Chapter 47 The Second Floor of the Labyrinth
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
I projected my consciousness to where Trash-san was.
It felt casual, like dropping by a friend’s workplace for a quick visit.
To avoid startling her, I remained invisible, my sensory connection muted.
My Psionic Power has a major limitation: I can’t perceive my surroundings before materializing.
If she were battling a monster or standing on a narrow ledge, appearing suddenly could endanger us both.
I materialized near her.
Ah, there she is.
She walked steadily down the narrow hallway, calm and focused.
After confirming she wasn’t in danger, I approached from behind and linked our senses so she could perceive me.
”Hey, listen!”
”…Oh my, Young Master. You shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous.”
I appeared in front of her, pretending to be a game navigator. She did flinch a bit at how suddenly I popped up—but at least she didn’t mistake me for a ghost and attack.
If she had, I’d likely be dead in one strike.
Relieved, I exhaled and met her gaze as she turned.
”Sorry for startling you. Did I scare you?”
”It was sudden, but I felt no threat. I sensed a warm, familiar presence first. Perhaps that’s a trait of your Psionic Power.”
”Huh. I didn’t know that.”
”Still, what brings you here at this hour? Trouble sleeping, perhaps?”
”Not really. It’s not that I couldn’t sleep or anything.”
It was already late at night.
Normally, I’d be asleep in my private room by now, and meeting someone in the middle of the night like this was rare for me.
I’d essentially intruded on her workplace at midnight, but she didn’t treat me coldly.
That alone made me happy.
Trash-san crouched slightly to meet my gaze.
”So, is there something you need? Please tell me.”
”Honestly… not really. I just wanted to see you.”
I admitted it straightforwardly.
She tilted her head, thinking. Her expression seemed torn—caught between annoyance and being oddly touched.
Her lips curved into a slight, awkward smile.
Did I say something odd?
Then she spoke softly, as if to reassure me.
”Of course, you’re welcome. Curiosity that seeks to uncover mysteries is hard to resist. However, what we’re doing here isn’t exactly suitable for you. If you wait a little while, perhaps I could share some interesting stories afterward…”
How rude.
We went through that dungeon together, and she still treats me like a child.
She didn’t seem to realize that what worried me wasn’t the dungeon—it was her. Instead, she gently tried to push me away.
I understood what she meant, though.
When a child who hasn’t seen much of the world suddenly shows up at your work, any adult would want to send them home.
Her expression tightened, a mix of complexity and uncertainty.
But I wasn’t backing down.
”It’s fine, really. You don’t have to worry so much. We spent days together in that dungeon—I can handle this. Remember all those animal-like monsters you crushed? I watched, and I didn’t even flinch.”
All that blood and gore had desensitized me.
And if something too brutal came up, I could always look away.
I wasn’t some untested child anymore—I had real experience now.
”…So, you came out of simple curiosity,” she said slowly.
”Yeah, maybe.”
”Goodness. I understand how you feel, but still…”
Trash-san knew my Psionic Power better than anyone else.
She understood how completely safe I was. Right now, the only person who could harm me here was her.
She was a woman of action, someone who drew a clear line between safety and danger. She didn’t waste time chasing impossible guarantees.
And though she was strict about inappropriate things, when it came to curiosity, she was a soft-hearted older sister.
”…Then follow my instructions,” she finally said.
”Yes!”
”Stay behind me at all times. And if you feel tired, return to your body immediately.”
”Got it. I promise.”
And just like that, I earned the right to accompany her.
As promised, I followed a few steps behind her, moving quietly.
She slowed her pace slightly so I could keep up.
”This floor feels completely different from the first one,” I said. “It’s… harder to breathe.”
As we walked, I looked around.
Unlike the wide, open first floor, this level was a narrow white corridor—barely two meters wide.
Everything still looked white, flat, and sterile, but unlike before, chunks of the walls were torn open, exposing the interior.
The passage was tight.
No more than four or five people could walk side by side. Lights were fixed at regular intervals along the ceiling and walls, like the ribs of a tunnel.
It felt like wandering through the steel innards of a giant or being trapped inside a submarine.
A slow, heavy vibration filled the air—low and constant—pressing down on us as if trying to crush us.
…It really did feel cramped.
The first floor had been wide and airy, so perhaps the contrast made this feel worse.
Here, even though it was still technically indoors, the air was thick and damp, rejecting us like a living thing that didn’t want strangers inside.
”Huh. It’s not like a guest room at all. More like… the backstage of a theater, or an engine room.”
Yes. It carried that same unpleasant aura as spaces not meant for people—uncomfortable, uncaring, deliberately inhuman.
Still, I wandered along with a light step, my head turning left and right, almost humming.
This floor was an entirely different world.
Pipes jutted out of the walls here and there, and I could feel liquid pulsating inside them.
Several metal tubes branched into smaller pipes, vanishing into the walls or hanging broken from the ceiling.
Even the white walls surrounding us were corroded, exposing dark structural material.
Snapped cables sparked faint violet light, like the final flickers of fireworks.
”What on earth happened here? It looks like something tore it apart by force.”
On closer inspection, claw marks scarred the walls.
Those cables must have been sliced when whatever-it-was gouged through.
The cut wires hissed and popped, smoke curling from their ends and dissipating into the air.
We continued down the corridor for a while, surrounded by the smell of metal and burnt ozone.
Trash-san moved through the intersections effortlessly, never hesitating, never looking unsure.
The labyrinth twisted endlessly, its shape impossible to grasp.
I tried counting my steps to estimate the size of the place, but every corridor looked the same, and after a while, even the concept of distance faded.
It was enormous—ridiculously so—and the paths twisted like a nightmare.
Without Trash-san, I would have been lost in seconds.
We were deep inside some enormous artificial structure. The lights flickered on and off, and every pulse of brightness reminded me that we were explorers inside a dungeon.
That thought carried a tense thrill, the kind that makes your blood race even as your hands sweat.
By the time I noticed, damp heat had already gathered along my hairline. Excitement simmered beneath my skin.
”This place is such a mystery,” I muttered. “Where exactly are we?”
Walking ahead, she answered without turning her head.
”Some say it lies beyond the sphere of our sky. A world outside our world. Others call it the wreckage of a great ship that once left our homeland and perished somewhere far away.”
”A ship… in space? Then why did it crash?”
”That remains unknown.”
She ran her fingers over the scratches in the wall—marks resembling the claws of some creature.
The white metal had been torn open, ripped in jagged lines. Around the gashes were dried stains, dark red and black, scattered like old blood.
”This is a dungeon,” she said quietly. “A remnant of a lost civilization. No one knows if it ever existed in the real world, or if it was built by divine will—a garden of the gods. The provincial officials treat it like a holy site, a shrine that grants humanity new resources. But to me… it doesn’t feel like a place meant for people.”
Her voice was calm and serious.
Perhaps that’s what fascinated her—the fact that none of it made sense.
Unlike me, she could never stop analyzing the dungeon.
I wasn’t built that way. Things that make no sense are fine by me. I enjoy them because they make no sense. I’m not a researcher; I’m just a tourist here.
”Some of the faithful believe it’s the afterlife,” she added.
”No way.”
”…You’re sure?”
”The afterlife’s much better than this,” I said. “It can be scary, sure, but it’s full of love. People care for each other there.”
”That sounds nice,” she murmured. “Then I’ll believe that too, like you do, Young Master.”
She smiled softly, almost shyly. For a moment, the heavy air seemed lighter.
Today, however, her outfit was different.
She wore a transparent visor that covered her eyes, and beneath her usual white uniform was a tight leather-like suit that hugged her body.
Her belt clattered with equipment, and even her shoes looked mechanical—sleek, metal-lined heels built for combat.
Clearly an adventurer’s gear.
She looked ready to draw a laser gun at any moment, so the sword at her hip seemed oddly old-fashioned.
After a while, she stopped at a corner.
”What is it?” I asked.
”Young Master,” she said quietly, “there’s a monster ahead.”
I froze as she did, stepping back a few paces to maintain distance.
My Psionic Power allows me to stay connected from up to ten meters away, so I retreated to that edge, ready to retreat if things went wrong.
She drew her sword in one smooth motion and turned toward the bend.
From the unseen corridor came a harsh metal creak—slow, scraping, and wrong.
Metal grinding on metal. The sound clawed at my nerves, like nails on a chalkboard. I had to fight the urge to cover my ears.
”Only one,” she said. “It’s an Igaguri.”
Then she glanced back.
”You may come closer, Young Master. It’s an interesting creature.”
”Are you sure it’s safe?”
The awful scraping still echoed.
I stepped up behind her anyway, peering over her shoulder.
In the middle of the bright hallway floated something peculiar.
It was about the size of a volleyball, brown and round, covered in conical spikes.
Tiny red cracks ran across its surface, and through those splits, I glimpsed something like teeth—small, white, unnervingly human.
A brown spiked ball, just hanging there in the center of the corridor, as if it belonged to another reality.
Inside this white, mechanical passage, it looked like a hallucination—a ghost from a nightmare.
”What on earth is that? A flying sea urchin?”
”It’s not flying,” she said. “Look closely. Do you see the spikes moving at the tips?”
I squeezed her hand and squinted. The creature was far down the hall, but its movements were slow and deliberate—easy to study if I focused.
And she was right.
It wasn’t perfectly still. The bases of those countless spikes were shifting, flexing ever so slightly.
Like a real sea urchin curling and stretching its spines.
Toward the ends, the spikes grew thinner—finer than wire—until around ten centimeters out, they were no thicker than a needle.
And then… thinner still. So thin my eyes couldn’t follow.
The tips vanished completely.
”Follow the line of the spines with your eyes,” she instructed.
”Okay… wait, there’s light—tiny sparks!”
”Yes. Watch carefully. The wall’s sparking.”
”You’re right…”
Even when the spikes disappeared from sight, they kept extending, piercing the ceiling, walls, and floor.
I couldn’t see them, but sparks flew where they touched metal, and the faint sound of slicing told me exactly where they were.
”It moves slowly,” she said. “Its spines stretch endlessly, thinner and thinner, until each one is as fine as a single particle.”
—Kiiiiiiiin.
The monster shifted. The air resonated.
Around it came the sound of things breaking—steel shearing apart.
The brown sphere wasn’t floating after all.
It was leaning on the matter around it, cutting everything it touched into pieces the size of chopping boards as it moved.
Like a maggot walking on its own legs, it used those invisible, atom-thin spikes to crawl forward—one slice at a time.
I stood there, watching, close enough to feel the hum in my bones.
”H-how can we just stand here?!” I hissed. “Isn’t this way too dangerous?”
”Please relax,” Trash-san said. “At this distance, the spines can’t reach us.”
”B-but it’s moving toward us!”
”No need to worry, my dear. This monster couldn’t cross a single town even if it crawled for an hour. It only feeds on the poor prey unlucky enough to wander right into it. Dangerous up close, yes—but only then.”
I squeezed her hand tightly.
The spiked ball floated there in the hallway like a bugged-out glitch on a screen, its red mouth twitching faintly.
It had no eyes, but somehow I felt it knew we were watching.
Even though I knew—rationally—that I was completely safe, fear still crept in.
As a psychic projection, no monster could touch me.
But that didn’t mean I had the courage to step into that storm of invisible blades and look from up close.
…Yeah. I knew it was fine. Still didn’t matter.
”Then let’s dispose of it,” Trash-san said coolly.
”How?”
”I’ll shoot it from here. That’s all.”
Her voice carried quiet confidence.
She tapped her pocket once and pulled out something small and round—a metal sphere, smooth and heavy-looking.
She raised her arm, aimed, and hurled it.
The steel ball flew straight down the corridor, sliced into fragments by the unseen spines, yet still reaching its target.
”Gyuui!”
A thick, wet thud followed—a sound of meat breaking—and then a sharp, high scream.
The brown ball of alien flesh shuddered once, then collapsed.
Purple fluid and bits of organ spilled from its lower half, splattering across the floor.
It didn’t move again.
That awful scraping sound—like nails on a board—was gone.
”It’s dead already?” I asked.
”Yes,” she said simply.
Wow.
This was nothing like the jungle hunts I’d seen before.
Even though it was still a monster, the way it lived and died felt completely different—like something born from another universe entirely.
”So,” she said, brushing off her hands, “now we record the location and leave the rest to the townsfolk. We still have more areas to check.”
”Oh, we’re hunting for more?”
”If one Igaguri appears, there are always a few more nearby.”
She turned back the way we came. I followed beside her, curiosity sparking again.
”So you just leave the corpse there?”
”Yes. We can’t pass through, so we’ll detour.”
She tugged my hand lightly to guide me.
Her hand was larger than mine—strong, warm—and it made me feel strangely safe.
As we walked, she talked, maybe to keep me from getting bored or nervous.
She explained that killing the monster wasn’t the hard part; cleaning up afterward was.
”The real problem,” she said, “is the corpse.”
”The corpse? You mean like… a mystical object? Can people use it for materials?”
”Sadly, no.” She sounded disappointed, though her eyes gleamed with curiosity. “The spines remain even after the monster dies. They’re fascinating, but dangerous. The townsfolk must completely sterilize the area afterward.”
She sighed faintly, a touch of frustration beneath her professional calm.
”So it’s dangerous then?”
”Yes. If left alone, the spines cause accidents. Workers come down here to collect resources, and even an invisible shard can cut a person apart.”
I pictured it immediately—an invisible deathtrap left behind.
If someone brushed against one, even an Imperial Guard would be sliced clean through, without ever realizing what hit them.
A perfect silent killer.
Maybe the corridor behind us was already littered with broken, half-buried spines, still sharp enough to kill.
Yeah. That was terrifying.
She told me that when one of these creatures appears, the cleanup teams literally burn the whole area—like clearing landmines with bombs.
The spines are razor-sharp but weak to heat. Prolonged flames melt them easily, robbing them of their cutting edge.
Maybe that’s why the creature moved so slowly—to keep itself cool, to survive its own heat and sparks.
If this weren’t a metal-lined place, if the air weren’t full of steel to absorb it, this thing might move freely.
That thought alone made me shiver.
Where the hell did such a life-form come from?
By the way, that visor Trash-san was wearing—turns out she’d found it here in the dungeon.
It let her see the invisible spines.
A convenient bit of local recycling—loot from one monster used to handle the next.
We kept wandering through the maze, cutting down a few more Igaguri as we went.
Honestly, they weren’t dangerous at all unless you got too close.
They moved slower than a crawling baby, couldn’t shoot spines, couldn’t really attack at range.
If I’d met one in my real body, I probably could’ve just walked away.
Still, the danger wasn’t the creature—it was the accident waiting to happen.
After some time, my energy started to dip, so we took a short break.
Then, deeper in the hall, we came upon a door with a card reader attached to it.
It looked like a solid metal automatic door, with a small transparent window at eye level.
”Fortunate,” she said, smiling slightly. “An officer’s quarters.”
”What kind of room is that?”
”In these passageways, rooms like this sometimes appear—filled with mystical objects. Let’s enter.”
Ignoring the card reader entirely, she slid her sword between the panels of the door and pried it open like a crowbar.
The lock snapped with a harsh spark, the door giving way under her brute strength.
She was terrifyingly practiced at that.
”Whoa… it looks like a hospital room,” I whispered.
Inside was about the size of a school classroom, packed with machines and lockers, all gleaming white.
”Looks like a medical bay,” she said. “We can collect drugs and white uniforms here. No firearms, unfortunately—but still a lucky find.”
I peered over her shoulder as she opened a glass cabinet.
Inside were the same kinds of medicine I’d used before.
And in the large locker hung several white uniforms—exactly like the ones worn by the Imperial Guard.
So that’s how they discover those mystical medicines—artifacts that go beyond modern science.
There were all kinds of pills and vials scattered around, too. A few documents lay among them, but the writing had decayed into meaningless scratches.
”Are there many kinds of rooms like this?” I asked.
”There are,” she replied. “Weapon storages, material depots, food vaults, machine repair bays… The worst one I’ve found was a nap room. Such disappointment. Found the room after all that trouble, only to see a single bed inside. I nearly screamed.”
Trash-san sparkled as she spoke, her eyes alive with mischief.
She looked genuinely thrilled, rummaging through the place like an adventurer who’d just struck gold.
Watching her so happy made something in me warm up inside.
I kept quiet though—didn’t want to ruin the moment by acting like a pushy guy.
I wandered around too, but since my projected form couldn’t touch anything, I got bored fast.
So I just stood there, watching her search, smiling to myself.
”Let’s mark this place for collection later,” she said finally. “The townsfolk can retrieve everything.”
”You look like you’re having fun.”
”Immensely.”
I stepped closer to her.
She pulled a small notebook from her chest pocket and began writing down the room’s details in careful strokes. Probably to keep thieves from skimming off the loot during recovery.
I watched her absentmindedly, caught by the simple motion of her hand dipping into her chest pocket.
There’s just something mesmerizing about that—how a woman’s movement can be both gentle and precise at once.
If it had ended there, it would’ve stayed a lighthearted adventure.
But the dungeon never lets you forget where you are.
We’d just finished searching the medical room and had been walking the corridors again when Trash-san suddenly stopped me, pressing a firm hand against my chest.
”W-wha—what’s wrong?”
She didn’t answer right away.
She just stared down the corridor’s bend, blocking my view completely.
Her posture stiffened. Something was there.
”There are two Igaguri,” she said quietly.
Her voice hardened, her usual calm replaced with caution.
Two of them?
Now that she mentioned it, I’d never seen more than one in the same place before.
Still, I didn’t understand what made that a problem. We could just kill them one at a time, right?
”Is that… dangerous?” I asked. “Like, if their spines touch or something, does it explode or—?”
Maybe the spines would snap, scattering fragments through the air like invisible shrapnel.
That would be bad. Really bad.
But Trash-san shook her head.
”No. It’s not that,” she said softly. “There are townspeople who couldn’t escape.”
I froze.
”Wait—you mean people got caught by those things? But they move so slowly!”
She didn’t answer.
From around the corner came the familiar metallic grinding—but now, mixed with it, a wet chewing sound.
Soft, sticky, repetitive. Like an old man gnawing carefully on meat.
The sound crawled right into my stomach.
Fear hit hard and cold.
If someone hadn’t escaped… then that noise was—
”But… why?” I whispered.
Holding my cold hand, Trash-san spoke with quiet sorrow.
”Unlucky,” she said. “They were trapped in a long corridor, caught between two. Time was their enemy. They must have been so terrified.”
Her voice trembled slightly, and the pain in her eyes said more than any words could.
She didn’t need to describe it; I could already see it in my mind.
Two narrow corridors. Heavy packs. Workers returning home with their haul.
Then the scrape of metal ahead—death waiting in the dark.
They turn to retreat—only to hear the same sound behind them.
Nowhere to run. Only time to wait.
The kind of fear that eats through your bones.
Trash-san stayed silent.
We turned back quietly, neither of us saying much.
She waited until I calmed down, patient as ever.
She never described what she’d seen past that corner, and I never asked.
”Let’s end here for tonight,” she said at last. “You’ve done excellently, Young Master—like a true member of the Exploration Squad.”
”Thanks,” I murmured. “I’ll head back first.”
”If you can’t sleep, call for any of the Imperial Guard. I’ll make sure someone’s assigned to keep watch.”
Her thoughtfulness made me smile weakly.
I tried not to picture what was behind that corner. Tried not to think of blood, or fear, or silence.
I tugged lightly on her sleeve.
”What about you, Trash-san? What’ll you do?”
”I’ll finish the extermination, then continue the patrol,” she said. “There might still be survivors somewhere.”
”Okay. Just… don’t push yourself too hard.”
Her lips curved into a soft smile. “Hearing that from you, Young Master, banishes fatigue completely.”
It was a warm, steady smile—one meant to reassure, not to hide pain.
Even after I left, her night would go on.
I worried, of course, but I knew how strong she was. Even when faced with death, she stayed composed.
Tired and heavy-hearted, I said goodbye and pulled my consciousness back.
The moment I cut the Psionic Power, I was back in my body—like waking from a vivid dream.
I sat up on the bed, reached for the glass by my bedside, and took a long drink of cold water.
”Ahh… finally,” I sighed. “Feels good to breathe real air again.”
My mouth was bone-dry from being away too long.
”Good night,” I whispered.
I said it to the imaginary Trash-san standing in my mind.
She smiled softly, but even in my fantasies, she wasn’t the type to give a goodnight kiss.
Strict, even in dreams—the ever-dignified elder sister.
Sleep came quickly after that, pulling me down before I could think anymore.
Notes:
• Psionic Power – Mental energy concept in Chapter 35’s lecture. Trash-san teaches it to strengthen the protagonist’s mind after dungeon ordeals.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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