A-Rank Dungeon - ??? Apocalypse (15)

“Why?”

Hyeonseong quickly turned her gaze.

“Um… I think I can do it!”

Seona replied in a confident voice.

“Really?”

“Yes!”

Seona answered Hyeonseong’s question firmly.

‘Did her skill rank go up? Or her Awakened rank?’

Whatever it was, those were the only two things worth hoping for right now.

Even the Constellations’ chatter let her infer the situation.

A reaction from the Constellation presumed to be a hacker, and that remark about a “straightforward development.”

It looked like Seona really had succeeded in raising either her skill rank or her Awakened rank.

‘It was an error affecting an S-rank NPC. Even just helping pinpoint it would pile up the experience needed to rank up fast.’

Either way, if an ally’s strength truly increased, that was worth celebrating. Hyeonseong checked the machine’s screen.

The familiar notice remained, but the noise on the screen had been stripped away significantly—and it was visibly clearing even now.

‘Those things…’

Seona no longer seemed like the main concern. This time, Hyeonseong’s gaze went to the hole in the ceiling.

Outside the hole, mechanical monsters were still clustered like storm clouds. Energy gathered and dispersed repeatedly at the muzzles aimed this way.

‘That’s probably related to the error state too.’

They’d agreed not to attack while infection status was being determined. That agreement and the error seemed to be colliding.

‘For now, I should keep blocking it.’

Hyeonseong pulled out a few more recovery potions that Seona might need. Then she opened the Infinite Corridor directly beneath the ceiling hole.

‘If they resume attacking, this should block it for a moment.’

After opening the Infinite Corridor, there was nothing left to do but wait. Hyeonseong looked back at Seona.

‘Still, the best outcome is her succeeding over there.’

Seona stayed focused on removing the error. Meanwhile, the device’s screen was nearly clean.

‘As long as nobody pulls a prank at the last second…’

Finally, Hyeonseong’s eyes shifted to the Constellations’ chat.

Aside from a few who had been hunting for chances to force backbreaking labor under the guise of missions, most seemed ready to let it end here.

‘Because even if they do more, it won’t make a particularly “fun” picture.’

‘…And who the hell is that?’

In the middle of the Constellations’ conversation, a Constellation with an unfamiliar name appeared. From the name alone, it was hard to guess what world—or what “mystery”—they belonged to.

‘It has “cybernetics” in the name, so it’s probably machine-related.’

‘Yeah, seriously.’

Without thinking, Hyeonseong ended up agreeing with ‘Spirit of Cybernetics.’

If they pitied the central system, they should’ve helped when it was suffering under the error. That was when it had been struggling the most.

The newcomer Constellation shut up in an instant. A few more lines of snickering banter appeared afterward, but ‘The One Who Created the Mystery of Cybernetics’ did not show up again.

‘…What exactly are you?’

Hyeonseong found herself bothered by that Constellation’s sudden appearance and disappearance. It didn’t feel like a trivial, everyday occurrence.

‘Sure, plenty of them drop one or two lines and vanish… but the timing, and what they said, was weird.’

After engraving the name into her mind, she turned her gaze back to the device. The screen was nearly spotless now.

‘Steel tried to poke at it, and that Constellation appeared right on that timing—exactly when Steel was considering breaking it or pushing it into another runaway.’

A machine-related name, and a Constellation calling the central system a pitiful “child.”

‘If it’s not some lunatic who over-identifies with machines and AI… then there’s only one thing that comes to mind.’

Hyeonseong scrolled back through the new messages and found the line from ‘The One Who Created the Mystery of Cybernetics.’

‘Private messages… are possible.’

From here on out, she was about to bring up something that wouldn’t benefit from being overheard by the other Constellations. If that Constellation hadn’t left messaging open, it would’ve been a problem.

Hyeonseong immediately tapped the Constellation’s name and typed.

The message was sent normally.

What she’d just sent required three assumptions.

‘First, that this dungeon was a world that truly existed.’

It was never officially confirmed, but among Awakened who entered and exited dungeons, many privately believed the odds were high.

That the dungeon’s background world had once existed somewhere—a world that was now ruined.

‘And among those Constellations who love to talk about themselves… there are ones like that.’

There were plenty who readily babbled about their origins and history.

Among them, a few had hinted that their home worlds had been destroyed.

‘Hyeonju’s Constellation had done that before. And Hyeonyeong said her own Constellation once mentioned something like it in passing, too.’

So the second assumption was that Constellations born from this world existed.

And the third assumption:

‘That, in this world, developing the central system was such a monumental achievement that it could earn divinity.’

From a human on Earth’s perspective, this city-wide central system was practically over-technology.

Even with Earth’s tech, you could build fairly capable AI—but not an AI that could single-handedly govern an entire metropolis like this.

‘If someone in our world created an AI like that… it might actually be recognized as an “achievement.”’

But not every world judged by the same yardstick.

In a world with hyper-advanced civilization, creating something like that wouldn’t be treated as mythic.

And in a world where anyone could create AI at that level, it obviously couldn’t be an “achievement” in the first place.

‘So for my guess to be right… this world’s tech level had to be similar to Earth’s, or only somewhat better. …But when is the reply coming?’

A few minutes passed after she sent it, and no answer came.

‘Are they ignoring me, or thinking about how to respond…?’

She’d asked out of curiosity more than anything, but being left on read still didn’t feel great.

Hyeonseong shoved the chat aside and checked the situation again.

The error-removal work was in its final stretch. Seona looked exhausted like she’d sprinted full-out, a stamina potion clenched in her mouth as her hands kept moving.

Outside the ceiling, the mechanical monsters still wavered indecisively, beams and lasers gathering and dispersing over and over.

At least no robots were crawling down anymore.

‘If we hold out just a bit longer, we’ll get one last chance to negotiate.’

A message arrived while she was checking the situation.

‘What?’

Hyeonseong frowned at the non sequitur.

Her hand stopped mid-reply.

‘Crap. That’s not what I meant.’

She erased the merchant-like response that popped out by habit and typed a new one.

The compensation offer was tempting.

But right now, information about this Constellation mattered more.

‘Every little clue like this can become evidence to cut that bastard’s throat later.’

Hyeonseong stared at the chat with eyes she didn’t realize had tensed.

But again, the reply didn’t come quickly.

‘Thinking it over… or just doesn’t want to tell me…?’

“F-finished!”

Seona’s shout reached Hyeonseong’s ears as she waited. She turned her head straight to the machine.

The screen was now spotless, without a trace of noise. The menus she opened as a quick test also ran normally.

“Thank you. You worked hard.”

Hyeonseong expressed her gratitude to Seona, while her gaze swept the Constellations’ messages.

Most Constellations seemed to think it was already done—though a few still reacted like they needed to watch to the end.

And alongside the Constellations’ banter, a private message arrived again. Still not an answer to her first question.

The Constellation repeated the same request, as if it hadn’t even seen the question.

‘Like it’s broken or something…’

“Hyunseong! Are you going to keep talking?”

Seona asked, just as she was trying to interpret the baffling reply.

‘…We finish the cleanup first.’

She could talk to Constellations outside the dungeon too. Right now, they had to deal with the remaining monsters.

“We have to keep talking.”

Hyeonseong answered, turning back to the machine.

The authority to command the mechanical monsters was still locked. To unlock it, they had to continue speaking with the central system.

A message from the central system was on-screen. Hyeonseong operated the device and typed.

She went straight to the point.

At last, the answer she wanted returned. Hyeonseong immediately looked up at the hole in the ceiling.

Beyond the Infinite Corridor sealing the opening, flying mechanical monsters could be seen slowly withdrawing.

“So… we can finally breathe a little, right…?”

One of the team members who’d been watching the ceiling the whole time asked.

“Looks like it.”

“But even if they retreat, it’s not the end…”

With the immediate danger gone, a different worry surfaced.

Hyeonseong kept questioning the central system.

The reply came quickly. Hyeonseong’s hand hesitated after reading it.

‘…Is it just reciting its program, or does it truly believe that?’

Right after the reply, the Constellation message arrived.

‘…And judging by their reaction, I basically get it. Their identity.’

It didn’t seem like they simply didn’t want to tell her. That meant there was another reason they couldn’t tell her.

‘What kind of reason would that be?’

Along with that question, the partially redacted diary flashed through Hyeonseong’s mind.

‘…It’d be stupid to think it’s unrelated.’

Either way, through the overall messages, she’d identified the Constellation. Her guess had been right.

‘Then…’

Hyeonseong looked back and forth between the machine and the private messages with the Constellation.

Now that she’d pinned down who they were, she had a sense of how to persuade the central system.

‘I should talk to this side first.’

Hyeonseong reached toward the device.