Scouting the Depths
Allen stroked the back of his neck. The cold, thick feel of metal reaffirmed his status as a slave.
As long as the bomb collar was locked around him, he couldn't do a single thing freely. Learning might seem like a voluntary act, but in truth, it was no different from the fodder Nobak scattered out of necessity.
Allen's ultimate goal at this moment was liberation. The first problem he had to solve to achieve it was that bomb collar.
But how...
Allen's thoughts coiled around each other like an ouroboros, spinning endlessly, spitting out clues from his experiences and reassembling them.
First, Nobak.
Given his unnaturally robust body and massive build for his age, he'd likely undergone enhancement procedures or stuffed his frame full of magitechwear.
He could pit himself against a bear barehanded, and the bear would be the one coming out worse for wear. Allen, frailer than a bear, didn't even need mentioning.
A direct confrontation is impossible. I need to strike through other means. Ah, but before that—the collar.
Allen's fingers traced the underside of the collar, feeling the keyhole.
All the assistants, including Allen, and the laborers wore collars. Common sense dictated that no one would walk around jangling a bunch of keys.
It's probably stored somewhere safe. Much deeper underground.
Allen recalled boarding Nobak's private elevator. There had definitely been buttons below the second basement level.
Even assistants could only access up to the second basement; anything below was an unknown realm known only to the clinic's owner.
How do I infiltrate it?
With surveillance cameras everywhere, taking direct action would be suicidal.
And even if he found the key, it wouldn't just be left lying around. Given Nobak's personality, it was probably in a safe or vault requiring special authentication.
Squeak!
Allen, ignoring the sound of water flowing through the concrete walls, footsteps echoing from somewhere, and the faint clatter of tools, whipped his head around.
A crudely bent wire square trap held a rat captive. The creature, furious at being caught by a scrap of rice ball, gnawed furiously at the wire with its front teeth.
Allen, pondering how to deal with the pest that had been eyeing his meals and grating on his nerves, rolled his eyes.
There was a vent there.
"Good. I'll let you live."
With the outline of a plan forming, Allen decided to show the rat mercy. He yanked the warehouse door, rattling the chain. It was too narrow for a person, but plenty wide for a rat to squeeze through.
Squeak!
He shook the trap wildly up, down, left, and right. The rat screeched, and when Allen freed it from the bindings, it bolted for freedom without so much as a backward glance.
Soon after, a string of foul curses erupted from a familiar voice.
"Ah! Fuck! Damn rat!"
Vito, realizing he'd been caught in his blunder, cleared his throat awkwardly and peeked through the door gap. It was ironic—brushing off the corpse without a care, but raging at a rat.
"You didn't see that, did you? Ahem! I brought dinner. The guys under you were pretty worried. I figured they'd laugh at you for always using formal speech."
"There were signs of that when I first became an assistant."
"How'd you handle it? You're not the type to throw punches."
"I excluded them from skilled work and assigned them to manual labor only."
"Oh..."
All laborers dreamed of becoming assistants. It was a step up in status, however minor, and everyone harbored ambitions for advancement. That was only natural.
No one could easily stomach falling behind others, especially peers in similar straits.
Vito, impressed by Allen's method, passed a rice ball through the door gap.
"Ah, you okay? I told you to just leave it alone. The boss didn't seem that pissed, though. If it were me, I'd have locked you in there for months. Might've even demoted you."
"I'm fine. But that lady..."
"Drop it. The boss handled her personally, so forget her and eat. Here's some water too. Need a chamber pot?"
"So it came to that... I can manage my metabolism, so I'll just take the kindness."
Learning mana training methods improved food absorption, reducing waste. And with just a small rice ball, there wasn't much to accumulate anyway.
A few chews, and the rice was gone. Allen rinsed his mouth with water and handed the container back out.
"Thanks for coming during your break."
"What're we, strangers? Ah, my bad. Some of the guys out on external collection got ambushed today. Only one out of three teams made it back."
The cartel, Nobak Clinic's main client, was Aroma's biggest gang, but challengers to the throne lurked everywhere.
"Isn't that just par for the course in this line of work?"
"Yeah, but the incident happened in our turf. So a cartel exec came by personally to hash it out with the boss."
"Intriguing."
"You're underwhelmed. This could spark a gang war."
"Even if they lose, we're technicians and doctors—they'll probably spare us. The boss might lose his head, though."
"Just a change of ownership, huh. All hypothetical, of course."
"The clinic's partners have to be big fish. Otherwise, the back alleys would've changed hands constantly. Right?"
"Can't argue with that. I'm off."
"Yes. Have a good night."
Allen turned away. With no one left to interrupt, it was time to drag his abstract plan into reality.
This warehouse might be called a trash bin, but compared to Ranka's dump, it was a treasure trove.
Bird-shaped golem drones, cat toys resembling rats, empty memory crystals, rusted tools—scattered everywhere.
Allen first picked up a thumbnail-sized memory crystal. It wasn't a true hexagonal gem; more like thin, small transparent plastic.
Hoping it was intact, he reached for the next item. Twisting his wrist, the shell of a hawk-like recon drone disassembled in seconds.
He pocketed the circuit board and examined it under the faint hallway light leaking in.
The components are all burnt out—repair's tough. Might as well engrave some Rune Letters.
Rune Letters.
The reason magitech engineers existed. The mystical language once exclusive to mages had taken physical form through their hands.
Unlike mass-produced magic tools assembled from parts, runes engraved directly by a magitech engineer delivered far superior performance.
The more runes on a magic tool, the greater the synergistic effects—but each additional one exponentially increased the difficulty.
Allen's current limit was...
Probably just one...
Even one was impressive. Assistants who'd spent years there couldn't even manage that.
Being locked up now might actually be a blessing. No prying eyes if he failed, and a week of leeway wasn't handed out lightly.
Allen grabbed a mana-engineered soldering iron with cut cords. Forcing mana into it, heat rose from the metal tip.
Focus. Plenty of chances even if I fail. The rune I need now is [Record].
Engraving runes required dexterity and the sense to feel shifting mana flows in real time.
He was born with the dexterity, and the clinic's mana training had honed his sensing.
Clockwise pressure here... Mistake... Stay calm. Now slow from bottom to top...
Allen's hand moved tirelessly—pausing nearly still, then flashing like light. After hunching under the dim light for ages, he finally straightened up.
Next was the cat's rat toy. Its bump-turn function would pair well with the drone circuit.
Assembly complete—rat, circuit board, memory crystal—Allen infused mana.
Screech.
The cobbled-together rat looked a mess but responded. Placed on the floor, it skittered stealthily.
Allen shoved it into the vent.
Please, let the rune work properly.
Vents connected to hidden spots too. Analyzing the data could pinpoint Nobak's secret lab or storage.
He couldn't storm in right away, but knowledge enabled countermeasures.
Allen leaned against the toppled fridge. Recon would take time; might as well sleep.
A week later, liberation day.
Allen extracted the memory crystal from the rat retrieved from the vent. He scattered the parts to erase traces.
Those with brain expansion implants had sockets behind the ear or neck, but Allen's pure flesh body needed other gear.
Too risky for surveillance—grab another terminal and check.
Thoughts sorted, Allen stepped into the hall as Vito opened the door.
"Feels good, right?"
"Won't getting chummy with me get you on the boss's bad side?"
"Should be... fine? He didn't seem that mad..."
Vito trailed off uncertainly, switching topics as they walked the hall.
"And the ambushers? All taken care of. Not a rival gang— just clueless outsiders. Magicware on the cart must've tempted them."
"Back to collections, then."
"Including you. Starting today. Behave, and he'll put you back on inside work."
"Might prefer outside. See you later."
What a thrifty boss. Allen fiddled with his collar idly. Trusting its function let him casually release someone locked up a week.
Suited Allen fine. Inside meant dodging cameras and eyes; outside, just mind three laborers.
He grabbed gear from his room and headed out. As Vito said, his laborers waited by the clinic lot with the cart.
"Glad you look healthy."
"Good to see you too."
Allen acknowledged their greetings. They were genuinely glad; laborers learned by peeking, but Allen answered questions earnestly.
"Let's head out."
Laborers moved first; Allen followed slowly. He tidied his messy hair as best he could, gaze dropping. The harbor city thrummed with life and beauty, insides be damned.
Visiting listed spots in order, the sun hit midday. Their latest stop: a park amid the wealthy district.
One laborer checked with Allen.
"Allen, sir. It's 12:30."
"Let's rest here, then."
"Going somewhere?"
"Bathroom."
Allen headed to the park corner restroom, veering off once out of sight. Lunchtime here was deliberate—to scavenge discarded magic tools from the rich.
Quickly scanning large bins, he plunged his hand into the fourth.
Finding a video playback terminal, Allen ducked into the restroom and sat on the toilet. Minor issue: battery wire insulation peeled, shorting the circuit.
Not even broken. Just nudge the wire aside... There.
Lid back on, he slotted the memory crystal. A pixel-art-like black-and-white video flowed across the screen.
Skipping ahead, Allen's finger froze. The presumed fourth basement was one vast lab.
And at its center. Something floated inside a cylindrical tank that screamed priceless.