Battle Before the Throne
“I should’ve added more crab legs.”
The short exchange ended, and the place they’d reached this time was a lake. The liquid filling it was pitch black, impossible to tell if it was water or oil. Judging by the foul stench, the odds of anything good happening if it touched your lips were zero percent.
Taylor gave the lake a quick scan and spoke up.
“Let’s get through this as fast as possible.”
“Those things are the problem, right?”
“Yeah.”
Allen's finger pointed to where small boats drifted, stealthily closing in on them.
The black cloths draping the boats slipped away, and underground dwellers rose to their feet. The long cylinders they clutched gave a rough idea of how they tormented explorers.
They slung them over their shoulders like recoilless rifles and took aim.
“Slow.”
Boom!
Of course, Allen's mana bullet got there first, blasting the boat to pieces. With Shiba and Taylor out of the blast radius, he'd loaded a pure firepower round, sending a massive water pillar skyward. The underground dweller scattered in chunks across the lake.
The box's camera swiveled like a frog's eyes, flicking between Allen and the explosion site. Then its wheels spun, and it started rolling toward the lake.
“Stop.”
Allen reined in the box right away. His gut screamed that retrieving it from that lake would be a nightmare—and even a splash of the black water would make maintenance hell.
The smell alone was a dead giveaway. Allen savored fresh air through his mask, but Taylor and Shiba's grimaces painted the picture.
The boats—known for one-sided bombardments on explorers but largely ignored for lack of loot—sank under Allen's barrage.
Thanks to that, the party crossed the lake unscathed and reached the cloister. The garden enclosed by corridors showed no sign of life.
A gardener did tend to the withered plants, though. It looked like a scarecrow, wandering with enormous pruning shears in hand.
As the gardeners mimed trimming trees, their heads snapped around in unison. Being automatons, the heads-only pivot was downright eerie.
Spotting the intruders, they advanced with a metallic clack-clack of shears. Their pogo-stick bounces combined with their forms to churn pure unease.
The long blades even glowed blue like mana swords.
“No way—is that what I think it is?”
“Yes.”
Allen cleared up Shiba's question. Mana swords had been modeled after the gardeners' shears, after all.
Taylor drew his shotgun and mana sword in tandem. He fed magitech-reinforced buckshot to the one diving from above, then cleaved a flapping straggler—like a kite with a snapped string—in two.
Shiba seemed relieved to face a close-quarters automaton. As a dwarf, he was already at a physical disadvantage, and their limb-based fighting style had left him on the receiving end until now.
He dodged shears aimed at his neck with bouncy footwork, then lunged into the gardener's guard using his sturdy legs.
A full-body Superman punch targeted the chest. His whitening fist crushed the fragile outer plating and burrowed deep. His short arms kept it from punching clean through the back, though.
Shiba shook off the gardener and murmured a brief prayer.
“One shot to Mother's side... may you find peace.”
Allen just stood and watched. The gardener lunging at him had fallen to the leopard's swift work. Each claw might as well have been a mana sword—devastatingly effective.
The ethereal gardener tore apart under the leopard's forepaws like paper. Its sluggish speed left it no recourse.
They cleared the foes and passed the cloister, then raced down the connecting corridor. How far had they run? In the heat of battle, Allen suddenly realized the ambushing underground dwellers had vanished.
“Is that the end?”
“Yeah. No more automatons tailing us—let's walk a bit.”
As Taylor finished, the party slowed. Only then did their outward-focused senses gradually return. Sweat trickled over skin, and a pounding pulse throbbed through their bodies.
Shiba took a swig of water and sprinkled his beard, while Taylor doused his head. Their bodies were so scorching that faint steam rose.
“See that door? Let's rest up ahead.”
Allen scanned the surroundings at Taylor's words. Dim corridor walls were lined with windows sealed by cave-like stone.
At the corridor's end, a semicircular hall greeted them. Fan-like passages converged on the curved side, while a massive door dominated the flat.
Taylor settled into a folding chair from the cart. His once-red-hot skin had returned to normal.
“Guards are beyond that door. No automatons spawn here—only safe spot to rest.”
“No other parties around.”
“Would've been way easier if there were. This path is brutal, so folks team up sometimes.”
“Why no underground dwellers here? King's quarters?”
“Or maybe 'keep quiet before the throne.'”
The party sipped water in stages and fueled up on high-sugar rations.
Shiba wrung moisture from his beard and asked Taylor.
“Brother, what if another party shows while we're fighting the guards?”
“From the memory mod I gave you.”
“Can't omit Mother's words...”
“Didn't that prayer fizzle earlier? What the hell do you lug around...”
Taylor's eyes sharpened, then relaxed.
“Eh, not important. Door from the primordial forest to the next layer moves, right? Half that applies here. Down to the 21st, you pass the guards. Up to the 20th, it pops out of a city building.”
“The labyrinth's so damn capricious.”
“Not like it's new.”
Allen rose and stretched. A light jog warmed his cooled muscles. The other two finished their calisthenics and flung open the arena doors.
Despite their bulk, the doors swung easily—no creak from worn hinges.
Allen's head lantern swept the space. Pillars thick enough that four adults with arms outstretched couldn't encircle them filled the room. Ceiling stones hid their full height.
“Feels like a temple. Guess the king's authority was that immense?”
Taylor and Shiba exchanged glances and clammed up like they'd colluded. Answering would just spawn follow-ups.
Oblivious to the tacit agreement, Allen gawked. Letters and reliefs adorned the pillars, but time's wear—or the labyrinth creators' design—made them indistinct.
Maze books were the same untranslatable mess. Familiar territory.
Allen's gaze drifted far. A jade throne sat elevated on a dais—the arena's sole chair amid emptiness.
As they reached the vast arena's midpoint—stadium-sized.
Thud! Thud!
Footsteps echoed from the throne's nearest pillar. A massive silhouette topping 3 meters emerged.
A metal-armored monstrosity: the guard. Thicker and more destructive than a heavy infantryman's powersuit.
The guard planted itself mid-path to the throne. Its visor was up, revealing the underground dweller's signature pale, rough face within.
Unlike other dwellers who went berserk at explorers, it scanned the intruders with cool, emotionless eyes.
Clank!
The visor slammed shut, and the interior lit up. The pillars glowed softly. Shadows stretched in the newborn light.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
Shadows warped, and with fiercer steps, automatons marched from behind the pillars.
End
The guard held position midway up the dais to the throne, showing no sign of descending—just watching.
Only the guard was an underground dweller; the rest were automatons: two gatekeepers, two spiders rivaling their bulk, and four tiger-sized wolves.
Taylor lowered his mana sword and murmured.
“Types vary each time, but the numbers stay consistent.”
“Nothing like the 10th layer. I knew, but seeing it... the gap's insane.”
“Not getting cold feet, are ya?”
“Nah. Wanna wrap this up quick and tinker with the powersuit.”
Taylor smirked at Allen's reply and stepped behind Shiba.
“Brother? Why behind me?”
“Protect us with Mother's grace. Barrier, now.”
Glowers on the spiders' backs began emitting ominous light—sparks flying beyond mere luminescence.
Shiba promptly chanted his holy art. A shorthand cast cut power, but no time for full scripture now.
A white barrier snapped up front as beams lanced from the spiders' cannons. Mana shells hit staggered: the first rattled the shield, the second pulverized it.
As blue-and-white energies mingled and faded like heat haze, the four wolves charged. Smart algorithms—they used pillars for cover.
Boom!
Allen's mana bullet struck a pillar instead. True to the labyrinth's make, it barely scratched, spewing dust before regenerating.
Allen didn't falter. Even aura-wielding warriors would get the same result.
Instead, he analyzed the wolves' speed and patterns, factoring pillar positions, then re-aimed his launcher.
This round packed [Penetration], [Spiral], and [Acceleration]—an armor-piercing beast.
It looked like a wild airburst at first, but the shot grazed a pillar and skewered a wolf's head mid-pass.
The wolf slid to a halt on momentum; its trailing packmate leaped high to evade.
In midair, its camera eye locked another bullet. Star-letter intellect screamed dodge.
The soul stone fired signals body-wide. The mana furnace roared hotter, mana-pumped muscles and joints whirring at max.
Clang!
The bullet whipped past the twisting wolf and hammered a pillar. A hammer-strike ring pierced the arena.
The escaped wolf, rewardless, ignited mid-descent.
The box beside Allen scanned restlessly post-shot. One wolf down wasn't enough—it hunted next.
Its whirling camera fixed on the wrecked wolf. It hesitated, then rolled that way—until Allen stopped it.
“Attack priority.”
Beep—
Allen eyed the box. Star-letter input glitch? It always prioritized salvage on downed automatons.
Spot-on detection, but to Allen, it smacked of farming obsession. Even with foes left, the urge just took over.
Meanwhile, Taylor's feet cradled a torso-holed wolf and a bisected one. Shiba stood before them, blocking spider fire with [Embrace of Compassion].
Then red light flickered in his periphery. On his second delve, Shiba knew it well: gatekeeper eye beams.
“Brother!”
“I'm good—cover Allen tight.”
Taylor dashed pillar-ward post-words.
The gatekeepers clocked him but prioritized the duo. Instead, spider cannons tracked Taylor.
Shiba grimaced at the intensifying glow.
“The labyrinth I imagined