The Sunken Cathedral – Final Chamber
Dust hung thick as Jin-Seok stepped through the final archway. Beyond it stretched a cathedral, buried under the labyrinth. Broken pillars rose like the ribs of a giant, and the dome above had long since collapsed into darkness.
Floating braziers cast flickering light across cracked marble floors etched with faded runes. Along the walls, shattered statues of forgotten heroes stared blankly, their features smoothed away by time.
At the center, a massive stone throne drew his gaze. And seated upon it was a figure that made the air feel heavier.
The Minotaur was enormous, easily three meters tall, muscles coiled beneath dark crimson fur matted with dried blood. Twin-bladed axes rested across his lap. One amber eye fixed on Jin-Seok; the other was blind, milky white. There was intelligence in his gaze, weariness, and… something Jin-Seok couldn't name.
---
The Horned Reckoner Awakens
The Minotaur lifted his head slowly.
"Tch… another one?" His voice was low and gravelly. "Took you long enough. They usually die in the second encounter."
Jin-Seok straightened, dusting off his suit.
"Heh… that suit. That stance." The Minotaur's amber eye studied him. "You wouldn't happen to be related to that lunatic with white hair who raided a woman's wardrobe, would you?"
"Maybe. Maybe not," Jin-Seok said.
The Minotaur shifted on the throne. "Doesn't matter. My freedom's gone. Now I babysit kids who think they can climb the Tower."
There was more than boredom in his tone. Loneliness, maybe. This wasn't the mindless guardian he expected.
"You're not just a beast, are you?" Jin-Seok asked.
"No. I was once a Tower Being. Broke the rules. Got sealed. Now I rot here, waiting… for death, or someone strong enough to break my curse."
"What did you do?"
"Even if I wanted to tell you… I can't. Rules bind me tighter than these chains of light you can't see."
"Then why tell me anything at all?"
The Minotaur's lips twitched. "No reason. Maybe I'm bored. Maybe you're the first in decades to reach this far. Most don't clear the illusions. The rest die to traps."
---
Unexpected Kinship
Jin-Seok listened as Asterion, as he eventually introduced himself, spoke with a casual familiarity. Stories of past climbers, debates on strength, complaints about the quality of challengers.
"The last guy who made it here cried the whole fight. Cried. Where's the pride?"
"Maybe he was having a bad day."
"A bad day? Kid, I've been having a bad century. People handle burdens differently."
They talked. Of the Tower, of climbers, of ambition.
"You don't just see me as an obstacle," Asterion said. "Most see horns, size, axes, and try to kill me fast."
"Should I?" Jin-Seok asked.
"Oh, I'm trying to kill you. But you're not just seeing me as a thing to overcome—that's new."
Silence. Then softer: "You remind me of someone who saw people, not obstacles. I wonder what happened to her."
---
The Inevitable Challenge
Asterion rose. His axes came up, though his grip trembled slightly—age or hesitation.
"Even though I like you… I have to follow the rules."
Stone cracked beneath his hooves. He moved deliberately, measured. "This isn't personal. I won't hold back."
Jin-Seok drew his weapon. "I wouldn't want you to."
The first strike came—a horizontal sweep that would have cleaved him. The axe hit a pillar instead, cracks spider-webbing outward.
"Good reflexes," Asterion said. "Let's see how long it holds."
The fight was a dance of survival. Jin-Seok moved, enhanced stats keeping him ahead of disaster. Every missed strike sent dust raining from above.
Asterion's experience was clear, but subtle tells betrayed him—slight delays, favoring one side, grimaces of old injury. Terrifying, even at a shadow of his peak.
A feint caught Jin-Seok—a low axe swing paired with a hoof strike—sending him into a pillar.
"You okay?" Asterion asked.
"Peachy," Jin-Seok coughed, blood at his lips.
He rose steadily and charged.
"Yes. That's it," Asterion said, approving.
Reading patterns, timing moves, Jin-Seok found an opening. A strike to the knee sent Asterion stumbling, axes windmilling. A final combination toppled him, axes clattering across the floor.
---
Mercy and Understanding
Asterion lay back, breathing heavily. "Damn… You did it. End it. Free me."
Jin-Seok picked up a fallen axe and approached.
Asterion's eye opened. Acceptance, hope, no fear.
Jin-Seok knelt, placing the axe gently within reach.
"You've waited long. Why give up now?"
"I… what?"
"Wait a little longer. I'll free you—not the way you expect, but the way you deserve."
Asterion stared, then pushed to sitting. Emotion thick in his voice:
"Kindness… I don't deserve it. But fine. I'll wait."
Softer: "Will you visit again?"
Jin-Seok paused. "Next time we meet, we leave together."
Asterion smiled—the first genuine, unguarded smile Jin-Seok had seen.