Chapter 121

Mikhail blinked slowly, leaving the voice buzzing in his ears behind.

Each time his eyelids closed and opened, the present blurred into what had just passed. Every time reality's scenery vanished from view, the scene from that room washed over it like a tide.

Specifically—the research institute's members standing against him in a way he hadn't expected, and himself pushing back without hesitation.

[Then talking's done. I'll have to do this the hard way.]

The moment he'd made his threat and gathered mana, the institute's members had scrambled to respond.

[Crack. Crackle.]

But the mana they'd mustered couldn't coalesce in their outstretched hands. The weight of their failure had settled over them like a rain-swollen thunderhead.

[…!]

And yet not a single person in that room had pulled back their hand or withdrawn from the standoff.

They'd shivered against the cold but kept looking for an opening to strike. They'd chosen to fight—because of what they believed in.

Mikhail, on the other hand, had turned his back and walked away. Eyes fixed on the optimal result, the most efficient outcome, and nothing else.

The research institute crew knew they'd lose if it came to blows. They knew that—and they still refused to back down. They chose to come at me for real.

Mikhail swallowed a breath that stung like midwinter air.

But I ignored their resolve. I didn't give them the fight they'd chosen. Was that really… the right call?

A brief silence hung in the space around him.

Mikhail curled and uncurled the fingers hanging at his side, then let a careless smile drift across his lips.

"Well… it's not like I had a choice."

He picked up the steps he'd paused.

A shake of his head scattered the lingering thoughts, and he began estimating Verte's route based on the clues he'd gathered.

None of them said a word. But clues don't only come in the form of answers.

A critical moment flashed through his mind.

When he'd conjured the spell and swept his gaze across the institute's members huddled together—

[Hh… hkk.]

A figure with a skittish expression had entered his peripheral vision.

Without realizing it, the person's lips had twitched, and their eyes had darted—just for an instant—toward the corridor leading back to the previous room.

Hoping Verte would come back and save them, maybe.

Mikhail tilted his head slightly. Drawing on the group's behavioral patterns and underlying characterization, he extrapolated further.

Which means they split up a while ago. If that's the case, odds are they separated somewhere close to the entrance.

And if that was true, there'd been no reason to keep pressing the people in that room. Clashing with them further would've been nothing but a waste of energy.

"……"

His footsteps tapped out a monotone rhythm against the floor.

Mikhail cut through empty chambers one after another, moving toward the research institute's starting point.

Before long, he stopped inside the room where the institute's members would have fought their first battle.

"……"

He scanned the quiet surroundings. Then he approached the corridor that extended toward Salvator's starting point, crouched low, and examined the floor.

Shff.

Scuff marks in the dust—disturbed as if something had brushed through.

The kind of trail a single person would leave behind.

If he went this way, tracking him won't be hard.

For all his razor-sharp exterior, Verte had a habit of struggling to find his way.

Mikhail straightened up and followed the corridor.

Then, mid-stride, a distant impact reached his ears. He glanced down at the magic tool on his wrist.

[200pt]

Salvator's score on the display was climbing steadily.

---

FZZZZKT!

A deep gash carved into its body, the ancient machine inside the ruins spewed a death-rattle of static.

Its massive frame tilted toward the floor.

THUD!

Ethan spun half a turn in midair and landed clean. That made six rooms cleared without a hitch.

Shring.

He sheathed his sword, then walked over to the blue cluster tucked in the corner. Extending the hand bearing the magic tool, he fed mana into the orb.

[200pt]

At this rate, reclaiming first place is just a matter of time.

The good news was confirmed.

But Ethan didn't pull his eyes from the score. He stood there, staring at it in silence.

[200pt]

The number—which had been climbing in tandem with an unseen effort somewhere else—had stopped rising at some point.

It had been responding only to his side's progress for a while now.

"……"

Ethan watched the motionless figure on the display, let a long exhale trail from his lips, and turned to face the group.

"Let's pick up the pace. Next area."

"Huh?"

His companions, mopping sweat from their respective spots, looked up at Ethan with startled faces.

Their expressions all but asked whether pushing this hard was really necessary.

Lloyd let out a dry laugh, folded his arms, and spoke up.

"Hey, Ethan. Don't you think you're rushing this? Match the tempo a bit—take it easy. Besides…"

Lloyd trailed off, flicking a glance toward the corridor leading deeper into the ruins.

THOOM—. THOOM—.

Faint rumbles drifted in from somewhere far off.

"We should probably start preparing for run-ins with other factions, too."

Lloyd jerked his thumb toward the source of the sound as he tacked on the point.

"……"

Ethan kept his mouth shut and fixed his gaze where Lloyd had indicated.

He spent a moment gauging the opposing faction's position and movement based on the noise's origin and intervals.

Then he turned to Lloyd and spoke in a tone that left no room for debate.

"That's exactly why moving fast is better. Before we run into anyone looking to make trouble."

"Yeah, and if we barrel ahead without a plan, we might stumble right into them. That kind of situation just burns resources for nothing."

"Then we don't fight. If we cross paths, we pull out and reroute. Simple as that."

Ethan and Lloyd locked horns, neither willing to give an inch.

A silence thick with tension settled between them.

"……"

In the end, it was Ethan who eased off first.

He blinked slowly, let a sigh escape, and spoke to Lloyd in a loosened tone.

"No. You're right. Let's take it slow, like you said."

"…?"

Lloyd stared at him with undisguised surprise, then unfolded his arms and let out a bewildered laugh.

"Hah… what's this, the sun rising in the west? I didn't expect you to come around that fast."

Surprise colored Lloyd's voice, but threaded through it were unmistakable currents of curiosity and suspicion.

Ethan held Lloyd's gaze for a quiet moment.

Then he answered, his tone flat and even.

"It's inefficient. No point creating unnecessary friction. And if the person with more information at hand is the one making the call, following their lead isn't a bad choice."

As the words left his mouth, what surfaced in Ethan's mind was the image of Mikhail's back.

Always leading with confidence. Always steering them toward the best possible outcome.

Ethan paused, lips pressed together, caught in the pull of the memory—but he picked the thread back up before long.

"Out of everyone here, the person who knows the most about the factions and forces surrounding us is… if not Mikhail, then it's you, Lloyd. Am I wrong?"

Lloyd didn't immediately say yes or no.

He just met Ethan's gaze with an unreadable expression.

But it didn't take long for his features to soften. A relaxed confidence spread across his face, and he gave a small nod with a tug at the corner of his mouth.

"Well, can't argue with that. Mikhail would've been pleased with the call you just made."

Lloyd gave Ethan's shoulder a couple of light taps, then turned and called out to the group gathered around them.

"All right—we rest up, read the situation, then move. The factions that started near us aren't exactly heavy hitters, so whether we bump into them or they ambush us, it won't matter much. But… the kind of teams that can push this deep, this fast? That's a different story."

Lloyd drew the sentence out with a dramatic pause. In the gap, Ethan added a line in his quiet, measured voice.

"The ones closest to us are most likely the Allied Knight Order."

Lloyd shot Ethan a sidelong glance, smirked, and confirmed.

"Ethan's right. The Allied Knight Order's our nearest company. One-on-one, they're a clear step below us in raw strength, but in a proper formation? You can't afford to let your guard down. Thing is, tangling with them would just be a headache with nothing to show for it."

THOOM—. THOOM—.

Lloyd listened to the impacts—sharper and closer than before—then swept his gaze across the group.

"From here on, we avoid fighting toward the center. We cut toward the edges instead and poach points off the weaker teams."

Lloyd wrapped up the plan with an almost cheerful lilt, and voices of agreement erupted from the group.

Ethan nodded as well.

Then, on impulse, he glanced down at the score display on his wrist device and spoke to Lloyd.

"I have a suggestion. If we're heading for the edges, let's go toward Entrance Four."

Lloyd didn't answer right away. Instead, just like Ethan, he looked down at the magic tool strapped to his wrist.

The display, silently projecting an unchanged number.

Lloyd stared at the static digits without a word. Then a quiet smile broke through, and he looked up at Ethan with his answer.

"Sure. Let's do that. Left side, right side—doesn't matter either way. And besides, if we happen to find our mysteriously silent mage along the way, that'd be nice too."

---

Verte pushed on through an endless corridor. The walls were the same dull sandy yellow in every direction, broken only by the occasional room or lobby—stretching on and on without end.

Was it always like this?

Verte realized he'd had this exact same thought just minutes ago. His brow creased and he stopped walking.

Standing in place, he turned his head toward the wall beside him.

The handprint he'd left a few minutes ago was still there, hazy and unchanged.

"Son of a—"

Verte's face twisted as he spat a curse under his breath.

He'd been convinced he was making progress—but the realization that he'd been going in circles sent a surge of fury through him.

"God dammit!"

He stomped forward, each step pounding the floor.

The butterfly-shaped observation magic tool that had been trailing him seemed to have lost its way too, exhausted by his repeated loops. All that remained in front of Verte's furious eyes was empty air.

No. No, no. Calm down. I can think of a way to find the right path.

Verte cast his mind back to the lobby he'd reached at the end of one of these corridors.

A space with unusually vivid sandy walls adorned with ancient murals and indecipherable script. Larger than most rooms, with four or five connecting passages branching off from it.

There's bound to be a corridor I haven't tried yet. I'll use that to break out onto a different path.

Verte drew a deep breath and retraced the same route.

The corridor stretched on and on, its monotonous appearance testing every scrap of his patience.

But eventually, beyond the vanishing point, the space he'd been hoping for began to reveal itself inch by inch.

Good. Almost out.

Verte quickened his pace toward the destination.

It closed in fast, and before long, he stepped inside the lobby.

Tap.

But what greeted him wasn't quite the scene he'd expected.

"…!"

Verte froze at the sight before him.

Leaning against the golden wall, deep blue hair falling loose around their shoulders, a figure was already turning to face him.

"Hey, Verte."