The Executive Office and the Language Pack

Bennett froze just as he was about to launch a preemptive strike.

The mechanical beast glaring back at him had turned its eyes emerald green.

A single shift in color had completely altered its presence. When crimson radiance had poured from its optical lenses, it had radiated the suffocating menace of a hound straight out of the underworld. Bathed in emerald, however, it seemed as docile as a household pup. Perhaps it was only a trick of perception, but the hostile killing intent had vanished without a trace.

Rising slowly to its paws, the mechanical dog padded toward Bennett. Likely due to structural damage sustained in the preceding skirmish, a high-pitched hum echoed with every stride.

Clank. Whir-clank.

Closing the distance, its glowing sensors swept over Bennett once more, seemingly scrutinizing him from head to toe. It took one final step forward—and then, with a faint metallic whine, collapsed flat onto its belly against the floor. It was the posture of an ordinary dog demonstrating absolute submission.

"W-what is going on?" Kyle asked, bewildered.

"I couldn't tell you," Bennett replied.

Even as he spoke, Bennett reached out and gave the machine's armored skull an experimental pat. The mechanical dog swayed its torso in evident delight.

"Well, isn't this a good thing?" Kyle eased his grip from the hilt of his sword. "If it's obeying you, Bennett-nim, that means it has no intention of attacking us."

"R-right on!"

Edgar, who had been poised to charge with his heavy shield braced, let out a deep sigh of relief and uncoiled his rigid frame. Behind them, Erika dispersed the mana that had been gathering at her fingertips.

Bennett gave an approving nod, then suddenly paused. The cool, firm sensation beneath his fingers went ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠completely slack.

Hm?

The hound, which had been enthusiastically wagging its metal body just a second before, had slumped limp against the floor.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A faint electronic chime echoed from somewhere on the chassis. The party tilted their heads, looking around until Kyle spotted the source.

"Bennett-nim! There's a light blinking over here!"

Tucked beneath the machine's flank was a small digital display, normally hidden behind the joint of its rear leg.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Right before Bennett's eyes, the glowing numeral shifted from 1% to 0%. The machine dog's remaining limbs collapsed flat against the tiles, and the emerald light in its optical lenses abruptly died.

"...Did it run out of mana?" Erika asked tentatively.

"Mana?"

"Enchanted artifacts shut down when their stored mana is completely spent," she explained. "This... dog creature might operate on a similar principle."

Depleted power? It was a sensible theory. Just as firearms from the dungeon world required ammunition, this mysterious mechanical beast inevitably relied on an energy source to function.

"For now..."

After a moment's consideration, Bennett opened his sub-space pouch. He hadn't been entirely sure whether an object of this nature would go in, but to his relief, the dimensional space swallowed the mechanical frame without resistance.

"Let's sweep the rest of the gear here."

"Understood!"

The party set about stripping the belongings from the mercenaries slaughtered by the machine dog. Their packs were already stuffed to bursting, forcing them to gauge values on the spot and discard cheaper items to free up carrying capacity. Although they possessed the sub-space pouch, the bulk of the mechanical dog had eaten up most of its remaining volume.

"Keep this... toss that..."

Watching Erika work, Bennett cocked his head in confusion. She had just pulled a decent set of leather armor out of her bag and replaced it with a pair of women's undergarments.

"Why are you packing underwear?"

"Oh, this?" Erika leaned in, lowering her voice as though sharing a classified secret. "These are expensive."

"...Expensive?"

"Have you ever heard the term Limited Edition?"

"Limited edition?"

"It's a concept from the dungeon world," she explained. "They manufacture a luxury product in tiny batches. That way, not everyone who wants one can buy it; only a handful of people willing to shell out absurd amounts of coin get to own it."

The phrasing was unfamiliar, but the logic made immediate sense to Bennett. Master crafters across the mercenary world operated the same way with custom weapons and rare armor. In a manner of speaking, his own Shooting Star could be considered a limited edition.

"Anyway, it fetches an outrageous price," Erika added. "Far more than mediocre swords or breastplates. Selling this back at the city will bring in serious coin!"

"Is that so?"

Bennett glanced toward the corpse of the sole woman among the deceased: the combat priestess. Though she had now been thoroughly looted, she had been clad in the battle vestments of the War God Church.

"I had no idea clergy earned that kind of money."

"It depends on the denomination," Erika said. "The Church of the Benevolent Goddess emphasizes absolute poverty and charity, but they're the exception. In the past, many orders paid lip service to purity and abstinence, but that backfired so often that the prevailing trend is simply letting priests fend for themselves. Earn what your talents allow, so long as you don't exploit the common folk—that sort of thing."

She turned her gaze back to the priestess's remains.

"She probably bought them herself while raiding dungeons. A combat priestess of the War God wouldn't lack for skill or coin."

"Well, as long as it turns a profit."

"Trust me on this one. The payoff is going to be magnificent!"

Having stripped every scrap of value from the floor, the party resumed their advance. The heavy security doors that had slammed shut during the combat trial were now wide open, forcing Bennett's group to inspect each branching corridor one by one.

"That stairwell over there seems to lead up to the eighth floor," Kyle said, pointing ahead.

Unlike the other exits that opened into level hallways, only the door marked with an 'E' led toward an ascending flight of stairs.

"Alright. Move out."

"Yes, sir!"

Climbing the long flight through the stale, dusty air, they eventually emerged onto the eighth floor.

Offices lined this level as well, but the atmosphere differed markedly from the lower floors. Where the previous level had crammed dozens of workers into open rows to maximize processing efficiency, this floor was designed for a select few. The square footage allocated to each individual was vastly wider and far more luxurious.

Beneath the polished facade, however, lay an exceptionally secure layout.

The open foyer extending from the stairs and the elevator bank resembled an upscale reception lounge. Beyond that decorative veneer, however, the truly critical areas were sealed off behind impenetrable walls. While the lower offices had emphasized security with reinforced glass partitions, this sector was walled off entirely by solid slabs of treated metal.

"This seems rather mismatched," Kyle observed. "You wouldn't expect such crude, industrial bulkheading right behind an ornate sitting room."

"Unless they had a very specific reason to hide what lies behind it..."

Thud!

Bennett rapped his knuckles lightly against the surface. A dense, unyielding vibration traveled back into his bones. Without testing it directly, he could tell these bulkheads were thick enough to repel sustained gunfire.

Rattle! Rattle!

The central door had a handle, but it didn't budge an inch when pulled. Like the surrounding walls, it was cast from solid, heavy steel.

Acting on a hunch, Bennett drew the identification card he had acquired back on the second floor.

Click!

Though no obvious scanner was visible, bringing the card near the handle caused an internal mechanism to disengage, unlocking the hatch.

Bennett swept his gaze across the threshold and took the lead. The room beyond appeared to be an operational bullpen for administrative staff, but the arrangement of the desks was peculiar. Though spaced unevenly, every single workstation ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠faced directly toward the entrance, keeping watch over the doorway.

Perhaps this was where personal bodyguards were stationed, Bennett mused.

The rest of the party came to a similar conclusion as they filed in behind him.

"No matter how you look at it, those desks were set up for surveillance," Edgar muttered.

"Indeed," Kyle agreed.

Unlike the workstations downstairs, these desks were completely bare. Had people been performing standard clerical work here, papers, folders, or writing implements would have been left behind. There was no trace of any of that.

Restrooms and a kitchenette flanked either side of the chamber, while a set of grand double doors stood directly ahead.

Bennett triggered Detection. Confirming that no life signs lurked behind the barrier, he pushed the double doors open.

Creak—

Unopened for years, the heavy hinges protested with a loud groan.

A lavish executive office materialized before them—far too expansive for any single individual to occupy in comfort. Befitting a corporate headquarters that designed autonomous war hounds, the decor blended opulence with a sharp, sterile, and chilling aesthetic.

Having plundered similar corporate executive suites several times before, Bennett marched straight toward the main mahogany desk.

Sitting upon the polished surface was a machine that resembled a tablet, though significantly thicker. Strangely, instead of consisting solely of a screen, a flat rectangular board was attached to its base, connected by a slender cable.

Across the glowing monitor, a line of indecipherable Dungeon Language was displayed:

Absentmindedly brushing his fingers against the device, Bennett's eyes suddenly narrowed.

Warmth?

Faint heat radiated from the lower casing. Having noticed the backplate of the tablet he recovered from the police headquarters warming up during use, he recognized the phenomenon instantly.

Someone had been operating this terminal until just moments ago.

Bennett swept the entire room with Detection once more, but found no trace of another living being anywhere on the floor.

A prickle of unease settled between his brows, but he set the feeling aside for the moment and began systematically ransacking the desk drawers.

Several official memoranda and assorted tools tumbled out of the compartment.

Shoving the useless clutter aside, Bennett's eyes widened. His fingertips brushed against an unmistakably familiar texture hidden deep within the recess.

Even without looking, he knew what it was.

It's the same canister.

It felt identical to the metallic injector that held the unfinished cure—the very stimulant that had vastly amplified his Psionic Energy and Endurance parameters.

The polished, seamless finish was an exact match.

Swallowing hard, he reached into the back of the drawer and pulled out a silver metal cylinder.

"Bennett-nim...?" Kyle began, approaching with a puzzled expression.

Bennett barely heard him; his focus was entirely locked onto the glowing system interface that had materialized before his eyes.

The Korean... Language Pack?

Having sat through Marco's brief lectures on the Dungeon Language, Bennett knew that the ruined land they were exploring corresponded to a nation from Earth known as 'Korea'.

Without hesitation, Bennett flipped the metal canister in his palm. Sensing his resolve, a needle emerged from the tip with a soft mechanical hiss.

"B-Bennett-nim! Wait! What are you trying to—"

"I'm fine."

He drove the needle straight into his upper left arm.

After reassuring his startled comrades with a raised hand, Bennett examined himself. Aside from a slight stiffness at the nape of his neck, he felt perfectly ordinary.

Did anything actually change?

He turned his head back toward the desk and glanced at the glowing terminal screen. Nodding quietly, he began to speak.

"Someone was operating that terminal remotely to—"

Bennett froze mid-sentence, his eyes widening in shock.

He had just read the Dungeon Language without even trying.