PREVIOUSLY-
"Okay," Sigmund broke the tension,
"Let's use what we are given."
"That's good," Raphael nodded.
"There must be a reason why Vayren gave this." Leon opened the book again.
"Let's see what he has written for us." Theo carefully opened his book.
-*-**-*-*-*
DATE- 13th , MONTH OF THAWEN, 2021 A.G.
Sunlight knifed through the dense green canopy, catching the side of Leon's face in a sudden blaze of warmth. He stirred with a grunt, grimacing against the unwelcome light.
"Urg..." The sound came out hoarse, half a growl.
He blinked sleep from his eyes, rubbing them with the back of a calloused hand, and pushed himself upright with a groggy sway. The forest floor, littered with pine needles and damp loam, clung to his cloak.
"Ralph? Sig?" His voice echoed into the treetops, searching for reply. "Theo? Guys?"
Nothing answered him but the rustling leaves and the distant warble of a morning thrush.
His heart kicked once in his chest. The campsite was empty—no trace of footfalls, no embers in the firepit, no familiar shapes huddled in blankets or sharpening blades.
"Where the hell did everyone go?" he muttered, rising fully to his feet with a sharp breath.
Then he saw it—a single piece of parchment, folded neatly and weighted down by a smooth river stone.
Leon crouched and plucked it up, fingers brushing the rough edge. He unfolded the note and read the jagged script scrawled in a hand he knew too well.
Dear Leon,
We've each set out to clear the nearby labyrinths.
I've gone south.
Sigmund is headed west.
Theo's taken the north path.
We'll regroup at the cliff ahead—just past the rise before you.
Stay sharp.
—Raphael
Leon stared at the parchment, the words lingering in his mind like a fading voice. "Could've woken me up, you smug bastard," he muttered.
CLANG!
His foot struck something metallic beneath the leaves. Instinct took over—he crouched low, already reaching for the object. His fingers wrapped around a weathered hilt.
A short sword, iron-forged and plain, but reliable.
Tucked beneath the crossguard was a second scrap of parchment, thin and curled from the dew.
Your claymore's busted.
Use this in case of emergency.
A breath caught in Leon's throat. He stared at the note, then at the blade.
"Ralph..." he whispered, a rare softness breaking through the usual feral fire in his voice.
With practiced ease, he sheathed the short sword at his belt, then reached over his shoulder to check the state of his claymore—still strapped in place, still cracked along the fuller. Useless in a drawn-out fight. Still, it felt wrong to leave it behind.
He tightened the strap.
"Threxil," he said aloud.
A flicker shimmered midair. The projection stuttered once before stabilizing—a purple holographic helm hovering above a ghostlike cuirass, arms crossed lazily. Threxil's voice came distorted by digital interference, yet unmistakably bored.
"What now?" he yawned. "Don't tell me you lost your boots again."
Leon held up a slim notebook—the one they had received the previous night, when they'd still been together.
Threxil squinted—or made a sound like squinting. "That thing?"
Leon nodded, a grin rising to his face like dawn over the treetops. "Spent the whole night going through it. I get it now. I know why Vayren gave this to me."
He flipped it open to a marked page, then tapped his right shoulder. "I kept overextending. Too much tension in my swing. My shoulder kept aching because I was forcing the rotation instead of guiding it."
Threxil whistled low. "Fundamentals. The most boring part of swordplay. Good to know you're not flailing like a drunken scarecrow anymore."
Leon chuckled, tucking the notebook away. "You'd be surprised how much damage a scarecrow can do when it gets serious."
He turned toward the path leading east—barely a trail, just broken underbrush and morning mist drifting between the trees. His boots sank slightly into the moss as he began to walk, each step steady, confident.
A grin spread across his face, unbothered by the solitude. His pulse quickened—not with dread, but with hunger.
"I'm gonna come in first," he muttered under his breath, eyes gleaming.
The forest swallowed his footsteps as he moved ahead, sunbeams flickering like golden spears through the canopy above.
While Leon was humming cheerfully through the woods, his crimson haired comrade stood at the maw of a hidden labyrinth.
Theobald brushed aside the curtain of ivy clinging to the stone wall, revealing ancient lettering carved deep into the moss-caked rock. Vines recoiled like serpents disturbed.
{Thalassor's Labyrinth}
(HELL DIFFICULTY)
The words pulsed faintly with an eldritch blue hue.
Gorvax scoffed, the ridges of his fanged jaw flaring.
"Hell difficulty? For a scrawny sea-witch like Thalassor?" he growled.
Theo inhaled, his breath catching as the cool mist from the entrance kissed his face.
"It's hell… for students like me," he muttered, stepping back.
Gorvax studied him from the corner of his eye.
"Want to have a go?"
Theo stared into the dark maw of the labyrinth, its yawning entrance silent but hungry. He turned away.
"No," he said flatly. "It would be reckless. I'm not strong enough."
SLAP!
The force of Gorvax's palm nearly sent him tumbling.
"You're a damned idiot, then," the werewolf chuckled.
"Krr," chirped Rook—the high bearded vulture perched on a crooked tree branch nearby.
"You too?" Theo groaned.
Gorvax leaned in and whispered something into Rook's ear. The vulture squawked once, then beat his wings and took off into the sky, a trail of feathers swirling behind.
"You know why they gave you an axe?" Gorvax asked.
Theo tilted his head slightly, confused.
"It's your body," the werewolf jabbed a thick finger at Theo's chest. "You were born with a constitution most alchemists would kill to dissect. You can digest corrupted meat. Lethal toxins. Flesh that melts stone."
Theo blinked.
"Wh-what?"
"You're not there yet. But you will be," Gorvax said. His tone darkened into seriousness. "That axe isn't just for cutting. It's for harvesting. Limbs. Guts. Ribcages. You're meant to feast on the things you slay. And grow stronger mid-fight."
The words struck him like a blade to the gut. Theo looked at his hands, trembling under the weight of that realization.
"Then I—?"
"Yes," Gorvax interrupted. "You are meant to consume what you kill."
Theo furrowed his brow. "So I'm a… druggie?"
BONK!
Gorvax cracked him on the skull. "A druggie," he snarled, "is a coward running from pain. You, boy, are a warrior who devours it."
"Krrr—"
Rook returned, clutching a bundle of crushed monster bones in his beak—chalky white shards flecked with marrow and an eerie green sheen.
"Eat," Gorvax ordered.
"What?! Are you serious?" Theo's face contorted in disbelief.
Gorvax's voice turned deadly calm.
"Your comrades push past their limits every day. Raphael trains until his palms bleed. Sigmund takes beatings like a monolith and never utters a word of complaint. Leon repeats forms until his shoulders snap. And you? You were born with something they weren't. And you dare hesitate?"
Theo froze. Shame pooled in his gut. His mind conjured scenes of their shared toil—their pain, their sweat. His lips parted.
"I'll do it."
With trembling fingers, he snatched the bones and shoved them in his mouth.
CRUNCH!
"Agh—!" his throat clenched violently. The shards raked the inside of his esophagus. His stomach lurched.
"Endure it, boy!" Gorvax barked.
"Krr…"
Rook gently placed a flask of cold water by his side.
GULP!
Theobald drained it, forcing the bones down. He coughed, wiping his mouth as he collapsed onto his knees.
"Lotus position," Gorvax commanded. "Now. Focus on what's inside you. Feel it."
Theo tried. Nothing.
"Use your aura. Bones. Muscles. Breathe through them."
He shifted, drawing in a slow breath. His awareness slid inward. Into tension, tightness—then, a slither of sensation. Heat.
FLINCH!
His body convulsed. Veins bulged grotesquely beneath his skin. Blood beaded from his nose and the corners of his eyes, dripping onto the moss.
"Careful!" Gorvax shouted. "Separate the toxins from the aura! Use your energy to purge them!"
Theo gritted his teeth, mind tunneling through the agony. His aura, raw and instinctual, extended toward the bones in his gut. Tendrils of green mist curled around the fragments, binding them. A black wisp, sinuous and deliberate, began to wring the corruption from the marrow.
From his pores, black, gluey filth began to seep.
THUD!
He collapsed, writhing, clutching his stomach. His breath turned jagged and wild. His skin blazed red with fever.
"ROOK!"
The vulture darted in.
TAP.
SINK.
One talon pierced Theo's torso. A thin stream of blackened blood hissed onto the grass.
"Krrrr…"
From Rook's talon, a radiant orange aura surged into Theo's chest—warm and gravitational, like the glow of a dying star.
The poison retched from Theo's wounds, spewing from his skin in puddles of bubbling sludge.
His body twitched. Then—
"Haah!" he gasped, bolting upright. Steam rose from his skin. His fever had broken.
He turned. Gorvax and Rook were beside him, silent but relieved.
"Krr!" Rook squawked, wrapping a wing around him.
Theo smiled weakly. "Sorry, partner… scared you, huh?"
"You fool!" Gorvax shrieked, rage barely concealing his worry. "You were supposed to eat one bone at a time!"
Theo laughed, weak but triumphant.
"I'm alive, aren't I?"
Gorvax cursed under his breath. "Back to circulation. The bones still hold residual aura. Focus!"
Theo crossed his legs again, closed his eyes, and drew his mind back into his core. This time, he felt it—fragments of dissolved bone releasing their essence in steady pulses. His muscles drank it in like parched soil.
He opened his eyes.
"Mr. Gorvax… the bones—won't they make me sick again?"
"No," Gorvax said flatly. "Your body will absorb them now. You're already different. The bones are food."
Theo clenched his wrists.
"I never imagined I had something like this inside me." His gaze lifted to the sky, the clouds drifting like ships above. "Vayren… he really knew."
"Ahem," Gorvax cleared his throat.
"Krrrr…"
"Use your aura. Heal the wounds," Gorvax snapped, gesturing to the ragged holes in his chest.
"Right," Theo said, placing his hands on the wounds.
FLARE!
A green glow flared to life, surging over his skin. The torn flesh mended slowly, the bleeding halted—though faint scars remained.
"I don't feel… stronger," he admitted. "Shouldn't something have changed?"
Gorvax stared at him, exasperated.
"Do this for a fortnight, boy. Then see."
Theo stood, shaking the dust off his cloak. He strapped his axe to his back. His eyes, once hesitant, now burned with quiet resolve.
"Fuuu…"
He exhaled, turned toward the labyrinth's entrance—
—and stepped inside.
BOOM!
Sigmund sidestepped just as the golem's stone fist came crashing down.
CRACK!
The gauntlet slammed into the cavern wall, punching a crater into the rockface. Shards clattered to the floor like splintered teeth.
"Sh*t!" Sig cursed, breath catching.
"Mr. Skaleg, what do I do?!"
The skeletal hologram flickered, casting violet hues across the stone floor. Skaleg's ethereal bones shifted with a sigh.
"I cannot assist. Ask Nyx."
"Nyx!"
LUNGE!
From the shadows, a blur of silver-grey burst forth.
SLASH!
Claws shimmered with ghostly energy as Nyx raked them down the golem's back. Sparks flew where magic met stone.
CREAK!
The construct turned, marble sigils glowing faintly across its head like a slowly awakening eye.
RUMBLE... CRASH!
It swung again, but Nyx danced beneath the blow, fluid as moonlight on water.
A low growl rumbled from the leopard's throat.
THUMP!
With a mighty leap, Nyx struck the golem's chest, his hindlegs kicking off with supernatural force.
CRACK!
The golem staggered, slamming into a stone pillar that buckled beneath its weight.
Still it rose. Still it scanned. Unrelenting.
'What can I do?' Sigmund's thoughts raced.
'My sword barely scratches it. I can't keep wasting aura like this.'
Skaleg's voice returned, distant and dry:
"Use the wire... Remember what you studied."
Sig closed his eyes.
---------
Chapter 5: Traps and Defenses
To set a Mana-Charged Tripwire, select a 0.3mm high-carbon steel wire, 5 meters long, and anchor one end to a fixed point, such as a tree or stone, using a double-loop knot. Stretch the wire taut across your chosen path, keeping it 10 centimeters above the ground, and secure the other end with a tension peg. Channel a steady stream of aura into the wire to make it hum with latent energy, then coat it with a thin layer of fire mana, visualizing the mana as a glowing sheath. This will trigger a burst of flame when the wire is disturbed, incapacitating intruders. Test the setup by tossing a small stick across the wire; the flames should flare instantly, leaving the wire intact for reuse. Always mark your tripwire's location with a subtle aura pulse to avoid ensnaring allies.
------------
'No idea if my wire's 0.3mm...' he glanced up at the golem.
'But let's make it work.'
"Nyx!" Sig shouted. "Keep him busy!"
The leopard gave a short nod, vanishing into shadow once more.
SLIDE!
Sigmund dove low, slipping between the golem's legs as the steel wire hissed free from his fingers. His movements were a dance of instinct—fluid, precise.
JUMP!
He twisted in midair, landing behind the construct. The wire looped in his fingers, already wrapping around joints.
SHING—WRAP!
The cord slithered over stone like a silver serpent—binding ankles, knees, wrists, elbows, shoulders.
"Hold still, you bastard!"
Boots braced against the golem's neck.
STRETCH!
PULL!
Veins bulged in Sigmund's hand as he twisted the wire taut around the golem's throat.
TRICKLE!
Blood flowed from his palm as the wire sank his skin.
CREAK... GRIND... SNAP!
The creature's limbs began to lock. The joints, bound by enchanted steel, could no longer rotate.
"Nyx—now!"
KRAA!
Nyx struck like a guillotine. His claws carved through the glowing marble etched into the golem's face.
WHAM!
The stone behemoth collapsed in a heap. Limbs twitched, then stilled.
From its shattered core, crimson wisps rose—like curses leaking from a broken seal.
DING!
A purple pane flickered into view.
[INBOX]
◈ Golem's Labyrinth Cleared!
(Difficulty: Normal)
DING!
[INBOX]
◈ New Quest Available
Do you accept?
[Y/N]
Sigmund exhaled sharply, then tapped Y.
[QUEST: Labyrinth Hunter]
◈ Clear 15 labyrinths
Progress: [1/15]
Reward: ???
Penalty: None
Sigmund coiled the steel wire neatly, every motion practiced, deliberate.
"Mr. Skaleg," he said, eyes already scanning the far tunnel,
"Let's move."