Church Recruits and Labyrinth Logistics
"It's severe. Nobak's twisted mana would have gone beyond just affecting the brain—it must have completely wrecked it. Come here."
Allen called the panther. The metal beast, linked to its owner, knew exactly why it had been summoned.
"Hold on."
Allen's staff tapped the panther's front paw with a series of clinks. The claws, which had lost their glow, were once again wrapped in a bluish energy.
"Did you just fix it by hitting it?"
"It got bumped on the ground earlier, and the internal components shifted. So it's more like realignment than repair."
"Same difference. Machines always need a good whack to fix. Of course, people too..."
Taylor, spouting his frightening logic, glared at Kaka. Shiba had gathered Kaka and his men, quoting scriptures from the Mother God Church to berate them.
The cartel members trying to flee were blocked by Allen's spider. It dropped from the ceiling, wrapping their heads with its legs—thud! Two vanished in an instant, shattering any will to escape.
"Responding to violence with violence stains one's own soul. So why do you brothers fill your lives with violence?"
"Then... why does a monk like you use your fists...?"
"I've resolved to awaken you all. It pains me like my guts are being torn out for defying Mother's teachings, but someone has to do it."
Taylor snorted and turned away. Near the panther's paw rolled a bloodstained device.
"Ugh..."
"What's wrong?"
"It's just gross seeing that."
"You see stuff like that all the time using your mana sword."
"That's different from this... Anyway, that's the brain expansion device attached near the cerebellum, right?"
Allen nodded. He'd pried out Nobak's device partly because it served as a black box of sorts.
If he got lucky, he could verify if Kaka's words were true or false, and get more details on the eye enhancements.
Allen gazed at the burning factory. Nobak, who had taught him the importance of double-taps, had finally departed for distant lands. If he had a soul, it was mingling in that smoke.
"He's heading to Mother's side. Lucky bastard."
"If you're that jealous, hold hands and go together."
"I've still got work to do, so no. And how would Mother feel seeing a child harm himself?"
"Always with the..."
Taylor leaned against the wall to watch the fire, while Allen glanced back. Shiba gripped a rope binding the ten surviving cartel members like fish.
"Any reason you're keeping them alive? If they escape and talk..."
"No, absolutely not."
"Kaka brother, keep your mouth shut. Our church has a repentance process, and I'm sending them there."
"Care to explain?"
"Destroy their mana hearts, replace the brain expansion devices with ones from the Mother God Church, then send them to our brothers in developing countries as... no, underlings. They've harmed the world, so they repay it that way. The satisfaction rating is sky-high."
"From the bad guys?"
"From the brothers and sisters running the parishes."
It meant useful labor had been acquired. With bodies eased, their minds would soften naturally too.
An engine rumbled, and black vans and trucks emblazoned with the Mother God Church's heart symbol pulled up to the factory. A nun with a fierce face stepped out and greeted Shiba.
"Those the hopeful recruits?"
Shiba tugged the rope, making Kaka's body sway.
"Yes..."
"We welcome voluntary enlistment."
Kaka looked like he had plenty to say, but he shut his mouth at the sight of Shiba's forearms and the nun's face.
The nun loaded the members neatly into the truck bed, shook Shiba's hand, and drove off in the van.
"I broke the precept against killing, but did a good deed, so today's karma balances to zero."
Shiba's rationalization was a familiar sight. Taylor scoffed at the monk's miracle logic and nudged the piled-up gear nearby with his boot.
"Why so much junk? You grabbed all the golem bodies too."
Allen eyed Taylor's body, then the golem shells.
"Recycle them? Eh, not really..."
"Why not?"
"Feels like scavenging. And golem bodies have messed-up proportions anyway. You agree, right?"
Shiba didn't ignore the plea for backup.
"Indeed, brother Allen. Body cultivators like us don't favor golem bodies that ignore balance for raw power."
"Got it. I'll hook you up with brand-new magitechwear then."
On the way home, sitting shotgun in the truck from the factory, Allen spotted a passing police car and asked,
"Sandra the Collector is Depth 7, right? How strong are those kinds of people?"
"You know the fortress around the labyrinth entrance?"
The 50-meter-high, 100-meter-wide fortress encircling the entrance was guarded by all sorts of defensive magic, auto-turrets, and titan squads. Even Ranka's direct military couldn't stop a titan unit.
"If Jake and the Collector fought for real, they'd have to build a new fortress. Even a skirmish would've done it."
"Why'd the Collector run without fighting back?"
"The labyrinth's a massive business—nations, corps, individuals all tied together. You think they'd let someone wreck it?"
"Ah, so even the Collector fears the masses."
Taylor slowly shook his head.
"From her patterns, it's more annoyance than fear. Think of her as a walking mana fission bomb."
Power varied by size, but normally it could raze a city. One person equaling that weapon.
"A weapon of mass destruction, huh."
"That thing—magic from the sky. What was it? Super powerful."
"Satellite magic?"
"Yeah, that's it. Just remembered."
The satellite magic from dwarves in a western continent nation bordering the east used orbiting satellites to form massive magic circles, raining bombardment on the ground.
When it flashed, magic struck down—no ordinary city had a counter.
Those dwarves claimed it was for space observation, but after massive destruction tests, no one bought it.
Of course, using it recklessly would make them the world's enemy, so sane folks never would.
Through the rearview mirror, Taylor's eyes met Shiba's.
"As a fellow dwarf, what do you think?"
"Strong power is always right."
"Forgot you were a monk."
Back home, Allen announced he'd fully cleaned up Nobak. Vito, hugging his knees on the sofa, jumped up in joy.
His sallow skin cleared up in an instant, showing how much stress he'd endured.
"So, work tomorrow?"
"Thought you'd rest a few days?"
"Gotta repair to earn. Sitting idle gets nothing done. What's the pay structure?"
"Performance-based. More repairs, more pay."
"Generous percentage, right?"
"I'll even loan you gear."
Vito accepted without protest. He'd abandoned his hastily gathered equipment in the frantic escape. Vega was so rough that even returning now offered no guarantee his place was intact.
Besides, a magitech engineer's skill came from gear—better performance meant better rep. Allen was the exception, but Vito didn't see himself as that freak.
"Alright. Tomorrow, off to the red dwarf's shop."
"Just a heads-up: no inflating costs or over-repairs."
"Too moral of you."
"For your sake. Customers there are mostly fixers."
"Yeah, even gunsmiths are super polite."
Screw up, and the customer's paid gun might turn on you. Unless they had hidden skills or were crazy, arms dealers were always courteous.
Days later, Allen succeeded in restoring memory fragments from the brain expansion device. Taylor, passing by with a booze bottle, shook it as he approached.
"That guy's story true?"
"Partly. The cartel belongs to Sandra's disciple. Nobak worked under them. They tasked him with eye enhancements via sacrifices, but I snatched them. Full disclosure meant death, so he came secretly."
As always, only recent records remained.
If only he'd snagged a clue to absorbing Oparts without it being one himself—but the world wasn't that easy.
If I could read the Star Letters in the bad sectors hidden by black clouds, the mystery would unravel.
That required mana essence stones. Low-layer ones barely worked anymore; he was hitting a plateau.
Allen needed a mana excess syndrome cure anyway—destiny pulled him into the labyrinth.
There was a surefire cure: destroy the mana heart.
But what was the point? Twisted mana meant no rune letters, and the affected brain couldn't perceive Star Letters.
Alive but not living wasn't Allen's style.
After the sea dragon's whims incident, he'd pushed himself nonstop. He was still coasting on momentum.
Allen's stop would come after curing mana excess or achieving something epic. Rest would be brief, of course.
"With that in mind, next up: the base on the 23rd layer."
"Outta nowhere? Thinking to yourself and deciding solo again?"
"Planning to explore around there first."
"...Fine. Let's. Since it's out, how about this?"
Light from Taylor's artificial eye projected a screen: Supply Transport.
"You're not even a Breaker employee anymore."
"Asked Francois. Might as well go comfy if we're heading there."
"Brother, you pulled strings with connections?"
"And you hate that?"
"It's a world where we help each other."
End
The area with the labyrinth entrance had no buildings beyond fortresses, police stations, and city hall facilities. Just sidewalks, roads, subway and monorail stations—plenty of open lots.
In one lot used as parking, Allen perched on a cart, observing the scenery and passing crowds.
Like a basin ringed by mountains, explorers came and went against a backdrop of outer buildings. Heading to fight labyrinth monsters, yet looking like ordinary commuters—it showed how close the labyrinth was to daily life.
Who knew if their minds burned for quick riches or hidden knowledge? Outwardly, they all looked the same.
Allen shifted from the familiar sight to the lot. Breaker's full-time explorers waited orderly at their posts.
Rookies listened rapt to seniors; managers double-checked cargo for the primordial forest base.
Carts were hitched to gene-modded beasts and automatons. Plenty of carts, but they seemed insufficient for the base's supplies alone.
Then Allen's eyes caught a dimensional backpack on a cart. Rectangular, like a travel bag.
"How much capacity?"
"About three 25-ton dump trucks."
Taylor, yawning, answered instantly. His Breaker days were like a well-organized encyclopedia, quickly sating Allen's curiosity.
"Capacity alone is 100 billion coin. Real price higher."
"Calculated already?"
"75L dimensional backpack at 100 million, 1000L as 1 ton."
"Yeah, sounds right. But those don't hit the market, so hard to price."
"Prices are always relative. Someone'd pay multiples gladly. Or treat as strategic goods and restrict circulation."
"Latter."
The bags held essentials and base defense supplies. Food and water minimized—hunt forest beasts or fetch from rivers.
Even rushing to the 23rd layer took over 10 days, and the surroundings were