The freight elevator began its steady ascent, the smooth hum of the motors a welcome replacement for the dungeon's oppressive silence. Truman, who had been standing perfectly still, suddenly let out a sound like a cackling genius. "You know, Captain… I brought a bag of pretzels for exactly this moment." He produced the crackling bag from a bag on his hip with a flourish.
"No!" Roy shot back, half-scolding, half-laughing. "Absolutely not. We are getting real food up in Technomendia! That is an order! We didn't spend over ten thousand gold to build a small-city-mall-thing with tons of potential restaurants just to eat pocket pretzels on a smelly elevator!"
Andri, however, subtly sidled up to the Presidroid. "I'll just… hold these for later," she whispered, deftly pocketing the bag. A moment later, a series of distinct, muffled crunches gave her away.
They disembarked onto the upper dock ring. The shift was immediate and jarring. The quiet of the dungeon was replaced by the lively evening hum of Technomendia: the distant glow of advertisement screens, the smell of food, and the layered chatter of a hundred conversations.
"The new restaurant should be open by now. I think it's called…'The Sinkline'?" Takara said, nudging Roy.
"Lead the way," Roy said.
As they approached The Sinkline, Roy's steps faltered for a moment. The giant window at the front of the restaurant offered a clear view of the entire operation, from the bustling dining floor to the gleaming kitchen in the back. Running the line, directing a busy crew of elven and dwarven chefs, were his former classmates, Dian and Mei-Ling. The instant their eyes met his through the glass, their faces hardened. They shared a look, then quickly turned away in unison, their disgust palpable even from a distance.
"As friendly as ever…" Roy muttered, a familiar ache in his chest.
The moment they stepped inside, however, the feeling vanished, replaced by a wave of genuine warmth. A hostess, one of the many Freed who now helped run Technomendia, greeted them with a brilliant, cheerful smile.
"R-Ro… I mean, Captain Gunn! Welcome!" she said, her eyes bright.
Roy returned the smile, his posture relaxing. "It's good to see you, Elaria, was it? How are things? Everything going well?"
"Better than well, thanks to you," she replied sincerely, grabbing a stack of menus. "Table for… eight?"
Before she could lead them away, a booming voice called out from a large booth in the corner. "Dad!"
They turned to see Maelara waving them over. Lynder's expression softened as he raised a hand in greeting. The hostess smiled. "Looks like you have your spot."
As they approached, the staff quickly and efficiently brought over another table and extra seats, seamlessly joining them to Maelara's booth to accommodate the whole group.
"Well, well, if it isn't my dearest daughter, eating this fancy after you spent all your money on meat to pump up your little muscles?" Lynder quipped, dropping into the chair next to Maelara.
"Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you," Maelara shot back, her gaze sweeping the opulent restaurant. "Though, after all that child support and alimony, I'm genuinely surprised you can still afford a place that doesn't serve more than week old soup."
Lynder choked on his water, his eyes darting to Roy. "Actually, Roy here was just about to offer to cover the bill. Weren't you, Roy? For my invaluable assistance in the dungeon? Right…right?"
"Oh, Captain's treat, eh?" Maelara said as she gripped Roy's thigh.
"I said no such thing!" Roy shrieked, then slumped in his seat. "But... fine. I was going to anyway, so..."
Maelara's cackle was a harsh, triumphant sound, and her grip on Roy's thigh tightened, making him shriek in fresh agony. Orden began to rise, a cold fury hardening his features, but Eryndra's hand on his shoulder and a gentle shake of her head halted him. "They are friends, remember?" she whispered, her voice a soft counterpoint to the raucous laughter.
"So you say…" Orden replied, the words devoid of warmth, his eyes fixed and unblinking.
Maelara, oblivious to the tension, turned her attention to Lynder. "How was the delve? Find anything to challenge you yet?"
Lynder gave a short, concise summary of their progress, ending with their halt after the sixtieth floor. "These kids here, Zhanna's recent batch of prodigies, are progressing nicely, but they've found their current limit."
The restaurant, The Sinkline, was a sleek fusion of industrial design and culinary art. Thick copper pipes ran along the ceiling, and the tables were polished slabs of cool, dark metal. Their server brought out the food on a series of trays that kept some plates searingly hot and others cryo-chilled.
The spread was a feast for the senses. Paper-thin slices of shaved beef were served over a bed of chilled, springy noodles. Eel skewers, grilled to perfection, sizzled on a hot-iron plate, their lime sauce steaming. A basket of flatbread, blistered and still puffing with heat, was brushed with shimmering herb oil. To drink, they had Coolant Tea, a mint-infused beverage served in insulated glasses, its pale blue color coming from suspended mineral salts.
Orin, after inhaling his first three skewers, slammed his glass of water on the table. He pointed a finger at Orden, who was quietly observing the scene from the end of the table. "You! Orden! I challenge you to a water chugging contest!"
Orden's cheerful smile widened. "Okay!" he chirped.
They filled their glasses. Orin tilted his head back and began to chug, his throat working furiously. Orden simply lifted his glass to his lips, and the water vanished without a single gulp. He placed his empty glass down and watched Orin finish, sputtering.
"I… win!" Orin declared triumphantly. Orden just clapped his hands in delight.
Andri, poking at her eel with a fork, looked up at the group. "Is eel a fish or a snake?"
"Yes," Roy answered, not missing a beat.
After the meal, feeling the familiar lethargy of a full stomach and the lingering exhaustion from the dungeon, Roy stood up. "I need to see some real light," he announced. "Before we call it a night."
He led them, Maelara included, to a nearby observation deck that jutted out from the main structure of Technomendia. All they saw ahead was the vast, dark expanse of the land under a sky brilliant with stars. Below them, the floodlit, skeletal support web of the still-under-construction facility sprawled out.
"God, you kids absolutely reek," Roy said, waving a hand in front of his face as a breeze shifted. When that failed to help, he switched to trying to scoop fresh air towards himself.
"It's the smell of hard work!" Orin declared proudly.
"It's the smell of an impending shower," Roy countered. He tapped his earpiece. "Serenity, connect me to Team Two."
A moment of static was followed by Lutrian's voice, which sounded unusually quiet and melancholic. "Roy? Is everything okay?"
"Just checking in. How's the push going?"
A heavy sigh came over the comm. "We've just cleared the one-ninetieth floor. Warrex is fine, as is Zehrina. The Presidroids are fine. I'm…fine too."
"You don't sound fine, Lute. What's wrong?"
"For most of the floors, I was useful," Lutrian admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "Now… now I am no more than a purse-holding maid. The enemies are too strong for me. They have been for a while."
Before Roy could respond, a gruff voice cut in. "Roy? That you? Don't mind Lutrian, he's pouting."
"Warrex, be nice," Roy said. "Give him more opportunities to shine."
Warrex let out a gravelly laugh. "Prince boy shines pretty bright just standing there."
A sharp thud was heard, followed by Warrex grunting in pain and then Zehrina's cool voice. "Ignore the brute, Captain. I'll make sure to weaken things down to Lute's extremely low level so he can participate."
"That… that is worse than what Warrex said…" Lutrian murmured.
"Gotta go, boss time!" Warrex roared, and his comm clicked off. Lutrian groaned a faint farewell.
"Is Eryndra listening?" Zehrina asked, her tone shifting to something more playful.
"Duh," Eryndra responded flatly.
"Good. Anyway, can't wait to get back to you, Captain," Zehrina said, her voice practically a purr. The line cut before Eryndra could retort.
As Roy processed the call, he held back a gag from the metallic smell of monster blood and sweat. Orden hopped up and perched on his shoulders before he spoke up. "You don't have to worry about me, Roy! I always smell fresh!"
"I don't care," Roy said. "Even a primordial being needs to shower, if only to ease my mind."
Orden groaned theatrically, then raised a small hand. All the sweat, dirt, and dungeon grime on Roy's body lifted from his skin and clothes, coalescing into a wobbling, mini-sphere of pure filth that hovered in front of his face. It compressed instantly into a speck of dust and vanished.
"Clean!" Orden chirped.
Roy stared at the spot where the filth-ball had been, his face pale. "If you ever do something that disgusting again," he said slowly, "I am going to cry until I die."
"Me next!" Orin screamed, rushing forward.
"If you dare…" Roy warned, pointing a trembling finger at Orden.
Orden leaned over the top of Roy's head, looking him right in his eyes, his crimson hat falling off. Roy caught it reflexively. "Okay, okay…" Orden said with a giggle. He then intentionally leaned back and fell off Roy's shoulders.
Before he could hit the ground, Orin was there, catching him with surprising speed.
"I'd have been fine, you didn't nee—" Orden began, but Orin interrupted him, his voice filled with an earnest intensity.
"I know. I can tell you are tall. So tall I can't even see your head! But you are on my team, and I won't take any chances!"
Orden's cheerful face went blank, then crumpled in a flicker of genuine confusion before the smile broke through, wider than before. He threw back his head and laughed, a bright, chiming sound, as he levitated effortlessly from Orin's arms to stand on his own.
"Ah! See," Roy said, trying to regain some normalcy. "You touched someone filthy, now you are filthy."
Before anyone could say anything else, a sudden commotion from back inside the main plaza reached them. The sound of a crowd going silent. They re-entered the mall to see the bustling thoroughfare in a state of suspended animation. The adventurers and patrons were splitting away from a group of three individuals walking toward the dungeon entrance, their attendants trailing behind them.
Maelara gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Even Lynder seemed to tense up.
"What's the big deal?" Roy asked. "Are they some kind of bigshot adventurer group?"
After a long, heavy pause, Maelara answered, her voice trembling. "A-Ardent Black..tide… and the Emberforge siblings."
Roy stared, annoyed at her assumption he knew anyone in this world besides direct acquaintances. "Oh, super cool. I totally remember who those guys are. No one fill me in, I obviously already know…"
"…Abyssforged Alliance," Maelara finished, her voice barely a whisper.