Antikythera found Mare standing ready near the entrance of the tomb. The young dark elf occasionally peeked inside, his eyes narrowed in scrutiny. The Automaton could tell he was trying to take a discreet look at the factory, which he found odd. If Mare wanted to look at his production line, then he could have just said so.

  "Mare." Antikythera tilted his head when the dark elf flinched upon being addressed. He was sure he wasn't being discreet when heading out, and discounting Mare's natural ability to see in the dark, his eyes glowed way too bright and his servos were way too loud for him to remain hidden for long, especially when faced with another guardian.

  "Antikythera?!" Mare fumbled back clumsily. Antikythera watched him with apathy—but not because of a ck of trying to sympathize with the young elf.

  He had strings of knowledge from his original world, the one in which his fellow Antikythera took down in mere weeks. It was fractured and barely coherent, but he could still piece enough of his knowledge together to get a coherent whole. Mare, judging by the corrupted fragments in his memory storage, was some kind of trap? It had another term, and Antikythera didn’t like the implication of what the word might mean.

  Though he supposed it made sense. Mare is a trap, with him acting meek to lower the guard of his opponents before then showcasing his full capabilities while they are mentally undefended. It was a solid strategy, and one devised by the Supreme Beings themselves, so it did have merit. Utilizing the mental fragility of organics was a good idea.

  Though, sometimes, Antikythera wondered if his cking knowledge in Mare’s wartime strategy was missing just enough pieces for him to miss the bigger picture. But why else would the Supreme Beings make Mare like this other than to wage war? He was a Floor Guardian, after all.

  "Have you started on terraforming the local area?" Antikythera stepped out of the darkness and loomed over Mare, who reacted with widened eyes and a fearful stance. Indeed, when viewed from this lens, the elf looked defenseless. But that was far from the truth.

  "I-I have almost gotten started on it," Mare nodded. He looked away from Antikythera and crept his way across the tomb, the Automaton gging shortly behind.

  "Almost?" Antikythera tilted his head.

  "Yes! I don't know what the swamps of Helheim look like, so I waited for you to come because you are closer to the entrance. Being the first Floor Guardian and all." Mare forced out a ugh. The sound was obviously orchestrated. Was he frustrated at something? Ah, was it his inability to terraform without his aid?

  "Mare, not being able to efficiently do the work given to us by the Supreme Beings is perfectly normal. After all, only they can be perfect." Antikythera reassured the young elf. Despite being a kid, he was being too hard on himself. "Do not be critical of your own actions and ask for guidance from Lord Momonga."

  "Mhmm." Mare nodded, though there was a clear distance in his reply.

  Antikythera was led by the elf to the outskirts of the tomb. The wind breezed through the open field ahead, and the swaying grass danced to its unfeeling rhythm. Antikythera could not help but find the scene odd. All his life, he had seen war, but he knew that some of the Supreme Ones preferred a green expanse such as the one before him.

  "Lord Blue Pnet would have loved this pce, I do believe," Antikythera commented. "He was one to appreciate the beauty of the natural world, was he not?"

  Above, a gaxy dusted the sky. The cluster of stars, simir in form to the ones on the Sixth Floor ceiling, was tucked behind a veil of white smoke, which perpetually lit the view of the upper atmosphere. Stardust. Nebu. Fractured memories from an ancient past gave him information—though not much.

  "Gaxies." Antikythera murmured. "Lord Blue Pnet is one to love sights such as this. A real pity that he is not here to view such scenery."

  Antikythera wondered why, out of all the NPCs, he did not feel betrayed by the absence of the Supreme Ones and instead felt mencholy in the pce of fury. It was a question he had not considered before, and perhaps it was because he might never get a satisfactory answer to it. To say that he was not attached to the Supreme Ones was wrong, maybe even completely bsphemous. But rather, he simply did not feel sad about their absence. He could attest to most of the First Floor inhabitants feeling the same way as him.

  "You are right."

  "Ehhhh?!" Mare jumped back. "Lord Momonga!"

  Antikythera turned back and bowed at his remaining Lord, the one who stayed behind.

  "Lord Momonga." Antikythera believed that the Overlord would not have come out, as he viewed the work they were doing as beneath him, but perhaps he remembered Lord Blue Pnet and sought to oversee the change?

  "Antikythera." The Overlord addressed.

  Behind him, Demiurge emerged, having taken his pure heteromorphic form—a frog-faced demon with bat wings growing from his back. Antikythera tilted his head at that. Were they allowed to take on their true forms? He had not considered this... Or perhaps Demiurge just felt the need to increase his power output in order to better guard their Lord.

  "Demiurge, how is your floor?"

  "Nothing is amiss," the Archfiend happily announced. "What about the First Floor?"

  "We are currently cking organics to man our power sources," noted Antikythera. He looked outward. "Though I suppose there are more to be found out there. If there are, then I do believe it would be efficient for my floor's inhabitants to start collecting them so that we get repcements for the ones who have passed away from exhaustion."

  "Umu." Lord Momonga suddenly said. He went silent for a moment before adding, "Can you tell me more about what's going on there, Antikythera?"

  The Automaton looked at his Lord, his internal processing whirring as he put some thought into Lord Momonga's question. Shouldn't he already know the operations of his floor? He was a frequent visitor in the past, was he not? Was this a test?

  "Yes, my Lord." Antikythera began to expin. "We have a sudden ck of organics to use to power the First Floor and thus have decided to find a way to mend it posthaste."

  "And these... organics, die?" Lord Momonga paused for a long while. "From work?"

  "Yes." Antikythera nodded.

  "Well, that doesn’t sound right." Lord Momonga muttered, to the ugh of Demiurge and Antikythera. Their Lord ughed with them after a while. Mare’s awkward ugh followed suit after a moment.

  "Indeed, organics are too fragile, are they not?" If Antikythera had the ability to grin, he would have at that moment.

  "I agree," Demiurge said, nodding with a smile. "There is nothing more disgusting than their weakness."

  Lord Momonga cleared his throat. "Maybe you should find other sources for that type of thing, Antikythera? I don’t like the way you’re operating your floor."

  Antikythera paused. Perhaps Lord Momonga had a point. As expendable as organics were, they were currently cking a rge supply of them, which would thus only hinder the operations of the tomb as a whole. Antikythera touched his chest. The nuclear reactor within was magical, upgraded by Lord Amanomahitotsu himself. Perhaps if he used a simir device to power the floor?

  "My apologies, Lord Momonga. I realize my mistake now that you have enlightened me." Antikythera bowed. "I have been hurting the tomb more than I initially thought, and for that, you have my sincerest apologies. I will not make the same mistake again."

  "Umu." Lord Momonga sounded happy, so naturally, all three guardians around him beamed as well.

  "It was quite inefficient," commented Demiurge with a nod.

  "Agreed," Antikythera replied.