The Terminal of Broken Things

The moment I stepped into the dungeon, the word that rose to mind was scrapyard.

Not the kind that reeked and crawled with filth, but the sort where everything looked carelessly dumped, scattered in total disarray. Literally every scrap of scrap metal imaginable—things that looked long past any hope of use—lay heaped together until the piles felt like mountains and hills.

The sky hung heavy under leaden clouds, ready to spit rain at any second. The instant I faced that place thick with the stench of rusted iron, an alarm flared before my eyes.

Compared to an A-rank dungeon the quest was almost sparse, but personally I found this level of brevity just right. Anything longer and it only became a nuisance.

The instant I confirmed we were inside, I cloaked my entire body in shadow.

I wasn’t the only one. The others immediately tightened their formation, raising their main weapons to cover the surroundings or beginning to ready magic.

No enemies registered nearby. Whether it was a quirk of the dungeon or not, no matter how much mana I circulated my body still felt slightly stiff, like a machine gone rusty. It never rose above a vague sense of wrongness, so I didn’t pay ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it much mind. Things like that always hit harder when you were the one moving your own limbs.

Once everyone confirmed the area was clear and safe, they eased their tension while keeping their guard up and began surveying the surroundings. I, for my part, gathered mana into my hand.

What I called forth were my faithful servants—the unique existences of this world meant to carry out my will.

Snap!

“Echidna. Comet.”

The moment I flicked my fingers with mana, my shadow stretched long and spat out a girl in a black nun’s habit and a maid whose mysterious hair tangled blue with pink.

Even though they were meeting for the first time, they looked at each other once like old acquaintances and finished their greetings with nothing more than a nod. Was that it? Before I could even ask, they turned to me and offered formal bows, as if declaring that I mattered more than each other.

Echidna pressed her palms together in prayer and lowered her head; Comet executed a perfect Western noble’s curtsy.

“Whoa, that startled me.”

“...I was surprised. So the junior’s a summoner.”

“A nun and a maid... well, tastes ought to be respected, I guess.”

I shot a sidelong glance at the women who had grown used enough to the dungeon’s heavy air to start grumbling about my summons, then let out a quiet sigh inside. Should I call that optimism, or just a lack of thought? I shook my head to clear the idle notions and gathered mana in my hand again. We were only going to see each other for today anyway.

I’d already decided to attach Growl as well, for safety and to leave no loose ends.

Snap!

“Growl.”

Light burst forth and a white wolf with faintly red-tipped fur appeared. When I jerked my chin toward him and Echidna, they joined the women’s side as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“The vanguard will handle things on their own.”

At my words Growl and Echidna both dipped their heads briefly.

“I am Echidna, servant of Master. I look forward to working with you today.”

“Woof!”

“This one is called Growl.”

The women marveled at Echidna’s crisp reply.

“Wooow... so that’s why they called him an all-rounder without hesitation.”

“Right? If I had summons like these I’d be bragging to everyone around me.”

With living beings appearing one after another, their earlier wariness vanished; they watched with the same expectant faces children wear waiting for Christmas presents, wondering what would come out next.

“Hive.”

“Caw!”

At my call Hive poked its head from the shadow, produced shadow crows, and planted them into the four women’s shadows. Beyond that, a great flock of crows took to the sky and began scouting the area.

Perhaps because the clouds kept everything dim, the shadow crows were in excellent condition.

“If you ever get separated for some unavoidable reason, you can rely on those crows.”

While they kept exclaiming in admiration and their attention and gazes were still fixed on me, I tried to slip a step ahead with Comet deeper into the dungeon.

“Junior Sinwoo? Where are you going?”

The one who caught me as if to hold me back was Harusaki Kaoru.

I didn’t feel the need to turn my head to speak, so I just waved a hand behind me in a casual “it’s fine” gesture, like a parting greeting.

“My role will be handled by those guys, so don’t worry.”

“No, I mean...”

“Sister, you mustn’t trouble Master’s hands. Come, let us talk together. Quickly now.”

“Huh? Uh, um...”

Something was said behind me, but Echidna stepped forward first to restrain them. Seizing that opening I finished moving at once, and only when the place had finally grown quiet did I let out a long breath.

“Shall I prepare a cold towel?”

“...Skip that. The signal earlier—that was you, right?”

“I committed an overstepping act. I am truly sorry.”

At my question Comet offered no excuses, only an immediate apology, hand on her stomach as she bowed deeply. Seeing her freeze in that posture, it looked like she intended to stay that way forever unless I said otherwise.

“The reason? You must have had a reason that would convince me.”

“Yes. I judged that doing so would benefit Master. Inside this dungeon there are numerous parts superior to those I currently use.”

At those words I shut the mouth that had been about to say something. If Comet was right, she had already known to some degree what lay inside this dungeon before we even entered.

Confirming the information became urgent. I immediately pulled out the Book of Summoning and checked the data on the automata and Comet side by side.

What stood out most were the skills and stats inherent to the automata race itself.

If Living Doll and Mechanical Body fully embodied the identity of the automata, then the final skill, Contemplation, was the one that allowed a non-living thing to think like a living being.

The effect of Living Doll made a non-living body register as a living organism. In other words, even though it was strictly non-biological and outside the standards of living creatures, it could still receive the benefits living beings enjoyed. Healing mechanical damage through sleep, recharging energy by consuming food—those were the basics. It also allowed recovery skills and buffs that should never apply to machines to take effect.

If Living Doll granted humanity to a machine, then Mechanical Body gathered every pure advantage of being a machine. Its effect let you swap body parts for better ones and raise the unit’s performance. When Comet said there were parts superior to her own, she meant the chance to raise her base specs through Mechanical Body. She wore a maid’s form for now, but since her essence was mechanical, plenty of customization was possible.

The effect of Contemplation was extremely simple. Feel oneself. Look at other things. Thereby understand. It was a skill that replaced the curiosity humans ought to possess, and it was also the reason an automata’s base stats sat higher than those of other summons’ default forms.

Contemplation added the sum of the other stats to the one the user most needed, because it already knew itself. In short, what should have been a normal 5, 5, 10, 5 became the deformed 5, 5, 25, 5 thanks to the skill. That was why she had been sharp from the moment she was born. An Intelligence of 25 sat right on the line where, by ordinary human standards, one could be called a genius of the century.

Of course, being smart was one thing; if the personality was garbage it would only be irritating. But Comet’s disposition and character were excellent, so that consideration was possible. In that sense I had basically drawn a jackpot on a single pull.

...Or maybe not?

Considering that among the ones before her there had occasionally been types like Keres mixed in, it might have been less a single pull and more a pity-timer jackpot. Still, I couldn’t let my guard down. How she would change through evolution remained unknown. If I declared anything too soon and got blindsided later, the sting would be so sharp it would just feel absurd.

That covered the basic examination of automata. Next came Comet’s peculiarities.

“I never expected a trait to appear right from the start.”

Yes—unlike ordinary automata, the trait slot that should have been empty was filled.

Trait: Creation from Nothing.

The dictionary meaning was generating something from nothing. But I had a rough idea where it came from.

“It’s from the dungeon boss.”

The materials I’d used hadn’t been completely worthless after all. Come to think of it, the biggest proof was the two-tone mix of Comet’s hair. The metal scrap that had been a byproduct of the A-rank dungeon boss had carried a faint red glow, while the old chassis I’d torn from the boss of the B-rank dungeon, the Machine Tower of the Snow Country, had been fundamentally blue.

According to the data, that metal was called “cold iron,” obtainable only in limited quantities from frigid underground places. Before heating it was a pure-white lump of iron with an overall blue cast; after proper heating and refining it became a beautiful metal whose clean luster reflected the world like a pool left after snowmelt. The finished metal was strong, of course, but more importantly it resisted both heat and cold so well that it rarely rusted or wore down.

The reason the boss’s color had been so strongly blue was probably incomplete refining technique. Whether they had focused on mass production or the era’s refining technology itself had simply been backward, I didn’t know. A dungeon’s world was another world entirely, after all.

Cold iron was primarily used to build the Guardians that protected the Academy, but beyond that it was one of the Academy’s main sources of income. Iron was used for far more than just weapons.

In that regard dungeons were wonderfully convenient. No matter how thoroughly you ransacked them, the moment you cleared and left, everything reset when you re-entered. As long as the core that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠formed the dungeon remained intact, it was essentially an infinite warehouse you could harvest forever.

“So she was influenced without realizing it, is that it?”

If you thought about it, the boss of the Machine Tower of the Snow Country could be considered the origin of the automata race. A machine that had gained self and life. That, more than anything, was a life born from nothing.

Which was why the effect of Creation from Nothing was also specialized toward fabrication. Put simply, the trait felt like an “invisible moving factory.” As long as materials were sufficient, it ignored every intermediate process and produced the finished result. While she possessed this trait, Comet always carried a workshop on her person that could be used at any time. In short, as long as the cost was met, she could instantly generate whatever object was needed.

The reason I didn’t compare it to creation or omnipotence was that a basic cost was indispensable. So at the present stage, rather than grand words, the term that fit best was “overcoming”—making whatever the situation required and adapting as she went. In theory, so long as her will did not break, she could become a master key that always produced an escape route.

The most representative example was the Machine Tower itself.

Why had the dungeon boss built that tower? The answer was simple. She needed a means to respond to the people who had discarded her. Prejudice-free equality was only possible under the premise that both sides were equal; therefore, as a representative of machines, she had tried to build a nation of machines in order to hold an equal dialogue with humans.

The reason? Also simple. She had possessed the ability to do so, so she did. No matter how much of a human heart she had gained, her essence was still a machine. Through rational, systematic thought she had judged that this was the fastest way to resolve her questions. In fact, one had to regard any answer other than this as incorrect.

While dismantling the old body of the Machine Tower of the Snow Country boss, I had come to understand perfectly why she had called herself “homemade.” She had been a machine—nothing more than a tool built to serve and attend someone. As time passed she had gradually worn down; when higher-performance tools appeared she had naturally been discarded. Then, by chance, a human heart had settled into that machine and she had gained life.

And so she had felt a question. Why had she been abandoned? The moment she thought that, she had stepped beyond being a machine. There she had built the Machine Tower. As a machine with a human heart she had gathered other broken things like herself, laid a foundation, and gradually evolved. The result was an achievement great enough to become an A-rank dungeon boss.

I had no idea how much time had passed between the place I experienced and that A-rank dungeon. The records contained no detailed information on the dungeon. Because it was closely tied to the Academy’s core facilities rather than being a simple A-rank dungeon, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Academy itself managed information about it with extreme strictness, making data hard to obtain. But I could easily guess that the end had not been peaceful. Usually these things ended in one of two ways: mutual annihilation or a shift in dominance. Seeing it settled in dungeon form, everyone had clearly been destroyed.

“Do you have any remaining memories of the boss?”

“The memory modules recorded in the AI data of the base unit were completely initialized the moment I was born. Recovery is absolutely impossible unless those parts are newly obtained.”

So she said. In the end, what stood here was neither the dungeon boss nor anything else—only the summon Comet who would move for my sake. Bringing the base race remained unchanged, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it was self-evident that my summon would surpass a mere ghost of the past. Comparing them would only leave me at a loss.

Having reminded myself of that fact, I reorganized the policy for Comet’s growth.

Mass-producing various machines like the boss of the Machine Tower of the Snow Country and crushing everything with sheer numbers was one method. If those machines received the same treatment as Comet, then just as Subjugator applied to Comet who was linked to me, its power would reach them as well. The mass-produced mechanical horde would push everything aside with their elevated stats. That, too, could make for quite a spectacle.

But that would merely be an extension of that boss. I needed a somewhat different scheme.

“We’ll figure that out as we go from here.”

“...”

Comet expressed her agreement by bowing her already-lowered head even deeper. I ordered her to raise it, then decided for now that her growth came first.

If we rummaged through this vast trash bin long enough, one or two useful things were bound to turn up.