Mr. Magical Girl

Chapter: 171. The Gear That’s Breaking Down (3)

The librarian extended the frontline from her arm and connected it to the terminal for over 20 minutes now.

I thought it would be quick as usual, but the time keeps dragging on.

From the lack of any deathly noises, it seems like nothing is going too wrong, right?

With her eyes closed and her body twitching, it seemed like she was concentrating.

I wonder how much longer I’ll have to wait when I suddenly turned my eyes to the corner of the room.

Click!

With the sound of a line being pulled out.

“Phew…”

The librarian’s sigh echoed through the room.

“Is it over?”

“For now… yes.”

“For now,” huh?

“Did you secure the map?”

“Secured? Well… it’s a bit vague.”

What does it mean it’s vague? If you secured it, then just say you did! What, did the map get shredded and scattered or something? Well, who cares about that.

“Alright, we can let the map slide for now. Do you know where we need to go?”

“That too… is a bit vague.”

It’s vague again? What in the world are you talking about? You got the map yet you don’t know where to go?

If you didn’t dig it up, just say you didn’t! What does “a bit vague” mean?

“Sigh. What’s the problem? Explain it simply so I can understand.”

I wanted to argue a lot, but seeing how the librarian looked quite troubled, I held back my words.

“Can I take a moment to organize my thoughts? Just one minute.”

After spending hours, you can’t wait one minute?

“Sure.”

So, to kill the remaining minute, I glanced around the room.

A spider with no clear form, whether biological or mechanical, had spun webs.

Quite a few areas looked squarely cut, probably because some equipment was taken away, with a layer of dust piled thick over everything else.

Even though the lights were off, various lighting devices shone with their glossy glass.

Just as I finished taking another glance around the desolate room…

“Can I start now?”

It seemed exactly a minute had passed, and the librarian opened her mouth.

“Go ahead.”

“First off, that terminal is outdated—so the map data is in an old format.”

So that’s why you said you couldn’t find the map?

“And it took a while to interpret and decompile it…”

The librarian hesitated for a moment, clearly flustered.

“The interpreted data had a bit of an issue… the time recorded in the data was strange.”

What, like a hundred years ago or something?

“If that’s the case, it’s common. Time distortions happen all the time, and the discrepancies between real time and records are…”

“It’s not the past.”

“It says May 21, 2061.”

…What about the internal time acceleration status?

“My verification devices are functioning without a hitch.”

“Then what about the otherworld contamination level?”

“That hasn’t been detected either.”

Why is there such data? Is it broken?

As I fell into that question, I also started branching out my thoughts like a science student, but that thought was soon interrupted.

“If that’s all, I can understand. Our record systems might just differ. That bizarre penguin-shaped OS doesn’t exist in our world.”

“What could be weirder than this? Didn’t you say there’s a journal from whoever used that computer?”

“If we have the current map too, would you believe it? It also has today’s date.”

Why would that be?

Wait a minute. Let’s sort this story out.

So this means, today’s map and nearly 40-50 years’ worth of maps are stored in that piece of junk computer?

“Then what about the past maps?”

“Now that’s suspicious. All previous maps are completely erased. To be precise, the system deleted them. I failed to recover them, but I found some traces.”

What is this nonsense? It’d be hard to intentionally make a system like that.

I’m no expert, but what if that’s not a map but more like a blueprint for what we should create in the future?

Or it’s all just an illusion… but there’s way too much bizarre data for that.

Why would such things pop out from a random terminal in a room we stumbled upon?

Can I even trust that map in the first place?

“Have you verified that map? We can check if it matches the routes we came from. It should remember at least the years.”

While it’s selective total recall, there’s no way it wouldn’t remember in this aspect.

And, as I expected…

“Yes, of course, we verified it. And the result is here.”

The librarian started to talk about the verification results, but unusually, it had a very empty atmosphere.

“From today’s map to the one dated May 21, 2061, every place we passed is identically recorded on the map.”

What nonsense… how many times have I thought that today?

“Yes, I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering what kind of nonsense that means. But really, what do I do? As time passes, the map changes, but the parts we’ve traveled through don’t change in the future.”

What am I supposed to do with that?

So, that means starting from today, we have to select the right map from nearly 40 years into the future?

“How often are those maps recorded?”

Please, tell me at least it’s a year apart.

“It’s not by the day.”

As expected, it must be by the year…

“It’s by the hour. That means there are at least 350,000 maps.”

My life, right?

“Oh, just a side note, if this map is correct, the base is ridiculously vast. Even the smallest one in 2030 accounts for about 40 million square meters.”

…How vast is that?

“What’s that in pyeong?”

“Pyeong? Ah, that’s the unit used in Korea. Let’s see… that would be around 12 million pyeong.”

Yeah, I still don’t get it.

Just, let’s laugh it off.

“Hahahahahaha!”

“Ah, fortunately, the place we need to go is marked as the core, and its position hardly changes. Thanks to that, at least we know roughly where we need to go…”

Ah, so that’s why you said the way was vague?

“Hahahaha!”

What the hell should I care about that?

In the end, reviewing all the maps seemed too difficult for the librarian, so she took the most effective method.

Overwhelming power.

A straightforward breakthrough using that.

When walls appear, break them, and when the ground appears, dig it up.

If the space distorts, smash the surroundings to figure out the position.

I thought it would be a perfect condition for that, but…

“Ah, you can’t break that. If you do, about 100,000 will change.”

Damn it, seriously.

Shockingly, that cursed ‘data’ map had the bizarre characteristic of changing in real-time every time we did something!

I realized this about ten hours ago.

I still vividly remember it.

“Hmm? There isn’t a single correct map.”

“All 350,000?”

“That’s right.”

…So does that mean we have to go back?

…It seems so?

After about ten hours of excavation work, when we returned to the room and the librarian checked the map, she delivered the shocking news that all 350,000 maps stored in the terminal had completely changed.

The places we’d tunneled into had become new paths for easier construction or became weaker in support, causing us to go around.

The core position remained the same, but the locations of the indestructible barriers had changed.

Thanks to that, our maze exploration took a new turn.

“If we destroy that wall, about 20% of the map changes.”

Crackle! Crackle!

With the crackling sound from the old computer, the librarian’s voice echoed out strange probabilities.

“Can’t that computer stop crackling?”

I’m at the point of becoming neurotic. It gets loud, buzzing every time I hit something.

“So I told you to take it apart quietly.”

“You said you couldn’t pull it apart with strength. Damn it!”

This was the kind of situation we were faced with.

It made no sense that every time we brought down a wall, we’d have to return to the room where the terminal was.

I had looked for other terminals and had successfully found some, but the only map found was from the terminal in that room.

I wanted to disassemble that terminal and implant it into the librarian, but needless to say, the plan failed.

Was it due to strange security tech from the otherworld, or did it fail to run because of hardware alterations?

Thanks to that, what we chose was the most effective yet foolish way.

Taking the stuck terminal intact, bringing it around, receiving power from the librarian, and reviewing the maps in real-time.

A perfectly stupid yet flawless method.

Of course, there were minor issues, like wires dangling everywhere and slight cracks in the terminal monitor.

But those problems are trivial compared to the situation we’re in.

“Ah, let’s dig here. It only changes about 1%.”

“Okay!”

So this is the plan.

Choosing spots with the least change in the map, we’ll destroy them and head straight for the core.

What the heck this nonsense is, I have no idea.

To be honest, if I could, I’d want to slam my S-Rank skill in this situation.

No, even if it’s not that skill, a pseudo-nuclear explosion would do just as well.

…Or I’d gladly welcome any thermal nuclear weapon right now.

At this point, I’d give a standing ovation if Ascelle’s Black Star fell.

If anything could just erase this godforsaken place, I’d be happy.

I’ve faced countless ridiculous places, but this is my first time feeling such overwhelming stress.

“This is worse than the otherworld!”

“That’s the fifth time you’ve said that. I agree, though.”

Yeah, I’d rather have the chaos of the otherworld’s insanity.

Here, it’s just a structured madness.

Because of that damned ‘map,’ we’re stuck in this absurd situation.

Yet, disregarding the map isn’t an option, as this base is far too vast.

According to the librarian’s calculations, if we walk to the core without the maps changing too much, it’ll take at least a month.

At least with my powers, we could finish this in about a day or so.

As I reflected on the past, I grasped tight on my hammer- and pick-axing hands.

A strange sensation returned.

To be specific, it was the sense of space being distorted.

I know this sensation.

A spatial compression barrier.

In other words, something difficult to break! If broken, the map drastically changes, creating a problematic scenario.

And that signifies that our navigator came back alive.

“Hey, is it possible to dig here?”

“Yes, please break that!”

With a refreshed face, the librarian said that.

But even after hearing that, I quietly leaned on my hammer and spoke up.

“Didn’t you say that three hours ago?”

“I think that was the case.”

“What happened back then?”

“I don’t remember.”

Oh, you don’t remember? Selective total recall, comrade Soviet Hero?

“If you don’t remember, let me remind you: ‘I think I miscalculated.’ You bastard! And because of that fallout explosion, I was left to deal with it alone afterward.”

It didn’t hurt, but it annoyed me.

It felt like hundreds of thousands of children were poking me all over.

I wouldn’t die, but that strange sensation was steadily escalating my stress levels.

“I’m sure this time it’ll go well.”

And then you’re going to forget when it goes wrong?

Sure, I’ll be patient.

Even though my anger was boiling, I had no option but to listen to the librarian’s comments and kept swinging my pickaxe.

Clank. Clank.

After one drill strike and one pick strike, the tunnel that was once smoothly getting cut through now started to feel like a real miner digging into metal plates.

Swinging down on such hard objects made strong backlash ripple through me.

Pain from hitting my own body.

On top of that, the shock that happened as the spatial compression eased rushed toward me.

Not painful, but a multitude of poking sensations.

How long has it been since I’ve endured that?

Boom. Boom.

With new sounds echoing.

Through the hole, red light began to seep through.

…We made it.”

With that, I swung high.

The hammer soared down.

Boom!

With an explosion, the hole widened.

A new place.

Our destination.

We reached the core.

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