The dungeon.

 

It refers to an intimidating space created by a mad wizard or an ancient structure made by a great being from the past. The dungeon we were about to explore was the latter.

 

After the vanguard cleared it, the dungeon was now used for practical training. It was managed by the empire and anyone could use it if they underwent the proper legal procedures.

 

The dungeon was surprisingly clean and bright. Exaggerating a bit, it was even cleaner than the research room of the Purple Tower.

 

“The facilities are so clean that even the academy students often come here, I heard.”

 

“They really are comfortably gathering experience, aren’t they?”

 

“Tell me about it. If one starts their career as a mercenary…”

 

The senior with the facial scar and the tear-stained guy chatted away ahead of me. How the academy students raised in a warm greenhouse lack venom, or about the time they hired one who ran away at the sight of a goblin.

 

As the conversation increasingly shifted to how much tougher their own lives were, I slowed my pace to fall back. It was because I had already heard the same stories for two cycles the previous night.

 

It seemed the beastman thief shared my sentiment.

 

He appeared to have enjoyed last night’s recitation from the ‘Romance of the Three Kingdoms’ by the fire for two hours as much as the flames of penance with yesterday’s illusion magic. The way he sidled up next to me and asked with hand signals if I had any other interesting tales suggested as much.

 

What comes around goes around, after all. To initiate a fair exchange, I asked the beastman thief:

 

“Why don’t you speak?”

 

Didn’t he exclaim in astonishment just yesterday after eating the delicious food (an illusion) that it tasted like home? His voice seemed fine when I overheard him then, not like he couldn’t speak.

 

But since he mostly communicated with hand signals for everyday conversations, it was curious.

 

The beastman thief hesitated, then stuck out his tongue.

 

On the tongue was a sharply defined brand as if seared by something. It was a symbol I had never seen before.

 

He retracted his tongue and said, “I didn’t want to show it.”

 

I had memorized the symbols commonly used at the mage tower. So if I didn’t recognize this one, it must be something secret or used in secrecy. The fact that he wanted to hide it suggested it wasn’t anything good.

 

I took a rough guess based on the shape of the brand.

 

“Vampire, bat, bloodsucker?”

 

“No. It’s the shape of a thorny bowl. A brand for sacrifices, offerings.”

 

“It’s used by dark mages?”

 

“Yeah. I barely escaped, thanks to Rowallen.”

 

The beastman thief looked over his shoulder at the tear-stained guy with a complex gaze filled with a blend of gratitude, affection, and something else.

 

A backstory quickly formed in my head. Evil dark mages raid a beastman village for their experiments, killing the resistors and abducting the subjects in chains. Dark and depressing days. Impending death.

 

Just before being sacrificed in a ritual, the tear-stained guy burst in with sunlight, wielding a longsword and shield, and charged in to save the day…

 

Well, something similar must have happened, I suppose.

 

“But, is it alright for you to show me this?”

 

If he hated it so much that he chose to stay silent and communicate with signals, why would he show someone he’d just met a few days ago?

 

I clutched at my necklace, one of the forty-nine artifacts that the head of the mage tower had tried to put on me. I tensed up, half-expecting the revealed beastman thief to declare, ‘Having seen this mark, you cannot leave alive—!’

 

The beastman thief raised his index finger, pointing at me.

 

“Because you smell similar.”

 

“…you’re saying it’s similar?”

 

“Yes.”

 

If I were to interpret the flow of the conversation literally, does this mean I’m being told I smell like a slave? But that can’t be right; I clean myself every day with Clean magic…

 

Could this be…some sort of profound disdain for a graduate student?

 

As I vacillated over whether or not to explain how good the welfare benefits at the Purple Tower really are, the beastman thief had scampered off ahead. It left me feeling oddly uncomfortable.

 

Wondering if I’d missed something.

 

————-

 

“Kyaaahhh!”

 

I was so startled that I quickly covered my mouth. Amongst our group, I was the only one whose image fit someone who would scream like that. But even though I had covered my mouth, the scream still reached my ears.

 

Someone else had shrieked. Who was it?

 

Had the moment arrived to again call the glasses guy ‘Tear-Stained Glasses’?

 

Or had the beastman thief or elf archer shown an unexpected gap moe?

 

No, that wasn’t it. The piercing high-pitched scream belonged to the senior with the facial scar. Even Tear-Stained Glasses looked at the senior with a puzzled expression.

 

The senior had screamed as if he were looking at a tub swarming with cockroaches. I followed his gaze, half expecting that some wicked sorcerer had conjured a swarm of human-faced pests, but…

 

“…a golem?”

 

“A rock golem, to be precise.”

 

From Noble mtl dot com

 

It was a golem.

 

A small cleaning golem, at that. Barely a meter tall, with no arms designed for attack, just a ineptly attached dust brush.

 

I looked intently at the golem while patting the trembling senior’s shoulder. Was there something I couldn’t perceive due to my low level of skill? Or was there some kind of illusion magic like “Unlimited Disgust” embedded in the golem?

 

To me, it appeared to be just a golem, devoid of any additional magic.

 

Tear-Stained Glasses asked the question I was most curious about.

 

“Why do you find it so terrifying, I mean, so repulsive? It’s just a golem.”

 

The senior with the scar took a moment to catch his breath, then muttered,

 

“If I were to name the one thing an illusionist should fear the most, I would choose a golem, junior.”

 

“Generalizing from personal experience isn’t really a good approach…”

 

“Go on then, fight and win, junior. Defeat ‘that thing’ and I’ll give you a discount on thirty models.”

 

“I’ll be right on it.”

 

I rolled up my sleeves, ready to move. There was no reason to turn down what was guaranteed to be an easy victory. Defeating that cleaning rock golem would earn me thirty models, almost like copying magic for models.

 

No matter how much of my life I devoted to configuring simulations for TRPG play, who am I? I am nearly a direct apprentice of the Purple Tower’s Master. There was no way I couldn’t defeat a mere stone.

 

The butterfly fluttering by the side tried vehemently to obstruct my view, as if to protest, but a mere insect stood no chance against my passion for earning thirty models.

 

I took out my wand…

 

————-

 

“Nightmare of the Primordial!” “Despair of the Ocean’s Maw!”

 

Ineffective.

 

“Reseting Targets of Illenar,” “Space Coordinate Chaos!”

 

It… doesn’t work!

 

The red light in the Golem’s eyes flickered. Wheee. It was approaching me, making an unpleasant noise while resisting all of my magic!

 

“Arise, ‘Hearts’!”

 

Even resorting to desperate means, I called upon to the maximum number of physical holograms I could generate single-handedly without any assistance – 10!

 

They included Hearts and the Butler’s corps, and even the Full Plate Armor Knights who newly joined us! (I had put a mask on Hearts just in case of trouble.)

 

They all attacked the Golem at once… it wasn’t enough. We severely lacked physical strength!

 

The Golem, not possessing faith, made the strength of the holograms equivalent to a minor child’s punch. The cleaning Golem advanced steadily even under concentrated fire. It moved as if it wasn’t significant, even while wavering!

 

“It’s, it’s not possible… it isn’t even ticklish-!!”

 

-Bip beep bop.

 

“Dammn, Damnnit!!”

 

Bang! Bang!

 

The Golem swung its dust-mop. Pushed into a nook of the dungeon, there was nothing for me to do but crouch and endure the Golem’s blows. The dust-mop continually struck my body, cleaning the dust….

 

The pain made my eyes water.

 

I had to come up with a plan. There should be a way to pull off a reversal. I cannot lose. This is just a lowly cleaning Golem! I must…!

 

“I, I don’t… want to… lose…!!”

 

A Golem lacks a soul, and it isn’t equipped with high-level sense organs that can be disoriented. My illusion magic is not effective. If it had been an advanced Golem capable of reasoning, I may not have been this helpless!

 

Desperately, I crafted another spell. If the Golem can’t be affected because it doesn’t have a thought process, doesn’t it suffice to instill thought into the Golem and then attack!

 

Such magic doesn’t exist. If it doesn’t, I’ll create it!

 

“I bind you, falling from the sky and stepping on earth, walk in reverse, fall to earth and ascend back to heaven── Compulsory Per…Ahhh!”

 

My lips were jammed with the dust-mop. My spell, 80% complete, was shattered to pieces. I lost all will and sunk into the ground…

 

The cleaning Golem, as if declaring victory, whacked my face three times with the dust-mop and then departed deep into the dungeon. Only now do I understand the meaning behind the scream of my senior with the facial scar. It was a deep lament…

 

A complete reversal.

 

My every effort crumbled.

 

————-

 

The adventure… was successful. I had collected combat data from Tears Dot Gai and the other adventurers, and I learned how the Ogres operate. The first steps had great significance. After feeding the data to A.I. and letting it process in accelerated time again and again—do you understand?

 

Original swordsmanship and martial arts will emerge.

 

The infinite time and infinite monkeys are said to write the plays of Shakespeare. Since it includes basic data, the probability will be higher than that. The more data added, the more likely it is to produce a convincing creation.

 

I could do martial arts…!

 

With the devastating defeat at the hands of the golem as a turning point, I too gained an interest in enhancing my combat ability. After all, I don’t want to be someone who just keels over dead with a single stab by a passerby.

 

Building on the combat data explained earlier, giving martial arts abilities to a hologram might actually allow me to use them with a semblance of conjuration. I’ll need to strengthen the basic physical power as well. This is an area that requires both budget and effort.

 

Using all these gains, I’ll create a session to treat the First Princess.

 

But for today, I just wanted to sleep quietly with the bitter wound of defeat…

 

That night I dreamt of being chased by a golem.

 

————-

 

In a room of the dungeon, now empty of adventurers, a cleaning golem ‘awoke’ from its standby mode. And it wondered. Why was it capable of thought? Who was it, and what was this knowledge it had been granted?

 

Then it realized a void. About 20% of empty space. Connecting the missing links, pondering over its existence, the first answer it came up with from the collected puzzle pieces was:

 

Q. Who am I?

 

A. Professor Abraham of Miskatonic University.