The third floor greeted Tori and Issac with silence—and three paths. Forward. Left. Right.
Tori glanced at Issac, waiting for the call. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made even footsteps feel like echoes of fate.
Issac closed his eyes, listening. Below them, chaos whispered through the walls—stumbling, crashing, the sound of desperation.
"…Left," Issac said, voice low but resolute.
Tori nodded. No hesitation. They turned left, stepping into a hallway that stretched like a forgotten memory—long, narrow, endless.
"Normally I'd just crash through every wall until I found someone," Tori thought, his golden eyes glowing faintly. "But I guess this way is okay."
His Eye of Constellation pulsed, painting the world in threads of mana. Ambushes were impossible. Behind the walls, he saw them—flickers of life. Blue and orange mana signatures danced far to the right. But one… one was crimson. On the roof. Watching.
Issac stopped.
Before them stood a lean figure, muscles taut beneath a skin-tight uniform that looked like it could barely contain him. His presence was heavy—like gravity had chosen him as its favorite.
"Super Strength," Tori muttered, eyes narrowing.
Issac groaned, cracking his knuckles with a single flick of his index finger. "Worst kind of opponent in a hand-to-hand game."
The lean man smirked, orange mana radiating from his body like wildfire. "Hey, I'm going to hit you now. Think you'll survive at this distance?"
Issac blinked.
That was his mistake.
The fist landed like a meteor, plunging into Issac's stomach and sending him flying down the hallway they'd just walked.
"Issac!" Tori shouted, stepping into a guarding stance, golden mana flaring around him like a suffocating sun.
"15 minutes left!" the intercom blared.
The lean man chuckled, eyes glowing. "Your friend couldn't predict me. You think you can?"
Tori exhaled slowly, blood trickling from his nose. "I may give off weakling energy, but I've put people in the hospital. Only one guy can beat me—and it's definitely not you."
He dashed forward, fist colliding with the man's jaw. Simultaneously, the man struck Tori's face—but Tori didn't flinch. His golden aura wrapped around him like armor forged from stars.
"That punch… actually hurt?" the man thought, his chin throbbing.
Tori wiped his nose, blood smearing across his hand. "At this rate, you guys are goanna ruin my beautiful nose."
He vanished.
The lean man spun around—nothing. Just a deteriorating wall and silence.
Then came the flurry.
Punches like lightning. Each hit radiated pain, like being shocked by the wrath of a storm. The man turned, tried to grab Tori's head—
Too late.
A clean punch shattered his nose. He collapsed, blood dripping from Tori's fist.
"So much for 'Super Strength,'" Tori muttered, flicking the blood off his hand.
He turned back, footsteps echoing. Issac was limping toward him, clutching his stomach, face twisted in fury.
"Where… is he…?" Issac growled.
Tori raised a brow. "Did he run all the way back here after that punch?"
"He's knocked out. I defeated him. Only Ryan's left. His team was… disappointing."
Issac fixed his uniform, eyes burning. "Right."
They walked toward the right side of the maze.
Elsewhere...
Sunless had been separated early on. But fate had its own rhythm.
He wandered the third floor with Sylph, the silver-haired enigma. Beatrice, the tiny fox, nestled in his mind.
"We've been walking for so long," Beatrice complained telepathically.
"No complaints," Sunless replied, his voice calm, distant.
Sylph halted. Her fist shattered the wall beside them, revealing a staircase spiraling upward.
"Can't we just climb from the outside?" Sunless asked.
Sylph side-eyed him. "That would be against the rules."
"Shouldn't we wait for our allies?"
Sylph looked at Beatrice. "Then we'll send the creature. Her nose should be enough."
Beatrice darted off, a blur of fur and fire.
Sunless and Sylph ascended to Floor Four—a single vast room, windows on every side, like a stage built for destiny.
Then the roof cracked.
A figure plunged through, landing with arrogance.
"Oh, I wasn't expecting the lackeys. Too bad!"
He punched toward Sunless—but missed. Barely. A thin cut opened on Sunless's cheek, blood trailing like a crimson tear.
Sylph moved like wind.
Her fist collided with Ryan's throat. He gagged, coughing.
"That's… playing dirty!" Ryan roared, charging. He and Sylph clashed, fists flying, blocking, countering.
Sunless joined the fray. Ryan missed again.
"Damn punk!" Ryan shouted, grabbing Sunless's hair and slamming his head into the ground.
Blood poured.
Sylph activated her Authority—just for a second. Her punch broke Ryan's nose. He tried to activate his own, but she shut it down before it could breathe.
Ryan stood, blood dripping, eyes glowing.
"Not bad at all, you two," he said, clapping. "Now it's time for the real fun."