Labyrinth Expedition #17

“T-This can’t be!” King Stephen paled, falling to his knees, reading the scroll the messenger had passed him. It was a report of what had happened, carrying the truth of the final days of the world. “H-How— This– This is not right— If this is true! T-Then humanity– no! The world is in danger!”

A month before the grievous report, deep within the bowels of the tower, the looming silence of the recent battle was perturbed only by the moaning and groaning of those who shifted uncomfortably in their bedrolls, some uneasy from the pains of recovery or injury, while others were plagued by nightmares or vivid dreams of escape.

But even in their mentally encumbered states, they were still fortunate compared to those who could not rest, other heavier matters weighing down on their mind. The only way they could let the time pass was to busy themselves, in an attempt to tire themselves out– so that when the twenty-four hours that Kaiser would return, they could finally enter through the horrific door that stood before them.

Awake but still tired, Akiro blinked wearily, dragging the sharpening stone against his blades. The fine edges of the weapons have long since been dulled and continuously resharpened, thus the shape caused the blades to be slightly smaller and more jagged-looking.

“I can’t… sleep.” He thought sluggishly, throbbing pains making his left arm tremble. Although he had faced the prospect of dying, he had not experienced the moment where the sheer fear would be the reason– not incompetence. “That battle nearly killed us. Somehow we pulled ourselves together, but we can’t afford to make that mistake again… or else, we’ll die for real.”

“T-To think we’d find something like that down here– if that is so terrifying, what could sit behind that door.” Akiro looked up from his bedroll, the closest one to the door despite the camp settled directly opposite of it on the floating surface. He turned around briefly, looking at his peers and teachers snoring away. “W-What if it opens and attacks us in our sleep?”

The assassin turned from them, looking at the menacing gate with bloodshot eyes, his ears ringing with the screams of the battle a week ago. Normally in between floors, they would rest for one to two days at most, but the results of the battle were too severe.

The supplies nearly ran out before the last of them could be treated, and only then did Kaiser depart using the [ Return Stone ] a few hours ago, promising to return with better supplies for their dire needs.

“You can’t sleep too, huh?”

Akiro blinked, drawing the blade he had placed in between the cracks of the damaged platform. Her voice was harsh, almost like it usually was, but underneath the facade, there was a tinge of fear and desperation. The Heroes resident Dark Mage raised her hand in surrender, “Whoa– chill, I just want to talk.”

“Kagiwara–” He said her name, putting the blade back. “Sorry, I’m a little jumpy. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, mostly,” The mage sat beside him, “You don’t think that something’s gonna jump out of that door while we’re asleep right?”

“I don’t know, I’m not sure,” Akiro answered grimly, using conjured droplets of magic-rich water to wash away the particles shaved away by the grindstone. An updraft came from the abyss around them, making the cloak the mage was wearing sway, her body no longer symmetric

He turned to the mage that had been assigned to him for the past months, saddened and regretful. “That’s what’s keeping me up. H-How–” His voice cracked, “How is your arm?”

The magician smiled bitterly, “It hurts…” She replied with disdain for herself, clutching the stump of her shoulder, the arm on her right side gone. “Which is funny, because there's no arm to feel hurt with.”

“I…I’m sorry.” Akiro looked down, unable to face her eye-to-eye, “It’s all my fault–”

“Not that again,” Kagiwara hissed, jabbing him with her right arm, “We’ve gone over this already. You chose during a crucial moment, a decision that effectively crippled the Hydra. I would have done the same in your position.”

“She still doesn’t understand,” Akiro grieved silently in his seat.“The reason as to why I managed to cut open the hydra’s chest– to reveal the heart– was because she used all the magic she had left to support me, instead of defending herself when she easily could have.”

He looked at her with regret and guilt. “You sacrificed your arm– risked death so that we could finish it! We could’ve gotten it eventually—”

“No.” Kajiwara glared at Akiro, “That was our only chance. No matter how many times you replay that fight in your head, it wouldn’t have worked.”

Akiro opened his mouth to refute, but he knew deep down that she was right. He remembered the final stretch of the battle, the horrific scene vividly etched into his memory. The fighters were sprawled around everywhere after a desperate, deathly effective attack by the beast leaving

Kenji was unconscious, from being crushed underneath the hydra’s front leg, arms and legs mangled in different directions as they broke defending from the monster’s tail attack; Akiko was being treated for her left leg, which was barely hanging on by the sinews and tendons; Yamazaki was being resuscitated, shards of rock inside her lungs, piercing her chest cavity; Masashi himself was barely standing up, his intestines in his hands, trying his best to keep them from spilling out— It was a horrific scene straight from their nightmares.

Mages were on their knees, reeling, some dying from the mana exhaustion. The memory was so horrific that Akiro would still shudder at a mere reminder of it. Ayama and Haruto were busy defending them while they recovered what little strength and magic they had, forming a wall with their shields, or with their bare bodies, and because of that— they were partially blinded in many of the wide-ranged attacks of the beast.

“Ayama lost both his eyes because of a respiratory attack, his lungs torched by air that entered him— we’re lucky to have healed him before the damage would’ve been permanent. Haruto was not so lucky, and his left eye had to be extracted or else the rock would pierce his brain, without pain relief. I can still hear his screams when I close my eyes…”

Kagiwara looked at the assassin, who had brushed death more times than most of them combined. He was tough as nails, but seeing him scared in this state was not comforting, especially when they were one step closer to finally escaping.

The time she had spent getting to know him was little compared to the number of times she’d seen and ignored him being tormented by the berserker, but under all the mistrust and malice, he was normal just like the rest of them. He was not inferior or superior, and would often watch the group from the shadows, not expecting anything in return.

Not only that but with the hardships the group had undergone, they shed much of their juvenile antics, maturing under the stress of danger. Like metal under heat and a blacksmith’s expert hammer, the monsters of the tower forged them into true Heroes.

“Just… sleep. Nothing good will come out of reliving that.” The mage shook her head, “You need to rest. We’ll need you to be at full strength for the final fight. I’ll keep watching in your stead.”

The assassin turned to her, tired, eyes glassy with tears of guilt. He was exhausted. “O-okay…” He trailed off, eyelids closing.

Kagiwara turned to the asleep boy, looking at him with regret. “To think that we oppressed him, and yet he still fights for our sakes. Maybe he has a goal in mind, he’s not that naive, but neither is he that cold.”

“I know it’s far too late, but I’m sorry.” The mage winced, bowing her head in humbleness. She looked at him, asleep, still in the lotus position, a hand gripped around the weapon with strength– ready for anything that may come at any moment and her guilt throbbed inside her heart. Kagiwara remembered ducking away, or outright running at the slightest hint of Masashi beating him, never reporting it in fear for her skin.

“We treated you like shit, but because of you, we’re still alive and breathing. I don’t think I can ever ask for your forgiveness, nor do we deserve it for standing by and doing nothing, but I appreciate everything you have done.”

Although it had no direct effect, maybe by coincidence, Akiro's breathing grew softer, and smooth as his body slowly relaxed. His asleep form tipped, falling to the Mage’s stump of a shoulder, and there, she allowed him to rest. “I promise to make it up to you somehow. Maybe then, you’d see me as a friend.”

Kagiwara blinked, the fatigue finally catching up to her despite the strong front she had maintained in front of him. As the temptation of rest clung to her mind, she briefly remembered the time Akiro had stepped up for her and the others in their group.

Before and after the Chimera attack on the tenth floor, Akiro had begun to socialize with her and others, Toshio, Matsuko, and Ryuta. He was already on good terms with Takumi, Takumi’s two slaves, and Ayama. Slowly, they all began to depend on one another, leading their rag-tag team.

Under his tutelage and mentorship, the thief taught Toshio much of his blade-handling skills, quick strikes, lacerating slices, and killing blows. He even went as far as to teach him his signature dagger-work skill: “[Square Cut]” or as Toshio called it, “[Carpenter’s Square].”

While he did so, he and Kagiwara learned from Takumi and his strangely creative way of handling mana, whose efficiency was about 200% better than that of known and kept methods. Although it was incomplete, the three worked hard privately to improve themselves with the art.

This constant practice also enhanced both their senses, their conscious minds picking up on the slightest changes in everything around them. With that improvement, Toshio and Akiro were able to assist in Ryuta’s constant need to replenish his tamed forces.

Within the Tamer were not the physical bodies of his tamed pets, but instead, their spirits were held in the form of tokens bound to him, and during battle, these conjured spirits were called. But the tokens had limited uses, with no clear indicator of how many times they could be summoned; thus, he needed their aid in capturing the essence of creatures because the drawback of his class was his incredibly lackluster physical abilities.

Overall, they began to bond, growing stronger individually and strengthening the trust fostered between them. Hopefully, by some miracle they can pull through the final hurdle, not losing each other– for even if none of them were to comment on it, not even the professors, death awaited some who will walk through those gates.

The remainder did little good to the exhausted mage, but the weight of her eyelids became too much to bear, and so she slept.

“Is everyone ready?” Kaiser spoke thickly, his youthful demeanor sealed away by his professionalism. He no longer had the leeway to treat them like friends, students, for the time was not right.

Right as of the moment, there were no soldiers he was leading– presumably to their probable peril. Nevertheless, they were aware of the path before them, and with it being the only option they had, they nodded grimly in silence.

“Alright.” Kaiser breathed in, putting down the faceguard of his helmet, the only time he put it on during the whole campaign. The knight readied his sword and shield, pushing the door lightly, the heavy stones grinding against the ground as they swung open at his touch.

Whatever hope they had, or whatever morale they deceived themselves into believing quaked at the sight behind the door. In the center of a large room, inside the circular stage of the gargantuan circus stood a humanoid, finely dressed, face obscured by the top hat he wore.

The figure tilted his head up, baring a ferocious smile, and the pressure of the air tripled, their hairs standing on end with each subtle ripple of his voice. The quality of which sounded so perverse to their ears, almost impossible to understand his words, the information fracturing their brains as they tried to comprehend them.

"̶͔͎͎̪̺͑͌̋͐̀͂̀̀̓̅̕͝͝Ŵ̵͕͇̆̍͛͋͛͗̈̄̉͠e̸̱̲̠͖̟͔̰̜͈̜̊̑̈́͂͆̆̀̈́́͗͆̕̚͝ļ̴̳̭͙̞͕̦̠̞̹̂̅̚͜͝ć̷̻̹̃o̸̡͖̙̭̭̘͚͐́́̿̆̾̌̔͂̀̌͛͂͘ṁ̶̡̛͊͆̋̓̾͝ḕ̴̢̳̲̗̺̫͇̼͍͓̆̋̽̊͌̈́̓̿,̶̨͈̯̯̘͕̯̃̈́̍ͅ ̵̢͒͌̎͒͝I̷̬͍̓̈́̇ ̵̨̻̟̭͎̖̰͓͕̲͇̠̈͂̎̑̌́̃͑̆̐̊̚͜͝͠h̷̫̪̉̈́̑͛̈́͆̏͐͛̋͌͒͂͋á̸̢̱̮̝̝̬̰͎͚̏͌̃̋̈̉̈͆̑̏̕̕͜͜͝v̴̺̝͓͚̤͚͈͎̞̯̅͌͊͊͑̅̌̀̀̕e̸̲͇͎̗̼̦̝̼̰̗̙̻͒̍͂̂̈́̾ͅ ̷̨̫̭̻̞̤͍̗̩̼̭̮̳̳̟̈́̇͗̔̆̒̈́͋̓̔͊͂̚b̶͈̖͗͒͌̿̔͆̂͂̈̉͐̚e̴̛̗͙̥̞̞̥̝̘̜̝̖͚̳̎̓̂̍͊́̄̋̄̿̄̚͝ȩ̷̪̳̻̏͆̎̄̿̑͌̐n̶̡̼̜͇̣͇̺͖̻͚͔̳̤̯̳̑ ̷͎̈́̄̏̂͗̃̓͗̈́̑̏̉͑͛͠ḛ̵̛͕͎x̸̛͇͙͍̣̭̥̯̮͖̱̰̣̯̥̪́̀̉̀̽̎̉̈́̅͋̓̈́̅͘p̸̨̫̳̙͎͓̾̇̋͂̊̂͝e̵͔̦̪̙̬̱̥͖̝͉̤͓͗͂͛͋͑̚c̴̩̣̤͗̐̈́͌͋̑́̕t̴͖̠̗͇̰̖̱̺̊͊̃̎͜ĩ̵̛̪̺̫̫̈́̉ñ̵̢̪̗͇͆͌̍̈́͘g̴̨̱̞̣̘͓̘̤̀͐̓̈́̇̏͂̄͂̔̊̇͜͝ͅ ̴̬̠̤̅̍̒͆̉̽͊̉́̃̃̈́͘̚ý̶̨̛̺͚̹̙͍͖͎̪̺̂̆̾͑̈́̈́̋̌̃̄̿͘̕͜ơ̸̞̙̮͙̰̪̝̲͖͈͉͗̆̑̊̃̚͜u̸̥͍͈̟̤̬̩̣̹̫̳͕̿̈̈̏͠͝ͅ,̷͍̥͚̤̭̥̭̥̮̦̫͔̚͜͜ͅ ̴̡̥̘̣̻̜̲͈̞͍̭̥̼͕̯͛͛͛́̿̒̑̂̿͌͂̉̀͋͝ẁ̴̡̛͕̫̞̘̭̞̫̘̍̍̅̀̔̉̆̚͘i̸̭̹̹̣̗͖͖̺̋́̒̌͂͜t̶̩̯̮̯͔̺̠̻̟̯̩̒̐̆̍͗͌̾̀̽̔͗̚ͅh̶̨̧̠͖̟̦͔̟̘͈͔̱̍͛͆̈̔̃̐͋̈́̀̎͊͜͝͠͠ͅ ̴̢͍͙̥͍̊́̃͐̌̀̿̎̿̑̈́̆͘g̵̙̓͒̅̍̽͊̄̃̎͒͐̾́̄r̷̢̛̛̖͇̓̂̿̌́̓̏̕͝ͅê̵̫̞̬̻̰̓̆̅͒͒́̍̿̄̊͆̍a̶̯̫̮̬̙̹͔̼͒̽́̀̉͘͝͝͠t̷̘̹̯̦͕̪̟̎͐́̓͋̊̈́͗̍̈̀͝ ̵̨̛̥͖̣̬̬̟̲̥̗̤̳̰̹̓̋̇̂̃̿ͅä̵̤̻̲̪̮̩́̋͝ṋ̵̨̧͕͔̭̗̦̖͒̓͑̀͒̄̐͛̈́̽͜͠t̶͔̖̯̺̐̍i̸͕̞͍̣͌̈́͌͂́͗̌͐̌̚̕̚͝͝ͅc̸̼̞̜̺̱̅̌̀̿̉̃̂̂̏̕̚͜i̶͉̻̱͒̆͗̈̔͗̐̿̽͋p̵̨̨͙̥̲̝̯̳̥̞̅̊̒̄͗̀̀͠ͅȧ̷̢͎̻͇̘̹̱̲͇͕̗̲̑͐͌̚t̸̮̟͖͓͇̐̀̽͐i̸̧̛̫̝͙̊̂̇̂͊̌͋͊̂̀̅͝o̴̖̥̩̻̜͆̈́̈́̊̎̾̀̂̚ṋ̸̛̛̙͈̈́̔͑̐̊͝.”