Back into the Labyrinth
It had already been eight days since I crossed swords with Meldini in the Magic Academy lobby.
During that time, the labyrinth city of Sohen had been buzzing about the academy's new freshman—but issues like that fade quickly.
People returned to struggling with their own livelihoods, and soon the main topic of the labyrinth city of Sohen shifted.
That topic was—
"The labyrinth entry gate will open in one hour!"
The labyrinth was opening.
So what exactly is the labyrinth?
It's a mystery that cannot be fully explained—neither in the game nor in reality.
All that's known is that the labyrinth existed even before the labyrinth city of Sohen came into being.
More precisely, the staircase leading to the labyrinth already existed.
That staircase had been buried deep underground and later excavated. If you go down the stairs about fifteen meters, you reach a small open space. In that space, a gate appears periodically.
Pass through the gate, and you arrive at the first floor of the labyrinth.
"Yernil!"
"Yeees!"
"Are you ready?"
"Yes!"
Today, we're going back in.
"Aimus!"
"Yes."
"Ready?"
"Let's go!"
To be honest, I really, really don't want to go.
But what choice do we have? If you stay outside for two full weeks, the labyrinth erupts.
"Back Attack!"
"Gaaah!"
"You ready?"
"Grrr!"
To deliberately stir our sagging morale, I pumped up each party member one by one.
Let's do this.
Go in, extend our two-week lifeline, revive Back Attack, and come back alive.
Last time, the Magic Academy shoved us in unilaterally—but this time, our gear is solid and the party is complete, right?
I led my companions to the labyrinth administration counter and completed our registration.
"Ten minutes until the labyrinth entry gate opens!"
I felt a bit nervous.
Yernil probably did too—huh?
"Yernil, aren't you nervous?"
Surprisingly, he looked extremely calm.
Is this really the same Yernil who had gone into convulsions and cried his eyes out when a goblin stabbed a fat guy?
"If we just listen to Caleb, won't we be fine?"
Yernil replied casually.
"We're going to the first floor, right? Last time, there was nothing at all, but we just did what Caleb said and came out alive. This time should be even easier."
Mm.
Sorry, Yernil.
We're not going to the first floor.
The place with the Sanctuary of Souls is what people call the "point-five floor."
In the depths of the labyrinth, there are hidden spaces between each layer—between the first and second floors, a 1.5 floor; between the second and third, a 2.5 floor, and so on.
Players in the game called these areas "point-five floors," and the Sanctuary of Souls is located in one of them.
It's a shame I can't tell you in advance—it's possessor knowledge, after all.
"I need a moment with my wife and kids…"
Aimus poked my shoulder and pointed toward the entrance of the labyrinth administration building.
The monk's wife was there, carrying one child on her back and holding the hands of two others.
After all, her aging husband—who'd once been a third-rate adventurer—had disbanded his party and even retired, only to head back into the labyrinth again. No wonder she was anxious.
I get it.
"Go ahead. We'll head down to the waiting room first."
"Yes."
Leaving Aimus behind, I led Yernil and Back Attack down into the underground area.
We passed the elevator reserved for parties progressing beyond the second floor and stopped in front of the first-floor waiting room.
Inside, there's a staircase.
I remembered being dumped here on my first day as a possessor—forced in with a four-man slave party like livestock being dragged to a slaughterhouse.
Back then, all I could think was that my life was completely ruined.
But this time, at least—
Click.
Praying nothing would go wrong, I opened the waiting room door.
"Huh?"
What unfolded before us was unexpected.
Inside the roughly thirty-square-meter waiting room, there were already four people. Sitting side by side on a bench, they stared straight at us with eyes as grim and predatory as Meldini fishing for possessors.
Who the hell are these guys?
We were waiting for Aimus, sure—but they already had all four members. What were they waiting for?
The gate was already open. Why weren't they heading down the stairs?
"Don't tell me…"
No—surely not.
My heart started pounding with a bad feeling.
"..."
Among their four-man party, a human warrior in heavy armor wielding a two-handed sword whispered something into the ear of a canine beastman.
He covered his mouth as he muttered.
I covered my mouth and whispered to Yernil.
"What did they just say?"
"They said, 'They don't look like they're carrying much.'"
Ah, fuck. Seriously.
Why is it that bad feelings never turn out to be wrong?
"They're raiders."
In other games, getting good items or expensive gear is just something to celebrate—but the depths of the labyrinth are different.
Party possessions that exceed the party's actual combat strength are prime targets for raiders.
Let's try to guess what's going through their heads.
Over the past week, they probably had conversations like this:
"I heard one of the Magic Academy's slave mages struck it big and got out. Sounds like he formed a new party and re-equipped all his members from top to bottom."
"They say you fully kitted out an elf archer—helmet, armor, boots, bow, quiver, even special arrows?"
"And since Back Attack became an exit boss, the Magic Academy stripped him clean and sold everything the moment he came out. So maybe you bought new gear for Back Attack too."
"Sure, he's undead so you didn't dress him up or hand him anything yet—but there's probably a dagger or something in the party leader's backpack for him to use."
"You're going to revive Back Attack, right? And once you clear the exit room after reviving him, you'll make him pull his weight like a full party member—so of course you'd bring equipment."
"And even if not, you've at least got a resurrection scroll in that bag, right? Do you know how much that alone is worth?"
"What about their combat power?"
"A third-rate monk—the sediment at the very bottom of low-tier adventurers—and an undead? That's basically two dead slots already, isn't it?"
"Damn, I'm already drooling!"
…Probably something like that.
This kind of scum shows up all the time in the game, so I'd deliberately planned to enter as the very first group the moment the gate opened. I never expected them to already be here, waiting.
They're really diligent, I'll give them that.
Did they catch wind of the compass too?
Probably not.
If they had, they wouldn't be operating at this level of raider.
And I've never shown the compass to anyone, never talked about it—and Meldini wouldn't either.
As a professor of the Magic Academy, he knows very well how labyrinth adventurers suffer from raiders. He wouldn't casually leak information that would put me in their crosshairs.
"..."
The four-man party across from us started scanning me, Yernil, and Back Attack from head to toe.
They were assessing our gear level, guessing what consumables we might have—trying to simulate the fight in their heads before launching an attack.
Feels disgusting.
I started analyzing their party in return.
A human warrior in solid heavy armor wielding a two-handed sword, a canine beastman who looked like a rogue type—nothing special so far. With Aimus up front, they'd have a hard time breaking through.
And the dwarf—
"A puppeteer?"
That's a bit troublesome.
Judging by his equipment, his proficiency looked fairly high. And the other worrying point was that they also had a mage.
"Hi."
The mage greeted me.
Late twenties, maybe? A pretty human woman, holding a wand in one hand and twitching it nervously, like she was emotionally unstable.
"Yes, hello."
"You a student?"
"Yes."
"I got expelled."
She laughed to herself, cackling. Her party members snickered along with her.
In the game—and here too—there are plenty of mages not affiliated with the Magic Academy.
"What've you got in your bag?"
She pointed her wand at my backpack as she asked.
"Why do you ask?"
"Just worried about beginners. Wouldn't want you carrying anything expensive. There are lots of raiders in the labyrinth."
"..."
"You probably haven't met them yet, right? They don't bother with slave parties—nothing to gain. But this time, you might."
The mage grinned and held out her hand.
"Got anything valuable? Want big sis to hold onto it for you?"
"There's nothing valuable, so it's fine. Thanks for the advice. The gate's already open—why don't you head down first?"
"You're not going?"
"One of our party members hasn't arrived yet."
"A big, strong, slow monk?"
Look at that.
They'd analyzed our entire party and were waiting—and they weren't even trying to hide it.
"If you got an important mission from a professor, you should've paid more attention to your frontline. The labyrinth is dangerous."
"..."
"I heard Hijikata from the third floor even offered to run with you despite the pay not matching? You should've accepted and had someone like that lead your party."
"Caleb..."
Yernil, who'd been so confident earlier, shrank instantly like a chick.
She'd sensed it too—something was very wrong with these people. She kept glancing at me nervously.
"It's okay."
I lightly patted Yernil's shoulder.
"You're close."
The other party snickered again.
"Our dwarf's single, you see. Gets jealous easily. Might even turn into a raider. Don't provoke him too much."
They laughed among themselves again—then abruptly stopped.
Because our muscle-monster monk had returned.
They probably already knew Aimus was a gym rat, but still—
"What is that?"
Looks like they'd never seen that weapon before.
No surprise.
Up until now, only the chatterbox mage had been running her mouth while the other three stayed quiet—but now all three of them were staring, mouths agape.
"What kind of monk… uses… a weapon…"
Our monk was holding a massive, thick, beautiful steel great staff.
About two meters long, and—only slightly exaggerating—about as thick as Yernil's wrist.
"Is… is that a weapon?"
The human warrior frowned as he asked.
"Yes."
Aimus replied calmly.
"Traditionally, monks training in Kalung on Mount Dalai learn staff techniques from a young age."
"But they all just use their fists."
"Due to doctrinal rules, once they come of age, they're required to use only their fists."
"And you get to use a steel pole?"
"I'm a lapsed monk."
Which explains the marriage and three kids.
"For this expedition, I've decided to try using it at the party leader's suggestion."
In the game, getting a Kalung-trained monk to wield a staff requires succeeding on a high-difficulty persuasion roll.
This time, though, he just accepted it.
He only worried whether he'd still be any good with a weapon he hadn't used in a long time.
"Our party leader is a very smart man."
Even if he was third-rate at the bottom of the ladder, experience and years can't be ignored.
"Smart enough to rob mediocre raiders blind."
He'd recognized them as raiders instantly.
As expected of Monk bro!
No hair on his head—but sharp instincts!
"..."
The mage curled her lips into an unpleasant smile.
"Good luck."
Then they headed down the stairs first.
"I didn't figure it out from the atmosphere. I heard their conversation outside."
Aimus said as we entered the labyrinth.
"They were openly picking a fight."
"Why would they do that?"
Yernil's face was clouded with worry.
"Could it be they were actually worried about us? Warning us about raiders?"
At the same time, her hope circuit kicked in.
"No way. You saw their faces—they were licking their lips."
"B-but if they really planned to raid us, wouldn't there be no reason to act so threatening on purpose? If I were a raider party, I'd act friendly instead. If you scare people, they'll deliberately avoid you in the labyrinth."
That logic wasn't completely wrong.
But that's how third-rate raiders think, Yernil.
"They threatened us on purpose."
Aimus had already figured it out.
"Why?"
"So we'd waste our stamina trembling and staying on edge the whole time."
"Ah..."
And they can follow us anytime they want.
Why?
Because canine beastmen have scent-tracking racial traits.
No wonder the guy had been flaring his nostrils like a lunatic the moment we entered the waiting room.
He'd been memorizing our scent.
"The lower the floor, the more dangerous raiders become. There are simply more of them."
Aimus, the leader of a third-rate party with plenty of experience being raided, explained.
"That's because once you go deeper, the adventurers you meet tend to be veterans. There's a certain level of reliability there. But on the lower floors, all kinds of people gather—so naturally, there are more raiders."
That was true. And if I had to add one more reason, it'd be this: on the lower floors, raiding adventurers is more profitable than exploring the labyrinth itself.
"..."
Yernil was completely on edge.
"Yernil."
"Yes?"
"Don't be too scared."
There was no need to tense up already. It's true they're a fairly seasoned party—but we're pretty solid now too.
If they attack head-on, breaking through Aimus won't be easy. And if they tail us, Yernil will detect them.
And if a fight breaks out, I'll flip the hourglass and use Dust Explosion.
"Let's focus on our expedition."
Worrying ourselves sick and draining our own stamina is exactly what they want.
"Grrr…"
Back Attack seemed to agree, lurching forward.
Reality is always less coherent than drama.
You ever hear that saying?
Ever since Mark Zuckerberg and Elon Musk got into a Twitter keyboard war and started talking about meeting up to fight, I carved that saying deep into my heart.
But I didn't see this coming.
"Please, please!"
It was that mage from earlier.
She was now bleeding heavily from her head, trembling uncontrollably, kneeling in front of us and begging.
"Please save me!"
On her knees, rubbing her palms together desperately.
About two hours into our labyrinth exploration with Back Attack leading the way, we suddenly ran into her.
She came screaming from up ahead, then actually stopped in front of Aimus when he shouted at her to halt—and immediately burst into tears, begging for her life.
The reason she'd ended up like this was—
"We were attacked…"
All the composure she'd shown in the waiting room was gone, replaced by pure terror.
"It's a second-floor party! They're chasing me right now—please!"
"Don't be ridiculous!"
I'm not falling for it, you bastard.
"How am I supposed to trust you? Weren't you planning to raid us too?"
"That's…"
I expected her to deny it—but instead, the mage admitted it outright.
"I'm sorry… I'm really sorry…"
She sobbed openly.
She yanked at her own hair, like she was drowning in regret over having provoked and threatened us in the waiting room.
"We were wrong. Just please spare me! Please! Caleb! I'll fight on your side! Please!"
"Step back!"
"If I go back, I'll die!"
"..."
"Caleb…"
Even Aimus—who had plenty of experience with raiders—was flustered. And Yernil…
Damn it, she'd already lowered her bow. Yernil! Get it together!
No.
I'm the problem. I need to get it together first.
'Caleb, you idiot!'
Why is that mage still standing in front of us? This is suspicious as hell!
What would it have been like in the game?
In the game, we wouldn't even have exchanged this many words.
I'd have already cast Lightning Shock and killed her—or chased her off.
Developer difficulty really is the highest difficulty in this trash game.
It's nothing like playing the game.
This isn't a quarter-view perspective looking down. This is first-person—blood pouring down her face, tears and snot mixed together as she begs for her life right in front of you.
Knowing, logically, that killing her is the safest option—
and still not being able to bring myself to chant the spell.
"I'll count to three."
But I have to keep a clear head.
"Turn back. Now."
A moment of hesitation here, a half-baked dose of sympathy, is a one-way express ticket to hell.
Trusting people casually is insanity.