Descent into the Black-and-White Graveyard
They had arrived at the summit that wasn't there. Only unyielding rock greeted Allen.
The peak spanned about 300 square meters. The rocky mountain narrowed as it rose, so its base circumference was far wider.
"Around 400 meters high. Nice view."
Forest spread in a circle around the peak, giving way to plains beyond, dotted with corporate bases.
Gaze farther still, and the mountains encircling the 23rd layer came into view—a natural boundary line. Beyond them lay an impenetrable transparent wall.
Taylor poked his head over the cliff edge and called out to Allen.
"Give me a hand?"
"What's with the weakness today?"
"Rock climbing at my age... this is elder abuse."
Allen's mechanical arms gripped the rope and yanked. Two fish on a hook flopped up wildly.
Allen nodded down at Taylor sprawled on the ground.
"No wonder explorers avoid this place."
It took too long and sapped too much energy. Sion had made this climb easier, but normally they'd have to endure attacks from mountain goats and birds of prey.
And even after a successful hunt, the corpses didn't just sit there—you had to descend again to claim any fallen loot.
As the two caught their breath, Allen scanned the surroundings. Barren, vegetation-free rock was all he saw. No sign of Sion.
"She definitely came this way. Where'd she vanish to?"
"Remember that trick I showed you in the cave?"
"Secret passage detection?"
It was more something Allen had picked up over his shoulder than formal instruction, but he didn't quibble.
"There's one here too? How do we open it?"
"Just a hunch, so quit lasering me with those eyes. Might not even be a passage."
"Sounds credible enough. Let's check it out."
More time passed. Their climb-soaked clothes dried completely, and the wind chilled their bodies, but they found nothing.
"If it were easy to find, other explorers would've spotted it ages ago. Folks come up here for fun or research sometimes."
"Brother, what about the compass?"
"It stopped earlier. Let me check again."
Allen pulled the compass from his pocket. The needle inside the transparent crystal orb sat still, as if it had fulfilled its duty guiding them to the peak.
Sunlight hit the tumbling compass in his hand, and something inside glinted. Allen lifted it high, out of his shadow.
As the sun touched it, the interior bubbled up. Fine golden powder clung to the needle broke free, exiting the crystal and drifting to the ground.
One might lament the now-ordinary compass, but Allen focused elsewhere. The sand where the powder landed shifted, rearranging into Star Letters.
Taylor sat up abruptly and peered over Allen's shoulder.
"Star Letters, right?"
"Yeah. Same as the library bookshelves. It says, 'Grant us a lamp to light the darkness.' Ah, so the 'lamp' here means the sun."
Unlike dark mines or caves, the primordial forest's sun hung eternally fixed in place. Too coincidental for chance.
Underground dwellers lived below ground, their skin pale as if never exposed to light. Yet in Allen's illusory experience, sun and clouds had clearly existed.
Did they flee underground for some reason—or get sealed there by force? Is that why they crave the sun?
Allen filed the hypothesis away in a corner of his memory library. Too little data for conclusions.
A gust scattered the sand like wind, and the peak trembled faintly.
Grrr!
Rocks scraped with a low, menacing growl. The solid bedrock cracked open like jaws, revealing a downward passage. Some principle rejected even light—a slick slide plunged into darkness.
Taylor peeked over the edge, belly down.
"Near-vertical drop... Wonder if we'll make it down in one piece."
"Let's check."
Allen's recon spider leaped from his shoulder, skittering into the passage. It slipped briefly, then freely climbed walls and ceiling.
"[Adhesion] and [Friction] runes are working fine. Slow descent should be no issue."
"Good. Let's go."
Runes Allen had engraved on Taylor's gloves and boots glowed. He griped often, but threw himself in first when needed. Shiba and Allen followed.
They descended slowly. Not straight vertical—more like a twisting water slide.
Taylor's voice echoed from ahead.
"Climbing back up'll be a breeeeze! How far down does this goooo?"
"By my calc, we've passed the peak height already. We're underground now. Just topped 10 meters."
"Labyrinth ground doesn't dig that deep. Mines and caves just scratch the surface—primordial forest, maybe a meter at best?"
Even ki or grand magic yielded the same. The labyrinth was insanely tough, unmarred permanently. Why even the mightiest followed its paths obediently.
Finally, a thud echoed from ahead.
"Landed!"
At Taylor's shout, Allen's mechanical arms snapped out sideways. Scraping the walls slowed him gradually.
Allen dangled at the exit, peered down, then stepped off carefully.
No black mist, at least. No light source either, yet everything was visible—like a black-and-white screen.
The interior was a rectangular chamber. Squarish stones lined the walls tightly, like tombstones.
Allen approached and brushed a slab.
"Inscriptions, but unreadable as ever."
Blank spaces like '□□□' marched in rows. Without actual letter traces, even a god couldn't decipher it.
Shiba chimed in from beside him.
"Feels like grave markers. The monastery near my old home had a cemetery like this."
"Only one way to check."
Taylor drew his mana sword, jammed the blue blade into a slab, and slashed a grid. His prosthetic dug out the dirt.
"Brother, grave robbing out of nowhere..."
"Grave robbing? Call it geological survey or archaeological research—plenty of nice terms. You ain't explorer enough yet."
Mid-dig, Taylor groaned and stretched his back. Just an empty pit before him.
"Thought maybe illusion fooling senses or eyes, so I dug by hand. Nada."
"Just decoration, then."
Allen's interest waned instantly—no gains. Still places to explore; two passages linked from the tomb room alone.
Taylor asked Allen's take.
"Left? Right?"
"Left."
"Why?"
"Star Letters on them. Left says 'peace,' right 'penance.'"
"This is the labyrinth. Could be a crank's trap."
"By that logic, don't trust Star Letters at all. Wasn't expecting an easy jaunt anyway."
The party went with Allen's call. Exploration meant risks; greater danger, greater reward.
The passage, like the first room, had no light yet was visible. Drained of color, black-and-white, but brightness contrasts made shapes clear.
"Feels too peaceful. Kinda unnerving."
"Brother. Words have power."
No incident per Taylor's words. Allen's choice led to pure calm. Occasional markers like the first—empty as before.
After a long trek, they emerged into something different: a vast cavern, opposite passage visible.
Allen recalled the layout so far.
"First room's right passage connects there. Decalcomania structure."
"De-cal-what?"
"Symmetrical."
"Check the sarcophagus first."
Taylor strode forward.
A tall dais dominated the center, topped by a single stone coffin. Given the markers they'd seen, whatever lay inside likely held high status. Or, like before, nothing.
As Taylor reached for the lid, light footsteps echoed from the opposite passage. A black-clad figure popped out.
Sion, soot-streaked clothes, eyes closed till arrival—now scanning the room.
"Huh?"
"Haha, we beat you here. Know the labyrinth rule? First foot in claims ownership."
Gr-r-rk
A heavy stone drag sounded. Taylor turned—locked eyes with the sarcophagus occupant.
"...Owner's already home."
Hard to call it human. Shredded, crumbling skin exposed bone. Empty eye sockets. Like an unbandaged mummy.
Kreeee!
It could roar.
GRRAAAAH!
Taylor, closest, saw deep into its throat: crumbling teeth, withered tongue, hole-punched gullet peering through to the other side.
The roar droned endlessly. Or rather, Taylor's time stretched deathly long.
Reflex Axle activated. Neural amp sped sensory input and brain commands.
Time dilated—the roar became slow-motion film, choppy voice comically pathetic.
Taylor whipped out his mana sword. Blue arc targeted the throat. Most creatures died decapitated; undead no exception.
Rational foe? Try talk. But labyrinth dwellers hated explorers—all struck first.
Decades of instinct guided Taylor, no conscious process.
Mana blade neared the throat in slowed time.
Crack!
Semitransparent barrier sparked. Ripples from impact point surged out, then converged back.
Boom!
Explosion hurled Taylor back. His magitechwear dosed stimulants on detecting vitals. Fog cleared; sounds normalized.
"Mother! Heal! Aid!"
Shiba's hands glowed white with the rough chant. He caught Taylor gently; light seeped through his back.
"Thanks. Without emergency care, I'd have internal injuries. That magic... no joke."
As Taylor recovered, Allen analyzed the foe.
Exposed skeleton matched underground dweller perfectly. The risen owner gripped a white staff, tip trained on the party.
Zeeee!
Mosquito-wing buzz filled the cavern. Primordial forest breed—or magic?—each fist-sized.
"Son of a..."
"Barrier!"
Taylor grimaced, shotgun raised; Shiba invoked—[Embrace of Mercy], name too long even slowed?
Steel shot sprayed wide. Real skeeters? Waste. But bulk let them drop like flies.
Fallen mosquito fluids hit floor—sizzle, evaporating. Vicious stuff, obvious to any onlooker.
"Packed with the nastiest combos."
"Still manageable for now."