Chapter 129: 2nd Attempt XXVIII

The chaos in the ruined hallway finally began to ebb. The deafening roar of collapsing stone and the crackle of residual mana faded into an eerie, dust-choked silence. Broken diamond roots lay scattered like the shattered bones of some ancient beast, their facets dulled by debris and blood. Flickering amber sigils sputtered out one by one across the fractured floor, leaving only the low groan of settling rubble and the occasional trickle of cascading pebbles.

From the rear of the devastated corridor emerged a large black drone, sleek and imposing, hovering silently on anti-grav thrusters. Its matte surface absorbed what little light remained, giving it the appearance of a shadow given mechanical form. Red scanning beams swept across the wreckage as it advanced, powerful lamp lights cutting through the thick haze like searchlights on a battlefield. The drone moved with purposeful efficiency, its sensors probing every heat signature, every anomaly in the structural integrity of the ruined floor.

It paused at a wide slab of stone, where a faint but rapidly dropping heat signal pulsed beneath. The ground around it was slick with dark blood, pooling in the cracks like spilled ink. The drone extended a manipulator arm, carefully shifting the heavy slab aside with a low hydraulic whine. There, pinned helplessly against the wall in a gruesome tableau, sat Agatha. Her body was a wreck, pale skin stretched tight over exhaustion and blood loss, deep gashes across her torso still oozing, and the broken shafts of several crystalline javelins protruding from her side and shoulder. Her breathing was shallow, ragged, each inhale a desperate fight against the brink of death.

The drone’s lights focused on her. A rapid series of scans swept over her form, thermal imaging, vital signs, internal trauma mapping. Without hesitation, it transmitted a priority distress signal downward. Within seconds, the air filled with the mechanical hum of reinforcements. Dozens of smaller, agile drones streaked in from the depths of the dungeon, their engines whining at high velocity. They converged on Agatha like a swarm of metallic angels of mercy.

Some clamped onto the javelin shafts with precision tools, extracting them one by one while sealing the wounds with cauterizing foam. Others administered heavy-duty stabilizers: intravenous nutrient lines, blood-volume expanders, and potent analgesics that dulled the screaming agony without clouding her mind entirely. The process was methodical and unrelenting. Drones hovered in coordinated orbits, their lights bathing the scene in clinical white and blue. For nearly thirty minutes, the air buzzed with the sounds of medical machinery beeps, hisses and the soft whir of micro-sutures knitting flesh.

Agatha’s eyelids fluttered as color slowly returned to her face. She stirred, her gaze focusing on the large black drone hovering protectively nearby. “Aid?” she whispered, voice hoarse and cracked.

“Yes,” came the calm, synthesized reply from the drone’s speakers, steady and reassuring.

A weak chuckle escaped her lips, followed by a sharp “tch” of pain as she shifted. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Relax,” Aid instructed. “You are heavily wounded. The treatment will be completed within thirty minutes. Further care will follow.”

“Where else would I go?” Agatha murmured, a faint smile tugging at her bloodstained lips despite the circumstances.

From the opposite end of the hallway came the sound of dragging footsteps. Seth emerged from the swirling dust, his body a testament to the brutal toll of battle. He limped noticeably, one foot scraping against the stone as he hauled Beaumont’s limp form by the tattered remnants of the mage’s garment. The adventurer’s body left a faint trail of blood in its wake. Seth’s enhanced senses picked up the mechanical humming and whirring ahead long before he saw the drones. As he drew closer, the noise intensified, the coordinated ballet of medical machinery and hovering units.

The large black drone pivoted smoothly to face him, lamps sweeping across his battered frame. “Aid?” Seth called out, voice rough with exhaustion.

“Yes, Sire,” the AI responded promptly.

“What took you so long? Or was it just me being optimistic?” Seth asked, a hint of dry humor cutting through the fatigue.

“Immediately upon loss of connection and several failed attempts to re-establish links with the upper floors, combined with your signal becoming untraceable for ten minutes, distress protocols were triggered,” Aid explained factually.

I guess the system works just the way I designed it. Seth thought, closing the final distance. He dropped Beaumont roughly onto his back with a heavy thud. “How’s Agatha?”

“She is undergoing careful treatment. Significant blood loss, but she will recover. The drone kits are managing stabilization,” Aid replied. The drone’s sensors then swept over Seth, emitting a soft diagnostic tone. “Your body shows signs of severe strain, unhealthy indicators and malnourishment. Recommend immediate intervention.”

“I get that. You don’t need to rub it in,” Seth grunted, waving off the assessment. “My body’s on the edge of collapse. Bring in the goodies.”

“Affirmative!”

Seth staggered a few meters away and lowered himself onto a thirty-inch chunk of fallen rock, positioning himself several meters from Agatha’s treatment site. Within minutes, additional squads of drones arrived, their formation splitting efficiently. Half carried advanced medical gear, unfolding a portable stabilization bed with smooth precision and transferring Agatha onto it as the procedure continued seamlessly. The other half delivered a hefty medical crate that thudded into the dirt. The lid hissed open pneumatically, revealing a concentrated cocktail tailored to Seth’s desperate needs: thermal wraps that radiated gentle, penetrating warmth; life-saving glucose elixirs; low-sodium rehydration salts; a nutrient broth formulated to prime his failing metabolism; and heavy broad-spectrum antimicrobials to combat the infections gnawing at his compromised immune system.

Seth was being given the supplies with practiced efficiency by the black drone, downing the pastes and elixirs while the thermal wraps activated around his battered limbs. The relief was not immediate, his muscles still aches, and his vision occasionally swam at the edges.

From her bed, Agatha’s voice carried across the short distance. “Is he dead?”

There was a long pause as Seth tilted his head, hyper-acute hearing locked onto the faint rhythm. “.....No. He’s not,” Seth replied. “I can still hear his heartbeats.” He’s got a tough hide.

Agatha let out a weak chuckle. “How are you doing over there?”

“...I’d say better than before. I’m quite exhausted,” she answered, her voice steadier now thanks to the drones’ relentless care.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” Seth pressed, genuine concern threading through his words.

“If you’re talking about my magic, it’s something I can handle. Later, when I’ve fully recovered,” she assured him.

Seth continued consuming the nutrient paste from a reinforced container jug, the rich formula already beginning to restore some semblance of strength. “Looks like you’ll be taking a break from things for over six months.”

“Is that so?” Agatha replied, staring up at the fractured ceiling above them.

Suddenly, Beaumont stirred. A low groan escaped his lips as consciousness clawed its way back. The large black drone reacted instantly, deploying multiple compact firearms from hidden compartments. Red laser sights danced across every major joint, shoulders, elbows, knees locking on with lethal precision. Beaumont’s bloodshot eyes widened slightly at the sight.

“You are not human, are you aware of that?” Seth said calmly, not even turning fully.

Look who’s talking, Agatha thought, a flicker of dark amusement crossing her mind.

“What... happened?” Beaumont rasped in a low, broken tone. His gaze shifted to the hovering drone. “What is... that?” Memory flooded back in fragments. “Oh... that thing... from last time.”

Seth remained silent for a beat. He’s still alive with an object lodged in his skull.

“...Now what? Am I about to... die?” Beaumont murmured, resignation heavy in his voice.

“Try not to do anything stupid,” Seth warned.

“What’s the point... anyway,” the mage whispered.

Seth leaned forward slightly. “Can I ask a question? Where did you get that? The Relic.”

“.....I didn’t find it....I was given it,” Beaumont answered weakly.

“Given? By Ploy?” Seth pressed. “I understand the motive of attempting to clear this dungeon for its riches.”

“What? No... it wasn’t Ploy. I was given and tasked by Oculon!” Beaumont corrected, a spark of defiance returning momentarily.

“Oculon?” Seth repeated, the name hanging in the air.

Oculon? Oculon the god of knowledge? Agatha’s thoughts raced.

“And what was this task about?” Seth continued.

“...To...find more of it,” Beaumont said.

More of what? Does he mean the Relic? Seth wondered. “And he told you there was one down here?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t... be here otherwise,” the injured mage replied.

“There’s nothing like that here. He was probably uncertain of its exact location,” Seth countered.

“Oculon never lies. You either don’t know where it is... or you’re in denial,” Beaumont insisted.

Wait, there really is a Relic down here? Then I’ll have to find it, wherever it is, Seth thought, rubbing his chin after finishing the last of the nutrient paste. “So Oculon gave you the Relic. You must really be the faithful puppet of one.”

Beaumont said nothing, only glaring upward at the hovering drone with what little strength remained.

“Is there a reason you’re answering my questions so openly?” Seth asked. “Most would take their secrets to the grave.”

“You could... say... it’s to ensure you constantly look over your shoulder,” Beaumont murmured, a faint, bitter smile touching his bloodied lips.

“Is that so...” Seth murmured.

In the silence that followed, Beaumont’s mind drifted. Visions of his life flashed before him casting his first spell at age three, his parents’ proud faces glowing in the candlelight. At thirteen, standing with his uncle before his parents’ graves, pledging himself as a follower of Ploy. Graduating from the academy at seventeen, the sting of his first heartbreak. Refusing a prestigious position at the mage tower to pursue the adventurer’s path instead. The faces of his first teammates, lost in a catastrophic encounter with a demon lord. “Why am I seeing this?” he whispered aloud, voice fracturing. For a fleeting moment, the weight of it all lifted. Beaumont finally let go.

Seth noticed the change in breathing immediately. He sighed heavily.

“What is it?” Agatha asked from her bed.

“He’s dead,” Seth answered flatly.

“What a shame,” she replied, her tone carrying a mix of exhaustion and detachment.

Seth rose from his rock and approached Beaumont’s corpse. With a firm grip, he yanked the Relic of Nullification free from the shattered skull, wiping the bloodied artifact on Beaumont clothing. So there really is one of these down here. Looks like I’ve got a lot of work to do.

“Aid, how bad is it?” he asked, gesturing broadly at the devastation.

The large drone performed a comprehensive scan of the ruined floor. After a brief pause, it delivered its assessment in a single, blunt word: “BAD!”

Seth dragged out a long, frustrated groan, running a hand roughly through his hair. “Ahhhh! And I have to rebuild it again! Things just can’t get worse.”

“Why do you say that?” Agatha inquired.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to rebuild all this within three months,” Seth replied, shoulders slumping slightly. “I guess we’ll have to take it slowly while the other floors hold off any intruders.”

“About that... there’s something I have to tell you,” Agatha said carefully. She recounted the extensive destruction wrought across the first through fourth floors, the collapsed corridors, shattered defenses, and widespread structural failures.

Seth turned sharply toward Aid’s primary sensor array. “Tell me she’s joking.”

“Negative!” the AI confirmed.

“OH COME ON!” Seth shouted, the outburst echoing through the ruins.

“Part of it was my fault,” Agatha admitted. “I’ll be sure to help after I recover.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Seth told her, gesturing at the scale of the damage.

“I’m willing to help, to speed things up,” she insisted.

“I’m out of resources,” Seth said bluntly.

“If I add what little I have to yours, we should be able to rebuild the first and second floors,” Agatha countered.

Seth shook his head, his hand gestures growing more emphatic. “I’m out of resources! My storage depot is completely empty.”

“How come? I thought you had a stockpile,” she asked, surprise evident even through her pain.

“I used everything for the demiplane construction,” Seth explained. “Even if we raid the nearby mines, it won’t be enough. It’s going to take over a year for proper infrastructure buildup on each floor.” And we still have adventurers to deal with, plus Oculon’s potential comeback. if he plans send anyone else.

“Now what?” he murmured, falling into a long, contemplative pause. He sniffed the organic scent of Beaumont’s corpse, and his thoughts circled back to the demiplane project. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. He snapped his fingers. That’s it. I could use the spatial sphere.

A predatory grin spread across his face as he turned back toward Agatha. “What is it? You’ve figured something out?” she asked, watching him intently.

The drones had begun moving her stabilized bed carefully toward the sixth floor, while others ferried crates of medical supplies and first-aid gear. The large black drone lifted Beaumont’s corpse with mechanical arms, trailing behind Seth as the group began their retreat.

“I just thought of something crazy that just might work,” Seth answered, his voice regaining some of its former vigor.

“Aid!” he called out. “Deploy the scavenger bots. Bring down those diamond roots into storage. Have them search through the other floors for any recyclable items!”

“Affirmative!” Aid responded.

“We’re all packing up and moving to the demiplane,” Seth declared. He paused briefly in his tracks, turning his head slightly. “Oh, and also, deploy the guardian of the first floor!” Then he continued his advance.

Aid’s voice chimed in confirmation: “Deploying the first floor guardian, ‘Small guns!’”