The Aramsass Dungeon.
Once I reached the large room on the fifth underground floor, I gathered everyone there to lay out our plan going forward.
Up to this point, the extra adventurers who'd tagged along because of Damian's commission had been handling the monsters, so we'd made it here without any combat.
But from the fifth underground floor onward, the number of adventurers would drop off sharply.
That meant we'd be running into fights from here on, so I figured I should brief everyone beforehand.
"All right, let me share our strategy from here on."
I was the party leader, and Damian was the client under our protection.
He could probably protect himself just fine, but as for whether he could command others — absolutely not.
He had zero interest in people.
This very Damian now had one of his armored dolls crouch down so he could sit on its arm.
It looked like an adult perching a toy on his forearm.
"A strategy? Sure, there are no monsters here, and no other adventurers either. Actually, I'm impressed you made it this far without getting lost. The dungeon remodels its passages regularly."
The dungeon slowly shifted its structure over time.
That meant plenty of people who thought they knew the way still ended up getting lost.
(Thanks to my Skills, though.)
"Don't worry about that. I possess several effective Skills for tackling dungeons."
As I said that, I showed the Jewel at my chest.
Damian and Clara both looked at it and nodded.
Miranda was the only one who seemed a bit puzzled.
"Is that a Mana Tool? But a Mana Tool engraved with Skills like that would be expensive, wouldn't it?"
Clara answered Miranda's question.
"It's not a Mana Tool. It's a Jewel that records Skills — the predecessor to Mana Tools, basically. Multiple Skills, you say… Blue was the support type, correct?"
I nodded at Clara and continued.
"We'll avoid combat as much as possible, but when avoidance isn't feasible, or when it's better to take enemies out, we'll fight. Our target is the fortieth underground floor, so along the way, we'll grab treasure chests if we can do it quickly, but skip them if it takes too long."
Damian looked pleased.
"Nice, nice! I was right to hire you. Having someone who won't get lost in a dungeon and can also sense enemies is a godsend. And it sounds like you can even locate treasure chests. You're a real lifesaver. Anything you can get before the thirtiest floor, I can get at the academy, so I'm not interested in those."
Damian might not be interested, but for us adventurers, those were items worth their weight in gold — and he was just ignoring them.
Aria made a few comments about what a waste that was, but ultimately understood.
Novem nodded without objection.
Miranda also didn't oppose it, seemingly uninterested as well.
Only Clara, however —
"I understand avoiding combat as much as possible, but what about our baggage? I'd like to avoid a situation where Damian's dolls become unavailable?"
Clara had noticed the two dolls carrying a wooden crate and Damian's luggage. I agreed with her.
— So I snapped my fingers and created a magic circle on the spot.
Everyone who saw it was a little surprised.
Even Novem and Aria, who'd seen me do it before, stared wide-eyed, as if the sight never got old.
"It's a Skill from the Jewel. If you pack your luggage into this treasure chest, you won't need to carry anything while moving. You can travel light, but you can't open and close it that often. Keep anything you need frequently on hand. You can use it about twice a day."
Damian nodded upon hearing this.
"That looks like it can hold quite a bit. I'd like to store my things in there too. Still, if there's a usage limit, does that mean it consumes a large amount of mana?"
I nodded without hiding it.
I needed to explain that I couldn't push myself too hard.
"I use Skills, so my mana is limited. I'll avoid using magic in combat as much as possible. Instead —"
I reached into a large treasure chest and pulled out a weapon I'd stored there.
A bow and arrows.
But the arrowheads were distinctive.
Miranda spoke up.
"Those are the explosive arrows, right? There were students at the academy making and selling them."
"Technically, they're a type of Mana Tool imbued with magic. They're packed with Magic Stones, so the spell activates on impact or when the arrow strikes. They're quite useful against the monsters around here."
I remembered asking an adventurer who'd reached the fiftieth floor before about what supplies we'd need.
He'd said the arrows were extremely precious, but having them versus not having them was a world of difference.
Since I'd bought a large stock, it had been a pretty hefty expense.
(This time I'll need to collect monster materials too, or the expenses will…)
They really were expensive, every single one.
Clara looked somewhat relieved — probably because she realized we'd come prepared.
"The Aramsass Dungeon produces monsters clad in metal, so those kinds of weapons are quite effective. But do we have enough arrows?"
I pulled another weapon from the treasure chest.
A blunt weapon.
A mace — a crushing weapon meant to be swung at the enemy.
"If the threat level is low, I'll use this. Against enemies just wearing metal plating, blunt force should be more effective."
Clara nodded in agreement upon hearing that.
"Clara, I'd like you to illuminate the surroundings. After that, you'll be on baggage duty, but I'd like to use one of Damian's dolls for that."
Damian smiled.
"Go right ahead."
"For the front line, it'll be me and Aria, plus one doll. Sorry, but I'll have it act as a shield."
"That works. The correct use of it."
Damian readily agreed again. His eagerness was a little unsettling.
"Behind us will be Damian, Novem, and Clara. I'd also like a doll positioned in the rear. With this formation, I plan to push through to the twentieth underground floor."
If the boss on the twentieth floor hadn't been defeated, we'd need to take it out to advance. This force might seem inadequate, but I had the Second Generation's Skills too.
(Though they probably won't work on dolls.)
I wasn't sure whether using Skills on the dolls would even be effective. I'd need to test it.
"Lyle, the plan is to reach the thirtieth underground floor as —"
When Novem started to speak, I cut in without a shred of guilt.
"Other adventurers are moving around down here too, but we'll basically avoid contact. If anyone comes asking for help, we'll judge the situation on the spot, but our priority is completing the commission."
Damian looked bored.
"Don't go wasting time getting involved with the others. Well, you seem competent enough, so I'll follow your lead. As long as I get what I commissioned, that's all that matters to me."
He really had no interest in anyone else.
Aria snapped at Damian.
"Hey, don't you have even a shred of compassion?!"
Damian snorted.
"Ha! Compassion? Entering a dungeon in the first place is taking personal responsibility. I don't mind helping someone if their life's in danger, but don't forget my commission. If you like playing hero, go do it to your heart's content after the job's done. Though I doubt you could help anyone anyway. You're… probably the weakest one here."
Being called weak, Aria gripped her spear tighter.
Seeing this, Clara walked over to Aria's side and spoke.
"He has a point. I won't deny the value of helping others, but we've taken on a commission. You're the one who mixed up the priorities."
If you didn't help when you could, your reputation as an adventurer would suffer.
You helped only when it was feasible.
Otherwise, the next time someone dragged you down and you lost your life in the dungeon, it would be your own fault.
"Whether someone made a bad call or just had bad luck, I don't want my research interrupted because of those people. If you understand, let's end the break."
With Damian cutting the conversation short, I packed the luggage into the treasure chest.
The saber I normally used wouldn't be of much use here, so I stowed it away.
Novem spoke to Aria.
"Aria."
"I know. Weak people can't be saved… so I have to get stronger."
It was what Zelphy had taught her in Darion.
If you wanted to help people, you had to be strong yourself.
(Strong enough to help, huh…)
After everyone put everything except essentials into the treasure chest, I snapped my fingers again and made it vanish.
I didn't actually need to snap my fingers — I was just imitating what I'd seen the Seventh Generation do.
"All right, our daily quota is five floors. The twentieth underground floor should come quickly, but let's stay sharp."
Once I started walking, everyone moved out.
Novem was speaking to Aria, who still looked frustrated, trying to calm her down.
But what stood out to me was that Miranda, who would normally have chimed in at this point, was looking down at the ground.
I'd only just noticed —
"Up ahead, we take a right and hold position."
"Understood, Lyle."
Our ancestors' Skills were —
"The enemy hasn't noticed us yet, so we'll launch a surprise attack. I'll use the arrows, so once the explosion goes off, Aria, you charge in."
"Leave it to me!"
In dungeons, and indeed in most situations —
"There's a treasure chest, but it's got a trap attached. What should we do, Clara?"
"I don't have the expertise to disable it. If you're uneasy, we should avoid it… but you have a sharp eye."
It was, to put it mildly, absurdly powerful —
"Shall we call it a day here? If we take out the monsters in the area, we can rest a little easier."
"Truly excellent work. Eighteenth floor in a single day. And we only initiated combat — never got ambushed once. Yes, you're remarkably capable."
"…Thank you."
Even when Damian praised me, I felt strangely ambivalent.
It wasn't my own strength — it was thanks to my ancestors' Skills.
And since I wasn't entirely sure how effective my own Skills were, there was a certain discomfort in that.
After clearing out the surrounding monsters, we entered a slightly wider room and set down our luggage.
The walls were haphazardly plated with metal sheets, and at the entrance to the room was a rectangular sign glowing green.
Was it a picture of a person? Something like that was drawn on it.
"This is quite a peculiar dungeon. It's so unique that it's almost unsettling."
When I said that, Damian explained the dungeon's history.
"Of course it is. This dungeon didn't just happen to form underneath the academic city. The academic city was built on top of this dungeon."
He'd worded that in a way that caught my interest, so I asked.
"The academic city exists because of this dungeon?"
"That's right. Unlike other dungeons, this one is actually an ancient ruin that became a dungeon. And from it, treasures pour forth endlessly — even the Mana Tools in common use today were inspired by the treasures and materials recovered from this dungeon. Tools as well, of course. For the academic city, this place is literally a mountain of riches. For instance, the metal that makes up this dungeon — you can actually take it home. Just in very small quantities, of course."
Damian had one of his dolls move to the wall and begin prying off a plate.
But the dungeon reacted violently, trying to reclaim the wall.
And then —
"What are you doing?"
Clara stared at us with a look of exasperation as a metal plate was torn free.
No — it was the dungeon itself that had relinquished it.
A neatly severed piece of metal plate sat in the doll's grip.
"I'm giving this one a lesson. You're the library girl, right? Take a look too."
When Damian called Clara the "library girl," we all examined the metal in the doll's hand.
"Back in the day, we couldn't even produce this kind of metal, let alone process it. But the academic city unlocked those secrets. That technology is now used in the fabrication of Mana Tools too. This much metal used to be valuable enough on its own. Adventurers would spend ages prying it off the walls. Nowadays, it's a laughing matter."
The dungeon itself had given this world an immeasurable bounty.
That was the Aramsass Dungeon.
"So it needs to be managed. You mean if it disappeared, the dungeon would cease to exist — and that would be an even bigger problem?"
When I said that, Damian pushed up his glasses, making them flash.
"Exactly. And there are plenty of people who don't understand that."
Damian had the doll discard the shard of metal it had pried off.
The metal plate then melted into the floor as if it had never been there.
Seeing my surprise, Damian explained.
Clara, either accustomed to the sight or already knowing, showed no reaction.
"It was part of the dungeon, so it was easily absorbed back. Take it outside and it'll never be recognized as part of the dungeon again. There were researchers who studied that aspect too… but I'm not interested. The only thing I care about is the crystallization of ancient technology — the Automaton. I intend to create dolls that surpass the ancient automatons. For that, I absolutely must build one of the ancient automatons first."
The Seventh Generation, who'd been silent until now, seemed to have a question.
A voice came from the Jewel.
'Wait — is this man perhaps… not after the automatons themselves?'
I was surprised too.
Miranda had told me something about restoring automatons to create an ideal woman, so I'd assumed his goal was to obtain an ancient doll.
"You're not actually that interested in the automatons themselves?"
When I asked, Damian launched into an excited explanation.
"More so than most, I suppose. They're my objective, and more importantly, the higher-ups are the ones obsessed with restoring automatons. But as far as I'm concerned, I just needed the budget — the restoration is a side benefit. What I want to do is create my own ideal woman. Modest-chested, refined and elegant… ah, and with a dignified expression — that would be truly magnificent!"
Watching Damian's blissful expression, I couldn't help but grimace.
It wasn't just Damian's problem, either.
His words had set off the ancestors in the Jewel.
The Second Generation declared:
'A flat-chest lover? A woman's charm is in the size of her breasts!'
The Third Generation:
'Moderation is key, isn't it? What matters is balance. Besides, the rear is also important —'
The Fourth Generation:
'What's wrong with flat?! It's perfectly fine! Size isn't everything! They're just lumps of fat!'
The Fifth Generation had no interest:
'As long as she can produce milk, it's fine. And even if she can't, there are wet nurses.'
The Sixth Generation laughed:
'Hahaha, it's about shape, shape! Isn't that important?'
The Seventh Generation was firmly pro-buxom:
'Flat chests hold no value… I simply cannot comprehend.'
The Seventh Generation spoke with a tired air, but as for me —
(Why do I have to listen to what my ancestors think about women's breasts…)
I tried plugging my ears, but the successive heads' opinions on female assets came through anyway.
And the arguing voices were audible even with my ears covered.
Looking at my dark expression, Novem approached.
"Lyle, shall we assign watch shifts then…? Are you all right?"
I slowly looked at Novem's chest.
"Yeah, bigger is better."
"Huh?"
Novem hadn't caught on, but the excited Damian spoke up.
"What, so you're a heretic too? Library girl, I thought you were on the small side too — damn, they're big. I hate you too."
Damian said to Clara.
Clara was neither offended nor amused — just flatly:
"Is that so? My shoulders do get stiff, so I've always thought smaller would be nicer."
At that, Damian brightened.
"Forgive me. Here I was, lamenting your large chest when you've been yearning for modest ones all along. What a fool I am… shall I cut them off?"
Producing a scalpel from somewhere, Damian offered.
"No, thank you."
"Ah, what a shame."
Watching the disappointed Damian, I thought:
(Clara's a bit odd too.)
Day two.
We passed through the twentieth underground floor in the same formation.
The boss floor had a simple one-way layout — a large room at the dungeon's center and nothing else.
Looking at the map, a narrow corridor connected the entrance and exit in a straight line through the central chamber.
It was completely different from the dungeon I'd experienced in Darion, which piqued my interest.
(As I thought, it varies by location. At least no one can chase us through here.)
Once past the bossless floor, we reached the twenty-first underground floor.
I'd wanted to take a break, but it seemed a group of adventurers was approaching from behind.
"Company behind us. Count is… twelve."
Even with twelve people, this was a floor where they'd be understrength.
They were probably either coming to check whether the boss was still alive, or intending to fight monsters ahead.
"Your Skills are really useful. I always thought support-type Skills were a dime a dozen — nothing flashy, so they seemed useless."
Aria looked at me and said, and the Second Generation —
'This is exactly why I hate front-line Skill holders. Looking down on us like that… Whether it's Skills or tools, the one who uses them well is the strongest!'
Support-type Skills seemed to have been undervalued in the Second Generation's era.
Maybe Aria had been told something like that by someone with a front-line Skill.
Novem joined the conversation between Aria and me.
"It's not that the Skills are amazing. It's Lyle who uses them masterfully. Being able to wield so many Skills — that's talent in itself."
Hearing Novem praise me as "amazing" in front of Aria, I felt my cheeks flush.
I did remember being complimented by the ancestors on how well I handled my Skills.
(Am I actually a little amazing?)
I'd always compared myself to my sister Ceres and thought I was completely useless, but once I went out into the world, I realized that wasn't always the case.
Then the Second Generation:
'Lyle — you were thinking "Am I amazing?" weren't you?'
(He read my mind! …Just like the First Generation.)
A fleeting thought of the First Generation crossed my mind, and I wondered what he'd say in a situation like this.
(Maybe he'd just get angry at me again.)
I felt a twinge of loneliness.
As we chatted like this, we pushed deeper into the dungeon.
But Miranda still didn't join the conversation.
She'd answer if spoken to and smile when you looked at her way.
(There's still a gap there. How do I close it and bring her to our side?)
I was more troubled by Miranda than by any combat.
Past the twentieth floor, the fighting escalated sharply.
Orcs wielding straight-cut metal plates — forcibly fashioned into crude weapons and shields — began appearing in force.
Some even wore helmets fashioned from the same material.
Deeper in the corridor.
I had Clara douse her magical light, and we held our breath.
Spotting five orcs milling about in a cluster, I told everyone to stay put and nocked an arrow.
"Clara, relight the area when you hear the explosion."
"Right."
"Novem, Miranda — get ready. Fire-based is best. When I call your name, unleash on the orc in front of you."
"Understood."
"G-Got it."
"Damian — I'm counting on you."
"You're so cold~"
I heard the tight creak of the bowstring, and I activated the Second Generation's Skill.
Then I used the Fifth and Sixth Generations' Skills to gauge the distance.
The Second Generation's All.
The Fifth Generation's Dimension.
The Sixth Generation's Spec.
The three Skills fed me information about the enemy that still hadn't detected us.
With the Second Generation's Skill spreading my awareness like a net, I took aim at the orcs in the dark corridor ahead.
(The one with the shield is the real pain.)
Once I locked on, the Second Generation spoke:
'Steady your breathing. Don't try to finish them in one shot. Wound them, make them flinch — with this lineup, we'll win.'
Following his advice, I loosed the arrow.
The instant the arrow flew, I returned the bow to the quiver on my back and drew the mace at my hip.
The moment I heard the explosion, Clara lit up the surroundings with magic.
At the center of the orcs in the corridor, the shield-bearing one was already down.
A clean headshot — no sign it would get back up.
"Novem, Miranda!"
The two, magic at the ready, cast simultaneously.
Novem was faster.
"Fire Wave!"
A wave of flame crashed into the orcs facing us.
One orc grabbed its fallen comrade's shield to block the magic, but the one in front of it had already been charred black.
(Novem's magic really packs a punch.)
The problem was Miranda.
"Fire Cannon!"
A sphere of flame shot forward, heading straight for the shielded orc.
The aim was slightly off, and the shield deflected the blast.
But the impact knocked the orc off balance.
The companions behind the shield-bearer hadn't been able to fully block it either — they bore burns across their bodies.
Having finished casting, they looked toward us, and the orcs grabbed their weapons and charged.
Before I could even call out to Aria —
"Go! Charge! Unit one! Unit two!"
At Damian's command, the armored dolls sprinted down the corridor with massive spears.
The painless dolls attacked without hesitation, thrusting their spears forward.
The orcs swung their weapons, but the dolls easily deflected each blow.
The armor itself seemed to be made of quite sturdy metal — it didn't even dent under attack.
Two orcs were pinned by the spears, unable to move, and in that gap the shield-bearing orc charged forward with a roar.
Adjusting his glasses with his index finger, Damian remarked:
"That was the wrong call. If they'd run, I wouldn't have bothered chasing — but they chose to stay. What a pity."
The moment he finished, I shouted:
"Aria!"
Aria burst forward and vanished from sight for an instant.
But in the next moment, she'd circled behind the orc charging at us with its shield.
She must have used her Skill to maneuver around.
"She used the walls and ceiling."
As I watched the corridor, Aria had already driven her spear deep into the orc's vitals.
The orc toppled forward.
The shield slammed against the floor with a harsh, scraping ring of metal.
A shrill sound.
Something about it made my skin crawl.
"Yeah!"
Having finished off the orc, Aria was jubilant.
She wrenched the spear free, and blood sprayed across her body.
Damian commented:
"There's really no elegance to speak of. Brute-forcing a kill in one strike. How barbaric."
For whatever reason, Aria and Damian just didn't get along.
"Your doll did the same thing! Charged in and stabbed with a spear!"
"Call it a simple, efficient attack."
Leaving the two to their childish bickering, I thanked the others.
"Sorry, Clara. I kept making you use magic."
"It's part of the job. Besides, I'm used to it, so it's fine. The constant on-and-off with the light, though — that's a first for me."
The tip of her oversized staff glowed with magic.
As a support specialist, her illumination was brighter than Novem's.
"Novem, your magic power seems to have gone up — that was a one-hit kill on an orc."
"Thank you. But this is a narrow space with no escape routes. That was all thanks to Lyle's judgment."
I'd left the choice of which spell to cast up to each person.
But Novem's decision to use a wide-area spell had been extremely helpful.
"Miranda, thanks for your help too. Sorry to throw you into something you're not used to."
"…Hm? Oh — it's fine, Lyle."
For a moment, Miranda had been spacing out. I quickly put on a smile.
"Let me know if it gets too much."
"Yeah. I will."
As Miranda said that, I turned to see Aria and Damian still arguing.
Sighing, I listened to the voices from the Jewel.
'Lyle…'
A sorrowful voice from the Sixth Generation.
(I know, I know, Sixth Generation…)
When I used Skills during combat —
For just an instant, Miranda's reaction had flashed red.
Red indicated someone harboring hostility.
(As I suspected — Shannon is dangerous.)
Convincing her was becoming increasingly difficult.
I remembered Miranda directing hostility at me mid-battle.
Her reaction now glowed an ambiguous yellow.