Fated to Die to the Player, I’ll Live Freely with My SSS-Class Ship!

After veering off from the main path and taking the short side route, we formed into two lines and began descending the staircase that led downward into the depths of the facility.

Surprisingly, the surroundings weren't as dim or oppressive as I expected from a prison. The air didn't reek of rot, and the temperature was moderate. It was just like any other climate-controlled inner sanctum you might find in a corporate bunker or classified lab.

Or at least, that's how it appeared—for the first half of the descent.

"Hurry it up! You fuckers don't have all day to crawl to your damn cells…!" the fat officer barked once again, swinging his boot at those who dared to slow their pace.

At the base of the staircase, we found ourselves in a vast, open space. There was nothing in this chamber except for two visible entrances—one behind us, the way we came from, and another situated far at the opposite end.

The moment I laid eyes on it, a strange tension coiled in my gut.

From a strategic standpoint, the space was too open. Too easy to control. It felt like a containment zone disguised as a neutral area—like a quarantine facility capable of housing thousands. But only a few hundred of us stood here now, packed in close to the entrance.

I was stuck in the middle of the formation, so even if I wanted to play it safe and enter last, that option was out. I had no choice but to walk forward into the center and wait for the rest to funnel in behind me.

"Good," the fat officer sneered. "Then this should be the last time I have to see your disgusting faces, you trash. At least die peacefully where I don't have to watch."

With that cold dismissal, the once-white chamber was suddenly bathed in a harsh, flickering red. Emergency lights ignited, spinning like sirens—setting the whole place aglow in the shade of blood.

"…!"

The ground vibrated—trembled, even.

It felt like something massive was moving just beneath our feet. But there were no visible entrances big enough for a colossal machine or beast. Which could only mean one thing—

"Shit! Below us…!"

Without hesitation, I shattered the restraints on my wrists and ankles. The cuffs broke apart with a loud snap. I immediately sprinted toward the edge of the room, weaving through the growing chaos and cries of panic.

At that point, it became a free-for-all.

A storm of uncertainty had broken loose, and no one knew what was happening. Still, I let instinct guide me—refined through years of tactical games and simulated real-world infiltration missions.

I pressed my back flat against the nearest wall, anchoring myself there and waiting.

The moment of silence didn't last long. About five seconds after reaching the edge, it began.

"WAAAAH!"

The entire floor abruptly gave way—opening up like a massive trap door, or a revolving death pit. Beneath the collapsing panels was a support structure made entirely of steel beams, arranged in a crisscrossing pattern like latticework. Each bar was smooth and about the width of my fist, and their closest parallel being 5 meters away at least.

Clinging to them was going to be more than difficult—it would be a damn ordeal.

As I had predicted, those who hadn't immediately fallen clung to the beams in desperation.

But the slick surface offered little grip, and most began to slide and fall into the darkness below. Only those who managed to entangle their entire bodies around the bars, rather than just their hands, held on—barely.

'But this isn't where it ends.' I thought grimly. 'If I were the one who designed this hellhole… then the next phase is…'

I looked upward—and sure enough, my guess was spot on. Several ceiling panels flipped open with mechanical clicks, revealing retractable autocannons. They extended and pivoted unpredictably, firing at seemingly random targets.

I didn't move. I just observed. I needed to know how they selected their victims—what algorithm they followed. Was it heat? Sound? Movement? Range?

Then, the answer came.

"They shoot anything that moves…!"

Those who stayed completely still—no twitch, no tremble—miraculously avoided getting shot. But with their lives hanging by a literal thread above a bottomless pit, the human body's natural tremors eventually began to surface.

As their muscles fatigued, even the slightest motion would spell their doom.

"…"

I shook my head.

Right. I wasn't here to rescue these prisoners. My mission was far more important—I was here to save Nyssra's mother.

"Excalibur to Avalon. Can you see my position right now?" I asked, speaking into my hidden communicator.

{This is Avalon. Excalibur, sorry, but your current location's off-grid. I've lost your visual. Mind lending me one of your drones?}

Nyssra's voice responded in my ear a moment later, calm but focused.

"Sure. Take as many as you need," I replied, nodding, releasing several Stealth Nanobots into the air.

{Let's see... Oh! Nice angle~!}

"Excuse me?"

{Nothing! Ahem… forget I said anything.}

I couldn't track the bots once I let them go. They were fully autonomous now. All I could do was wait for Nyssra to relay information through the network.

Seconds passed in silence. My chest tightened with worry.

Then, finally, her voice returned.

{God… what did you walk into…}

She sounded appalled, but not truly panicked. Just caught off-guard.

{Alright, I've disabled the autocannons. They won't activate even if you move. I've also mapped out an exit route for you. Just follow the glowing markers on your contact lens HUD.}

Without needing further instruction, she already knew what I wanted.

If not for her ridiculous track record of causing spontaneous Bad Ends into every scenario, she'd be a perfect asset to the team. Honestly, it's a shame...

I blinked a few times—a trigger sequence meant to activate the contact-lens-style visual artifact.

It operated in the same way any modern visor would, but without the cumbersome bulk. Its only downside? After prolonged use, it would heat up excessively, leading to eye irritation—sometimes even painfully sore eyes.

When it finally powered on, my vision was immediately filled with streams of numerical data. The system boot-up. Within seconds, the display shifted—transitioning to something far more useful.

"Oh, you meant that?"

I muttered under my breath, noticing a luminous trail in my vision—glowing currents of wind-like energy marking a designated path.

Interestingly, instead of pointing toward either of the two doors, the path curved and spiraled downward. It looped around half of the room with precise intent before descending—leading directly toward a narrow, hidden service staircase embedded in the structure.

Had I tried to locate it manually, I probably wouldn't have succeeded.

Upon reaching the concealed staircase, I began my descent—carefully, but quickly. I practically glided down, controlling my pace to slide at a steady 3 meters per second.

Roughly a minute passed before my feet hit the bottom.

And… I immediately regretted what I saw there.

As you can likely imagine, falling from a height of over 180 meters isn't something the human body is built to endure. Same goes for Voltherians.

Naturally, what greeted me at the base was a grotesque graveyard.

A macabre heap made of old, brittle bones—decayed from decades, maybe centuries of accumulation. Scattered among them were fresh casualties—bodies recently added to the pile.

Some were broken beyond recognition, their limbs contorted grotesquely. Others had landed squarely on protruding bones, impaled and twisted from impact.

The very sight alone stirred nausea in my gut.

{...Let me censor the view for you.}

Thankfully, I had a dependable hacker at my side. With a few keystrokes and some on-the-fly programming, Nyssra blurred out the corpses, transforming them into messy clusters of pixels.

Though the smell of rot and blood still clung heavy in the air, the visual censorship made things significantly easier to stomach.

"Next is…"

Muttering under my breath, I pushed the horrific sight from my mind and focused instead on the glowing path. I continued onward, skirting the edge of the pit until it led me toward something else… a tunnel?

"Where does this lead?" I asked, curiosity surfacing despite the grim setting.

{That le...ds... boiler... Be care... guar... round...}

"Huh?" I tilted my head. As I stepped into the tunnel's entrance, Nyssra's voice grew choppy and distorted. "Hello? Avalon? You're breaking up. Say that again."

{I... Signal... Can't...}

Whatever she was trying to say next became utterly unintelligible. A few moments later, the line went dead. Communication severed.

"…They must've deployed signal jammers in this area." I nodded to myself, deducing the cause.

Otherwise, I wouldn't have lost connection with the Black Halberd's systems.

"Anyway…"

Fortunately, the guiding path Nyssra uploaded had already been cached into the lens's local memory. Even without an active link, the path remained overlaid in my vision—glowing softly like a digital breadcrumb trail.

So I moved forward, pressing into the narrow tunnel ahead with limited visibility—almost pitch black. The air was stale, thick, and cold. The ground was slightly uneven beneath my boots.

The tunnel continued straight for what felt like two hundred meters before angling into a turn. I followed the bend, careful not to make unnecessary noise.

"…!"

Then I froze.

A sudden, loud set of footsteps echoed sharply through the tunnel's silence, bouncing off the confined metallic walls. The rhythm was distinct. And it wasn't mine—my footsteps had been nearly silent.

That meant one thing—

'I have company!'

Instinct took over.

I quickly retreated, backtracking toward a large, protruding fixture I had passed earlier. It was just bulky enough to hide behind, so I pressed against it and stilled my breathing.

My hands roamed along the floor and walls, feeling for anything I could use. My fingers closed around a cold, narrow object—a loose steel pipe. I gripped it tightly, the improvised weapon offering a sliver of comfort as adrenaline surged through my veins.

Soon, twin beams of light flared up in the distance. At first, I thought the tunnel lights had activated, but no—it was a pair of flashlights.

They were approaching.

Alongside the beams came faint voices—growing louder with each step.

"God… I really hate this shift. Why do we even need to double-check the bodies after a fall like that? No one survives a drop from that height!"

"Shut up and follow orders. Unless you want Senior Officer Blark to give you another of his 'special' nuggies?"

"Ugh. That hurts too much… No thanks."

"Still, I get it. Hanging around corpses always feels wrong. Sometimes I swear one's just gonna sit up and attack me like in a horror flick!"

"Stop it! You know I suck with horror stuff…!"

Their conversation was lighthearted, careless—even juvenile. They clearly didn't expect trouble down here. But their footsteps grew closer, more defined. The beams of their flashlights narrowed in range, indicating proximity.

I held my breath.

The guards passed by, their backs to me, completely unaware of my presence.

*THUMP!*

In one swift motion, I struck—exploiting the element of surprise with brutal efficiency.