Ch.213Buried Things (3)

The excavation work proceeded very slowly and with extreme caution.

After about a month, a high-ranking official from the central government came and shouted, “Why aren’t you finding anything valuable yet!” But after I took him to see the thousands of ancient soldiers sleeping in the hibernation hall, he immediately changed his tune, saying, “Well, I suppose a grave robber can’t be too picky,” and quickly fled.

“If these soldiers were to awaken, how long could we hold them off?”

“My army, our party, and the armored division stationed here combined… maybe just one day?”

“That’s it? Is the difference that significant?”

Lucia opened her eyes wide in disbelief.

In truth, this was unavoidable.

We needed minimum operational depth for either armored units to push through or infantry to form a line, but with everything so tightly packed together, firing artillery would hit our own troops, and shooting guns would hit excavators with stray bullets.

This is the most challenging aspect of excavating ruins.

If you’re too close, safety is compromised; if you’re too far, excavation becomes difficult.

And all the ruins at convenient distances had already been picked clean long ago.

“Simon, if they wake up, run away first. You know why, right?”

Simon nodded.

He was our only spell caster and the only one who knew resurrection spells. Even if all of us died, as long as Simon survived, we’d have a chance.

I didn’t like planning around our deaths, but what could we do? This was ruin excavation—such risks came with the territory.

“So how far has the excavation progressed?”

“About 20% of the total… We have to work slowly because one wrong move could trigger who knows what.”

Kiria sighed and showed me an expanded map.

At least dozens of new rooms and passages had been drawn, but the hatched areas remained. Some hatching even appeared inside rooms.

“Are there traps?”

“Traps… more like basic security systems. Like fingerprint recognition or computer firewalls.”

“You couldn’t break through them?”

“It’s ancient imperial technology. Their fingerprint recognition examines quantum superposition states, and breaking through one firewall program requires hexabyte-level computing power…”

“Sounds challenging.”

At this point, it’s almost tiresome to mention how the ancient empire’s technology surpasses imagination.

It would be one thing if their technology were completely beyond our comprehension, like something from a fairy tale. What’s particularly frustrating is that it’s just advanced enough that we can touch it, use it, and replicate it—an “over-technology” that’s tantalizingly within reach.

“Well, we can crack it with enough time and effort. The burial goods here could sustain Becarium without taxes for the next 100 years.”

“That significant?”

“Only people of high status could be ‘buried’ like this. The burial goods are all top quality. The tiny fraction we’ve extracted in the past month already exceeds a year’s worth of tax revenue.”

“Good grief…”

How should I process the fact that in just one month of hard work, we’ve surpassed the annual revenue of a nation with 30 million people?

Some struggle to maintain even 10,000 people, yet here’s a country from 351,201 years ago that buried national-treasury-level wealth as mere grave goods. It’s maddening.

No wonder everyone’s so obsessed with ruins!

*

Two months passed. It was already the 13th month.

With only five months remaining in the year 1201, the excavation began to accelerate.

“Hell yeah, we broke through! Hahaha! Ancient ruins aren’t so tough after all!”

“We connected forty supercomputers and it still took two months?! Ancient computers are too powerful! Reflect on yourselves!”

“…”

I gave a sympathetic look to the half-crazed programmers and hackers.

Their mental state was understandable, considering they had literally gone without sleep for two months, sustained by IV drips of sleep suppressants and neural stimulants.

The “crunch culture” (slang for periods of intense work including overtime) typical of IT professionals was infamous even to me.

“Hehehehehehe…”

I looked with pity at the thousands who had fallen asleep after laughing maniacally. From that day forward, having bypassed the security procedures, the excavation speed increased unbelievably.

Almost daily, precious gold and silver ornaments, cloths inscribed with tributes to fallen warriors, and various other items were boxed up and brought outside, while government officials looked on with broad smiles.

“Hehehe… I’m looking forward to the bonus…”

Damn. I want a bonus too.

Unless adventurers directly participated in the excavation, we couldn’t enjoy the merits of the dig.

Unless individual soldiers secretly pocketed a few artifacts, that is.

Of course, each time that happened, the danger of the ruins increased exponentially, so I strictly limited artifact removal. The soldiers, being highly loyal, mostly followed my orders.

In two months, 40 soldiers were executed for the crime of artifact theft… but that was an acceptable loss. If losing 40 men caused problems, this wouldn’t be a brigade-sized military unit.

Though even if a legion came, it couldn’t withstand the military force inside these ruins.

I sipped my tea while watching a squad enter with the excavation team.

My army, heavily armed with submachine guns, shotguns, longswords, and spears—weren’t they elite troops by anyone’s standards?

Yes. It’s not that my army is weak.

It’s that the opponent is too strong.

*

Another three months passed.

It was now the 16th month, and quite cold. The first snow would fall soon.

Fortunately, the feared disaster hadn’t occurred, and people’s tense expressions had begun to relax somewhat.

Of course, our soldiers maintained strict discipline through daily guerrilla training to prevent complacency, but seeing tank drivers drinking and playing board games, I found myself considering easing up a bit.

“So, have we collected the equivalent of 100 years of revenue?”

“No. We’ve already exceeded 200 years’ worth.”

“Good grief.”

The profitability is mind-boggling.

Imagine being able to live tax-free for 200 years just by looting a 300,000-year-old tomb?

No wonder the undead rise up in fury.

Trapped in a tomb for hundreds of thousands of years, driven mad by being unable to ascend, and suddenly living people barge in and steal all the burial goods that your fox-like wife and rabbit-like children tearfully buried with you? And what’s that? “We struck it rich”? “We made good money”? Such words echoing in your ears—I’d kick down my tomb door and rise up in anger too.

“Perhaps it’s because I’m a Knight of the Sun… but I don’t see this positively.”

“The sun shines differently for everyone. Imperial citizens’ property is humanity’s property. Think of this not as theft but as relocating assets.”

“That’s quite a bold perspective.”

Educated people truly have impressive vocabularies. She stated it so confidently that I momentarily thought, “Is that so?” What could I possibly say in response?

I felt my duty as a knight errant commissioned by the Order of Salvation rising within me, but the legitimacy of her words and completing the request were more important to me now.

Taking property from an already fallen nation to enrich one that still exists wasn’t exactly a crime or evil, so I couldn’t hastily condemn it.

Morally speaking, it was wrong. This wasn’t just any ruin but a cemetery—a sacred site like a shrine enshrining national heroes.

But the potential gain was so enormous that no one could bring themselves to speak of ethics and morality.

Even I was hoping for some scraps beyond my commission fee.

As a servant of the Sun, I know it’s wrong, but… just one ruin yields 200 years of revenue for a nation of 30 million…

Ruins… could I loot one myself?

Rumble…

“Hm?”

CRASH!

“GYAAAAH!”

Suddenly, dark clouds formed in the sky and lightning struck me instantly.

[No.]

Ah… Sun! Sun of humanity!

CRASH!

“KYEEEK!”

[I said no.]

I lay sprawled on the ground, thoroughly singed for my disloyalty, and the sky immediately cleared.

“You don’t punish evildoers, but you punish me…”

[It’s particularly vexing when someone who hears my voice has such thoughts.]

…..

I had nothing to say.

After that day, my soldiers, fearing they might be struck by lightning next, began purchasing personal lightning rods in panic.