The Protagonist’s Party is Too Diligent – 123
EP.123 Time (1)
The path to a specific moment in the past might have been blocked, but that didn’t pose an insurmountable problem for me.
Losing the relic and failing to identify the figure in the black robe were painful setbacks. Yet, no one had died, and I didn’t feel a strong urge to turn back time to undo it.
Instead, I needed to prepare for the next encounter—before the way back was blocked again. A thorough approach was required, like meticulously examining the contents of that book in the Imperial Restricted Archives.
Years ago, when I first gained access to the archives, it was already difficult to enter. Even now, as a princess, it remained nearly impossible to step inside.
But I had been there before.
I knew the weaknesses of its security, having infiltrated it several times in the game. Moreover, I had scouted its layout during a few real-life visits. Though I had to admit, it was far harder to access now than it had been in the past.
As I crawled forward, the deafening sound of cylinders echoed around me, forcing me to concentrate on every move. The act of crawling like this was exhausting in itself. It wasn’t impossible, but—
The complaints often uttered by large-breasted characters in subculture media about shoulder pain or not being able to see their feet while descending stairs had always annoyed me. Yet, I found myself reluctantly empathizing with them now.
Even wearing a uniform required extra effort to secure my chest firmly. Otherwise, running around was a struggle.
“…Hah.”
I paused my crawl to sigh deeply.
Above me, massive gears spun, and hydraulic cylinders moved steadily, producing the rhythmic clatter of well-lubricated machinery. Thankfully, there were no steam-releasing devices here.
The “Restricted Archives” were hidden deep within the palace, or more precisely, far underground. There was no ordinary path leading down to them. Access required an elevator, whose entrance was concealed behind a thick steel door in a guarded chamber. Security personnel surrounded both the chamber and the elevator itself.
Even when Alice and Leo had infiltrated the palace, they had deliberately avoided that area.
It was odd for characters who could typically take on four to six heavily armed soldiers at once to shy away just because a few guards were stationed there. But given the mechanics of this world—where bullets could pierce flesh, yet healing potions or recovery magic could patch you up even after multiple hits—it wasn’t entirely out of place.
In any case, the duo had chosen this maintenance passage as their route instead.
The palace housed analytical engines and difference engines. Unlike semiconductor-based CPUs, these “computing” devices required massive steam-powered mechanisms. Large and small gears, levers, and hydraulic cylinders worked in tandem, tirelessly processing and displaying information on screens—or at least, something similar to screens.
Naturally, the abundance of components meant a higher likelihood of malfunctions. Some parts were as large as a person, while others were as tiny as watch gears. When they reached the end of their lifespan, they required periodic replacement.
And, of course, there were entry points for maintenance.
Though those entrances were typically guarded—
To say there was “no way” into the Restricted Archives was an overstatement. It simply required finding a space like this, one that seemed impossible for anyone to traverse, and using it to sneak inside.
Alice and Leo, having studied the imperial palace’s blueprints in advance, had barely managed to gain access.
I already knew the path by heart.
…If I could turn back time, I might have been able to simply walk through the entrance. But over the years, I had spent considerable time conversing with palace staff about various matters, and—well, it just felt wrong to abuse that trust.
At least this method existed as a fallback.
*
At first, I thought it was simply designed as a dungeon in the game. But the fact that it looked exactly as I remembered when I entered it in real life—that had been quite fascinating. It was such a convoluted place that I had gotten lost several times and had to rewind time repeatedly to make it through.
Yes, a dungeon.
That was why I had brought a gun with me.
Mulling over various thoughts, I alternated between pushing the gun forward and crawling after it. Thankfully, my time in this world had helped me build a bit of muscle, so by taking it slow and steady, the journey felt manageable.
“Ugh.”
Letting out a groan, I finally crawled out of the passage.
Creak, creak.
The sound of poorly oiled machinery filled the air.
It wasn’t the sound of an animal’s footsteps but rather an uncanny mechanical grinding, like gears turning.
Rising to my feet, I gripped the loaded gun tightly and scanned the area ahead.
Though dimly lit, the room wasn’t completely dark. The faint glow of magic stones provided weak illumination, casting pale light over the space.
A figure in armor moved about the room.
Where a hand should have been, one arm ended in a blade, while the other was fitted with a short firearm.
However, it had no legs. The lower half of its torso was severed, seemingly affixed to a metal pole.
Of course, the entire thing was mechanical, so it didn’t feel particularly gruesome.
Like the moving targets at a shooting range, the metal pole at its base was secured in a groove running across the floor. The grinding noise of gears emanated from within that mechanism.
It moved along erratic lines etched into the floor, seemingly designed to follow anyone who entered.
…These were security devices, stationed here because it was impractical to have human guards present at all times.
Naturally, they were far less intelligent than humans.
I raised my gun, aiming at one of the moving constructs.
I knew their weak spots. In the game, you had to whittle down their HP before triggering a scripted scene to exploit their vulnerability. But this wasn’t a game.
Bang!
The gunshot rang out, and one of the constructs slumped forward as the bullet pierced cleanly through the back of its metal plating. Even as its body collapsed, the metal pole beneath it continued moving along the groove, dragging the now-defunct machine with it.
Fortunately, the security setup hadn’t changed.
However, as soon as the first construct was disabled, the other two snapped their torsos toward me.
The one on the right moved first, followed swiftly by the one on the left.
Perfect.
Again!
*
Before the construct on the right could fully turn, I quickly twisted my arm and fired a shot.
The frontal armor of these machines wasn’t something an ordinary rifle could penetrate. It was best to eliminate two of them first before dealing with the remaining one.
As the last construct swiveled toward me, I rolled across the floor without hesitation.
The machine fired immediately, releasing a burst of shells with a dull thud-thud sound. Sparks erupted as the floor where I had been seconds earlier bore the brunt of the blast.
Seriously, it was a relief that these machines ran on gears.
In a world devoid of real-time video cameras or laser motion sensors, these constructs relied solely on physical impact to assess their surroundings.
The floor of this room was lined with densely packed micro-switches. Except for a few areas designated for maintenance personnel, the rest of the floor was a danger zone. Stepping on the wrong spot would trigger the machines to unload their bullets at you.
The gears within the machines had to analyze the impacts and determine the direction of the disturbance—a process that wasn’t instantaneous. They could only react after the gears finished turning and conveyed the information.
Thud-thud-thud!
The machine repeatedly fired at the spot where I had just been as I dashed and circled around it.
The construct advancing toward me along the closest rail was genuinely unnerving, but it wasn’t my first encounter with these things.
Thud!
I fired a shot, then shifted my position, narrowly avoiding its retaliatory aim. If I’d been just a fraction slower, the machine would have fired at me.
Bang! Bang!
Fortunately, I’d anticipated its movements and was just barely faster.
Circling around its flank, I fired two shots into its side. The construct let out a grinding screech, its internal components damaged enough to prevent its torso from rotating.
I quickly moved behind it and delivered a final shot.
Only after the critical mechanism on its back was destroyed did the machine slump forward. Though the metal pole beneath it continued moving, dragging its lifeless body along the track, the construct itself was neutralized.
Even as the three machines remained in pursuit, propelled by the automated poles, I wasted no time and headed straight for the next passage.
The floor switches not only activated the machines but also served as alarms to signal the presence of intruders.
In normal circumstances, even if you managed to gather intel, escape would be nearly impossible.
But I wasn’t “normal circumstances.”