The Gravekeeper

"Looks good. Haha."

Allen left the two behind, disappointed by the lack of any standout loot, and examined the sarcophagus and its owner's body.

The sarcophagus surface was carved with reliefs. People prostrating themselves in worship toward an empty sky.

As Allen committed the details to memory, his unscathed mechanical arms slowly crumbled the charcoal husk that had once been the owner. Once cooled, they retrieved the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠staff he had wielded.

With that level of firepower earlier, only the large bones should have survived, but as an underground dweller, even the skin turned to charcoal.

A few prods, and it crumbled away. The mechanical arms sifted through the remains, now reduced entirely to powder, but yielded nothing.

The staff survived the flames unscathed. Feels like metal to the touch, but weighs like wood.

Comparing it to his own gear, the length and girth were similar. If it had special properties, swapping it in would be worthwhile.

An appraiser would clarify that.

Finishing his thoughts, Allen turned his head and spotted Taylor approaching Sion, hands full of assorted items.

"Sion."

"…."

"Come on, take a look at these? It's all junk and trash—I can't tell what's worth taking. Help me out here. A hint, at least?"

"Hmph…."

Sion crossed her arms and whipped her head away, her whole body screaming anger.

They'd come all this way, only for someone else to beat them to it and leave them sucking their thumbs. Now he wanted her input? Unbelievable.

Taylor didn't back down. He shoved forward with the thick skin of his years and tried again.

"Hey, look."

"…?"

"Your wide-eyed junior's waiting with those sparkling eyes. Looks like he's dying of curiosity, right? You gonna leave him hanging like that?"

Of course, Allen had never made such an expression. Still, it was helpful, so he stayed put, trying his best to mimic it.

Predictably, no dice. Sion activated her holoskin, masking her face entirely, and went silent.

"Really?"

"…."

"Fine. I'm out."

Tired of echoes that went nowhere, Taylor surrendered first and backed off to investigate the chamber's right wall alongside Shiba.

Allen handled the piled grave goods himself, all the while stealing glances at Sion.

This holoskin was an upgraded model—better security and magic resistance than the last—but Allen had leveled up too. He pierced its interior once more. Beneath the featureless woman's face lay Sion's true visage, gleaming brightly.

Her eyes darted this way and that. They'd widen at new finds from Taylor or Shiba, then settle once inspected.

Allen pretended not to notice inside. For now, he pulled a metal craftwork from the sarcophagus and eyed Sion sidelong.

"Senior, what about this one?"

"Dunno…."

Unlike her stonewalling of Taylor, the word "senior" softened her enough for a reply. But her calm gaze suggested no real value.

The other goods were the same. Whether from mental discipline or because Allen's picks were mere decorations, she eyed them indifferently.

Pondering, Allen caught her eyes flick ever so slightly. They locked on the staff clutched in his mechanical arm.

Pretending to inspect something else, he gave the arm a little shake. Her gaze followed.

Too obvious, maybe?

Taylor and Shiba were still hunting goods, but the most valuable was surely what the owner had held. Especially this staff, untouched by even a smudge of soot amid the inferno.

Allen let his voice carry casually.

"Just a plain old staff, huh."

Sion's lip twitched upward.

"Guess I'll take it anyway."

This time, clear anxiety flickered across her.

"Too bulky to carry—maybe leave it?"

Her face relaxed, then she realized the tease and spun away. When Allen shifted for a better look, she covered it with both hands.

Something's missing.

The staff looked useful enough, but was it worth deploying her? With her skills, she belonged on far weightier ops.

Two thoughts surfaced in Allen's mind.

Either senior got bored and volunteered, or there's a staff—or something crucial—here.

Breakers was a corporation; they wouldn't squander talent. Weight tilted toward the latter.

Or maybe they need muscle on the 23rd layer. Corporate skirmish? Maggot hunt?

No certainties, just thoughts chasing tails. Sensing no end, Allen tapped his temple.

Taylor clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Would make things easier if she'd spill, but she's clamped shut…."

"She's mad 'cause you teased her earlier."

"Just joking?"

She wouldn't have spilled regardless.

Allen stayed quiet, so Taylor scrawled letters at their feet.

True to his word, Allen pulled the compass and checked. The golden dust had flaked off the needle entirely, leaving it mundane. Still an Oparts, so it'd spot doors as ever.

Taylor sprang up and scuffed the dirt, erasing their covert chat in seconds.

Sion had turned their way by now, her eyes tracking the staff relentlessly. Her target was all but confirmed.

"Ah…."

Eye contact with Allen drew a regretful sigh from Sion. Busted anyway, she didn't even look away this time.

"The staff…."

"I'll put it to good use."

"……."

With their prize secured, shoulders slumped, they headed back through the entry passage alongside Sion.

"You've been here a few times?"

"Yeah…."

"No obstacles this way—why take the trapped passage?"

"More fun. Didn't think anyone else was around…."

Reaching the first chamber, the spiraling upward passage mouth came into view. Sion plunged in without hesitation.

Seizing the moment, Allen scratched words into the floor.

Taylor tapped the floor in confirmation.

"Brothers now…."

"Aigoo, I'm dying!"

As Taylor pressed a finger to his lips, Allen used his mechanical arms and rune letters to ascend the passage.

A bit up, he spotted Sion paused.

"Something wrong?"

"Old man's struggling."

"Quit exploiting the geezer!"

Taylor wailed from below like backup vocals. Sion nodded affirmatively.

"Grandpa fits."

His groan cut short, as if he'd heard.

At last, atop the cliff, fierce winds blasted away Allen's sweat. Sion, teetering at the edge, watched Shiba climb up, then hurled herself downward.

"Sorry. Bye."

"See you next time."

Allen's voice scattered in the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gale, but Sion would've caught it. Wingsuit unfurled, she plummeted like a flying squirrel.

As Allen reached the railing, she'd already halved the forest encircling the peak. A flying beast approaching blindly flashed and cleaved midair, tumbling down.

Sion shrank to a dot, then vanished.

Confirming it, Allen turned. Only Shiba above; Taylor still endured in the passage—which, per his guess, hadn't fully sealed with someone inside.

"How long we doing this?"

"Let's head back down."

"Again?"

"Got something to check."

Taylor and Shiba grumbled but followed Allen's lead. Sion's presence had made progress awkward before.

Back in the chamber, Allen drew the sun metal craftwork and approached the sarcophagus.

"Light the darkness with a lamp."

"Brother, what was that?"

"The inscription from finding the compass. And with the sun inset, this door opened."

"Clouds, lake, moon, mountain fragments—and a sun among them."

"Yeah. No coincidence."

Allen affixed the sun to the empty sky the people worshiped. It stuck fast to the seamless surface.

"Nothing."

"Wait."

Allen studied the prostrated figures. Lines across their heads would grid like graph paper. Finger pressing like Star Letters keys:

"Light the dark—ness—with a lamp…."

Final press.

Grind!

The sarcophagus slid aside, revealing stairs downward.

End

Wide enough for two adults shoulder-to-shoulder, they thudded down the stairs into a space far vaster than the chamber above.

Rectangular tombstones crammed everywhere; peering for the end met foggy-window resistance, vision blurred.

Moonless night dimness shrouded outlines, the mood deeply eerie. Filming a horror flick here? No extra CG needed.

Darker than above, Shiba's hand drifted to his head lantern.

"Strange place."

"No, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠don't touch the lantern. Bright light here blinds more. Eyes adjust if you wait."

Allen leaned on his new staff like a trekking pole, slowly scanning surroundings.

"Mana density's insane."

"Yeah, I feel it. Train here, you'd skyrocket."

"Pity all around."

Allen spoke first: training worsened his symptoms; Taylor's artificial mana heart needed no training; Shiba….

"Ours works differently…."

"Mind sharing the difference?"

"Prayer transforms naturally generated mana, less external sway. Still, holy power recovers faster here."

Shiba's "prayer" was Mother God Church mana training. Their good deeds earned the name.

Overhearing, Taylor snapped a nearby tombstone. Shiba whipped around, jaw dropping at the falling chunks.

"No, brother! Even undergrounders' stones can't be smashed."

"Crack looked ugly—smoothed it out."

Real reason aside. Allen knew, secretly damaging one himself before reclimbing the stairs.

Post-battle, no rest, up and down passages—time to loosen up before pressing on.

Allen dissolved compressed biscuits in water, ate slow. Taylor wolfed a chocolate bar.

"Called this a graveyard, but below fits better."

"Top's fake, bottom real. What was the labyrinth creator thinking?"

No answer, naturally. Publishing the truth? Eternal scholar fame.

Allen shelved the curiosity, eyes on the sarcophagus.

"Not the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠owner. The gravekeeper."

Rest done, they descended again. The tombstones Allen and Taylor broke showed no change.

Confirming it,