《Labyrinth Engineer》 The Child of a Poor Country (1) Two elements have made immense contributions to the advancement of civilization: fire and magic. Fire is so ubiquitous that it¡¯s almost strange to find a place where it¡¯s not used. Magic, meanwhile, has extended beyond personal training to deeply permeate everyday life. For instance, there are power plants equipped with heat-to-magic conversion magic circles. However, a new force has emerged to rival these two pillars of civilization: the labyrinth. A hundred years have passed since the first labyrinth was discovered. The transformation over this century has been more rapid and dazzling than in the thousands or even tens of thousands of years before it. *** Freight trains laden with natural resources continued to run through the night, their winds rattling the rows of shanties lining the tracks. It seemed the houses might be blown away, yet no one stepped outside. To the residents here, it was a familiar occurrence. The boy lying on a patchwork quilt was no exception. Using the moonlight and starlight as his reading lamp, he pored over a book titled ¡®What Is Magitech?¡¯ Its tattered cover revealed how old the book was and how often the boy had read it. Tap, tap, tap. The boy quickly shoved the book under his blanket and closed his eyes at the sound of approaching footsteps. He mimicked the slow, steady breaths of someone asleep. The door creaked open, and a man and a woman stepped inside. Their worn-out clothes and tired expressions told of the grueling day they had endured. As the man hung his coat on a line by the door, the woman reached for a round orb hanging from the ceiling. Click! A crudely made magic stone lamp lit up, illuminating the cramped interior of the tiny house. The woman¡¯s gaze quickly fell on one thing¡ªor rather, one person. Her weary face lit up like a blooming flower. ¡°Dear, Alan is sleeping. He might wake up from the light.¡± ¡°Do you still not know your son? You silly man.¡± The woman playfully patted her husband¡¯s backside and walked over to the boy. Her shadow, cast by the lamp, covered Alan¡¯s face like a second blanket, causing his brow to twitch involuntarily. ¡°You little rascal.¡± The woman gently stroked her son¡¯s dark brown hair. Realizing his act was up, Alan slowly opened his eyes, revealing a pair of bright hazel irises. ¡°You¡¯re home.¡± ¡°Alan, what did Mom tell you?¡± Despite her son¡¯s greeting, the woman¡¯s expression remained stern. The silence stretched as she tapped the book peeking out from under the blanket. Alan pouted. He thought he had hidden it well, but somehow she always found it. ¡°You told me not to save on the magic lamp.¡± ¡°Exactly. No matter how poor we are, your mom and dad can afford to keep the magic lamp on. So don¡¯t strain your eyes reading by moonlight. Promise?¡± ¡°Mary, let¡¯s wash up first.¡± ¡°Yes, yes. But you¡¯d better keep your promise.¡± Mary patted Alan¡¯s head one last time before heading to the corner where a wooden tub sat. She pulled a yellowed towel from the laundry line, soaked it in water, and began wiping her face. While his wife washed up, the man approached Alan. ¡°The water in the tub is clean and plentiful.¡± ¡°I went far to fetch it since the nearby river and pump water were too dirty. It wasn¡¯t too hard, really.¡± ¡°Alan, being frail isn¡¯t your fault. You can take it easy.¡± ¡°I¡¯m really fine. Look at this!¡± Alan pointed to a contraption leaning against the wall near his bed. He pulled away the rags covering it, revealing a small cart with two wheels. ¡°A folding cart? Did you make this yourself?¡± ¡°Yes! I found usable scraps at the junkyard and¡­¡± ¡°Robinson! Mary! Are you home?¡± A voice outside interrupted Alan¡¯s explanation. Robinson gently laid his son back down. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. ¡°We¡¯ll continue this later. Get some rest for now.¡± After his parents stepped out, the house fell silent. The magic lamp¡¯s light faded, and moonlight once again spilled into the room. Alan turned onto his side to avoid the light tickling his face. His eyes fell on the folding cart he had built. Though too frail to work like his peers, he could now bring clean water home for his parents. Feeling his trembling arms, Alan closed his eyes. *** Lanka, a poor island nation, forced its elderly, adults, and children to labor all day for a loaf of bread. Its abundant natural resources did not belong to its impoverished people. Skyscrapers piercing the clouds, news of research bases on the moon, and flying cars were all stories from another world. The people of Lanka, too busy surviving, had no time to care about such marvels. No matter how wondrous the news, it didn¡¯t help them survive. At least Alan¡¯s parents were relatively well-off, working as mana battery chargers. Their wages weren¡¯t abundant, but they were enough to stave off hunger. Thanks to this, 10-year-old Alan could eat without working and use his remaining energy and time for other pursuits. Even with his frail body, he could still turn the pages of a book. Alan¡¯s insatiable curiosity found an outlet in the books he occasionally discovered at the junkyard. To him, they were treasures. The next morning, after seeing his parents off to work, Alan made his way to the junkyard. Careful to avoid injuries that might worry his parents, he moved cautiously. ¡°A book! ¡­Oh, I can¡¯t read this.¡± Disappointment surged as he realized the book was written in a language he couldn¡¯t understand. There was no one to teach him foreign languages, and the book lacked pictures to help him decipher its content. Alan reluctantly put the book down and ventured deeper into the junkyard. His friends, loaded with scrap metal and discarded materials, waved at him. ¡°Weakling!¡± ¡°Hey!¡± ¡°What if you collapse again? Do you know how hard it was to carry you home last time?¡± ¡°Sorry about that, and thanks. But I¡¯ve got this now!¡± When Alan pointed to the cart, his friend¡¯s eyes widened. This was because any useful tools were usually monopolized by adults. ¡°Where did you get this? Don¡¯t tell me you made it?¡± ¡°Since that incident last time, if I find the materials, I¡¯ll make one for you too.¡± ¡°Really? You promise! You¡¯re always so frail, but you¡¯re surprisingly good at... what¡¯s that word? The one for being skilled at making things?¡± ¡°Handy.¡± ¡°Right! You¡¯re really handy.¡± The friends chatted as they headed toward the entrance of the junkyard. To eat, they had to haul trash back and forth multiple times, so they couldn¡¯t afford to talk for long. Alan ventured deeper into the junkyard. His true purpose today wasn¡¯t merely to collect scrap. As he reached his destination, an aged voice echoed loudly nearby. ¡°Damn dictators! Filthy invaders!¡± An elderly man was rummaging through the piles of trash, shouting at the top of his lungs. He was known as the ¡°madman.¡± ¡°This is our land! Ours! Why do they dump their trash here? We need to clean it up!¡± With his bony arms, the old man sifted through the garbage. It was his version of cleaning, but to others, it looked like he was just moving things around. ¡°Well, this ¡®is¡¯ a junkyard.¡± The surroundings were nothing but waste. Calling it a ¡°mountain¡± of trash would be an understatement. Alan had never witnessed it himself, but he had heard rumors. Massive ships, larger than trains, would dump trash here, with the higher-ups pocketing money in return. Recalling the grumbles of adults, Alan refocused on the old man. The elder, who had once worked in foreign factories, was known to understand foreign languages and could read the yellowed newspapers. Just like now. ¡°They say those bastards made a tree that can break down plastic? Then why¡¯s there so much trash here? Is it because we¡¯re poor? Discrimination, that¡¯s what it is!¡± ¡°Orc air raiders bombed the dictator¡¯s palace? Revolution! Yes, revolution means bombs and blood!¡± As was typical of erratic individuals, the old man¡¯s thoughts quickly jumped from one topic to another. But even brief snippets of news were a treasure trove for Alan. The more he learned about the outside world, the more his curiosity flourished, like a sprout basking in the rain. And above all, imagination was free. No one demanded payment for it. After rambling for a while, the old man leaned against an abandoned refrigerator. He looked exhausted, drained of energy to even speak. Alan wrapped a piece of bread in a relatively clean plastic bag and tossed it at the old man¡¯s feet. Following his mother¡¯s teachings, he was paying for the old man¡¯s stories. When the elder opened the bag and found the bread, he didn¡¯t wolf it down immediately. Instead, he knelt, looked up at the sky, and muttered. ¡°Are you watching me from above? Is this food from heaven for your starving father? I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s my fault. I should¡¯ve listened to you and escaped this hell sooner...¡± It seemed the rumors were true that the old man had lost his child in a civil war and gone mad. Leaving the elder behind, Alan exited the junkyard. Then came a turning point for Alan. ¡°You¡¯re Robinson and Mary¡¯s son?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± The guard looked at the lunch bundle in Alan¡¯s hand, scratched his head, and spoke into his radio. A few moments later, his parents came walking toward the entrance. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to go out of your way to bring this... Are you okay, son?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine. What¡¯s that?¡± Alan¡¯s gaze was fixed on a rectangular silver-gray object attached to Mary¡¯s vest. ¡°That¡¯s a mana battery?¡± ¡°Yes, it is... Oh my, look at all this sweat.¡± Mary stopped mid-sentence, wiping Alan¡¯s forehead with her sleeve. She didn¡¯t care if her clothes got soaked as she moved. Ding! The mana battery emitted a clear sound. Startled by the sudden noise, Alan quickly hid his fingers behind his back. ¡°Did something go wrong? It¡¯s not broken, is it?¡± Mary looked back and forth between her son and the battery before shaking her head. ¡°This means it¡¯s fully charged. Strange... Normally, it takes about 30 more minutes of effort to finish charging. Why did it happen so suddenly?¡± While Mary pondered, Robinson placed a hand on Alan¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Are you feeling unwell at all?¡± ¡°Not at all.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t lie. Be honest. Charging a mana battery is hard even for adults with magic. But it charged as soon as you touched it.¡± ¡°I did feel like something drained out of me. Oh? Come to think of it, breathing feels easier now.¡± It was an incomprehensible phenomenon. Then again, mana itself was a mysterious energy beyond the understanding of ordinary laborers like Robinson. Robinson didn¡¯t directly charge the batteries either. The device extracted mana from his body, like a needle drawing blood. Proof of this could be seen in the many needle marks on the couple¡¯s arms. The Child of a Poor Country (2) Ultimately, there were no problems for Alan. In fact, he seemed much more energetic the day after his mana was drained by the battery compared to a few days later. When their son''s claims turned out to be true, his parents approached the factory manager, who chided them for not bringing it up earlier. It was no surprise. Every living being harbored mana, but only a small percentage could generate and store more than was necessary for basic life activities. Alan, for instance, had managed to charge the battery with just a touch, a clear sign of his abundant innate mana. On Alan''s first day at work, Mary meticulously dusted off the dirt and grime from her son''s clothes, offering words of advice. ¡°At the factory, you''re the youngest. Be sure to speak respectfully to everyone, no matter who they are.¡± ¡°Yes, I will,¡± Alan replied obediently. ¡°You never know who you''ll meet at the factory, so be extra cautious. Also, good manners often leave a positive first impression.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Your mother is right,¡± his father added. ¡°Courtesy from someone in a lower position can disarm the arrogance of superiors, while politeness from those in higher ranks can easily win others¡¯ favor.¡± When they arrived at the factory, Alan¡¯s parents donned vests fitted with mana batteries and went to their respective stations, leaving Alan to meet the manager. The manager, a stern-looking orc with glinting glasses, greeted him. ¡°So, you¡¯re Alan.¡± ¡°Hello, sir.¡± ¡°Sit here for now,¡± the manager said, gesturing to a backless chair. As Alan sat, the orc placed a massive palm on his back¡ªso large it almost covered his entire back. ¡°I dislike wasting words, so I¡¯ll explain this only once.¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°What I¡¯m about to teach you is the most basic operational method. It¡¯s simple but generates mana faster than natural recovery.¡± Alan already knew some of this from his parents. The so-called operational method barely deserved the name, as it merely facilitated the absorption of mana from nature, bypassing the process of forming a mana heart¡ªthe foundation of any true mana activity. It focused solely on recovery, and even then, only at a rudimentary level. ¡°First, the operational pathways are... Hmm.¡± ¡°My back feels a bit itchy,¡± Alan commented. ¡°Don¡¯t interrupt. Now, as I was saying, the pathways are¡ª¡± Alan felt as though ants were crawling on his back, but the sensation was fleeting. When he glanced at the mirror on the wall, he noticed the manager looking visibly uncomfortable. ¡°I didn¡¯t sleep well last night... Wait a moment. My condition isn¡¯t great today,¡± the manager muttered, opening a window and stretching before resuming. This time, the stimulation was much stronger. Heat coursed through Alan in a simple sequence¡ªheart, left side, below the navel, right side, liver, and back to the heart. Even a child could easily grasp the simplicity of the pathway. ¡°Phew. That wasn¡¯t so hard,¡± the orc said, quickly wiping sweat from his forehead before Alan could turn around. Acting as if nothing had happened, he continued, ¡°The operational chants are written throughout the factory. Recite them while working. Return here once a week for the next three weeks to solidify the pathways.¡± ¡°Does everyone here know the operational method?¡± Alan asked. ¡°No. Maybe five out of a hundred? And even those five don¡¯t have mana hearts. Don¡¯t get too hung up on it. Learn the rest¡ªrules, techniques, and wage calculations¡ªfrom your parents.¡± With a dismissive wave, the manager sent him off. Alan bowed and went to find his parents. They were seated on the floor, syringes connected to the mana batteries, needles embedded in their forearms. ¡°Dad, do you know the operational method?¡± ¡°Of course. Thanks to that, your mom and I charge faster than most, so we earn more. Sit here. The only thing to remember is to rest if you feel dizzy.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°If your mana runs out, the battery starts draining your life force instead.¡± Nodding, Alan picked up a needle, but Mary stopped him. ¡°Wait. If you can charge just by touch, there¡¯s no need to use that.¡± Alan looked around the factory. Everyone else was using needles. ¡°Using a needle is faster. That means I can charge more batteries and earn more money.¡± ¡°You come first, not the money. Please listen to me this time.¡± There was an undeniable resolve in Mary¡¯s gentle voice, and Alan relented. ¡°Okay.¡± That day, despite starting later, Alan charged as much as his parents. While his mana drained rapidly, it left him feeling lighter and healthier, rather than fatigued. Alan still couldn¡¯t form a mana heart. The operational method was too rudimentary, and his wild mana resisted control like an untamed horse. But he didn¡¯t mind. Since starting work at the factory, Alan had grown healthier and could charge two to three times more batteries than others. As the factory¡¯s ace worker, he brought home a richer diet and could even afford books¡ªthough not always the ones he wanted. The mere act of learning filled him with satisfaction. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. In his free time, Alan still frequented the junkyard, finding equipment discarded as trash but useful to him. Occasionally, foreigners visited the factory. To Alan, they resembled the sun, while the factory workers were like fireflies. These visitors, from the Soldos Federation, boasted about uplifting underdeveloped nations and serving the impoverished. However, those in the know were well aware. The Soldos Federation was the true ruler of Lanka, and the people of the impoverished island nation were slaves bound by invisible chains. Once the Soldos representatives disappeared, Robinson leaned close to Alan and whispered softly, so quietly that even their coworkers couldn''t hear. ¡°Do you want to escape from Lanka?¡± ¡°But what about the maritime ban?¡± All sea travel, and even emigration, was prohibited. The people of Lanka were forbidden from ever leaving the island, condemned to stay until their death. ¡°I just wanted to ask,¡± Robinson replied, turning his attention back to the battery. His lips twitched, as if he had more to say, but he kept silent. Years passed. Then one day, news spread like wildfire: a civil war had erupted. On the surface, the rebels claimed to be ousting a corrupt dictator and freeing the oppressed populace. ¡°Same crook, different face.¡± ¡°Who¡¯s standing up to Soldos now?¡± ¡°Why bother? They¡¯re all just thieves anyway. Can¡¯t fight wars on their own turf, so they do it on ours.¡± In reality, the war was sparked by another powerful nation coveting Lanka¡¯s natural resources, challenging the dominance of the Soldos Federation. Alan, now taller and older, finished his daily battery-charging quota and eavesdropped on the adults¡¯ conversations, including the manager. By then, like the elderly scavenger who had once frequented the junkyard, tales of the war¡¯s horrors and casualties were everywhere, providing firsthand accounts of its darker sides. ¡°We¡¯re skilled laborers who charge batteries. We¡¯ll be fine, right?¡± ¡°Yeah. Where else would they find people like us? Last time, we weren¡¯t conscripted, remember?¡± Despite the baseless optimism, everyone agreed. Fear had a way of clouding reason, leading people to cling to false hopes. As the murmurs grew louder, the manager dispersed the workers. ¡°Alright, alright. Enough chatter. Get back to work. If they have any sense, they won¡¯t mess with skilled laborers.¡± The term ¡°skilled¡± might have been valid within Lanka, but it was laughable in the eyes of the Soldos officials. That night, an unknown armed group moved through the area via train. Residents of the shantytown along the tracks shut their eyes and covered their ears. Mercenaries hired by the Soldos Federation supported the government forces in quelling the rebels, while the rebels, not to be outdone, recruited mercenaries of their own through shadowy backers. The civil war escalated, engulfing the entire nation in pain and suffering. Unlike the previous conflict, this one showed signs of dragging on. Boom! Even in the city where Alan lived, explosions echoed. Though calling it a ¡°city¡± was a stretch, its numerous exploitative factories gave it the size of a small foreign urban area. Amid the growing anxiety, conscription officers appeared. ¡°Sir, I¡¯ve lost one eye!¡± ¡°As long as you can shoot, that¡¯s fine.¡± ¡°I¡¯m crippled in my left arm!¡± ¡°As long as you have determination, that¡¯s fine.¡± The officers began rounding up people, starting with those doing manual labor like carrying heavy loads or picking stones from farmland. Many were taken without even verifying their identities. The arbitrary conscriptions left everyone trembling. Rumors spread ominously, and even the usually cocky gangs had disappeared entirely. In the flickering light of mana-powered lanterns and the swaying shantytown in the night breeze, Alan¡¯s family huddled together. Robinson let out a deep sigh. ¡°Gangs are like rats. They¡¯re always the first to sense danger. With their connections to the government elite, they must¡¯ve heard something.¡± ¡°So, what does that mean¡­?¡± ¡°If those thugs have gone into hiding, it means they¡¯ll start taking anyone and everyone soon. Stay here, and we¡¯ll be separated, not knowing whether we¡¯re alive or dead. We have to leave.¡± Robinson, though uneducated, was not unwise. His actions were swift. The family packed only the essentials into duffel bags and left their home. The streets were eerily empty, with so many people conscripted. Buildings lay in ruins, destroyed by stray artillery shells. Splitting up to leave the city, the family regrouped near the coastline. Robinson pointed to a hidden cave below a cliff. ¡°There¡¯s a boat concealed there.¡± Alan had always wondered why they remained in a shantytown despite their income being enough to move elsewhere. It turned out they had been saving for an escape. ¡°Grab the rope and descend carefully.¡± Alan nodded confidently, but the sight of the crashing waves below made his head spin. ¡°Pull yourself together. I¡¯ll go first and show you how.¡± As Alan watched his father descend, he noticed lights approaching their location¡ªit was the coastal patrol. The fear vanished, replaced by a surge of determination. Alan descended the cliff with strength he hadn¡¯t known he possessed. ¡°It¡¯s the patrol!¡± Once aboard the small boat, Alan explained their situation briefly. From that moment, it became a race against time. Robinson dashed into the control room of the boat. After a long struggle, Robinson, uncharacteristically frustrated, kicked the wall of the control room. ¡°Damn it. It worked fine last time¡­¡± The mana engine had a starter mechanism to release mana on behalf of those unable to do so, but it seemed broken as there was no response. ¡°Let me try.¡± Unlike his parents, Alan could release mana, albeit in small amounts. He placed his hand on the starter and pressed the button. This time, there was a response. Vroom. ¡°Did it work?¡± ¡°Let Alan focus,¡± Mary said as Robinson placed a hand on her shoulder. Vroom! Vroooom! This time, the sound of the boat¡¯s engine overlapped with the hum of the patrol vehicle¡¯s engine. If they were caught, it would mean execution by firing squad. Their only chance was to get the boat moving and escape. ¡°Please,¡± Robinson and Mary prayed together. Rat-a-tat-tat! Finally, the engine roared to life with a deafening noise. Purely mana-powered engines would have been quieter, even silent, but such performance couldn¡¯t be expected from the hybrid engine that had found its way to this impoverished nation. The boat surged forward, cutting roughly through the water. Robinson¡¯s back was drenched as he gripped the wheel, praying the boat could withstand the bullets and that his family would stay safe. Bang! Bang! The patrol officers fired without hesitation, their bullets sending up violent splashes of water around the boat. Mary, trembling, shielded her son, who had grown taller than her, with her body. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, and her heart felt like it might burst. ¡°It worked!¡± Alan, who had been crouched down and fiddling with something, shouted triumphantly. Wooooom. Bang! Two sounds overlapped. One was the gunfire, as expected, and the other was the sound of a blue barrier unfolding. A shimmering shield of light enveloped the wheelhouse. Mary collapsed onto the deck, her legs giving out beneath her. Her eyes followed the bullets sliding off the shield. Without it, one of those bullets would have undoubtedly pierced her head. The shield shattered after two impacts, but it had bought them enough time to escape. It was no longer needed. The patrol officers, realizing the boat was too far to pursue, turned their vehicle back toward the coast. Reporting the escape and risking reprimand from their superiors was far less appealing than pretending they hadn¡¯t seen anything. After a brief silence, Mary took Alan¡¯s hand, replacing Robinson, who was still steering. ¡°What was that just now?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a shield generator I found in the junkyard. It worked pretty well, but now it¡¯s completely broken and unusable.¡± ¡°How did you learn to use something like that?¡± Her son had just claimed to have repaired a magical artifact, a skill far beyond what could be learned in Lanka. ¡°It¡¯s nothing special. The circuit was just disconnected, but someone had thrown it away. I used a soldering iron I found to patch it up. It was only a temporary fix, though¡ªit burned out pretty quickly.¡± Alan¡¯s eyelids started to droop. Though his condition had improved somewhat, his frailty persisted. Mary used a bundle of clothes as a makeshift pillow, gently laying Alan¡¯s head on it. Then, like soothing a baby, she softly patted his back. ¡°Sleep well.¡± Pirates (1) Alan lifted himself up. The blazing sunlight pricked his eyes, making it impossible to go back to sleep. ¡°Ugh¡­¡± He could never get used to the hard deck. His entire body ached as if he¡¯d been beaten by a boxer. Stretching to his fullest while gazing at the horizon, Robinson, who was holding the wheel, spoke to him. ¡°You¡¯re up. How was your sleep?¡± ¡°I¡¯m getting used to it. I could live on this ship.¡± Of course, that was a lie. His parents already worried about how frail he was; there was no way he could say, ¡®It¡¯s killing me.¡¯ White lies existed for moments like these. Robinson nodded. Whether he took his son¡¯s words at face value or simply decided to let it slide given the circumstances, only he would know. Chewing on the hard, tasteless preserved food¡ªessentially a lump of nutrients¡ªAlan entered the wheelhouse. ¡°I¡¯ll take over. Lean against the wall and rest.¡± ¡°Alright.¡± Robinson immediately stepped aside. With the sea so calm, anyone could steer the wheel without much concern. That didn¡¯t mean Robinson let his guard down or truly rested, though. Sitting next to his wife, he inserted a needle connected to a mana battery into his arm. The fact that both husband and wife had magical power was one of the reasons they¡¯d decided to escape. Even if they ran out of fossil fuel, as long as they had mana, they could keep the engine running somehow. If it had been just the two of them, the journey would¡¯ve taken far longer, but thanks to Alan, who could exert the strength of five or six magical laborers and still remain unharmed, they¡¯d made great progress. Following his father¡¯s teachings, Alan checked the compass and the sun as he steered the ship. Although they had an old map, it was useless without land in sight. An endless expanse of ocean stretched before them. The initial curiosity and sense of adventure sparked by the unfamiliar scenery had long since subsided. Now, the same view held little wonder. Still, a small part of him harbored excitement. ''I¡¯ll finally get to experience the world I¡¯ve only known through books, newspapers, and other people¡¯s stories.'' If Lanka had been a narrow, moss-filled well, then foreign lands were the blue sky and sun. Alan didn¡¯t want to be content in the well. He yearned to climb out and see the broader sky, to experience the world beyond firsthand. ''The magical tools in the scrapyard were all broken and discarded. Now I¡¯ll get to see how they work, where they¡¯re made, with my own eyes.'' Of course, this assumed he¡¯d first set foot on land, but one could dream. Besides, the growing optimism in his heart filled him with energy. With high spirits, Alan steered the ship until noon, when he switched places with his mother and left the wheelhouse. On deck, Robinson was turning seawater into drinking water. The desalinator, the most challenging piece of equipment to procure, continuously sucked in seawater. Alan tilted his head as he watched, ¡°You¡¯re making more than usual, aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°We¡¯ve been lucky until now.¡± ¡°The wind has been calm, and the waves were really mild. It made steering so much easier. An old man who used to work as a fisherman said the sea was a monster that devoured people, but it doesn¡¯t always seem like that.¡± ¡°No, he was right.¡± Robinson straightened his back and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He stepped into the wheelhouse briefly and retrieved an old map. ¡°This spot I¡¯m pointing to is roughly where we are. It¡¯s called the Sea Dragon Strait.¡± ¡°I heard a strait is a sea between landmasses, but I can¡¯t see any land.¡± ¡°Even if it¡¯s hundreds of kilometers apart, it¡¯s still a strait if it¡¯s between land. You asked earlier why I¡¯m making more fresh water, didn¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°It¡¯s because, until now, we¡¯ve been lucky and avoided storms, but that¡¯s about to change. We¡¯re stocking up while we can. When waves try to capsize the ship, you can¡¯t stop to make water.¡± Robinson¡¯s words proved true. The Sea Dragon Strait was far rougher and wilder than any sea they had traversed before. Robinson took over the wheel almost entirely. Alan sat inside the wheelhouse with Mary, charging the mana battery. Even as his stomach churned from seasickness, his curiosity grew. He couldn¡¯t help but marvel at his father¡¯s steering skills. ¡°Dad, you seem like a real veteran.¡± ¡°I was a fisherman when I was young.¡± Noticing Mary¡¯s gaze, Robinson gave a small nod. ¡°Our family has been fishermen for generations. My father, your grandfather, was one too.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve never talked about Grandfather before.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because the sea took everything. My father, my brothers¡ªall of them. And my mother fell ill from the shock and passed away.¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Even in Lanka, where starvation was common, it was rare for an entire family to vanish at once unless it was due to war. Alan felt uneasy. Just imagining losing his parents made his heart race wildly. He quickly changed the subject to shake off the grim thoughts. ¡°Where are we going again?¡± ¡°I told you before¡­¡± Mary looked at her son intently, then nodded. ¡°We¡¯re heading to the Soldos Federation¡¯s territory.¡± ¡°Soldos¡­¡± It was the de facto ruler of Lanka and the powerful nation that had incited the civil war. The thought of going there filled him with mixed feelings. ¡°Soldos is the land of opportunity. Even the lowliest person can sprout dragon¡¯s wings there. Do you know why? Because of the labyrinths.¡± The major powers shared a common trait beyond their military and economic strength: the presence of labyrinths within their borders. The resources and technologies derived from labyrinths naturally enriched nations. Cities built near labyrinths attracted people, becoming excellent sources of tax revenue. ¡°With endless resources pouring out, they achieve overwhelming development compared to other nations.¡± ¡°Will we be able to settle there too?¡± ¡°Labyrinths are dangerous places. For ordinary people like us, it¡¯s better to settle in peaceful cities or towns. Especially in the southwest, where the weather is sunny and the people are friendly. You can pursue your dreams there. Now, let¡¯s focus; the sea is rough.¡± Mary ended the conversation at an opportune moment. There was no need to share the negative aspects when even the positive outlook seemed scarce. It was true that the Soldos Federation was called the ¡°land of opportunity,¡± but that phrase applied only to a select few. How many people entered a foreign land illegally and actually succeeded with nothing but their bare hands? Even if they managed to evade surveillance and smuggle themselves in safely, challenges remained. Overcoming the imbalance in education and cultural differences would take more than a year or two. Most importantly, without legal status, it was nearly impossible to live actively. Despite these hurdles, Mary chose to remain silent. She didn¡¯t want to burden her already struggling son with unnecessary worries. ¡°Ugh¡­¡± The rough currents left Alan¡¯s face pale. If Mary could, she would take on his pain herself, but that was impossible. All she could do was pray they would overcome this hardship safely. When Alan met his mother¡¯s gaze, he forced a smile. Mary returned his smile with one of her own. ¡®Let¡¯s not say anything unnecessary here.¡¯ Brilliant Alan knew better. Even if he were only ten years old, he would have understood. At sixteen, it went without saying. His experiences at the factory and his extensive reading had given him insight into the outside world. But he pretended ignorance to keep his mother from worrying. There was no need to dwell on misfortune when hope still remained. Drip, drip! Alan instinctively looked up. The pitch-black night sky scattered thick raindrops in all directions. The fierce wind and raging waves churned his stomach violently. Even so, he endured it. Slowly and steadily, he funneled his mana into the engine to keep it running, soothing his queasy stomach in the process. It was an almost instinctual act. Whenever he opened and closed his eyes in the half-conscious haze of sleep, the situation outside had drastically changed. Rain would stop, or the moon would peek out from behind the clouds. Finally, the sun rose. And with it, land came into view. ¡°Phew¡­¡± Robinson, who had been manning the wheel until now, let out a long breath. With his exhale, the tension and worry left him, and with his inhale, relief and calm filled him. ¡°We made it through the worst. You and Alan both did well. Your bodies must ache, and your stomachs must feel queasy from trembling through the night, but to endure the journey, you need to eat something, even just a little.¡± Robinson, too, dissolved a nutrient block into water and consumed it while spreading out the map. ¡°You see the land? It¡¯s called the Sea Serpent Archipelago.¡± ¡°All the places around here are named after sea creatures.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s true, but they say that long ago, this was the nesting ground of sea dragons. Since sea dragons command sea creatures, I suppose the names are fitting. Near those islands, though, there are many reefs, and the currents are fierce, so if you approach carelessly¡­¡± Robinson stopped mid-explanation, shaking off his exhaustion. He grabbed the telescope hanging on the wall and peered into the distance. A ship came into view. It was moving fast and had several crew members aboard. Even from afar, their faces blurred by distance, there was a palpable sense of menace about them. Life on the harsh seas often hardened people, but these men seemed excessively rough. What¡¯s more, something glinted in the morning sunlight. The elongated shape confirmed it¡ªgun barrels. They were pirates. ¡°Damn it!¡± Robinson practically tossed the telescope to Alan and gripped the wheel again. Disregarding mana efficiency, he pushed the ship¡¯s speed to its maximum. Rattle-rattle-rattle! Just as with humans, overexertion quickly wore out the engine. Its tortured cries filled the air. Alan used the telescope to examine the pirates. The size difference between the pirate ship and their fishing boat was stark¡ªlike comparing a dump truck to a compact car. ''If they ram us, we¡¯ll split in half.'' Even worse, the pirates were alarmingly fast. For every step the fishing boat advanced, the pirate ship closed the gap by three. Robinson noticed this as well. If they continued to race across open waters, they¡¯d inevitably be caught. ¡°No¡­ Please.¡± Pirates were pirates for a reason. Being sold into slavery or forced into servitude might be the best-case scenario. The worst? Ending up as target practice for their amusement. They had come so far from Lanka. Land was already in sight. All they had to do was follow the coastline northward. They couldn¡¯t afford to be caught now. Robinson turned the wheel. The ship¡¯s bow now pointed toward the archipelago. Better to gamble on the slim chance of survival than to face certain doom. The waters surrounding the Sea Serpent Archipelago were known as the ¡°Dragon¡¯s Spite.¡± True to its name, the currents flowed chaotically, ignoring any set direction and constantly shifting. The small fishing boat staggered like a drunkard who had downed pure alcohol. ¡°Alan! Distance?¡± Alan extended his arm and raised his thumb, estimating the distance as his father had taught him. Judging by the size of the pirate ship relative to his thumbnail¡­ ¡°Five hundred meters!¡± There was still hope. They just needed to make it a little farther. Once they entered the archipelago¡¯s reefs, the pirate ship, much larger than their fishing boat, would have no choice but to turn back. Time seemed to crawl slower than ever. Robinson gripped the slippery wheel tightly, his palms slick with sweat. ¡°Please¡­ Please¡­¡± At that moment, a massive wave lifted the boat into the air. Alan clung to the wall, barely able to keep his footing. The sudden descent as the boat crashed down sent a strange sensation through his chest¡ªlike his heart was sinking into his stomach. Thankfully, the boat didn¡¯t capsize. Alan¡¯s eyes caught sight of the archipelago, now much closer. He could almost count the leaves on the trees if he tried. Crash! But the following impact turned his mind blank. His thoughts vanished as if wiped clean, leaving no room to process what had happened. The culprit was a reef. The wave that had lifted the fishing boat slammed it onto the reef with brutal force, much like a wrestler delivering a spine-shattering backbreaker. The boat shattered into pieces, hurling its occupants into the sea. Alan found himself thrashing in the salty water, desperately trying to stay afloat.