Mana Power Plant Overload
It felt that way. Even trudging through an utterly open space, it was as if they were locked in solitary confinement.
Silently navigating the starkly white expanse that could drive anyone mad, Hashy finally broke the icy silence.
"Mr. Allen, is this the right direction?"
"Yes."
"Really? Are you sure?"
Hashy's voice carried irritation and anger. The anger stemmed from the killer of his kin, the irritation from the harsh natural environment.
Allen explained in detail.
"Right after we came up from underground, I detected thick pipes or cables. As soon as the hologram activated, a faint flow of mana started running through them."
The flowing mana headed toward a building with a door, and at its end lay some unidentified facility.
"We just trace the mana conduits buried underground in reverse. That's how we can find the way even in this blinding blizzard."
His thorough explanation and calm tone quickly softened Hashy's attitude.
Humans couldn't help it. Mind and body were inseparable; when the mind frayed, it showed in words.
Even those who succeeded in great challenges appeared composed on the outside but wrestled endlessly with inner turmoil. In a situation like this, someone truly serene would be the odd one out.
The wind grew fiercer. The vertically falling snowstorm now whipped almost horizontally.
Taylor rubbed his mouth to chip away the ice and pointed toward 3 o'clock.
"With the wind kicking up, the chill factor's gone insane. That big rock over there—or is it ice? Let's hunker down till the wind dies down."
Before Allen could voice an opinion, the other two nodded in agreement. Truth be told, Allen didn't mind pushing straight ahead. The powersuit kept him comfortable, and he'd finished maintenance underground anyway.
Up close, the windbreak proved to be ice—and inside it lurked an automaton resembling a mole.
"Well, look at this. Froze solid like taxidermy in this damn cold."
No sooner had Taylor spoken than a blue light flickered in the mole's camera eye. It scanned him up and down, then flashed red.
Carduk!
The conical drill in place of a nose spun violently. The ice shattered in an instant, and the freed mole burrowed into the ground.
It didn't attack right away but kept circling below, grating on their nerves. The faces of those joining the sudden mole hunt showed more annoyance than tension.
"Mother Nun taught us not to hate people, but today I find myself yearning to see the designer's face."
Shiba's clenched fist made his intentions clear enough. Sure enough, he slammed it down at the drill popping up underfoot.
The drill crumpled, and the mole's neck snapped at an angle. With the mana circuits wrecked, the blue lights racing along them dissolved into the air.
Shiba's fist wasn't unscathed either. Red ice flowers bloomed through cracks in his gauntlets.
"Purging those impure thoughts from my mind feels so much better."
Shiba looked genuinely refreshed. Seeing blood, Hashy spoke up.
"Is your fist alright?"
"Brother Hashy, your heart is truly kind. My comrades don't even ask..."
Allen and Taylor were pitching the tent. Wounds? As the saying went, "A doctor can't heal himself." But Shiba was a monk of the Mother God Church.
"If it's bad, ask Mother Nun for a healing hand."
"Brother Taylor, how did you know holy spells work even if you mangle the chants like that?"
It wasn't surprising, given Shiba's habit of skipping incantations or swapping names on the fly.
After a day's trek, a frozen facility came into view. Not figuratively—ice truly encased the building.
It looked like one story above ground, but precedent suggested underground extensions. Allen's mana wave detector confirmed structures sprawling below.
Allen tapped his left shoulder, and a small antenna retracted with a click. Taylor eyed it curiously.
"Lots of features, huh?"
"Tools to make exploration easier."
"Won't it break easy in a fight if it's that complicated?"
"Do I ever need to fight up close myself?"
In truth, Allen's role was artillery or sniper. He'd step in during emergencies, but otherwise hung back.
The party took turns breaking the ice. It was so ancient it felt more like metal. Hashy, wielding a massive hammer and being a miner, cleared the path effortlessly.
They shaped the ice over the door into an arch, but it remained firmly shut.
"The seams are frozen solid."
Allen extended his palm, and streams of elongated flames jetted out. Once thawed, the door slid open on its own.
As the party entered, it sealed behind them. Taylor scowled.
"Why the creepy bullshit?"
It opened again when they approached. Only then did they press on, relieved.
The facility was dim, but nothing like the mirage caves. Unlike the black fog-choked labyrinth, corridors held faintly glowing lamps, like emergency guides.
Having seen other sites, they stayed vigilant. Automatons could spring from anywhere.
A short walk later, the white walls turned transparent.
Not glass, Allen thought, examining the barrier. Shiba tapped his waist.
"What's wro—"
Allen trailed off at what Shiba's finger pointed to.
Beyond the transparent wall stretched massive pillars plunging underground, automatons clustered on them like grapes.
"256..."
"What does that mean, brother?"
"The number of automatons visible right now."
Behind the pillars or far below, the total scale would be immense.
The writhing mass of automatons lay dormant. Normally, Allen's eyes would sparkle as he tried breaching the wall, but not now.
"Allen, just to be safe—don't even think about it."
"Wasn't planning to."
Taylor nagged, clearly thinking the same. If they all woke hostile, it was unmanageable.
The corridor was transparent like glass. Advancing led to what looked like a control room—an observation deck jutting over a cliff.
With pillars encircling like scenery, it felt like the heart of a bizarre forest.
"Should we... wake this thing?"
Like worried Taylor, Allen had a hunch.
"Activating the facility will wake the automatons. But we need it running to escape."
Dilemma, impasse—plenty of words fit. They needed time to think.
Taylor slumped down, Shiba pressed his face to the transparent wall peering at pillars, and Hashy paced anxiously.
Allen inspected the facility. No attempt to hide its purpose made identification swift.
"Similar to a mana power plant. Practically identical."
Heads turned at his words.
"Power it up, mana flows through cables, opens the underground door."
"And the automatons?"
"That's the issue. Hostile like those three bears."
Individually, they were superior, but numbers were violence. Plus, stronger ones likely slumbered below.
"Other parties are probably agonizing too."
"Elves got muscle for brains."
"No guarantee all power plants are the same, so factor in their failure."
"If they fail, the door?"
"Stays shut. But there's another way."
"Blow it?"
"How'd you know?"
"Your favorite pastime. Figured it was too quiet lately."
Hashy eyed Allen curiously at Taylor's remark. Allen continued unfazed.
"Similar, but a twist. We'll overload it."
"Ends in explosion, right?"
"Yes."
"Same thing."
Allen shrugged.
"Power plant blows, but no coming back anyway. Proceed. Excess mana supply opens the door even if others fail."
Allen pulled out the tampered bear soul stone. Overload was feasible because its slot was the plant's core.
Like cracking open a chest to expose the heart— a light touch could be fatal.
As Allen straightened, Taylor asked,
"Who's handling the overload?"
"Me. Someone has to for our escape."
"Blast radius?"
"Power plant and surroundings go up. Maybe 10 seconds leeway..."
Taylor squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them.
"I'll stay. You go up."
"What?"
"No need to sacrifice. I've lived enough."
"Remote control works fine."
"Ah..."
Taylor shut up and stared at the ceiling. His ears flushed red—probably from the cold.
"Brother, you're in fine health."
"..."
"Ears turning red that fast? No vascular worries for another decade at least."
Ignoring it, Shiba grinned.
"Brother Allen, which automaton for control?"
"This one, obviously."
Allen's hand pointed to a boxy one. It was frozen mid-tap on instrument panels with its claw, camera iris twitching faintly.
"Understands what you said, brother?"
"Not quite yet."
"Harsh, brother."
At Shiba's chiding tone, the box crept behind him slyly.
Taylor, who'd been playing mute, spoke up at the odd behavior.
"Hey, look at that."
"No behavior scripted for attention, so it's improvising."
Allen walked up steadily; the box's claw drooped. He opened a drawer and pulled out the spider.
"This'll do."
"Why you always gotta mislead people?"
Beep—!
Taylor scowled; the box beeped in sync, coincidence or not. Allen finished overload prep without flinching.
Leaving the spider in the control room, the party climbed back to the surface and settled far off.
"Here we go."
Ten seconds after Allen's word.
Kurrung!
Lightning flames shot skyward from the ground, melting all snow and turning the area into a sauna.
Allen tried turning away but couldn't. Amid the blaze, two red lights protruded. Eyes of something.
End
The mana power plant overload spewed tremendous heat. Molten automatons and scorched earth erupted like magma.
The facility area burned endlessly, hard to approach. Swirling snow shapes signaled a mana storm too.
Mana storms arose from shocks in hyper-dense mana. Normals nearby dropped like radiation victims.
Bodies pierced by tiny mana particles. Minimal visible change, no realization of doom.
Taylor gazed skyward.
After this chaos, the ruins showed no change. Massive power surges usually rippled barriers or space, but the blizzard raged on identically.
Hard to imagine who built it.
Can you even call this a simple ruin?
Mid-serious pondering of the novel phenomenon, Allen called out.
"Look over there."
The facility was vast; turning revealed other areas. Taylor spotted the red eyes too.
Eyes redder than flames pierced the fire wall. The tarantula-like automaton had two eyes left; the other six melted off.
"Back for revenge?"
"No way. Size difference alone."
"Joking."
Allen's spider was palm-sized; this tarantula rivaled a car.
"Looks scrawny. Easy pickings."
"Brother, don't let your guard down."
Actually