Aramsus dungeon.
In a large room on floor B5, I gathered everyone to lay out the plan.
Up to here, the surge of adventurers from Damian’s request had cleared the monsters, so we’d arrived combat-free.
From B5 down, adventurer numbers fell off sharply.
Combat would happen. Better to talk now.
“Right. Plan for everyone.”
I was party leader; Damian was the escort target.
He could probably defend himself, but as a commander he was a no.
Low interest in others.
He had a doll crouch and sat on its arm.
Like an adult on a doll’s arm.
“Plan? — Right, here there’s no monsters and no other adventurers. — Also, you got here without getting lost. Dungeons rearrange paths periodically.”
Dungeons slowly changed structure.
Knowing it could still get you lost.
(Thanks to Skills.)
“No worries there. I have multiple Skills effective for dungeon work.”
I showed the Jewel.
Damian and Clara saw it and nodded.
Only Miranda looked puzzled.
“A Magic Implement? — But an Implement with that many Skills would be expensive.”
Clara answered.
“Not a Magic Implement. A Gem that records Skills. Predates the Implement-era. Multi-Skill holder, then… blue is support-type.”
I nodded and continued.
“We’ll avoid combat where possible. Where unavoidable — or where it’s better to clear them — we fight. Target is floor 40; chests on the way, we collect if quick. Time-consuming, we ignore.”
Damian was pleased.
“Good. Good! Glad I commissioned you. Doesn’t get lost and detects enemies — useful Skills. Plus chest locations. Truly a help. — Up to floor 30 is available at the academy; I don’t care about that loot.”
He didn’t care, but adventurers were ignoring what amounted to gold coins.
Aria muttered wasteful but accepted it.
Novem didn’t argue.
Miranda didn’t object either.
Only Clara—
“Avoiding combat I get. What about luggage? I’d rather avoid a state where Damian-san’s dolls can’t move.”
The two dolls were carrying the crate and Damian’s pack. I agreed.
— I snapped my fingers; a magic circle appeared.
All eyes widened a touch.
Even Novem and Aria, who’d seen it once, stared.
“Defense — no, a Jewel Skill. Stow gear in this box and we don’t carry it. Light travel. — Can’t deploy frequently. Stuff you use often, keep on hand. Use is limited to about twice a day.”
Damian nodded.
“Plenty of capacity. Putting mine in too. Use-limit implies high mana cost?”
I nodded openly. Limits had to be on the table.
“Skills use my mana. Magic in combat I avoid. Instead—”
I reached into the larger chest and pulled out a weapon.
A bow and arrows.
Distinct: the arrowheads.
Miranda.
“Those — exploding arrows, right? Students at the academy make and sell them.”
“Magic Implement arrows, technically. Mana stones embedded; impact triggers the magic. Useful against monsters here.”
I’d asked the deepest-floor adventurer what to pack.
Arrows were precious, but the difference between with and without was massive.
A heavy expenditure.
(This run — have to recover parts to balance the outflow.)
Each arrow was expensive.
Clara looked a little reassured. We hadn’t slacked.
“Aramsus dungeon has metal-clad monsters. Effective gear. Will the arrows last?”
I pulled another weapon out — a blunt weapon. A mace.
“For low-risk engagements, this. Metal cladding outside — strike damage works.”
Clara nodded.
“Clara, you’ll handle the lighting. And one of Damian-san’s dolls for the pack.”
Damian smiled.
“Sure.”
“Front: me and Aria, plus one of your dolls. Sorry, but I’ll use it as a shield.”
“Right. Correct usage.”
Damian accepted that too. Suspiciously cheerful.
“Behind, Damian-san, Novem, Clara. Last, the second doll. This formation to floor 20.”
If the floor-20 boss was un-cleared, we’d take it. With this lineup, it would be tight — but I had the Second’s Skill.
(Won’t work on dolls, probably.)
Skill on dolls — would it apply? Worth testing.
“Lord Lyle, per plan, to floor 30—”
I cut in unapologetically.
“Other adventurers are around, but no contact as a rule. If they ask for help, judge in the moment, but priority is the request.”
Damian, bored.
“Don’t waste time on others. — Well, you look capable. I’ll follow. As long as I get what I commissioned.”
Truly no interest in others.
Aria.
“You — do you have any compassion?!”
He snorted.
“Hah! Compassion? Going into a dungeon is self-responsibility. Save them when they’re at risk — fine. Just don’t forget my request. Help-people-fan, after the request finish, all you want. — Though I don’t think you can save anyone. — You… you’re the weakest of this group.”
Called weak, she gripped the spear.
Clara approached her.
“Damian-san is correct. I won’t deny helping, but we have a commission. The priority error was yours.”
Letting savable lives die hurt an adventurer’s name too.
You save when you can.
Otherwise the held-back becomes your own end.
“Whether they erred in judgment or were unlucky, I don’t want my research interfered with for those people. — Break’s over.”
When Damian called it, I packed gear into the box.
Daily sabre stayed in the box.
Novem talked to Aria.
“Aria-san.”
“I get it. The weak can’t save people… so we get strong.”
Zelphy’s teaching from Darion.
If you want to save, you have to be strong.
(Strong enough to save…)
With everyone packed, I snapped fingers and the box vanished.
The snap wasn’t necessary; the Seventh did it, so I copied.
“Five floors a day as the quota. To floor 20 should be quick. Don’t lower your guard.”
I started walking. Everyone moved.
Aria frustrated, calmed by Novem.
What stuck with me: Miranda, who usually would have chimed in here, was looking down.
I’d just realized—
“Right at the next corner, then halt.”
“Yes, Lord Lyle.”
The ancestors’ Skills—
“Enemies haven’t picked us up. Ambush. I use the bow; once an explosion goes off, Aria charges in.”
“Got it!”
In dungeons — actually, in most situations—
“Chest, but there’s a trap. Clara, how?”
“I don’t have disarming skill. If unsure, skip… good catch, though.”
— were unfairly powerful—.
“Camping here. Cleaned out the local monsters — we can rest.”
“Excellent. Floor 18 on day one. We were ambushed zero times. — Yes, you are excellent.”
Praised by Damian, mixed feeling.
It wasn’t my strength but the ancestors’.
My own Skill’s effect wasn’t even clear yet.
Local monsters cleared, we entered a wider room and unpacked.
Walls of randomly fixed metal plates; a rectangular green-glowing sign at the entrance.
A figure of a person, maybe?
“This dungeon is unique. Off-key.”
Damian explained.
“Of course. The scholarly city didn’t have a dungeon form here. The dungeon was here first, and the scholarly city formed above.”
Curious phrasing.
“The dungeon being here is what made the scholarly city?”
“Yes. Unlike other dungeons, this one was originally an ancient ruin turned dungeon. — And the things that came out… the magical implements in use today were derived from treasures and materials from this dungeon. Tools too. To the scholarly city, this place is a literal treasure mountain. — Even the metal forming this dungeon — you can carry pieces out. Tiny quantities.”
He had the doll start peeling the wall.
The dungeon reacted sharply, trying to reset it.
And—
“What are you doing?”
Clara, exasperated.
A metal plate came off — the dungeon itself had given up that piece.
Cleanly torn into a small fragment, in the doll’s hand.
“A lesson for the kid. Library kid, you should look too.”
He called Clara that. We looked at the held metal.
“Long ago we couldn’t produce, or work, this metal. The scholarly city solved it. That technology is used for Magic Implements now. Once, even a piece this size was valuable. Adventurers desperately peeled walls. — Funny story now.”
The dungeon itself bestowed immense gifts on this world.
That was Aramsus dungeon.
“Hence management. Disappearance is more problematic than just no more dungeon.”
Damian pushed his glasses up; the lenses caught light.
“Yes. Plenty of people don’t get that.”
He had the doll discard the fragment.
The metal plate dissolved into the floor.
I was surprised. Damian, used to it — or knowing — wasn’t.
“Was part of the dungeon, so reabsorbed easily. Outside, never recognized as part again. — Some researchers study that side… I don’t care. My only interest is the crystallization of ancient tech — Automatons (オートマトン). I’ll build a doll surpassing the ancient-tech crystal. To do that, I need to first build the ancient-tech automaton.”
The silent Seventh asked something.
“Wait — is this man’s real target not the automaton itself?”
I was surprised too.
Miranda had said he wants to recreate an automaton to build his ideal woman — I’d taken the automaton itself as goal.
“You… aren’t that interested in the automaton itself?”
He lit up and launched.
“More than some others. It’s the goal — and the senior council wants automaton recreation. For me, that meant budget. Recreation is incidental. What I’ll build is my ideal woman. Modest chest, demure… ah, and a dignified expression — sublime!”
Rapt expression. I gave a thin smile.
Not just Damian’s problem.
The ancestors started fighting on this.
The Second.
“Flat-chest preference? Female value is size!”
The Third.
“Moderation. Balance matters. And the hips are also—”
The Fourth.
“What’s wrong with flat?! It’s fine! Size isn’t everything! Big ones are just fat lumps!”
The Fifth, no interest.
“Just need lactation. — Wet-nurses if not.”
The Sixth, laughing.
“Haha — chest is shape! Shape! That’s what matters!”
The Seventh, big-side.
“No value in flat… incomprehensible.”
Dismissive Seventh. — Me:
(Why am I being briefed on ancestor opinions about women’s breasts…)
Ear-covering didn’t block them. The argument got through.
I had a dark face. Novem came over.
“Lord Lyle, watch rotation… are you all right?”
I slowly looked at Novem’s chest.
“Yeah — big is good.”
“Pardon?”
She didn’t catch on. Damian, excited:
“What — you’re an apostate. — Library kid, you also with the small… tch, you’re big too. I hate you too.”
To Clara.
She didn’t even flinch. Flatly:
“I see. Shoulders ache — I’d prefer smaller, honestly.”
Damian beamed.
“Sorry. Big chest, yearning for the modest — kindred spirit! And I called you… want me to cut?”
He produced a scalpel.
“I don’t want them cut.”
”…Right.”
He looked disappointed. I thought:
(Clara’s a little weird too.)
◇
Day two.
Same formation, past floor 20.
Boss floors are one-way: a single big central room joined by straight corridors at entrance and exit.
By map, the wide center with corridors as a straight line.
Completely different from Darion’s. — Interesting.
(Location-specific. Means no being chased.)
Past the boss-less floor, B21.
I wanted a break, but a group of twelve adventurers was approaching from behind.
“Same trade behind us. Count: twelve.”
For what came next, twelve was under-strength.
Probably checking whether the boss was there, or hunting around here.
“Your Skill is convenient. Support is supposed to be plain, unpromising — that was my picture, but…”
Aria, looking at me. The Second.
“This is why I hate front-line Skill holders. Looking down on us. — Skill or tool, what matters is using it well!”
In his era, support-types had been under-respected.
He’d probably been told the same by a front-line type, like Aria.
Novem joined the conversation.
“It’s not that the Skills are amazing. Lord Lyle, using them, is amazing. Mastering many is also talent.”
I was embarrassed. Lord Lyle is amazing, to Aria.
(Am I a touch amazing?)
Compared to Ceres, I’d thought myself useless; out here it wasn’t always so.
The Second.
“Lyle, you just thought I’m a little amazing, didn’t you.”
(He read my mind! — Like the First.)
Recalling the First, I wondered what he’d say now.
(Probably some scolding.)
A touch of lonely.
We pushed on.
Miranda still didn’t enter the conversation.
She’d answer if spoken to, smile.
(Distance, still. How do I persuade her into being on our side from here.)
Combat aside, Miranda-worry filled my head.
◇
Past floor 20, combat intensified sharply.
Orcs with straight-cut metal plates forced into weapons and shields.
Some wore head-armor.
End of a corridor.
I had Clara kill the lights; we held still.
Five orcs were clumped, milling. I signaled halt, nocked an arrow.
“Clara — lights up when you hear the explosion.”
“Yes.”
“Novem, Miranda-san, prep. Fire. When I call your name, fire it at the lead orcs.”
“Yes.”
“G-got it.”
“Damian-san… over to you.”
“Cold.”
The bowstring tensed. Second’s Skill on.
Fifth, Sixth — measured the range.
The Second’s [All].
The Fifth’s [Dimension].
The Sixth’s [Spec].
Three Skills mapping the unaware enemy.
The Second’s Skill broadened my senses; I sighted on the orcs at the end of the dark corridor.
(Shield-bearer is the problem.)
Aiming. The Second.
“Steady the breath more. Don’t try a one-shot. Hit and stagger — with this composition, you can win.”
I followed and loosed.
I dropped the bow into its back-holder and pulled the mace at my hip into my right hand.
Explosion. Clara lit the area.
Among the orcs at the end, the shield-bearer was down.
Headshot, finished. No getting up.
“Novem, Miranda-san!”
Both cast.
Novem first.
“Fire Wave!”
A wave of flame rolled at the orcs turning to face us.
One picked up a fallen shield to block; the orc in front got blackened.
(Novem’s casts hit.)
Miranda was the question.
“Fire Cannon!”
A flame sphere fired and met the shielded orc.
Aim was a touch off, blocked — but the impact broke the orc’s stance.
The orc behind couldn’t fully avoid; burns.
Spells spent. The orcs charged.
Before I called Aria—
“Right — charge, One! Two!”
Damian’s armored dolls, big spears, ran the corridor.
Painless dolls, fearless, thrust.
Orcs swung; the dolls deflected easily.
The armor’s metal didn’t dent.
Two orcs pinned by spears; between them, the shield-orc roared and charged.
Damian, adjusting glasses.
“Should’ve retreated. We’re busy — run and we wouldn’t have followed. Pity.”
He finished. I shouted.
“Aria!”
She ran, vanished for an instant from sight.
Next moment she was behind the charging shield-orc.
Used a Skill, looped around.
“Used the walls and ceiling.”
She drove the spear deep into the shield-orc’s vital. It fell forward.
The shield hit the floor with a metallic shriek.
A high pitch.
An unpleasant feeling.
“Yes!”
Finishing blow. She pulled the spear free; blood sprayed onto her.
Damian.
“No grace. Brute one-shot. Barbaric.”
Aria-Damian compatibility, very bad.
“Your dolls aren’t different! Charge and stab with spears!”
“Call it simple, no waste.”
I left them to bicker and thanked the others.
“Sorry, Clara. Constantly using magic.”
“Job. — And I’m used to it. Toggling so often is new.”
The big staff’s tip glowed.
Brighter than Novem’s lighting — support specialty.
“Novem, your spell-power’s up, no? One-shot on an orc.”
“Thank you. — But it’s a narrow space; no escape route. Thanks to your judgment, Lord Lyle.”
I’d left choice of spell to her.
Wide-area picked by Novem — appreciated.
“Miranda-san, good work. Sorry, not your routine.”
”…Eh? Ah, no, it’s fine, Lyle-kun.”
She’d spaced out for a moment. I smiled.
“If it’s hard, tell me.”
“Right. I will.”
I turned. Aria and Damian still arguing.
Sighed. Listened to the Jewel.
“Lyle…”
The Sixth, sad.
(I get it, Sixth…)
When I’d activated Skill—
In combat, Miranda’s response had flashed red for a heartbeat.
Red — hostile.
(Shannon is dangerous.)
Reforming her was getting harder.
I remembered Miranda’s hostility toward me mid-combat.
Right now, her response shone an indeterminate yellow.