not have worked.
The miners clutched their pounding hearts and slowly surveyed the camp. The corporate forces they'd seen as grim reapers lay scattered, with Allen and Sion chatting in the center.
"What about reinforcements?"
"Not anymore."
Allen's eyes flicked up and down rapidly. She'd said there was someone dangerous, but Sion looked unscathed—like she'd just been for a jog.
"You said it was dangerous..."
"Not for me."
As Allen stared, Sion's shoulders gradually rose.
End.
Allen followed Sion into the passage. Unlike the open camp clearing, the black fog thickened again, but the sight felt more familiar than the clearing.
Shining his head lantern around parted the fog, revealing the cave's rough, jagged walls.
Sion stopped at a spot, hands on hips, and turned.
"Here we are."
"It's clean. No traces at all."
"Oh, right..."
Sion replied with a blank look.
The labyrinth absorbed external materials or monster corpses if no explorers were nearby. That process took 30 minutes to an hour, so at least half an hour had passed.
In other words, while Allen had been in the thick of battle at the camp, Sion had already handled the reinforcements.
Taylor smirked at the sight.
"Told you. Trash at everything but swordplay."
"..."
Sion didn't argue, but her slightly pouted lips spoke volumes of dissatisfaction. She even kicked at a protruding rock with her toe.
Imagining the battle that had taken place here and roughly calculating how quickly it ended, Allen spoke up.
"Impressive."
"Hmph."
"Look at those shoulders rising. Jake or Francois don't baby you like that, huh?"
Sion shot Taylor a sharp glance at his question.
"Even whales dance for praise."
"What? Feels like the order's off."
"I'll head out and be right back."
Sion, who had been standing still, stretched out long. She broke into a full sprint at a speed that left afterimages.
It was too fast for Allen's eyes to track. As he stared at where she'd vanished and her path for a while, Taylor asked.
"Jealous?"
"Of what?"
"Sion's built-up strength and shining talent."
"No. I was imagining how to replicate that movement with rune letters and circuit magic."
"Good enough."
Allen and Taylor trudged back toward the camp. No need to rush this time. Taylor brought it up again quietly.
"Sion's the same age as you."
"Oh... Even more impressive."
"That's what impresses you?"
"Being that good at 18 means she's outstanding. Breaker's top prospect, right? One Chairman Marshall's grooming full-throttle?"
"Anyway, what I was getting at is: don't be too envious. She's been swinging a sword since she could walk, entering the labyrinth at 8. She's run much longer on a well-laid track than you. Though seeing you now, I didn't need to say it."
Silence fell for a moment. The camp barricade came into view, and Taylor spoke again.
"Truth is, you're the most surprising to me."
"Why?"
"Got my reasons."
No matter how curiously Allen stared, Taylor didn't elaborate.
Maze City was a pit of fire. Even seeds labeled "genius" burned up without protection or got devoured by the adapted monsters.
So what do you call a seed growing fiercely on its own? Couldn't blame it on short time rooted, either—the sprouts were already visible from what he'd shown.
And it wasn't like he'd survived thanks to a protector; Taylor didn't see himself that way. Teammate or senior, maybe. He'd felt a bit protective at first, but not anymore.
Back at the camp, the fog had vanished like a lie. A place oddly defying the labyrinth's rules despite being inside it. The miners had gathered in the center, feasting on supplies.
Shiba, now awake and mingling, waved at Allen.
"The brothers have arrived. I woke up and worried when I didn't see you."
"We checked the spot with the reinforcements."
"Worried? What's this cup in my hand, then?"
At Taylor's words, Shiba jiggled his glass lightly.
"This is liquor for disinfecting wounds."