The Locked-Down Prison

Whooosh.

Feeling a faint draft graze past him, Bennett instantly surveyed his surroundings.

This time, they had materialized in the open air. The party stood in an unfamiliar empty lot, its asphalt paved with neatly spaced lines.

Confirming it was night, just as it had been during their expedition to the LT Department Store, Bennett moved decisively to take point.

"Hurry."

"Understood."

The moment they crossed the threshold into the building nearest the lot, a blinding radiance engulfed the world behind them. It was that eerie, supernatural Blue Light he had encountered before.

"Damn it all... we almost got wiped out right at the start."

Though Kyle and Edgar had never witnessed the phenomenon firsthand, they had heard enough about it to exhale in genuine relief. Bennett kept his face impassive, but an identical chill ran down his spine.

Staring at the glowing script suspended in midair, Kyle tilted his head in confusion.

"It was like this back at the department store, too. I still can't make sense of what any of this means."

"It looks like a prison."

"Pardon? How can you tell...?"

Bennett gestured toward their surroundings.

"Iron bars in every direction."

Looking around the interior, Kyle and Edgar nodded in understanding. While the construction felt distinctly foreign, its heavily fortified, compartmentalized layout was unmistakable. Thick iron grates were reinforced over every door and window, and in several corridors, massive steel blast doors had dropped from the ceiling, completely sealing off the sectors beyond.

The layout centered on a waiting lobby that branched into several adjoining rooms of varying sizes. Meeting Bennett's gaze, Kyle and Edgar gave sharp nods.

"We'll search the perimeter."

"Keep your ears open. Pay close attention to any sound or movement."

"Yes, sir."

While the other two began checking the side chambers, Bennett focused on the area they had passed immediately upon entering: a reception counter enclosed behind transparent glass. There was nothing of interest on the exterior, and peering inside proved difficult through the barrier. Nor was there any visible connecting door.

Weighing whether to move on, Bennett unslung Shooting Star and reversed his grip on the stock.

Thud.

Crack!

After striking the pane several times, Bennett realized something.

It isn't glass.

To be precise, it was a synthetic substance that merely resembled glass—acrylic, though Bennett had no way of knowing the term. It was a bizarre pane that fractured under blunt force without shattering into sharp fragments. Having cleared an opening large enough to squeeze through, he pulled himself into the reception booth.

Unlike the barren waiting area outside, the interior was littered with small, mysterious artifacts: a rectangular ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠device fitted with genuine glass, an apparatus resembling the magical amplification microphones used by officials to announce dungeon resets in the Pioneers' Hall, and various scattered stationery.

Sweeping his gaze beneath the counter desk, Bennett caught sight of something and reached down.

It bore indecipherable Dungeon Language accompanied by a prominent photograph of a man's face.

Looks like an identification card.

Identification papers naturally existed across Dungeon City and the kingdoms of the continent, but none bore a person's exact portrait. Most only recorded a name, registered domicile, and basic physical characteristics. Having an actual face printed directly onto the card would make verifying identity far simpler. Moreover, perhaps to prevent forgery, an intricate emblem shimmered and faded whenever the card tilted beneath the light. The neck strap was remarkably elastic, stretching smoothly whenever pulled.

Fascinating.

For now, Bennett slipped the lanyard around his neck. He pulled himself back out of the booth just as Kyle and Edgar returned.

"We found a few miscellaneous items, but we won't know if they hold any value until we bring them outside."

"Any connecting hallways?"

"There's a heavy iron door, but it won't budge an inch."

Bennett followed them toward the obstruction. The wide chamber was partitioned by concrete walls and panes of that same imitation glass. Rows of evenly spaced chairs suggested it was where inmates met their visitors. Several acrylic panels had been ripped down entirely, lying shattered on the ground.

Passing through to the far side, the iron door Kyle had described came into view. It was a massive, imposing barrier. Though fitted with a barred window, nothing distinct was visible beyond the shadows.

"There's no keyhole whatsoever. But it's locked tight."

It was just as Edgar said. Bennett tugged at the handle, but felt only the rigid bite of an internal deadbolt.

"What's this?"

"Uh... I'm not sure."

Surveying the surrounding frame, Bennett noticed a strange panel. Mounted to the wall directly beside the iron door was a dark, square fixture. Beneath several lines of Dungeon Language were two small slots, one of which pulsed with a steady green light.

Staring at it, Bennett suddenly recalled the identification card he had just retrieved. The moment he held the stranger's credential against the panel—

Beep!

Clank.

The heavy iron door, which seemed completely immovable, slid unlocked of its own accord. Kyle and Edgar stared at him in astonishment.

"Whoa..."

"Where on earth did you find that?"

"Over there."

With Kyle holding a torch and taking point, Bennett and Edgar followed closely behind. Beyond the threshold stretched a long corridor lined with barred windows on both sides. A short distance down, another enclosed partition came into view, walled entirely by reinforced bars.

Inside lay several skeletons dressed in black uniforms, collapsed across the floor. The door was locked, but bringing the ID card near produced another crisp beep, and the latch slid open. Rows of identical, mirror-like glass screens lined one wall from end to end. In the darkened monitors, the dim reflections of Bennett's party flickered back at them.

"Lord Bennett, this looks like a safe."

Inside the wide-open safe, they found a few items: pairs of heavy metal restraints clearly intended for wrists. Handcuffs. They felt dense and sturdy, though in Bennett's estimation, they would hardly be enough to suppress Mana Practitioners or fully trained knights. Nor were handcuffs the only gear inside; there were also several short batons that the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠guards had presumably carried.

"I don't need them. What about you two?"

"...We'll pass as well."

The quality of the batons was honestly underwhelming. They looked solid, but that was about all; comparable bludgeons could be bought for pennies back in their homeland.

Pocketing the handcuffs, Bennett examined the interior of the safe more thoroughly. Despite its compact exterior, the recess was surprisingly deep. Tucked into the back corner was a bundle of unknown documents. Pulling them from a yellow envelope revealed another wall of incomprehensible Dungeon Language. The only details he could decipher were a few numerical digits.

"We're taking this as well."

It was neither bulky nor heavy, and scholars who researched dungeons would gladly pay a modest fee for it. Nodding, Kyle stowed the documents away.

Past the security office, the party reached the end of the hall. Beyond a half-closed iron gate lay a narrower passage flanked by endless rows of identical rooms.

"Edgar."

Setting his shield and mace aside, Edgar seized the iron gate with both hands.

Screeeech!

With an ear-splitting shriek of protesting metal, the gate was wrenched wide by raw muscle. Having caused such an uproar, Edgar flinched, glancing nervously at Bennett. But Bennett had no intention of reprimanding him.

"It couldn't be helped. You did fine."

"T-Thank you..."

Perhaps because there were fewer windows than in the previous hallway, the space beyond felt considerably darker. The orange flame of the torch pushed back the shadows, yet the eerie, suffocating chill hanging in the air refused to disperse no matter how high they raised the light.

And the source fueling that oppressive dread revealed itself almost instantly.

Graaaagh!

Zombies, locked within the cells.

Unlike the withered corpses they had fought at the LT Department Store, these bodies barely showed signs of decomposition and overflowed with terrifying vitality. The moment they spotted Bennett's party, they lunged against the bars, thrusting their clawing hands outward. Naturally, the iron grates held them back.

Thud! Slam!

Seeing the bars shudder under the barrage, Edgar looked uneasy, but Bennett tapped him on the shoulder to ease his tension.

This building had been constructed as a prison from the very beginning. A mere frenzy of corpses would never be enough to tear down or warp these iron grates. The architecture of this civilization was far more advanced than their homeland's; if anything, these bars were sturdier, not weaker.

"D-Do we need to kill every one of them?"

"Why bother?"

Each cell held three or four corpses. A few held only one or stood empty, but on average, there were about three per cell. And dozens upon dozens of cells lined this sector alone—and that was merely an estimate. There was no reason to shoulder unnecessary risk fighting such numbers, especially when the path ahead wasn't blocked and they were all securely locked away.

"For now, let's just pass thr—"

In that instant, the entire corridor flared with brilliant white light.

Bennett raised an arm to shield his vision, but Kyle and Edgar, whose ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reactions were a fraction of a second slower, grimaced in agony.

"Ugh!"

Both rubbed furiously at their stinging eyes.

— Power supply has been restored.

A strange, synthetic voice began echoing from the intercoms overhead. Spoken in the Dungeon Language, the words were utterly incomprehensible, yet Bennett felt an instinctive sense of foreboding crawl up his spine from its flat, emotionless cadence.

"Fall back."

"What?"

Still straining their ears toward the broadcast, Kyle and Edgar turned back with blank expressions. Bennett didn't waste his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠breath; he seized both men by their arms and hauled them backward.

"Whoa!"

Startled but trusting his instincts, they scrambled in reverse after him. They retreated all the way to the entrance of the cell block just as the voice broadcast once more from the speakers.

— Manual override. All security locks in Sector A released.

The sequence played out vividly before Bennett's eyes.

The soft green indicator lights glowing along the seams of every cell door turned a synchronized, blood-red hue.

Clank!

Moments later, the heavy iron doors slid violently open as if wrenched back by an invisible hand. And from within the cells, the imprisoned horde of zombies began pouring into the hallway.

Bennett bit down hard on the curse threatening to escape his lips.