CHAPTER 1

No Otherworlders Allowed in the Dungeon

[1ST DAY]

Mr. Souya, you’re using that stake all wrong. And you should line up the tent posts more evenly—and neatly. See? It’s all crooked. Take that one about five centimeters to the right. Also, please separate the container with ammunition from the one with food and medical supplies. Is that north? Or south? Kindly reset the gyroscope, please. If you discover any physical damage on me, please call my manufacturer at—”

“Shut up, you piece of junk!”

I’d found a nice little river, so I’d repacked all the supplies into the unbroken containers and spent four hours lugging them over to it. I couldn’t exactly set up camp in the middle of an exposed field. Every moment brought a new problem. Half of the containers had literally been cut in half, as if someone had taken a water blade and sliced them straight down the middle. Whatever they’d carried had also disappeared somewhere.

Thankfully, there were still plenty of munitions left; the food and medicinal supplies had noticeably diminished, but there had originally been enough packed in there for six people to make it through a full year. Now that it was just for me, I’d have some left over. My biggest problem, though, was this artificial unintelligence.

All three of the machina units had been damaged. It looked like someone had gouged out holes all over their cylindrical tanks with a spoon. Only one of them had made it through with their most important part, the aqueous cerebrum, intact. They were simple to service, though, so it hadn’t been too hard to salvage usable parts from among their fallen comrades to bring one back to functionality, even for a complete amateur like me.

But this one has to be still broken somewhere, right?

“Mr. Souya, I’m hungry.”

“Huh?”

The battery-signal light bulb at the top of the robot’s tank started blinking.

“I’m hungry.”

“Wait, what do you even eat?” I asked.

“Please fill this designated cup with three hundred milliliters of water mixed with three percent sugar,” she instructed.

Machina’s torso opened up; her multifunctional arm pulled out the cup inside and handed it to me. As annoying as she was, this machine was also my lifeline. I found the sugar among the food provisions and threw together some simple syrup. Good thing I’d already gotten a potful of water from the river and boiled it. I poured some now lukewarm water into the cup, shook in a bit of sugar, mixed it up with my finger, and handed the cup back to Machina. She unfurled a straw and slurped up the sugar water. A happy face meaning Yum! flashed on the monitor installed in the top portion of her tank.

“Mr. Souya.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Huh?!” It can’t be, I thought as I took the lid off the robot and checked her most vital part, the aqueous cerebrum. What looked at first glance like a simple globe filled with plain water was actually a device teeming with specially developed neurons almost on par with those at work in a human brain. Humanity had produced more of these gizmos than it knew what to do with. They cycled through periods of widespread popularity and decline every decade or so, leading some to argue they would soon fall entirely out of use. Still, even after several rounds of restrictions limiting their functions, these household appliances had wormed their way deep into the hearts of modern society. They say AI is man’s best friend, second only to dogs.

And my new best friend’s heart……was cracked and leaking fluids.

“Aaaaah! Duct tape! Where’s the duct tape?! Machina?!”

“It is in the yellow-striped container within compartment A-3. I’m hungry.”

Before anything else, I threw some more sugar in the pot of water and handed it to Machina. I kicked the yellow-striped container over onto its side and tore through it for the duct tape.

“Found it!”

I grabbed a towel as well and wiped down the glass globe, then stuck some tape over the leaky cracks. These triage measures out of the way, I found the machina unit’s repair manual and flipped to the section on their aqueous brains.

There was almost nothing to read.

“Be careful not to touch the wires directly. Protect the surface with a bonding material, tape, or a waterproof bag. If any functional damage arises, please call the manufacturer’s customer support center at—”

The end.

I rummaged around for superglue, peeled off the duct tape for a second, and slathered the glue over the cracks in Machina’s brain. Then I taped it up once more, wound some plastic wrap around the whole globe, and plastered liquid hardener over everything.

That should do it. Please let that be enough.

“Mmm, yummy!” Machina said, a satisfied look on her screen after draining the pot of syrup. I thumbed through the manual and began giving her an oral command.

“AIJ006 Machina Odd-Eye V166S6 Multiple Personality Control Model: Special Mission Unit Three, Code 330, begin self-evaluation,” I ordered.

“Error. Incorrect model number,” she retorted.

“Machina, tell me your model number.”

“This unit does not have the capacity to determine its own model number.”

“Just hurry up and run a check on yourself!”

“Roger,” replied Machina, who then began humming as Tetris-like puzzle pieces appeared on her screen.

That task out of the way, I sighed. Then a violent wave of anxiety came over me.

She’s a mess. You’re telling me the sidekick who holds my life in her hands is being kept alive by some superglue and duct tape? Nope. This has to be some sick joke.

“Self-evaluation complete. No errors detected,” reported Machina. But broken appliances never really could tell when they were busted, could they? I pretty much gave up hope on her then and there. Worst-case scenario, I’d go alone.

“Haah,” I sighed. Might as well make something to eat. A full stomach would probably help me take my mind off all this.

I got to cooking in the simple kitchen made of nothing but the bit of firewood I’d gathered. I scooped up some more water from the river and set it over the fire again. Earlier, I’d run it through a water-testing kit; it was safe to drink once boiled.

I dropped a few dried sardines in the pot to make a stock, then turned off the heat just before it started bubbling. With the sardines still inside, I stirred in a bit of miso until it dissolved. Next, I very nervously nibbled the ends of some seaweed-like plant I’d found growing in the river. It had a slightly bitter and peppery taste. The tip of my tongue didn’t get numb, so I figured it was probably safe to eat. I cut it up with a pair of scissors and added it to the pot.

My Other Dimensional Seaweed Miso Soup was complete.

“Thank you for the meal,” I said, bringing my hands together, then took a sip of the soup. Not bad. It was loads tastier than the Chinese food drowning in oil that I’d had once before in the Middle East and a hundred times better than a meal of carrion coated with spices, random-ass pickled vegetables, or the flour and water concoctions I used to throw together and fry when I was totally broke. The aroma of the fermented miso calmed my nerves until I felt like myself again.

“Activating secondary personality, Wide Area Combat Program Isolla. Requesting cooperation from project participant,” announced Machina out of nowhere. I put my chopsticks down and turned my attention toward her.

“Please provide a report on the human casualties incurred at time of entry through interdimensional portal.”

“Whatever happened to the others remains unclear. I walked five kilometers in all four directions from the landing point but found no trace of them.”

“Input received. Commencing analysis of available resources. Activating sonar beacon. Scanning labels. Weapons container damage recorded: sixty percent of contents lost. Medical supplies container damage recorded: seventy percent of contents lost. Nutritional provisions container, fifty percent of contents lost. Sufficient resources remain to support a one-person squad for one year.”

“I have a question. If I requested a rescue party, would anyone be able to reach me?” I asked, knowing it was probably futile.

“Negative. Seven thousand nine hundred and twenty hours must pass before the portal can be reopened.”

“Thought so.” They wouldn’t have needed to squeeze in someone like me on the mission if they could open it willy-nilly.

“Releasing bug drones within a twenty-kilometer radius to chart a map of the premises and town adjacent to the dungeon.” Isolla unleashed a swarm of mosquito-like drones. Even though I knew they were fake, the sight gave me goose bumps.

“Look for the other squad members while you’re at it,” I added. If they’re alive, that is.

“Request denied. There are no recorded precedents of finding persons lost during portal entry. If this is the only functioning machina unit, we cannot afford to expend those resources.”

“You mean they’re dead?”

“The possibility is exceedingly likely. Squad Member Souya, allow me to confirm some items with you.”

“Go ahead.”

“Given current resources and squad member capabilities, this mission has a point two percent probability of success. This figure represents only a momentary snapshot of the current situation and is subject to change based on future developments. Under Article Twenty-Four of the Artificial Intelligence Act, all resources embedded within machina units can be diverted toward the rescue, protection, and preservation of human life. Squad Member Souya, do you wish to abandon the current project?”

“No, we’ll continue.” I’d come all this way. I would do what I had to do. Giving up without trying anything on the assumption it wouldn’t work would in itself be the most pointless move.

“Understood. Terminating supplementary personality. Reverting to main system. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Then, just as I was thinking about reheating the now lukewarm miso in my hands—

“La, la, la, laaa! ♪ Mr. Souya.”

“Don’t tell me you’re hungry again,” I moaned.

Having made her cheerful reappearance, Machina chirped, “You have a visitor.”

“Huh? Yeah?”

I heard a splash. Sensing someone standing behind me, I turned around. There stood the first resident of this foreign realm I’d ever met, fresh out of the river.

“Huh, so you hail from another world, you say?” asked the—fish?—as he took a sip of miso soup. My eyeballed estimate put him at around 70 percent human, 30 percent fish, with real gills in the spot where they’d land on humans. He had surprisingly lovely round eyes and ears that seamlessly turned into fins. A seaweed grass skirt hung around his waist over the blue-tinted scales covering his body, and a necklace made of seashells and coral jangled as it hung from his neck. The sharp harpoon he’d brought lay on the ground next to the camping chair where he sat.

“Oh, shall I warm up your soup?” I offered. “I’ll bet it’s gotten cold.”

“My race doesn’t handle heat very well. Even this is almost scalding.” He gracefully scooped up the soup spoonful by spoonful. His movements had a certain elegance about them. Maybe he’d come from a well-to-do merfolk family?

Wait, hang on, I thought. I’d gotten so blown over by the impact he’d made as the first Other Dimensional resident I encountered that I’d overlooked something fundamental.

“Excuse me… How is it that we’re able to understand each other?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine merfolk used Japanese in everyday life.

“Well, I mean, I am a priest, you know,” he replied. “I may come from the depths, but even I’ve got the Babelian Benediction, see.”

Babel, as in the tower in the Bible?

“What exactly is that?”

“I guess a stranger to this world wouldn’t know, would ya? Basically, my god asked another god many levels higher up the ladder for the ability to communicate with other races. As long as your conversation partner is sentient and uses some kind of spoken language, the Babelian Benediction helps us understand one another,” he explained.

So it translates your thoughts in real time with no lag? And this fluently? Whoa, that’s crazy.

“Is this something everybody here has?”

“It’s not rare, by any means. Pretty much anybody in covenant with a half-decent god can get it.”

“Yes!” I saw my first glimmer of hope. If I could communicate, then I could negotiate. That meant I could hire a team and explore the dungeon!

“So are you after that, too?”

The merman pointed a razor-sharp, nail-tipped finger toward the dungeon in the distance.

“Yes, in a sense. Is that something Otherworlders are also allowed to do?”

“I don’t know much about life on land, but they shouldn’t turn you away if all you’re trying to do is explore. The spire the Legion Gods abandoned belongs to no one,” he replied.

Oh, so that’s why it’s called the Tower of Legions.

“Ngh,” he grunted.

“?”

The merman handed me the necklace of strung coral. “This is for you, as thanks for showing a servant of our Lord Ghrisnas your hospitality. Take it. If you don’t, we’ll be enemies next time we meet.”

“I gladly accept your generous gift. Thank you very much,” I responded, gratefully taking it from him and immediately hanging it around my neck. Figuring this probably required some kind of gift in return, I rummaged around the containers and found a pair of sunglasses.

“I hope you’ll accept these in return,” I offered.

“What’s that?”

I modeled them for him. “They protect your eyes from the sun.”

“But you can’t see in front of you, can you?” he asked doubtfully.

“It’s dark, but you can still see.” I handed him the glasses, and he tried them on.

“Hoh-hohh.” He turned his head, looking all around. “Hoh-hohh.” Talk about a delightfully heartwarming scene. “Ah, now I’ve done it. My grandkids won’t let me hear the end of it if I don’t get back soon. I’ll take my leave for today.” He put down his empty bowl and picked up his harpoon.

“How long will you stay here?” he asked.

“One year, at the most,” I replied. “Was this by any chance somewhere I shouldn’t have set up camp?”

“Not if you’ll only be here a year,” he said, then added, “You’re the first lander I’ve ever met who not only didn’t scream when he saw one of us but even went so far as to invite us to a meal. I am Ghettbad of Maudubaffle.”

That second part is probably where he’s from, I assumed and responded in kind.

“I am Souya of Japan.”

“All right, Souya of Japan. Our land runs out for six stalts from the river. After that, you’re in Kingdom of Remlia territory. That Heuress Forest over there is elven domain. You heims had best not step foot there right now, or you’ll be killed on the spot,” he warned.

“I appreciate the advice.”

“Right then, until next time.” Ghett jumped into the river and disappeared beneath its depths with alarming speed.

“This mission currently has a point six percent probability of success.”

“Inched up a bit, huh?” This was shaping up to be an auspicious meeting.

I slid on a backpack filled with a first-aid kit and a tool set, rechecked my guns, and attached a sling I’d found in the container to my AK-47. Then I grabbed four spare cartridges of ammo for each gun, made sure the containers were locked, threw a sheet over Machina, and hid her behind a very simple disguise.

“What’s the status on that area map?” I asked Machina, activating her through a remote eyeglasses device after I put them on.