It was the middle of summer, and the temperatures were brutal. On hotter days, it hit 40 degrees Celsius or more. On the so-called “comfortable” days, it only dropped to 35 or 37. Not much of an improvement. As we ascended in the balloon, I had hoped the wind would make the heat up there more bearable, but no such luck. I still felt like I was melting, sweat pouring down my body.
The view—or what passed for one—was as bleak as ever. Destruction stretched endlessly, broken only by emptiness, silence, and the occasional lurking monsters.
I asked the wind for a boost to get us to our destination faster, and on the first day, we covered almost a quarter of the way to the mountains. As the sun began to set, I flew out of the balloon and searched in a zig-zag pattern until I found a field big enough to land in. Once we tied the balloon down, we went straight inside, and I activated the defenses. None of us were up for fighting monsters or mana beasts.
The second and third days passed much the same as the first. A full day of flying over either a sea of green or a sea of destruction. For variety, sometimes it was a mix—patches of green interspersed with stretches of devastation. Along the way, we passed over two more areas with heavy concentrations of monsters.
An hour after taking off on the morning of the fourth day, we spotted what looked like a former military base littered with rusty aircraft. These weren’t like any aircraft I’d seen on Earth. They were cylindrical and looked like huge sausages.
“I think those also used magnetic drives,” Mahya said. “Otherwise, I don’t see how they’d function without wings or rotors. I want to go down and examine them.”
I looked down and found the idea unappealing. The base was full of crumbling warehouses, and monsters or beasts roamed between and inside them. The area near the aircraft belonged to creatures that resembled giant spiders—except they had eight legs, four arms, and two enormous claws like a crab’s. Not exactly a welcoming sight.
Scattered among the grounded aircraft were vehicles, this time with wheels. Some vehicles were overturned, lying on their sides or roofs, and spiders used them as makeshift lookout posts. Al and I exchanged a look, let out matching deep sighs, shook our heads in resignation, and pulled out Blade Storm scrolls.
It took three scrolls to clear the spiders, and I even had to fly around to catch a strange caterpillar striped in the colors of the rainbow to lure out another five. When we landed, Mahya’s smile was so wide it looked like her face might split in half.
“Set up your house,” she said, still grinning like a loon. “It’ll take time.”
Once my house was open, Al vanished into his lab, Rue went straight to sleep—even though he’d only been awake for maybe two hours—and Mahya voluntold me for the mission.
These aircraft were enormous. They’d looked big from above, but it wasn’t until I stood at eye level with them I truly grasped their size.
The aircraft we examined was a hulking, weathered giant of metal and glass. Its once-sleek, cylindrical frame was now a patchy gray, streaked with rust and grime from decades of exposure.
Mahya ran her hand along the corroded surface of the hull, looking at it like the Mona Lisa. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured. “It’s a complete wreck, but still—beautiful.”
“Beautiful?” I asked, gesturing at the cracks across the thick glass of the cockpit. “It’s a death trap. The thing looks like it’s one good push away from collapsing.”
She shot me a look. “That’s what makes it fun.”
I rolled my eyes and started circling it, scanning for any sign of an entrance. “You realize we’ll probably have to carve our way in, right? If the spiders didn’t bother, that door’s sealed tighter than Al’s lab.”
“Let’s find it first,” she said, eyes darting over the hull. “There’s no point in planning our assault before we know what we’re dealing with.”
After a few minutes of searching, we found a rectangular dent near the base of the fuselage. Faded markings hinted it was the entry hatch, but time and decay had made the mechanism unrecognizable.
Mahya tapped it with her knuckles. “Found it. I think.”
“You think?” I asked. “For all we know, that could be the fuel tank.”
“Only one way to find out,” she said and started prying at the edges of the panel with a crowbar. After a few fruitless attempts, she handed the tool to me with a smirk. “Your turn.”
With a sigh, I grabbed the crowbar and wedged it into the gap. It took brute force and a few lightning bolts, but the metal groaned, warped, and popped off. It revealed a narrow, shadowy corridor inside.
The air inside was stale, reeking of mildew. Rows of seats lined the cabin, their upholstery shredded and faded beyond recognition. Overhead compartments hung open, some dangling from their hinges. The floor was littered with glass and pieces of broken seats. Dust motes danced in the faint beams of light coming through the shattered windows.
I stepped cautiously down the aisle, testing the ground with each step. “If this thing collapses while we’re in here, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Noted,” she said. “Help me get to the drive systems. Maybe it’ll help me figure out the drive of the vehicles.”
We navigated toward the rear of the aircraft, where the cylindrical shape tapered slightly. It was slow-going—half the doors were jammed shut, and the other half crumbled at the slightest touch. Initially, I thought it was a passenger plane but changed my mind. After the seating area, there was a compartment with broken and rusted weapons with electronic circuits inside. Further in were rotting boxes with something made of thick cloth. The ruined state of the objects made it impossible to identify them. We finally reached a room lined with consoles and equipment.
A big, half-open hatch was in the middle of the room. I lifted it, and Mahya joyfully exclaimed, “That’s the drive.”
The drive was huge, occupying almost half the space under the navigation room. Its core was encased in a dull metallic housing, with copper-like material coiling outward. Mahya ran her hands over the surface. “Hmm, let’s see. It has a completely different design from the vehicles.”
I kneeled on the floor and looked down into the hatch, watching her work. “So, can you figure it out?”
She gave me a flat look. “Do you honestly think I’d answer that with anything but ‘no’ this early in the process?”
“Fair point.”
She poked, prodded, pushed, and even kicked it a couple of times. Finally, she huffed. “We need to take it apart.”
It took us three days to dismantle the aircraft’s propulsion system. Mahya even enlisted Al for the task. Some parts were so rusted they wouldn’t budge, no matter how much force we used. Al prepared a solution that smelled of rotten fish but dissolved the rust in seconds. I was torn about its effectiveness—it made the work easier, but the dizziness from the stench made me question whether the trade-off was worth it.
After fully disassembling the drive system, Mahya hauled the parts off to her workshop and vanished. As expected, Al retreated into his lab. Rue started his patrols, leaving me to reorganize my Storage in a desperate attempt to squeeze out just a little more space.
On our second day at the base, Rue came barreling over to me, excited. “New spider! Big one!”
I didn’t waste time. I flew straight toward the spider, sizing it up as I charged a lightning bolt. The creature didn’t even try to dodge—it just stood there, claws clicking menacingly. One lightning bolt struck, and the spider collapsed instantly, legs curling under its body as it flipped onto its back.
Level 10 Decaclaw defeated
I stared at the dissolving monster, shaking my head. “Seriously?” I asked it, perplexed. “You’re level 10, and one lightning bolt is all it took?”
The spider didn’t answer.
I went looking for Al and found him rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. His head popped up when I walked in, a cookie already halfway to his mouth.
“Al, Rue reported a new spider. One lightning strike was enough to take it down. Want to clear that dungeon?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t want to fight right now?”
I shrugged. “If one lightning strike took out the spider, it wouldn’t be combat—it’d be extermination.”
He nodded slowly, chewing thoughtfully. “Yes… you are correct. Maybe even my potion against insect monsters would work on them. That would be extermination.”
I asked the wind to guide me to the dungeon, and it revealed there were two within the airship area. We couldn’t tell which one belonged to the spiders, but after dealing with the wyvern, I wasn’t too concerned about surprises. For a brief moment, I thought about asking Mahya if she wanted to join, but I quickly dismissed the idea. She was utterly absorbed in studying the propulsion system.
Once Mahya decided we had enough cores, I planned to leave this world immediately. It would be an added bonus if I picked up one or two more cores while we were waiting for her.
The first dungeon we entered was indeed the spider dungeon, and they were indeed ridiculously sensitive to lightning. So much so that by the third spider, I almost felt sorry for them.
We strolled through the narrow, web-draped tunnels like we were taking a casual walk. Al and I alternated taking shots at the spiders as they scuttled toward us, pincers snapping in what I could only assume was frustration. One bolt of lightning from me, and they’d crumple instantly, legs curling inward like dead leaves. Al’s strikes weren’t quite as efficient, but two hits did the trick.
Rue plodded along behind us, his tail drooping. “Not fair,” he whined, his tone a mix of boredom and indignation. “Rue do nothing. Rue help too!”
I glanced back at him as another spider skittered into view. With a flick of my wrist, a bolt of lightning shot past Al, striking the creature dead before it even got close. “You’re helping,” I said over my shoulder. “You’re keeping morale high.”
“No!” Rue huffed, stomping his oversized paws. “Rue fight too!”
Al chuckled, shaking his head as he struck another spider with a precise lightning strike. “You’d only make this even easier, Rue. At this rate, it’s not a dungeon—it’s pest control.”
“That’s what I said,” I muttered, watching another spider turn into a mana crystal. We kept moving, leaving behind the faint smell of ozone and the crackle of dissipating electricity as proof of our “heroic” conquest. Rue kept whining, and I had to fight the urge to laugh.
“Tell you what,” I said after a moment. “Next dungeon? All yours, buddy.”
“Promise?” Rue perked up, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.
“Promise,” I said, firing off another bolt as the next spider scuttled into view.
We reached a cave and found the final guardian. It was three times the size of the others, its massive pincers clacking menacingly as it skittered into view. I sighed, charging another lightning bolt in my hand.
“Finally,” I muttered, letting the bolt fly. It hit dead center, and the oversized spider staggered, twitching but still standing. I fired a second bolt. This time, it crumpled like the others, its legs folding inward as it collapsed in a heap.
“Two bolts?” Al raised an eyebrow. “For that? I almost thought it might give us a challenge.”
“Ridiculous,” I said, brushing dust off my hands. “This whole dungeon was ridiculous.”
I touched the core, and a pile of silver coins materialized in my hand. Counting them quickly, I discovered there were fifty.
I glanced at the reward and then at the crystal that used to be the guardian. “Fifty silver? For this? Feels like we got overpaid.”
Al chuckled and gave me a solid pat on the back. “I’ll take it,” he said with a smile.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You seem suspiciously cheerful about this.”
“I’m relieved to hear you are not complaining it’s a monetary reward again,” Al said, his voice laced with amusement.
“True,” I admitted, adding the coins to my inventory. The dungeon was so easy that I couldn’t summon the energy to gripe about it.
“Rue still do nothing,” Rue grumbled.
“Next dungeon, Rue,” I said, patting his head. “This one wasn’t even worth the effort.”