Secrets of the Withered Tree

The moment Insight took effect, the concealed emblem came into sharp relief. Bennett’s face instantly hardened.

It depicted an enormous, sinister, withered tree strangling the First World Tree—the very cradle and essence of the elven race. He had unwittingly stumbled into yet another dangerous secret.

Bennett stood frozen, unable to tear his eyes away from the withered husk.

It was merely an engraving set upon parchment, yet looking away proved extraordinarily difficult. A suffocating disparity and an oppressive weight bore down upon him, unlike anything he had ever endured. Compounding the pressure was a putrid stench that even a seasoned scavenger like him could barely stomach, paired with a strange shortness of breath that tightened his chest.

Realizing his composure had slipped, Bennett squeezed his eyes shut and took a long, steadying breath. His racing heart gradually calmed. Having reclaimed his icy equilibrium, he cautiously opened ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his eyes once more.

With Insight still active, the withered tree remained visible, but by deliberately refusing to focus on it, he managed to keep his faculties intact.

He exhaled softly and turned his attention to the newly revealed script beneath the crest.

The tone was completely at odds with the stiff, formal phrasing typical of the High Table's official correspondence.

Mother, huh...

Bennett rolled the parchment back up and secured it in a separate pocket. Rather than destroying it, keeping it on hand seemed far wiser in case the need arose.

With that mystery set aside, he resumed the scavenging he had briefly paused. Stripping the fallen was second nature, but his foremost prize remained the Superpower Development Drug mentioned throughout the papers.

Anticipation warred with anxiety in his chest. The knowledge that major factions were practically frothing at the mouth to unearth it made it immensely enticing. Yet looking at the devastation wrought by the battle, he could not help but wonder if anything fragile had survived intact.

Fortunately, Bennett's luck held.

Found it.

Inside a sub-space pouch belonging to the Drake contingent, he discovered a small, insulated refrigeration case. Faint, cool mist spilled out as he cracked it open, revealing a row of sleek capsules nestled in molded foam.

Bennett counted four capsules in total.

That leaves one spare.

After a moment’s hesitation, he reached into the chiller to take one out for himself.

His fingers froze an inch away.

Bennett blinked in astonishment. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠His mind was calm, yet his physical body recoiled with visceral, instinctive revulsion. His fingertips trembled faintly, refusing to close around the casing.

It doesn't suit me?

He had intended to assimilate the Superpower Development Drug using his Psionic Energy, banking on the description noting that its effects were mana-derived. Since his Psionic Energy had consistently suppressed or devoured foreign mana constructs, he assumed he could digest the compound cleanly. That was why he had demanded a share of mana during his contract with 'That Person'—to devour it and bolster his base capacity.

Yet unlike before, his body put up a fierce, instinctual resistance. It was not merely that his Psionic Energy refused to metabolize it; perhaps the drug stimulated latent genes in a completely incompatible manner. Or perhaps he simply lacked the prerequisite genetic markers altogether.

...Should I give it to Bella?

That would have to wait. In the worst-case scenario, Bella's constitution might reject it just as violently as his did.

"Bennett-nim, we've finished sorting everything."

"Good work."

Slipping the chiller into his own sub-space pouch, Bennett walked over to his companions. Stripped corpses lay piled to one side regardless of species, gender, or rank. Beside them, gear and valuables were neatly categorized by estimated market value, with worthless bulk items already discarded.

Bennett swept his gaze over the hoard and gave a satisfied nod. "Looks clean. Let's pack it in."

"Indeed," Kyle remarked with a slight grin. "Lady Erika is exceptionally meticulous when it comes to assessing spoils."

Their large-capacity rucksacks were soon bulging at the seams, forcing them to cram the remainder into their sub-space pouches.

"Find anything unusual on the bodies?" Bennett asked.

"Nothing out of the ordinary, sir."

DOOONG!

A deep, echoing chime reverberated through the facility, causing the entire party to exchange glances.

"...It's finally over."

"Time sure flies," Edgar grunted, stretching his massive shoulders. "Felt like we barely got a moment to catch our breath this time."

"Hearing you say that makes me suddenly feel exhausted," Erika sighed, rolling her shoulders.

As the harmonic chime chimed in their heads, the group spoke almost simultaneously.

"The bell sounds much closer this time."

"Ugh, it's not tucked away in some bizarre trap like last time, is it?"

"We'll find out once we get there," Bennett said calmly.

Fortunately, the resonance was indeed originating from nearby. Donning their sealed hazard suits to shield against the ambient Blue Moon radiation, the party evacuated the security wing at a brisk pace.

Five minutes later, they arrived before an adjacent structure with a massive numeral painted on the concrete facade: Building 7.

While not as heavily fortified as Building 5, active defenses still barred their path in the form of transparent energy barriers and reinforced steel blast gates. Bennett swiped the Chief Administrator passcard recovered from the main facility, cycling most of the locks open. When a rusted mechanism seized halfway, he didn't bother forcing it.

Shhhk—

Glowing with a rich, dusk-orange hue, his Chainsword glided effortlessly through the hardened metal. Unlike the searing flames of aura, his Psionic Energy cleaved the obstacle with immaculate, silent precision.

Thud!

The severed slab dropped aside, granting entry into a cavernous, chaotic interior.

"There's quite a lot of clutter here," Kyle noted, looking around.

"Seriously," Edgar agreed.

Machinery of unknown design littered the floor, varying from handheld instruments to monolithic contraptions towering taller than a grown man. Several wheeled platforms resembled the chassis of civilian buses or trucks they had seen previously, though these were heavily reinforced with extra axles and thick steel cowlings.

Toward the far wall stood an indoor construction mock-up. Unlike the concrete floor of Building 7, a patch of bare soil had been laid down, upon which rested an unfinished modular structure. Portions of the walls and flooring were erect, fabricated from alloys and synthetic polymers never observed on the Lancelot Continent.

Edgar knocked on a bulkhead, fascinated by the hollow ring. "Were they building a fortress indoors?"

"Less like a fortress and more like a testing ground," Bennett murmured.

Scanning the perimeter, his eyes caught a bright yellow square of adhesive paper stuck to a control terminal.

Bennett let out an involuntary breath. The Korean Language Pack had streamlined his ability to decipher salvaged texts, yet ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠language fluency did not automatically grant contextual knowledge. What was a Megacity, and what kind of project required dragooning retired researchers?

All I know is... they were preparing for something big.

Judging by the surrounding facilities, advanced experiments were underway, but how this connected to national defense or survival eluded him. It felt oddly disconnected from standard military ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠doctrines.

"Bennett-nim, I found it!"

The secret exit they had been seeking was located right inside the mock building foundation. It was a sunken pit carved into the earth, elongated and rectangular like a freshly dug grave, above which a vertical rift of light hummed quietly.

A coffin?

Despite the ominous name, the activation condition was straightforward enough. All one had to do was lie flat.

"Better keep your packs hugged against your chests before lying down," Bennett instructed.

"Understood," Kyle replied.

The party turned to Erika.

"Ladies first, Erika."

"...I'll be waiting on the other side!" Clutching her oversized rucksack against her stomach, Erika laid back into the trough. The rift warped instantly, swallowing her whole.

Edgar went next, vanishing with a flash, followed shortly by Kyle.

Left alone, Bennett prepared to recline when a sudden chill crawled down the back of his neck.

Rumble...

A faint vibration resonated through the ceiling above. Glancing up for a split second, Bennett dropped flat into the trench without hesitation.

CRASH!

The reinforced roof caved inward with a deafening roar as a monstrous bird shrouded in crimson eye-glow plummeted through the breach. Talons thick as iron girders raked across the floor at blinding speed—a dive and strike executed in under a second.

A savage gale whipped across empty air. Bennett was already gone, dematerialized into the light of the portal.

“꒯ꋬꂵꋊ ꒐꓄!”

A shriek of fury rattled the concrete rafters. Raising its talon, the beast spotted a crimson smear of fresh blood on the tip of its claw. Its eyes dilated in shock. With a violent thrust of its massive wings, the abomination launched itself back into the ruined sky.

"You made it!"

Bennett grabbed his comrades' outstretched hands and pulled himself up onto the stone floor of the exit pavilion. His expression remained rigid.

Ra'al.

He had suspected as much. So the cult leader hadn't given up after all...

"Bennett-nim? That wound...?" Kyle gasped.

"What?" Bennett glanced down at his flank. A shallow slash cut across the seam where his light armor plates overlapped, blood seeping through the fabric. It was a grazing wound from the beast's talons.

"It's fine."

"Fine? What happened in that split second? You didn't have that when we left!"

"That thing from before showed up."

Splashing a low-grade potion over the laceration to accelerate the knit of flesh, Bennett gave a concise explanation about the avian horror. Up until now, his companions had only caught glimpses of the creature without understanding its connection to Ra'al.

"You fought those cultists out in the city as well?" Edgar blurted out. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because it was my problem to resolve."

"Even so—"

Bennett gently stroked the polished stock of Shooting Star slung beneath his duster, his voice cold and unwavering. "There is no need to fret."

They fell silent, watching him.

"Whoever stands in our path, we slaughter them all. Simple as that."

That was the singular principle by which he had survived for ten years. Even when he was weak and insignificant, retribution was absolute and merciless. That mindset had brought him this far, and he had no intention of softening now.

The tension dissipated from the party's faces, replaced by reassured smiles.

"As expected of Bennett-nim, unshakeable even in this mess..."

"We're right behind you, leader!"

Their spirits restored, the Bennett Party navigated the bustling streets toward the merchant quarters.

"We'll liquidate this haul with the GL Merchant Guild for now," Bennett said. "Next time, we can return to the Silvia Merchant Guild and alternate between them periodically."

"Understood."

The payout exceeded expectations. The scavenged desktop computers and intact circuitry fetched a premium from GL Merchant Guild's appraisers, who practically salivated over the preserved electronic components. The party retained only their protective hazard suits, modern firearms, ammunition, and the quadrupedal robot dog reserved for Balduin.

Because they requested immediate coin rather than bank notes, the physical bulk of silver and gold was absurdly heavy. The leather coin pouches strained to the point of splitting, deformed under the sheer mass.

To ease the load, Bennett distributed the newly acquired sub-space pouches from the dungeon to each party member. Combining their prior gear with the spoils, every single member now possessed an expanded dimensional pouch of their own.

"I'll secure a suitable hideout and reach out immediately," Bennett told them at the crossroad. "Rest well until then."

"Understood! Rest up, Bennett-nim!"

Parting ways with the group, Bennett turned down the cobbled alley leading toward Balduin's workshop to deliver the robot dog, liquidate spare weaponry, and consult the dwarf regarding prime real estate.

As he walked briskly through the crowded thoroughfare, a young girl came sprinting from an intersecting lane, her gaze deliberately wandering elsewhere. Bennett stepped aside to let her pass.

The girl brushed past his coat hem. A heartbeat later, Bennett let out a dry, incredulous chuckle.

"Impressive hands."

The sub-space pouch he had tied securely to his belt was gone. The braided cords had been cleanly severed with a swift, imperceptible flick.

I can't let this slide.

Clicking his tongue in amusement, Bennett smoothly spun on his heel and shadowed her trail.

Clutching the newly pinched sub-space pouch, the girl burst through the door of a dilapidated hideout with a triumphant grin.

"Master! I'm back!"

"You're late," came the reply.

The man she addressed as master was surprisingly young. His skin was weathered and slightly soot-stained from rough living, yet it could not mask his youth or the sharp lines of his jaw.

"Guess what I brought back today?" she beamed.

"What did you lift this time?"

"A sub-space pouch!"

Lying leisurely across a battered sofa, the young man finally turned his head to look at her. "A sub-space pouch?"

"Yes! Just like you taught me, I—"

The girl cut herself off mid-sentence. Her master's gaze had drifted past her shoulder toward the doorway, his posture stiffening.

Sensing something amiss, she slowly turned her head. Her eyes widened into saucers.

"Y-You!"

Standing calmly just inside the threshold was the very man she had pickpocketed on the main avenue. He had tailed her the entire way without tripping a single alarm.

"W-When did you follow me? I checked my back three times...!"

The young man on the couch buried his face in his hands, groaning in sheer despair. "Of all the damn people in this city... why did you have to rob him?"

"Huh?" the girl blinked, dumbfounded.

Instead of answering, the young man scrambled off the sofa, straightened his tunic, and bowed with the utmost courtesy.

"Greetings, sir. It has been a very long time."