Chapter 13

I casually brushed off Arabel’s words and moved all the data left on dozens of production units at Pythos Tower into one folder.

If my guess is correct, combining this dummy data and decrypting it in a certain way will reveal the regular report that Caike receives.

But how do I figure out that specific method?

“Please help, Director Arabel.”

“Hmm?”

Without even turning around, I slipped away from Arabel’s hideout. After all, everyone has their strengths. I specialize in physical work, so tasks requiring specialized knowledge like this should be handed over to an expert.

From behind me, I heard someone muttering, “Both the chairman and the secretary have identical temperaments…”

I must have misheard. Unlike Carisia, who recklessly assigns overwhelming tasks as ‘orders,’ I merely ‘request’ within the limits of what’s possible.

To intervene in the ceremony at the beginning of the month, I need to verify the truth by the end of the month.

With only about three days left, Arabel’s abilities should be enough to uncover it before then.

***

Arabel gulped down water. Her body, mostly replaced with mechanical parts, could maintain life activities with just magical energy, but now she craved the refreshing coolness of water. She felt as if fire was burning inside her.

‘Damn…’

She couldn’t dismiss Ortes’ claims outright because there really seemed to be hidden information in the data, as he had said.

It wasn’t the latest encryption technique used by Proper Tower. Quite the opposite.

The encryption utilized Sacred Script, an ancient language once used by the lost cults of old gods—so archaic that no one would ever think to consider it.

For the first few days after Ortes handed her the task, Arabel poured her efforts into trying to decrypt it, but no matter how many attempts she made, no clues emerged.

Out of frustration, she ran all decryption methods stored in the Information Guild database through an automatic simulator—and stumbled upon an ancient encryption method from centuries ago.

‘Sacred Script. The language that recorded the words of the gods.’

She had heard that in ancient times, there existed a technique called Divine Order, which performed miracles using divine power.

Nowadays, those names are lost to history.

‘Come to think of it, Divine Orders could explain Ortes’ presence without involving magic?’

For a moment, Arabel considered the possibility that Ortes might handle Divine Orders, but she quickly dismissed it with a hollow laugh.

A priest? Not likely. Unless he worshipped the chairman as a god, it didn’t seem like he’d worship anything else.

Most importantly, it was absurd to think that the gods found his nasty temperament endearing enough to grant him their power.

Arabel suppressed her deep frustration and headed toward Ortes’ room, where he had dumped the task onto her.

She wanted to throw the report at him but hesitated and instead carefully handed over the stack of documents.

Ortes read through the report while maintaining a smile, and to Arabel, his expression seemed like a provocation saying, “See? I was right.”

That thought vanished during their subsequent conversation.

“So, you were right. We need to prepare.”

“Prepare? For digging up land?”

“No. A magician like Caike would surely have prepared defenses against intrusions. Therefore, we should enter through the main entrance he prepared.”

“The main entrance…?”

Arabel remembered that Ortes had come here suspecting something suspicious about Pythos Tower’s monthly sacrificial rituals.

“You’re planning to dive into lava?!”

Ortes shrugged as if it were no big deal.

‘There’s no doubt…’

That smile clearly reflected satisfaction that his report to the chairman had been accurate.

His loyalty—if not fanaticism—was such that he’d gladly die if it brought him closer to Carisia’s goals.

A powerful magician could certainly survive inside lava, and there were indications that diving into the lava would transport them elsewhere.

Even so, willingly accepting such a dangerous task was another level entirely.

Arabel felt a chill run down her spine. How had Carisia cultivated such extreme followers?

And was she herself becoming like Ortes?

She was terrified at the thought.

***

I cursed my destiny for preparing me for situations like this.

From the moment I opened my eyes in this absurd world, I realized luck or fate weren’t on my side.

Still…

Though I had mentally prepared myself, plunging into molten lava? There has to be some limit to these requests.

This kind of ridiculous situation hadn’t happened in a while.

I couldn’t express dissatisfaction regarding company-related matters in front of the director, so I desperately controlled my expression. But seeing Arabel’s subtle stiffening face, I wasn’t sure if she caught on.

If she figured out my discontent, I’d better lay some groundwork.

“Director Arabel.”

“…Yes.”

“This is confidential from the chairman.”

Since we both serve the same superior, please overlook this one time.

***

Taking advantage of the early morning hours, Ortes easily infiltrated the area where Pythos Tower’s automatons had arranged the sacrificial offerings.

Sensors detecting magical energy were meaningless to Ortes, who lacked such energy. Most anti-magician security measures were rendered useless.

Although he hadn’t brought along the Magic Glyph Drive as a precaution, breaking through the security of non-core facilities designed for unmanned operations posed no real challenge.

Dozens, maybe hundreds, of machines produced on various production lines were neatly stored in containers.

It looked like a museum or department store for automatons.

Ortes entered an empty powered suit.

‘I feel like that superhero from the movie who wore a steel suit everywhere. Though he struggled with cold rather than heat, if I remember correctly.’

Goooom!

A heavy rumble shook the container as vibrations traveled upward. Transport had begun.

As they approached the summit of Mount Etna, the increasing heat became noticeable. Despite its weakened state, a volcano is still a volcano.

Inside the container, and further within the powered suit, the temperature began to soar.

‘Damn it. Why did Mr. Caike set up his hideout in such a place?’

Ortes, having cursed Caike’s excellent choice of real estate multiple times, slowly felt his body tilting.

This was it.

Ortes prepared to immediately escape the volcano if diving into the lava failed to lead him to Caike’s base.

Various techniques learned and improved upon gave rise to latent strength within Ortes, ready to tear apart the powered suit and leap at any moment.

Clank, clack. Squeeeak!

Instead of throwing the entire container, they tilted it to pour out its contents. Ortes realized he was falling freely toward a fiery pit.

The wind rushing past carried no cooling effect; instead, it added more heat to the already scorching powered suit.

As massive chunks of metal hit the lava, molten rocks erupted into the sky.

Lava typically ranges between 800 and 1200 degrees Celsius. Iron melts at 1538 degrees.

The magical alloy used in the powered suit far exceeded that threshold in terms of heat resistance and durability.

At least, that was what Ortes remembered from Earth.

The pyric force residing in Mount Etna began melting the Pythos alloy without difficulty, leaving Ortes bewildered.

‘Could it be…?’

Could the hidden data buried within the automaton dummy data also have been a deception? The paranoia of mad magicians!

Heat poured in through the melted portions of the powered suit’s faceplate. Reflexively, Ortes opened his eyes wide.

And in the next instant…

Ortes stood atop a smoothly polished obsidian tile, reflecting his face.

This was Caike’s hideout.

***

Caike, walking with his head bowed, scanned the remnants of machinery with his glowing eye. The scan completed.

Through the piles of melted scrap metal, brightly orange-lit components shone.

They were storage devices from his creations. As he approached to retrieve them, a deep sense of despair enveloped him.

Not even a sigh escaped him.

Another month gone, just like the last. The reports confirmed that his creations had faithfully absorbed the pyric force of Mount Etna.

Yet the final product remained incomplete.

Despite theoretically having sufficient magical energy, it wouldn’t activate properly, and he continued to hopelessly search for errors while maintaining the flow of magic…

Lost in thought, he raised his head, only to find something obstructing his view.

His artificial eye detected no colors. Adjusting the viewing angle, he examined the full figure before him.

“A human?”

He immediately prepared to cast a spell with a double-handed incantation but stopped, overwhelmed by a wave of futility.

“So, they’ve finally found me from upstairs. Geryon? Or Lernian? Some outside force from beyond Etna City?”

“The closest answer would be Lernian.”

“Unfortunately, the artifact you’ve been searching for as the Artificial Tenth Rank is a failure.”

Caike collapsed onto the floor.

***

What is wrong with this guy?

The giant, almost twice my height, emitted light from one artificial eye as he approached, only to start lamenting the moment he saw me.

After investing years into creating this, progress stagnated. He regretted not keeping some original members of the magic tower alive as research slaves.

Surprisingly, this might be resolvable through conversation. Offering potential research personnel under our company umbrella could secure the Artificial Tenth Rank.

Starting with building a friendly relationship, I decided to nod along with Caike’s complaints.

“That’s true. Reproducing the divinity inherent in the Ten Sages isn’t simply a matter of having enough magical power, is it?”

Caike’s whole body stiffened, having just been banging his head in literal regret moments ago.

“You… How do you know…?”

His artificial eye began spinning wildly.