Their reunion, although it couldn't be called smooth, wasn't terrible either. They had learned of each other's existence and current state. And Benny, he had found people who knew him. Who held the blurry details of his past in their memories, even if he couldn't access those memories himself.
They talked about what they knew so far. What they had been doing in the labyrinth. Why they entered in the first place and how they got stuck here. It was too much to unfold in a single conversation, but it was a necessary process. A foundation they needed to build.
Benny also shared what he had been doing for a while. His voice was halting and uncertain, but he managed to communicate the basics. They learned of his campaign of terror against the dimensional spaces. The rat kingdom burning. The rabbit folk were driven away. The scorpion men were slaughtered. They listened with mixed expressions. Horror. Respect. Uncertainty about what it all meant.
Now they would have to talk to him about the floors below. About how far they had expanded and what types of monsters waited in the deeper levels. And although the team had managed to reach the twentieth floor before on their first expedition, that was only with a much larger party size. There was safety in numbers and resources to spare.
But deaths had plagued their expedition from the beginning. And then the betrayals happened. More deaths. More losses. The party of 100 had become eleven. And now twelve, with Benny returned.
They would have to take this slow if they wanted to make it through to the deepest part of the labyrinth. Whatever that was and wherever it would eventually lead them too in the end. They would either have to rush and die miserable deaths, or they would have to meticulously plan and survive. Those were the only options.
One thing they had noticed was that the more you descended beyond each set of five floors, the more signs of civilization became apparent. Something ancient that no longer existed. They couldn't read the language carved into some parts of the dungeon where some of the architecture still stood. Although most were in ruins, crumbling and overgrown, the structures spoke of a people who had lived here once. Who had built something grand.
The script was unlike anything they recognized. Not the common tongue. Not the old imperial language. Something far older. Ancient beyond reckoning.
So moving forward, they would have to take it significantly slower and grow stronger as a unit. Each person should be strong enough to handle themselves in a fight. Strong enough to survive alone if separated. That was the goal.
They would have to refamiliarize themselves with each other's fighting styles. And especially with this new Benny. Someone they knew but who also had a very changed way of fighting. More brutal. More efficient. More willing to do whatever it took to win.
So for a while, they would stay on the first five floors. Exploring them thoroughly. Familiarizing themselves with every corridor and alcove. Every monster spawn point and trap. Before taking on the deeper levels, they needed to master the shallow ones first.
They would also have to build a logistical supply line they could retreat into, especially inside the safe zones or sanctuaries. They had noted that there seemed to be more sanctuaries the larger the floor area became. Which made sense. More space meant more places to hide. More places to rest and desensitize themselves from all the chaos.
So these would be their goals for the immediate future. Establish control over floors one through five. Build supply caches. Train together as a cohesive unit. And only then, when they were ready, they would begin to push deeper.
With that plan in mind, they set to work.
The first week was spent mapping. Every tunnel. Every room. Every dimensional portal. Senna took the lead on this, her scout training making her naturally suited for the task. She created crude maps on scraped leather, marking everything they found.
The second week was spent on combat drills. Gustav ran them through formations. How to fight as a unit. How to cover each other's weaknesses. Benny struggled with this at first. He was used to fighting alone. Used to trusting no one but himself. But slowly, muscle memory from his previous life began to resurface. His body remembered even if his mind didn't.
The third week was focused on resource gathering. Torin, the blacksmith's apprentice, began repairing and upgrading their equipment using materials harvested from defeated monsters. Scorpion chitin. Rabbit folk leather. Ratman bones. Everything had a use if you were creative enough.
They also had to address the mental strain. They noticed that the longer they stayed out fighting, the more their sanity frayed. The darkness pressed heavily on them. Whispered to them. Made them see things that weren't there.
Thankfully, the sanctuaries provided relief. The oppressive weight would lift when they rested there. Minds would clear. Thoughts would settle. It was like coming up for air after being underwater too long.
They instituted a rotation. Three days of fighting. Two days resting. It wasn't perfect, but it kept them functional. Kept them from descending into the same madness that had claimed so many others.
As more time passed, they began to develop a system. Strategies they could employ against different monster types. Call-outs and formations that became second nature.
And the environment helped. Thankfully, there were more light sources as they descended. It was like a gradual increase every time, just like everything else they had encountered in this place. The first floor was dim. The second is slightly brighter. The third is more so. As if the labyrinth wanted them to see what was coming.
They hadn't experienced this type of dungeon before. It was something inherently unique to this particular one. Most dungeons were static. Unchanging. But this one felt alive. Adaptive. Like it was watching them and adjusting itself accordingly.
Months passed this way. Slow, grinding progress. Training. Fighting. Resting. Repeat.
And gradually, they began to conquer the first five floors. Not in the sense of defeating a final boss or claiming some territory. But in the sense that they were comfortable living there. They could walk more casually than before. Could navigate in the dark. Could anticipate monster movements.
Floor one was theirs. They knew every inch of it. Its sanctuary became an intimate space of being lived and its dimensional portal well, the rat kingdom had been terrorized into near-abandonment. The few ratmen who remained avoided them entirely.
Floor two was conquered next. The scorpion men put up more of a fight, but the team was stronger now. More coordinated. The rabbit folk dimensional portal had sealed itself long ago, eliminating that threat entirely.
Floor three took the longest. The swampy forest biome was treacherous. Full of environmental hazards beyond just monsters. Poisonous plants. Quicksand pits. Predatory trees that would snatch the unwary. But they mapped it as much as they could. They learned from it and made it theirs.
Floors four and five followed in time. Each one larger than the last. Each one representing new challenges. But they adapted. They always adapted.
Benny, throughout all of this, slowly began to change. Not back to who he was. That person was gone, probably forever. But into something new. He started to remember how to smile. Not the manic grin of the Grim Reaper, but something softer. More human.
He began to speak in fuller sentences. To ask questions. To show curiosity about the people around him. Nida in particular spent hours talking to him. Telling him stories about who he used to be. He didn't remember, but he listened. And sometimes, just sometimes, something would spark in his eyes. Recognition, maybe. Or just the ghost of a memory.
The team itself grew stronger. Not just in skills and levels, but in bonds. They trusted each other now in ways they hadn't before. Had learned to rely on each other for survival. They were no longer just survivors thrown together by circumstance. They were a unit. A family forged in darkness and blood.
And so, after months of preparation, they stood at the entrance to the sixth floor. Ready to push deeper. Ready to face whatever came next.
They were veterans now. More than just survivors. They had become the Grim Reapers of their current reality. Efficient. Deadly. Unbreaking.
The real expedition was just beginning. Everything before this had been preparation. Training. But now, they would descend into the true depths of the labyrinth.
Into floors they had never seen or fully seen. Against enemies they had never faced. Toward secrets they couldn't yet imagine.
But they would face it together. All twelve of them. A broken man who couldn't remember his past. An assassin consumed by guilt. A fire mage with a temper. A leader trying to keep them all alive. And eight others, each with their own stories and scars.
They descended the stairs to the sixth floor. Into the unknown. Into the dark.
And the labyrinth watched them with its ancient and patient eyes.