Prototype Complete
"Don't worry about cost-performance. When you channel mana through it, your chest feels hot—that's what matters."
"That's a feature of the product. It's within tolerance levels, so no need to worry."
"Just buy good magitechwear. ...That's what you'll do, right?"
The Primordial Forest offered far better yields than the Mire or caves. After this run, he could afford the Star Letters interpretation guide, build the powersuit, upgrade Taylor's gear, and still have money left over.
Of course, it was proportionally more dangerous. High returns always came with high risks.
Once out of the base, Allen fed a prepared mana stone into the Magic Stone Compass. A compass normally pointed to magnetic poles, and the same held true in the labyrinth. One end of the needle indicated the entrance; the other, the exit.
Finding the door to the upper layer, Allen turned around. The peak at the center of the 23rd layer was glinting in the sunlight.
He checked it again just in case, but the door didn't open. It meant all the magic or mystery the collector had infused into the compass was gone.
He'd be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed, but the new staff he'd acquired softened the blow.
Passing through the door, he heard grumbling behind him and glanced back. The panther and the box were shoving each other.
Both were heavily damaged from the hunt. They looked like heroes of a reversal tale, but their durability was shot.
The box started it. Whether it coveted the panther's plush outer armor or saw it as collectible scrap, it slyly extended its claw. Naturally, the panther swatted it away with a forepaw.
"What are they doing? Has the AI already gone haywire?"
"No, it's not that."
The 'Intermediate Star Letters Interpretation Vol. 1' covered diversifying behavior patterns, and Allen had experimented with applications beyond what's written in the book.
It opened with this: AI sprouts from freedom and unpredictability. The box and panther's antics were the result of Allen's interpretation.
Judging by the book's progression, the Star Letters I engraved must correspond to volumes 2 or 3.
Still, he had to buy it—who knew what gems of knowledge it held? Even the most trivial bit could become a crucial cog someday.
Allen separated the box and panther, reaching the surface. Snow was falling.
"It's cold."
"White trash."
"The kids at the monastery will love it."
The three reactions couldn't have been more different.
Looking past the fortress to the road, officials were clearing snow. Machines pushed aside the piled-up drifts, fire spirits melted the rest, and water spirits flushed it into the drains.
In the distance, a hologram public service announcement played atop a skyscraper: Resolve to steer clear of crime this New Year.
Allen muttered a brief impression.
"Just like Maze City."
"Crime rates make the labyrinth look better. Surface victims are usually the weak, but explorers all carry weapons and can fight back."
Back at the warehouse that served as home, Vito greeted Allen shotgun in hand.
"Thought you were a thief."
"You're still alive, huh."
"What kinda greeting is that? Shouldn't I be saying that? Man, you were in the labyrinth forever. Almost 50 days?"
Allen nodded in agreement, and Taylor slung an arm over Vito's shoulder.
"What kinda greeting? The kid was worried you'd croaked, that's why nice-guy Allen checked in."
"Huh?"
"You know why quack docs and magitech engineers are so damn good?"
"I know. If you're not skilled enough, customer complaints get you killed."
Only the competent survived. In the underworld, it wasn't experience—it was your life on the line.
Shiba, stamping his feet, hurried to the fridge.
"Finally, some holy water. Hopefully it's properly aged... no, purified."
"I'm in."
Taylor agreed for once, following without complaint. Allen faced Vito near the door.
"Don't take his words too hard. Rolf's commission includes protection fees."
"I've rolled in Aroma for years—think I don't know that? It was rough adjusting at first, but it got easier. Once botched a golem prosthetic repair, and a customer tipped me off that it saved my skin."
Vito rummaged in his inner pocket and pulled out a cash chip. Seeing Allen watch, he forced it into his hand.
"This month's gear rental and lodging."
"Why not just deposit it in the account I gave you?"
"Feels better handing it over in person. Accounts are just number games—no soul."
"Business okay?"
"After commissions and rentals, I clear about 4 million."
"So this chip's got 1 million coins. Keep it—you use it."
Allen tucked the chip into Vito's jacket pocket himself. Vito protested half-heartedly but didn't stop him.
"A bonus?"
"Yeah. Blood money."
Allen headed to the warehouse center, closing the door. Vito scurried after him.
"1 mil feels like that? Then how much do explorers make? Must include hazard pay... Maybe I should try the labyrinth too..."
Vito muttered pipe dreams. His risk-averse nature would make him forget by tomorrow. Back at the clinic, without that sacrificial footage, Allen might not have swayed him.
Vito unloaded the shotgun and stowed it in the safe.
"Any thieves drop by?"
"Some punk kid—I yelled, and he bolted. Thought it was a Maze City pro at first."
Vito's shoulders twitched up. Allen's gaze passed over them to the ceiling. At 5 meters high, steel beams, pipes, and cables intertwined complexly—and spiders lurked there.
Allen had no intention of mentioning it. It kept Vito alert and nimble.
The fleeing thief might curse his cowardice, but that's what saved his life. Machines lacked human mercy.
Turning away, Allen reached for the powersuit hanging on the H-shaped rack. After 50 days, dust coated the cover cloth.
Beside it sat boxes ordered before descending. Modern metal precision machining was flawless—no margin for error in any part.
Shiba, savoring the disinfectantly potent holy water, watched.
"Brother Allen doesn't rest."
"That's his rest. Touching magitech pumps out serotonin like crazy."
"How long will you rest this time?"
"Not my call. Rest ends when Allen's maintenance does."
"What asceticism."
"Gonna quit?"
"No, brother. Though the body aches, Mother's love fills me more each day. I never dreamed I'd gain a monastery's long-term merits in just 50 days."
Shiba was content. Staying topside meant hospital work anyway—no real break. The labyrinth, sharpening skills reliably, was far better.
"Smart choice. Grind hard young; ease comes later. Cash or skills."
As the two chatted, Vito hovered close, peering at Allen's work.
"What's that?"
"Mana cartridge launcher for the forearm. Retractable, so no snags."
"This?"
"Parts for the mana fusion furnace."
Allen answered each question patiently. Replying reviewed concepts; mulling sparked ideas.
"Mana fusion furnace?"
Unlike mana engines that just burned mana stones, the fusion furnace applied mana stone synthesis principles. Natural mana mixed during synthesis boosted capacity.
The resulting stones fueled it anew; when depleted, synthesize again.
Durability required periodic replacement—not perpetual, but close.
"How'd you make it? That's core tech."
"I know mana stone synthesis."
"The secret corps hide tight? You robbed a corp?"
"Yes."
"What?"
Vito's jaw dropped, face screaming he couldn't process if it was real.
"Got it overturning Lockhart's mana stone mine on labyrinth layer 19."
"An energy giant? You live one helluva life..."
Vito felt the gap but stuck close. He knew Allen wouldn't shoo him. There'd be a price, though.
"Finished the parts I assigned?"
"Not yet. Too hard."
"...?"
"Hard for me, not you..."
Allen nodded, moving to other tasks. Vito watched him wield both hands and mechanical arms.
Beep—
Turning at the odd noise, the box clacked its claws. It felt mocking, stirring annoyance.
Rune printer: Equipment that engraves runes at the minimal size needed for activation. Faster and more precise than human hands—one of magitech's essentials.
Can't fully automate since mana flow must be monitored; the engineer supervises. But that's trivial.
Allen hit the rune printer's start button. The machine's nozzle awoke, targeting the powersuit's outer armor plate on the square bed. It scurried, drawing designs.
The thin nozzle sprayed metal mixed with mana stone powder, glowing red threads forming runes before cooling slowly.
Allen inspected for defects under bright light. Vito peeked over.
"Ignoring minimum spacing? What about mana interference between runes?"
"[Enhance][Accelerate][Enhance][Accelerate]—engraved in rows. Activate only what's needed; no issue."
"Works, but... yeah, you won't botch control."
"Prototype complete."
Allen fitted the armor to the powersuit's chest. The metal-and-composite exoskeleton shed its guardsman origins. No one would guess its base.
"Original parts left? Frame, runes, anything?"
"At first. Added so much, it shed like snakeskin."
"Then budget overrun..."
Vito trailed off, glancing at the long sofa. Taylor sprawled there.
Funds ran dry mid-powersuit; Taylor, awaiting upgrades, was bitterly disappointed. He hid it, but his slumped form screamed it.
"Engineers blow budgets and timelines all the time. That's how real results emerge."
"True, but..."
As Vito gauged moods, Allen donned the powersuit with the box's aid. The backplate opened like before, ready.
Stepping in feet-first, sliding body and arms, it sealed seamlessly.
Beep—
"At ease."
The box spun circles, fascinated by the rune printer, claws neatly folded. Allen relaxed into the fit.
Bulkier, taller now. His slender explorer's frame finally carried intimidation—for civilians, at least. To peers, just "well-funded newbie."
Pondering a quick test, he spotted a box crammed with automaton parts.
About 200kg?
Stepping up, he gripped the bottom with both hands and hefted it to chest height.
"Hey, your back—your back!"
Before Vito could yell more, Allen held it steady. Weight registered, but it wasn't