“Please provide a report on the human casualties incurred at time of entry through interdimensional portal.”
“Whatever happened to the others remains unclear. I walked five kilometers in all four directions from the landing point but found no trace of them.”
“Input received. Commencing analysis of available resources. Activating sonar beacon. Scanning labels. Weapons container damage recorded: sixty percent of contents lost. Medical supplies container damage recorded: seventy percent of contents lost. Nutritional provisions container, fifty percent of contents lost. Sufficient resources remain to support a one-person squad for one year.”
“I have a question. If I requested a rescue party, would anyone be able to reach me?” I asked, knowing it was probably futile.
“Negative. Seven thousand nine hundred and twenty hours must pass before the portal can be reopened.”
“Thought so.” They wouldn’t have needed to squeeze in someone like me on the mission if they could open it willy-nilly.
“Releasing bug drones within a twenty-kilometer radius to chart a map of the premises and town adjacent to the dungeon.” Isolla unleashed a swarm of mosquito-like drones. Even though I knew they were fake, the sight gave me goose bumps.
“Look for the other squad members while you’re at it,” I added. If they’re alive, that is.
“Request denied. There are no recorded precedents of finding persons lost during portal entry. If this is the only functioning machina unit, we cannot afford to expend those resources.”
“You mean they’re dead?”
“The possibility is exceedingly likely. Squad Member Souya, allow me to confirm some items with you.”
“Go ahead.”
“Given current resources and squad member capabilities, this mission has a point two percent probability of success. This figure represents only a momentary snapshot of the current situation and is subject to change based on future developments. Under Article Twenty-Four of the Artificial Intelligence Act, all resources embedded within machina units can be diverted toward the rescue, protection, and preservation of human life. Squad Member Souya, do you wish to abandon the current project?”
“No, we’ll continue.” I’d come all this way. I would do what I had to do. Giving up without trying anything on the assumption it wouldn’t work would in itself be the most pointless move.
“Understood. Terminating supplementary personality. Reverting to main system. Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
Then, just as I was thinking about reheating the now lukewarm miso in my hands—
“La, la, la, laaa! ♪ Mr. Souya.”
“Don’t tell me you’re hungry again,” I moaned.
Having made her cheerful reappearance, Machina chirped, “You have a visitor.”
“Huh? Yeah?”
I heard a splash. Sensing someone standing behind me, I turned around. There stood the first resident of this foreign realm I’d ever met, fresh out of the river.
“Huh, so you hail from another world, you say?” asked the—fish?—as he took a sip of miso soup. My eyeballed estimate put him at around 70 percent human, 30 percent fish, with real gills in the spot where they’d land on humans. He had surprisingly lovely round eyes and ears that seamlessly turned into fins. A seaweed grass skirt hung around his waist over the blue-tinted scales covering his body, and a necklace made of seashells and coral jangled as it hung from his neck. The sharp harpoon he’d brought lay on the ground next to the camping chair where he sat.
“Oh, shall I warm up your soup?” I offered. “I’ll bet it’s gotten cold.”
“My race doesn’t handle heat very well. Even this is almost scalding.” He gracefully scooped up the soup spoonful by spoonful. His movements had a certain elegance about them. Maybe he’d come from a well-to-do merfolk family?
Wait, hang on, I thought. I’d gotten so blown over by the impact he’d made as the first Other Dimensional resident I encountered that I’d overlooked something fundamental.
“Excuse me… How is it that we’re able to understand each other?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine merfolk used Japanese in everyday life.
“Well, I mean, I am a priest, you know,” he replied. “I may come from the depths, but even I’ve got the Babelian Benediction, see.”
Babel, as in the tower in the Bible?
“What exactly is that?”
“I guess a stranger to this world wouldn’t know, would ya? Basically, my god asked another god many levels higher up the ladder for the ability to communicate with other races. As long as your conversation partner is sentient and uses some kind of spoken language, the Babelian Benediction helps us understand one another,” he explained.
So it translates your thoughts in real time with no lag? And this fluently? Whoa, that’s crazy.
“Is this something everybody here has?”
“It’s not rare, by any means. Pretty much anybody in covenant with a half-decent god can get it.”
“Yes!” I saw my first glimmer of hope. If I could communicate, then I could negotiate. That meant I could hire a team and explore the dungeon!
“So are you after that, too?”
The merman pointed a razor-sharp, nail-tipped finger toward the dungeon in the distance.
“Yes, in a sense. Is that something Otherworlders are also allowed to do?”
“I don’t know much about life on land, but they shouldn’t turn you away if all you’re trying to do is explore. The spire the Legion Gods abandoned belongs to no one,” he replied.
Oh, so that’s why it’s called the Tower of Legions.
“Ngh,” he grunted.
“?”
The merman handed me the necklace of strung coral. “This is for you, as thanks for showing a servant of our Lord Ghrisnas your hospitality. Take it. If you don’t, we’ll be enemies next time we meet.”
“I gladly accept your generous gift. Thank you very much,” I responded, gratefully taking it from him and immediately hanging it around my neck. Figuring this probably required some kind of gift in return, I rummaged around the containers and found a pair of sunglasses.
“I hope you’ll accept these in return,” I offered.
“What’s that?”
I modeled them for him. “They protect your eyes from the sun.”
“But you can’t see in front of you, can you?” he asked doubtfully.
“It’s dark, but you can still see.” I handed him the glasses, and he tried them on.
“Hoh-hohh.” He turned his head, looking all around. “Hoh-hohh.” Talk about a delightfully heartwarming scene. “Ah, now I’ve done it. My grandkids won’t let me hear the end of it if I don’t get back soon. I’ll take my leave for today.” He put down his empty bowl and picked up his harpoon.
“How long will you stay here?” he asked.
“One year, at the most,” I replied. “Was this by any chance somewhere I shouldn’t have set up camp?”
“Not if you’ll only be here a year,” he said, then added, “You’re the first lander I’ve ever met who not only didn’t scream when he saw one of us but even went so far as to invite us to a meal. I am Ghettbad of Maudubaffle.”
That second part is probably where he’s from, I assumed and responded in kind.
“I am Souya of Japan.”
“All right, Souya of Japan. Our land runs out for six stalts from the river. After that, you’re in Kingdom of Remlia territory. That Heuress Forest over there is elven domain. You heims had best not step foot there right now, or you’ll be killed on the spot,” he warned.
“I appreciate the advice.”
“Right then, until next time.” Ghett jumped into the river and disappeared beneath its depths with alarming speed.
“This mission currently has a point six percent probability of success.”
“Inched up a bit, huh?” This was shaping up to be an auspicious meeting.
I slid on a backpack filled with a first-aid kit and a tool set, rechecked my guns, and attached a sling I’d found in the container to my AK-47. Then I grabbed four spare cartridges of ammo for each gun, made sure the containers were locked, threw a sheet over Machina, and hid her behind a very simple disguise.
“What’s the status on that area map?” I asked Machina, activating her through a remote eyeglasses device after I put them on.