Echoes of the Past

BAAANG!

To call it a hair's breadth would be an understatement.

The space ahead had seemed entirely normal. Yet the instant Bennett shifted his weight forward, something triggered. The air distorted violently, collapsing into an instantaneous, localized explosion. It covered a remarkably narrow radius, but that concentration made it all the more lethal. Had his reflexes lagged by even a fraction of a second, his torso would have been shredded to ribbons.

"B-Bennett-nim!"

"What in the world was that...?"

Kyle and Edgar cried out in shock, but Bennett didn't answer. His gaze remained locked on the patch of empty air before him. The torn expanse had already smoothed over, settling back into place as if nothing had happened. Anyone strolling by would never guess death lurked right beneath the surface.

Only after cycling through every sensory technique at his disposal did a faint, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shimmering trace manifest in his sight.

To think such a trap exists... Bennett exhaled slowly. If Kyle or Edgar had taken point, one of them would be dead on the floor right now. The anomaly reminded him uncomfortably of the lethal sandstorms they had encountered in the Abandoned Headquarters.

Bending down, Bennett picked up a loose pebble from the floor and flicked it forward. The moment the pebble crossed into the perimeter, the air visibly warped.

CRUNCH!

Caught frozen in midair, the stone shattered into fine dust.

"Cross now. Move!" Bennett barked.

"Pardon? Ah, yes!"

Bennett counted the seconds in his head as the party hurried past the trigger zone. ...Nine, ten. Exactly ten seconds. The neutralized spatial warp hummed back to life, resetting just as he had calculated.

"Damn, what kind of sick trap is that?" Edgar grumbled under his breath.

While Edgar complained, Bennett retrieved a vial of thick paint from his pack and marked the floor around the danger zone. It was a luminous varnish favored by painters, giving off a gentle gleam even in the dark. It served perfectly to map out the hazard for their eventual retreat.

"That nearly stopped my heart..." Erika murmured, clutching her chest.

Bennett swept his eyes across their surroundings. To one side of the expansive ground-floor lobby, a long display board detailed the history of the facility, complete with faded photographic records.

There was little strategic value in the promotional text itself. However, the vivid photographs accompanying the timeline immediately captured the party's fascination.

"Are these the weapons of the dungeon world?"

"They look bizarre. And huge, too."

Staring at pictures of armored tanks, self-propelled howitzers, and supersonic fighter jets, the party members couldn't peel their eyes away, even without understanding their exact functions. Back on the Lancelot Continent, military arms rarely deviated from siege engines, ballistas, and standard steel. Here, the sheer variety and mechanical shapes were staggering—not to mention the absurd performance metrics listed beneath them.

"They can hurl a hunk of iron forty kilometers away...?" Kyle asked in utter disbelief.

While such modern weapon systems were alien to Bennett as well, the Korean Language Pack he had absorbed allowed him to grasp the technical readouts.

"An explosive iron projectile, to be precise," Bennett explained, keeping his voice level. "Think of it as an enormous version of the bullets from the handgun we found."

"Whoa..."

"And if it detonates in midair overhead," Bennett continued, glancing at the placard describing the K-9 Thunder self-propelled howitzer, "it scatters hundreds or thousands of jagged shrapnel pieces, tearing apart every enemy within the blast radius. At least, that's what it says here."

"Even high-circle mages can't cast explosive spells across forty kilometers," Edgar said, shaking his head.

"And from what Bennett-nim is describing, that monstrous steel bird actually flies through the clouds, doesn't it?"

The heavy ground armor was astonishing enough, but the fighter jets left them truly speechless. Bennett couldn't fully comprehend technical terms like Mach 1 either, but the notion that a multi-ton iron craft could soar across the heavens, drop catastrophic explosions, and engage in dogfights among the clouds was nothing short of miraculous.

Before moving on, Bennett grabbed a few thin promotional pamphlets titled Understanding the Agency for Defense Development from a display stand in the corner. While hardly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠masterwork artifacts, they were primary records of this world. Dungeon scholars back in the city would pay a handsome sum for them.

Next came the access point for the elevators and central stairwell. Likely meant to restrict unauthorized personnel, both were sealed behind heavy transparent barriers.

The digital warning flashed in vain, however, as a ragged, gaping hole had already been carved straight through the thick barrier. Inspecting the melted edges, Kyle furrowed his brow.

"This was severed with aura. And not long ago, either."

Aura typically burned with the intensity of blue flame, naturally generating blistering heat. The scorch marks on the composite plastic were fresh and stark.

"Let's keep moving," Bennett said.

"Yes, sir!"

Passing through the breach to the elevator lobby, they found a wall directory. Strangely, this complex appeared to have no subterranean levels.

"No basement floors? That's unusual," Kyle noted. "Every place from the LT Department Store to the Abandoned Headquarters had vast underground levels."

The structure they occupied was the main administrative building—a broad, five-story facility. Behind it lay an area labeled as testing grounds. Bennett had initially assumed it was an open outdoor field, but peering through the tinted windows revealed several low-slung, reinforce-walled structures spaced at rigid intervals.

"We'll start by clearing the second floor—" Bennett began, then cut himself off.

Wait. Is there any reason to crawl up floor by floor?

His eyes darted back to the directory.

Other scavenger parties, unable to decipher Dungeon Language, would naturally clear each level sequentially as they ascended. But Bennett's party possessed the rare advantage of literacy. Knowing that the top administrative authority resided on the fifth floor, it made vastly more sense to seize the highest tier first and loot their way downward.

"Erika."

"Yes, Bennett-nim?"

"You know the spell Haste, don't you?"

"Haste? Yes, of course!"

"Can you cast it on Kyle and Edgar?"

"Uh... what about you, Bennett-nim?"

Bennett laid out his reasoning. Competitors were likely already scouring the second or third floors. Ascending straight to the fifth would let them secure the most valuable intelligence and relics uncontested. Even if another vanguard had pushed ahead, catching them from above was tactically superior.

"I can manage two targets," Erika said after a moment's thought. "The issue is that leaves you and me at our normal pace."

Kyle quickly chimed in. "I can match Bennett-nim's speed through physical reinforcement alone. How about casting it on Edgar and Erika-nim instead? Edgar carries the heaviest armor and tower shield, and Erika-nim has the lowest physical stamina. Bennett-nim has more than enough endurance to keep pace."

Edgar scratched his bristly beard in agreement. "He's right. If we're sprinting up five flights of reinforced stairs in full kit, my legs will appreciate the magical boost."

"I hate to admit it, but my stamina really is the weakest link," Erika sighed softly.

"Then it's settled."

Erika nodded, leveling her staff. Mana coalesced around the polished wood at her command.

"...Haste."

A soft, shimmering azure glow settled over Edgar and Erika, feathering their weight.

"Fifth floor. Move out."

"Right!"

With mana reinforcing his legs, Kyle spearheaded the ascent, followed closely by a surprisingly nimble Edgar, then Erika, with Bennett watching their rear. Though the building was only five stories, the high ceilings meant each staircase was unusually long. Even so, buoyed by magic and physical conditioning, they crested the fifth-floor landing in moments.

Thud! Bang!

The heavy reinforced doors to the fifth floor were barred from the inside. Kyle stepped up, channeling mana along the edge of his longsword before driving the tip through the locking mechanism. With a twist, the resistance gave way.

Crunch.

The moment they crossed the threshold, Edgar surged back to the vanguard position, moving with shocking agility under the lingering effects of Haste.

"Zombies ahead!"

"I'll take them," Bennett said calmly.

"I'll back you up!" Erika chimed in.

Ever since the destruction of the Hand of Curse, the roaming undead had grown remarkably sluggish and frail. They posed no threat to seasoned scavengers. Bennett raised his Shooting Star, while Erika brought up her modified rapid-fire crossbow. A rhythmic sequence of mechanical clicks echoed through the hallway. Steel bolts thudded into decomposing skulls, dropping the zombies in limp heaps before they could even groan.

Inspecting the corpses, Bennett clicked his tongue in thought. While the skeletons on the lower floors wore rotted rags, these zombies were clad in well-preserved garments of high-grade fabric, looking distinctly upper-class. This dungeon was designated the Infested Research Institute; the leadership must have barricaded themselves up here to make a final stand after the perimeter fell. The sturdy manual deadbolts on the heavy doors supported the theory.

Among the fallen, a small handful wore unfamiliar military fatigues. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠They were clearly the garrison soldiers of this dungeon world. While distinct from the standard battle dress of the continent, the clean, utilitarian lines of the uniforms were undeniably striking. The mottled camouflage resembled the patterns worn by elite frontier rangers, but the fabric was incomparably superior—stiff enough to resist abrasion, yet flexible and light. The combat boots laced securely up to the calf, offering superb ankle support.

Even the wealthiest kingdoms back home only issued thin, stiff leather boots that blistered the feet after a week's march. These, however, were exceptional pieces of mass-produced gear.

"Strip the uniforms and boots," Bennett ordered. "We're taking them all."

"Understood!"

There was one disappointment, however: none of the soldiers possessed the fabled ballistic weapons of this world. Instead of rifles or sidearms, their belts held only dull, collapsible batons—the very same implements Bennett had worn out and broken ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠during their earlier raids.

Leaving Edgar on watch at the central intersection, the party fanned out to sweep the executive suites for anything of value. Bennett headed straight for the corner office: the Director's suite, the workstation of the facility's supreme commander.

Inside, a desktop computer and dual monitors sat atop an expansive wooden desk. Finding no obvious physical trauma on the hardware, Bennett stowed the tower, displays, and peripheral cables into his Sub-space Pouch. Scavenger merchants in the city had eagerly bought up the portable computers called laptops before, so these larger variants were certain to fetch a bounty.

The drawers... completely cleared out.

Experience had taught him that executive desks often harbored valuable trinkets, keys, or portable data drives. But every drawer here stood bare. Not even a stray scrap of paper remained, as though scrubbed deliberately.

Scanning the rest of the room, Bennett's eyes narrowed. In the far corner sat an unsightly, soot-stained metal drum that looked entirely out of place in a luxurious executive suite. Approaching it, he peered inside. The drum was filled with charred chunks of chopped wood and crumpled wads of scorched paper.

"...A burn barrel for heat?"

Understanding dawned on him. That explained why the heavy bookshelves were stripped clean and the wooden side tables had been hacked apart. He had assumed the command staff succumbed within days of the breach, but they had clearly held out much longer, burning their own furniture and records to survive the cold before starvation or infection finally claimed them.

Clatter.

Bennett tipped the drum onto its side and used a broken wooden slat to sift through the ashes. Among the blackened cinders, a few resilient, partially burnt sheets caught his eye. Activating Night Eyes, the faded printed script sharpened into legibility.

Frustratingly, the rest of the document was reduced to gray ash. But it wasn't the only surviving scrap.

The United States, Japan, China...

Other sovereign nations of this fallen dungeon world. The entire planet had been locked in a desperate scramble to hoard these extradimensional relics before everything collapsed.

Bennett swept through the Director's suite once more, checking behind paintings and baseboards, but found no sign of a clearance keycard. For that matter, he had no idea where the Security Annex was even situated.

We were heading there anyway, Bennett thought. The fourth floor is an absolute must.

Stepping out into the corridor, Bennett met up with the rest of the party as they finished searching their respective zones. Everyone had managed to scavenge something of note.

Kyle held a solid-gold statuette of a calf.

Edgar proudly displayed an ornate medal housed inside a velvet presentation box.

And Erika held up a laminated identification badge displaying a crisp portrait of a stern-faced man.

"Good work, all of you," Bennett said, pocketing the badge and relics.

Turning back toward the central stairwell, Bennett led the party toward the fourth floor. He grasped the handle of the fire door, pushing it open.

FWHIP-FWHIP-FWHIP!

A hail of steel bolts sliced through the gap the instant the door swung wide.

"Look out!"

Anticipating an ambush, Edgar threw his weight forward, slamming his reinforced tower shield into the doorway.

CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!

Sparks showered across the heavy plating as crossbow bolts ricocheted into the walls with piercing metallic shrieks. Remaining completely composed behind Edgar's shoulder, Bennett peered through the narrow vision slit cut into the center of the shield.

Stationed along the landing above, leading to the rooftop, and down on the stairs leading below, two squads of heavily armed combatants had established an interlocking crossfire.

And every single one of them was leveling a repeating crossbow.