The Sun That Does Not Set

"M-My body... it's burning up! Aaaaargh!"

The party froze in place mid-wipe of their sweat at the agonized shrieks echoing from outside.

Bennett did not.

"Erika."

"Yes? Yes!"

"Keep casting Ice. Not double casting—just one spell at a time."

Realizing their leader remained as calm as ever, Kyle, Edgar, and Erika snapped out of their panic. Regaining her composure, Erika closed her eyes and focused entirely on her mana. Perhaps because she concentrated on a single spell rather than dual casting, the incantation took hardly any time at all.

"Ice."

Whenever the blistering heat surged, Erika countered with freezing magic. After repeating the process roughly seven times, she collapsed from sheer exhaustion, but fortunately, the temperature did not spike again after that.

Confirming through Detection that the ambient temperature outside had normalized, Bennett gave the word.

"We rest here."

"...Understood."

Having barely finished combat only to be subjected to another freak phenomenon, the party was utterly drained in both body and mind. Using Edgar's massive tower shield as a partition, they changed out of their sweat-soaked clothes. Had it been an all-male party, they could have stripped down without a care, but with a woman present, going through the awkward hassle was unavoidable.

"Whew, I feel human again."

"Come sit and eat."

Sleep followed the meal. While standing night watch, Bennett decided to allocate all the attribute points he had accumulated from achievements.

He saw two main paths forward: distribute the points evenly between Strength and Agility as he had done recently, or pour everything into Agility as he had in the beginning. After brief deliberation, Bennett finalized his decision.

Agility soared past 70 and broke clean through 80 in a single leap. The rationale for dumping every point into Agility was simple: raw physical Strength rarely played a decisive role in his engagements, whereas Agility proved indispensable in every conceivable situation.

"Everyone, wake up."

"A-Already? It feels like I barely closed my eyes..."

Having recovered their stamina with adequate rest, Bennett's party lined up before the door once more. After confirming that everyone stood ready, Bennett unfastened the iron chain. The metal creaked as the heavy door swung open.

Skreeeech!

Viscous, gelatinous masses lunged toward them in an instant.

Thwack, thwack, thwack!

Bolts unleashed by the Shooting Star buried deep into the monstrosities' flesh, but the creatures merely shuddered for a fraction of a second before surging forward undeterred. Swapping magazines in a flash, Bennett infused his ammunition with psionic energy.

The outcome was night and day.

BOOM!

The instant the psionic bolt struck home, the monster's body blew apart. The lead creatures lost all structural cohesion and collapsed into puddles of melted sludge.

"Ugh, disgusting things."

Though not quite as devastating as psionic energy, mana still dealt meaningful harm. Each time blades and maces ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wreathed in mana struck, thick chunks of flesh were sheared away. Within moments, the pack of over a dozen creatures was completely suppressed.

Aberrations?

Bennett prodded the sticky residue on the deck with the tip of his boot. It was a bizarre, viscous fluid mixed with occasional lumpy solids, reeking of scorched grease and rotting flesh.

"Bennett-nim, look here..."

A short distance away, ownerless arms and equipment lay discarded across the deck.

"Could those things just now have been...?"

"...Most likely."

"Merciful heavens."

Whatever unfathomable disaster had occurred, it was unmistakably clear that what had once been living human beings had melted down under the blazing sunlight.

"I thought daytime would be safe..."

"That is not all."

"Pardon?"

"How long were we inside that container?"

It seemed an abrupt question, but knowing Bennett never asked anything without purpose, the party paused to calculate seriously.

"If I recall correctly, we flipped the hourglass roughly four times."

The hourglass they had brought from their homeland took three hours to drain completely on a single turn.

"Which means we spent around twelve hours inside..."

The party members' eyes widened as the realization struck them.

"The sun hasn't set."

"Indeed."

Everyone looked up at the sky. The sun blazing overhead remained exactly where it had been when they first stepped aboard. Far from sinking toward the horizon, it hung pinned to the identical spot in the firmament.

Thinking back, earlier dungeons had also been anomalous. They had endured five unbroken days of pitch-black night. At the time, they had simply accepted it, but standing under this unmoving sun, the unnatural horror of the phenomenon finally sank in.

"Even if this world collapsed, is such a thing possible? Five days straight of endless day or endless night?"

"I can hardly explain the mechanics behind it. However..." Bennett pointed a finger toward the sky. "We must face reality as it is."

"..."

Without missing a beat, Bennett scooped up the oil-drenched gear strewn across the deck.

"Pack it up. We move."

Slicked with foul oil or not, equipment was still equipment. A thorough wipe-down was all it took to turn them into hard coin.

Bennett's party crossed paths with numerous Aberrations as they pressed forward—sticky, shapeless mounds of flesh that had lost all semblance of humanity. Slaying them was easy enough, but the encounter was far from pleasant. An inexplicable revulsion clung to every blow, a deep-seated visceral disgust that spiked whenever the creature's putrid fluids splattered against their gear. Had they been able to loot the corpses it might have offered some solace, but the creatures had abandoned their weapons elsewhere before melting. If Bennett had not diligently collected the stray gear scattered along the corridors, the trek would have been nothing but a senseless drain on their stamina and morale.

Enduring the oppressive disgust, the party finally broke through the labyrinth of shipping containers. Their cramped, stifling field of view suddenly opened up wide to reveal the boundless ocean. Bennett leaned over the railing, staring down from the dizzying height.

Deep beneath the water's surface, a massive dark silhouette seemed to glide past, but it vanished so swiftly that it felt like an optical illusion. He stared hard into the depths, yet only a calm, placid sheet of blue met his eyes. Even so, he could not shake the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lingering instinct that something colossal lurked below.

Forcing his eyes away from the sea, Bennett pointed ahead.

"We make for that structure first."

Towering high above the stacked metal containers was an imposing white superstructure. The vessels back home, though vastly smaller and more modest, had a similar layout.

The bridge, they called it.

He had no idea what the locals in this world called it, but its function was bound to be similar: captain's quarters, living quarters, mess halls, and navigation controls.

The white building loomed larger as they approached. In many ways, it differed drastically from the bridges of his homeland. The topmost deck was fitted with wide, panoramic glass panes, while the lower tiers were lined with tight rows of smaller square windows.

Reaching the foot of the bridge at a near-jog, the party halted. The main entryway leading into the interior hung wide open. In stark contrast to the blazing sun outside, the interior was steeped in heavy gloom—though not pitch-black, thanks to dim reddish emergency lights casting a faint glow along the walls. A narrow hallway, just wide enough for a single file of men, stretched straight ahead, lined with closed doors on both sides.

For a superstructure of this size, such cramped passageways seemed counterintuitive, but rather than pondering naval architecture, Bennett focused strictly on what they needed right now. Locating the stairwell, Bennett turned to his companions.

"We secure the topmost deck first. Standard top-down clearance."

It was the same method they had employed when clearing the main facility of the [Invaded Laboratory]. Having caught their breath, the party nodded in unison.

"Haste!"

"Move."

The party bolted up the stairwell in tight formation: Edgar leading, followed by Kyle, Erika, and Bennett covering the rear. On high alert, they braced for zombies or ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠abominations to lunge from the blind corners, but surprisingly, nothing attacked them.

Clang, clang, clang!

Given the immense height of the bridge, charging up the flights took several minutes of grueling exertion. Just as everyone's breathing turned ragged, their objective appeared directly ahead.

"Breach it!"

At the front, Edgar channeled his mana. A pale blue radiance enveloped his frame as he threw his entire weight forward.

CRASH!

Unable to withstand the brutal kinetic force, the reinforced door tore clean off its frame and went flying inward.

The wheelhouse held a surreal blend of the familiar and the utterly incomprehensible. The steering apparatus, for instance, was recognizable; the large circular helm looked identical to the steering wheels used on continental ships. Surrounding it, however, were devices of pure alien sophistication. Consoles of metal and glass flickered with tiny indicator lights, accented by dozens of toggles, levers, and switches.

"The electrical power is still functioning."

Several monitors glowed with light, displaying lines of text in the Dungeon Language. Stepping closer to inspect them, Bennett narrowed his eyes.

Though the concept of a 'protocol manual' was somewhat foreign, its underlying intent was clear enough. A catastrophic incident had erupted aboard this vessel as well—scarcely a shock at this stage.

"Bennett-nim, there is something peculiar over here."

"What is it?"

Edgar pointed toward a massive display screen. It showed what appeared to be a schematic or radar interface: at the bottom center was a circle traced in dotted lines, with a long, vertical line extending straight toward the top. Studying it intently, a realization dawned on Bennett. Could that circle at the bottom center represent this ship?

The display felt strangely familiar. It operated on a principle remarkably similar to the spatial feedback pumped directly into his brain whenever he projected Detection with psionic energy.

Does it map surrounding objects?

At the moment, the screen remained largely empty. Aside from the small icon denoting the vessel, nothing showed up. Since there was no land or island nearby, that seemed only natural—

"Hm?"

In that split second, a colossal blip flashed onto the display.

Yet it lingered for merely the span of a single heartbeat. The very next instant, it vanished into thin air, as if it had never existed. Bennett whipped his head toward the wide panoramic windows.

...Nothing. Only the endless, calm surface of the sea.

Suppressing an uneasy prickle at the back of his neck, Bennett turned to examine the remaining active monitors.

The broadcast had frozen mid-transmission, locked perpetually on that single screen. Bennett fixated on a title he had never encountered before.

President?

A national leader chosen directly through the votes of the populace? Could such ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a political system truly function?

"Ha!"

Back home, such a concept was utterly unthinkable. Barring the anomalous free-for-all of the Dungeon City and a microscopic handful of city-states, the continent was universally ruled by monarchies. Uttering such blasphemy in an empire would have seen one dragged off in chains by the Imperial Guard or the Intelligence Directorate before nightfall.

By comparison, the term 'martial law' was far easier to grasp. The civilization of this dungeon world had clearly been cornered by the Outsiders and their ilk. While the precise administrative term felt slightly alien, it was plainly an invocation of absolute emergency powers.

Bennett swept through the rest of the illuminated terminals, but found no further actionable intelligence. Instead, the real breakthrough came from his companions rummaging through the crew consoles.

"Bennett-nim, I found a handwritten note scrawled in Dungeon Language."

"Let me see."

Taking the paper, Bennett scanned the hurried, frantic handwriting.