The Charred Remains
Allen prodded Taylor with a tone full of implication. Of course, it was just teasing since Taylor had come out unscathed.
"Just like you said you'd handle the power plant overload to protect me."
Taylor scratched his head at Allen's words—a clear sign of embarrassment.
"But don't do it again."
"...?"
Taylor just shot him a puzzled look. Before he could even open his mouth, Allen pressed on.
"You never know until you see something through to the end. Even if it looks impossible, I'll find a way somehow."
"Got it."
Would he really? Allen knew that even if they'd talked it over beforehand, Taylor's actions in a real crisis were unpredictable. Words couldn't solve it, so he focused on the task at hand.
Allen began dismantling the mammoth. It was so massive that stripping it entirely would take all day, but if he just salvaged the key parts, he could wrap it up quickly.
"This is just dead weight—no good. This one's decent, but not worth the effort..."
The deeper he dug into its internals, the more disappointment crept into Allen's voice.
It was only natural. The mammoth had been heavily damaged in the mana power plant explosion and then endured another blast on top of that.
When Allen pried off a steel plate with his pickaxe, he found melted circuit boards and mana cables fused everywhere. It'd be far better to buy replacements than bother salvaging this mess.
"At least I got the soul stone, but I wonder if it'll even work properly."
The self-destruct sequence was supposed to include destroying the soul stone, but something had glitched, leaving it intact.
The detonation had done something. Normally, a soul stone was a transparent, flat crystal with opaque vapors drifting inside, but now part of it was blackened.
"It's a shame, but we'll have to settle for this."
"Anything worth salvaging over there?"
Allen glanced where Taylor was pointing. A river of red molten metal churned in the power plant—liquefied earth and automaton parts. It looked like the cauldron boiling hell's sinners alive.
"Doubt it. We'd have to wait for it to cool to transport any, and that'd take forever."
"How long?"
"I read a paper once..."
"Ugh..."
Taylor's brow furrowed at the mention of a headache-inducing topic.
"Short version: An earthquake caused a power plant meltdown that burned for over a month. Lucky it was mana—if it'd been uranium or plutonium, it'd have been a nightmare."
"You said you'd keep it short."
Taylor clamped Allen's mouth shut and prepared to head back. Before setting off again, they surveyed the ground melting from the power plant's radiant heat.
"What do you think the other parties did? No way they challenged an army of automatons."
"The elf brothers have brains made of muscle too—they might've just charged in."
"Nah, those beastly types act on instinct. They probably bailed the second they saw it. Wanna bet?"
"Three bottles of premium holy water on them activating it."
"Three on the other side from me."
Allen climbed onto the sled, watching the wholesome gambling unfold.
"I accounted for every scenario when I triggered the overload, so the door should open regardless of what the others did."
With that, they began their return.
The blizzard kicked up again as soon as they moved. Fierce winds dropped the perceived temperature even further. They were almost nostalgic for the burning power plant.
Taylor ducked his head against the stinging snowflakes and spoke up.
"The box?"
"I remember exactly how to input the star letters."
Taylor's expression soured as Allen tapped his temple. Allen knew what he was thinking.
Allen poked the spider perched on his shoulder.
"An automaton's soul stone is like a person's soul, heart, and brain all in one. Naturally, it's the top priority for protection."
"No way that spider...?"
Allen nodded. The spider on his palm twitched unnaturally, like an insect dosed with pesticide.
"Different body must make walking a chore—like learning to toddle."
"Quit beating around the bush, will ya? You did this back at the plant too—teasing me on purpose? Anyway, glad it's in one piece."
"You got attached?"
"It acts like it's got some spark of intellect. Artificial intelligence? Artificial spirit? You get me."
"Same concept, different label—like sun versus moon. The box just has more response algorithms and behavior patterns loaded in, that's all."
"You never know."
Allen stared hard at the box after hearing that. It had curled up, stilling its legs to stop their erratic dancing.
"I'll give you that. Mana infuses things with all sorts of inexplicable phenomena."
Stubborn as an engineer, Allen trusted his judgment but planned to observe it for a while. Sometimes, time provided the right answers.
"If someone had upgraded me, I'd be fine too..."
"Pardon?"
"The box. It took out a bunch before launching the missiles. If so, it could've handled the rest."
Shiba, who'd been listening, chimed in.
"Brother Taylor, you said you brushed it off, but you're still brooding? Show the magnanimity of an elder."
"Age and change got nothing to do with it. All those old folks pulling horrific life-extension stunts prove that."
"True. Human awakenings or villains turning good are rare sights. That's what makes them precious—like a victory hymn for humanity."
Allen thought of the nun who'd taken in cartel thugs and asked,
"Personal experience?"
"Yes, I've worked that scene myself. Almost none repent sincerely—they just brainwash themselves into thinking they do. In truth, it's fear and restraint that break them."
"As a man of faith, shouldn't you sing of brighter futures?"
"As you know, Brother Taylor, reality is harsh."
"That's why you fell and became a corrupt monk."
"Why's the conversation heading that way?!"
Having cleared the major hurdle, the group felt a rare ease. Their steps back were light as a result.
Back at the building with the door, Allen headed straight down. The snow piled on the stairs had been cleared—the cleaning frog was working fine.
There were signs of life in the hall with the door. Down below, people had gathered.
Hashy embraced his cousin.
"Lois."
"Brother Hashy."
The dwarf traveling with the elf party greeted Hashy warmly.
"We turned back because of the automatons. You opened the door, right?"
"They did. Why stand around when it's open?"
"We hired you guys, so it's the same thing. You opened it, so you should enter first. That's why we waited outside."
Shiba's beard curved into a smile.
"Brothers who know etiquette—they'll never starve, wherever they go."
"Might've just been waiting 'cause it's dangerous. Anyway, I win the bet."
"No helping it."
"Taking it well? You wouldn't even let me touch those premium holy waters."
Taylor traded whispers with Shiba, then grinned at the muscular elf, Rollo.
"Charging in so confidently."
"What were we supposed to do with that many automatons? Should I have ripped off a gadget or something?"
"You did well."
"Why're you butting in when adults are talking?"
Even as Rollo raised his voice, Allen didn't flinch and said his piece.
"Breaking anything would've triggered intruder elimination protocols. If it'd activated emergency power and woken a bunch of automatons, you wouldn't be here. Nor your friends."
"Ugh..."
Rollo backed away from Allen's casual recitation of grim hypotheticals. Death was familiar to him, but Allen's eyes held no emotion whatsoever.
"You a psychopath or something?"
"No."
Now it was time to descend further. A vertical shaft yawned beneath the open door. People rappelled down on ropes or used climbing magitech with adhesion runes.
At the bottom, Allen assessed the passage.
"An elevator."
A circular platform hovered without cables below—but it was wrecked.
"Bad omen from the start."
"Don't jinx it. Makes it creepier when you say it."
"Shut up and start scouting. Call for backup if you find anything—don't touch it."
A pitch-black corridor stretched below. Lights flickered on as people entered. Those relying on head lanterns calmed at the sight.
The group slowly checked the rooms off the corridor.
"What's this place for?"
"Those are cradles for babies. Rattles too."
"Don't play with it—put it down."
"This looks like a cafeteria. Could feed a hundred at once."
"Warehouse here. Canned goods?"
"Don't even think about eating. You know the drill—mess with stuff in places like this, and you're dead."
Passing various living quarters, they reached a circular door. It slid open before anyone could complain.
"Auto-door."
"Was loading up curses... lucky."
The group fell silent at once. Inside were shattered glass tubes everywhere.
"Hibernation pods."
A type of stasis or life-support device. Top-tier ones could drastically slow time itself—Oparts from the labyrinth, proof its creators wielded time magic.
Allen examined the pods like the others. The liquid that should have filled them had long dried up, and whatever had been inside was gone.
Some shattered glass bore dark stains.
Blood...?
Allen glanced back at the circular door. Traces invisible from outside were visible now.
Nail marks and bloodstains?
Like someone had tried to escape and failed. Allen followed the trail of long streaks.
The area was divided into sections, each with broken tubes. In the final one, they found scorch marks.
Taylor recognized it immediately.
"Burned 'em to ashes. No DNA identification now. Definitely someone who knew what they were doing. Judging by the ash volume, every lifeform from those tubes got mixed in here."
"One's relatively intact."
Where Allen pointed sat a single charred skeleton. Taylor squatted to inspect it.
"Neck wound looks like the carotid was severed."
Taylor's gaze dropped to the pelvis and froze.
"No coccyx."
End.
The coccyx was the spine's tail end, a vestige of tails in vertebrates. No tail meant it should still have a coccyx.
So Taylor pondered the half-burned pelvis.
"Orcs, goblins, even underground dwellers have coccyxes. What is this? Unknown new species? Mutant?"
"Could be a homunculus crafted by the ruin's designers."
"Plausible. Homunculi take wildly different forms based on their creator's intent."
"Mr. Hashy, should we bag the remaining bones too?"
Hashy eyed the charred bones with unease, shuddering when his name came up. A lifetime miner facing mass murder traces—small wonder.
"Uh... y-yeah, do that. A biologist can figure it out. I'll be in the corridor—handle the investigation here."
Hashy clamped a hand over his mouth and fled, looking on the verge of vomiting. Taylor watched his back briefly.
"That's normal. I've seen enough not to flinch."
"I was pretty shocked too."
"Save the frowns for someone who buys it."
Allen stared back at the ash pile. Nursery, living quarters, bunker for sure. But what turned it into a crematorium?
Mystery virus outbreak? Madman on a rampage? Monster invasion? Or the ruin designer's prank?
Prank was likely too. Anyone building ruins like this...