Labrynth was almost fully sunk into the soft sofa, her fair, youthful little face slightly distorted by the pillow pressed against it, her two smooth legs dangling leisurely in midair. (╹▽╹)
Before her, a pale blue holographic projection hung in the air, meticulously displaying every inch of the Dungeon's sixth floor.
Her gaze was locked on the grayish-white area at the easternmost edge of the projection.
On the model representing the Undead Territory, not a single one of the densely packed red dots from before could be seen–it was unnervingly clean.
"Arias," Labrynth lifted her head from the depths of the pillow, her voice muffled, "how long have those bone piles been quiet?"
￣へ￣
Arias didn't mechanically report in her mind like those basic Dolls.
This silver-haired, bespectacled beauty in a black-blue butler suit stood gracefully beside the sofa, holding a freshly brewed cup of black tea, steam curling upward and blurring her eyes behind the lenses. Here's a hot drink.
"My Lord," Arias gently placed the teacup on the coffee table, speaking calmly, "they have been silent for fifty-three hours and seventeen minutes."
"Fifty-three hours..."
Labrynth puffed out her cheeks slightly, propped herself up on the pillow, and sat upright.
"Last time Greeny reached their gathering place, and now they've just lain low for over two days? This isn't right, not right at all!"
"The Castle Lord's intuition is as sharp as ever."
Arias gave a slight bow, her slender fingers adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose.
"Based on behavioral patterns, that Skeleton Lord is either brewing a massive counterattack or has grown a brain and is waiting for the perfect moment to catch us off guard."
Labrynth irritably ruffled her hair, her eyes wandering uncertainly over the projection.
Abruptly, soon, her attention was captured by several green dots on another part of the projection–new adventurers entering the Labyrinth.
"Hmm... forget those moldy bones."
Labrynth's eyes lit up. "Arias, how are the adventurers progressing? Have they pretty much cracked the box-pushing and bowling ball stages?"
"Yes, My Lord. The process was accompanied by plenty of screams and curses, but those crude tests of strength and reflexes can no longer extract deeper emotions from them." Arias replied with a smile.
"Hohohoho! Tired of manual labor, let's play something more advanced this time!"
Labrynth excitedly bounced up from the sofa, barefoot on the carpet, pacing back and forth. (≧∇≦)ﾉ
"I want to play with their minds! I want to see them suspect each other, test each other, and ultimately wear expressions of despair when their cleverness backfires!"
"That sounds like a proposal of exquisite taste." Arias nodded slightly, her eyes sparkling with appreciation. "Do you have a specific idea in mind?"
"Yes!"
Labrynth placed her hands on her hips, a devilish smirk appearing on her face. (ψ｀∇´)ψ
"In that secret room behind the fifth descending passage, seal the door shut. Leave only a stone pedestal on the floor with an inconspicuous relic on it. Then, set a rule..."
She laid out her entire "Relic Claim Room" plan, her eyes gleaming.
Arias just listened, the smile on her lips growing deeper. The Castle Lord, before her, had already started giggling, rubbing her hands together.
"A most ingenious design, My Lord."
Arias gave a slight bow. "Utilizing humanity's instinct to seek advantage and avoid harm, along with their blind spots of self-proclaimed clever logic. I will enhance the room's sealing to the highest degree. Now, we just wait for the actors to enter."
...
At the end of the dim, unknown passage, the previously quiet environment was shattered unexpectedly.
Accompanied by the dull sound of sliding rock, a crack unexpectedly split open in the eastern wall.
An irresistible force suddenly seized the lone swordsman Roland's body. Before he could steady his stance, he was pulled straight into an unknown space.
Thud-!
A heavy impact echoed within the confined space as Roland slammed hard onto the solid white stone slab, his organs feeling displaced.
Suppressing the metallic taste rising in his throat, he relied on instincts honed from years of walking the line between life and death to complete the fluid motion of rolling to his feet and drawing his sword.
However, the moment he stood up, the crack behind him had already sealed shut seamlessly. The wall was smooth as a mirror, as if the fissure had never existed.
Roland cautiously lowered his center of gravity, his gaze sweeping the surroundings.
It was a stone room about twenty square meters in size, its walls seamless and monolithic.
In the center of the room stood a waist-high stone pedestal. On it, a single badge lay isolated, its surface bearing a relief of crossed swords and a shield, with an inscription along the edge.
Beside the pedestal stood a small Doll.
Despite that, what most tensed Roland's nerves were the three people standing dispersed in three corners of the room.
These three had clearly arrived much earlier than him, each occupying a dead corner, maintaining a wary, delicate distance from each other.
Roland's eyes scanned the floor–at the edge of the pedestal, a small patch of the white stone slab bore several drops of dark red residue.
The color had dried to black, but the shape was unmistakably splattered blood.
Someone had been injured, had bled.
This supposedly "sealed" stone room held only three living people.
"...Before you came, we've been stuck here for almost two days."
The first to break the silence was the man in the left corner.
He introduced himself as Grelion, a heavy-armored warrior. His armor was covered in scratches and looked extremely bulky.
Roland keenly noticed a conspicuously empty, square Sigil Slot on Grelion's left arm guard. The man's voice was hoarse when he spoke, carrying a weary reluctance to say more.
"To keep it simple, I'm Vera."
The woman leaning against the right wall chuckled. She wore light leather armor and was toying with a dagger.
Her right middle and ring fingers were exposed, clearly missing two specially-made leather finger guards, making her grip on the dagger somewhat awkward.
"The Doll wants us to claim that thing. None of us three dared to speak up first. Guess wrong, and you stay behind, you get it."
Standing in the corner directly ahead was a priest in plain robes. He introduced himself as Yunis, his hands folded before him, his tone gentle:
"So... we're stuck. Now that you're here, perhaps the four of us can figure it out together."
Roland's gaze fell on Yunis's chest, where an empty silver chain hung. It should have held a Holy Sigil symbolizing faith, but it was now missing.
More noticeable than the missing sigil was a hastily bandaged wound on the side of Yunis's robe. The bandage was stained with a dark brown bloodstain, seemingly from a stab wound.
Just then, ripples like living flesh appeared on the surface of the small Doll beside the pedestal. Lines of text slowly materialized:
[Relic Claim]
[The object on the pedestal has an owner. Three people present have seen it.]
[Claimant designates the correct owner → Door opens, all pass.]
[Claimant designates the wrong owner → Claimant stays, others pass.]
[Abandon claim → Nothing happens, cannot exit.]
[Each person may declare only once.]
The text lingered for ten seconds before slowly fading. The Doll returned to pure white.
Roland narrowed his eyes.
The rules were extremely simple: designate correctly, and everyone clears; Designate incorrectly, the one who speaks becomes the sacrificial lamb, and the others leave over his corpse.
No wonder these three had been deadlocked for two days, none willing to be the "claimant" bearing the risk.
But Roland had a faint feeling that something was off.
Three people, two days, a sealed room, blood on the floor, the priest with a stab wound, yet only three living people.
If there were only three from the start... whose blood was it?
"Since we're all here, let's lay it out."
Grelion took a heavy step forward, his bulky armor grating. He pointed at the badge on the pedestal, his tone stiff. "...That badge is mine."
Roland didn't speak, just watching him.
"I was originally part of a small team. I was the only one who escaped from another trap."
Grelion patted the empty slot on his left arm. "Look at my left arm, the Sigil Slot is empty. That one should fit right there. I don't want to explain more. Believe it or not."
Roland's eyes shifted between Grelion's left arm and the badge on the pedestal.
A flawless story? No, full of holes.
Grelion's left arm slot was square, designed for a square sigil used with heavy Tower Shields.
The badge on the pedestal had rounded edges. From a distance, one might not notice, but Roland's eyesight was excellent. The badge's physical shape simply wouldn't fit into that slot.
"Don't listen to him."
Vera stopped toying with her dagger, scoffing, her eyes darting shrewdly toward Roland.
"Look closely at that badge. Crossed swords and shield–Adventurers' Guild Intermediate Badge! It's not some team sigil at all."
"Grelion, you don't even know that?"
She took a step forward, her tone becoming assertive. "This thing is mine. I lost it when I was flung down by a trap in the last Labyrinth stage."
"Don't you know the Dolls collect everything in the Labyrinth? The badge must have been collected by a Doll and placed here."
"I'm an intermediate-certified adventurer. This is my Certification Badge. See, my right-hand finger guards were lost at the same time when I fell. The words on the badge were engraved by me–'Glory Belongs to the Victor.'"
Roland's gaze shifted to Vera.
With his excellent eyesight, he had also seen the words on the badge. It was indeed the phrase she mentioned.
But the Guild's intermediate Certification Badges were standardized assembly-line products; Private engravings were absolutely not allowed.
Moreover, if the finger guards and badge were "lost together," why would the Doll only place the badge on the pedestal, with no sign of the finger guards?
Do Labyrinth Dolls pick and choose?
Most crucially, if this really were her item, she should have declared her claim to the Doll on the first day. How could she possibly have stubbornly waited here for two days?
"...Both of you, I don't want to argue, but I must tell the truth."
Yunis's gentle voice interjected at just the right moment. He sighed, his face full of compassion. "This badge is a relic of my master.
"His name was Denron. He was a priest for a small team. After that team was wiped out, his personal effects were recovered by the Guild. I've been searching for things he left behind."
Yunis pointed to the empty spot on his chest. "The empty spot on my chest originally held my own Holy Sigil. I lost it entering the Labyrinth. But this badge isn't a Holy Sigil; it's my master's personal memento."
He looked at Roland, his eyes utterly sincere. "His name should be engraved on the back. Turn it over and see."
Roland's brow lifted slightly.
Yunis was the only one of the three who actively suggested he check the badge's back; However, such seemingly candid behavior often hid the deepest trap.
Roland didn't act immediately; instead, he quickly sorted through things in his mind.
Did Yunis know "Denron" was engraved on the back? So he used this true information to construct a false narrative of "master and disciple"?
As for why a Guild-recovered relic would appear in the Dungeon's Labyrinth, there were many possible answers. Guild personnel weren't exactly known for clean hands.
Roland sheathed his sword and slowly walked toward the stone pedestal in the center of the room. Three pairs of eyes fixed intently on his movements, and even their breathing softened.
Roland extended his gloved hand, picked up the cold badge, flipped it over, and gently scraped away the accumulated patina on the back with his fingernail.
A line of clear inscription appeared before his eyes: [fourth team · Captain Denron]
The air in the stone room seemed to freeze at that moment. Roland lifted his eyelids, sweeping his gaze over the words. "It says: Captain Denron."
Vera immediately seized the initiative. "Captain?
"...Hah, then it's not a Guild Certification Badge.
"But, that doesn't matter. Maybe I mixed it up. I do have several badges in my pack."
Roland inwardly sneered. Would someone mistake the category of an item they carried on their person? This kind of backtracking was practically an insult to intelligence.
Grelion picked up the thread. "I said it was mine earlier because he entrusted it to me before he died. He gave it to me. I'm the inheritor."
Such a hastily concocted excuse was so feeble that even Grelion himself seemed embarrassed.
If Denron had truly entrusted it to him, why hadn't he said so during his first statement?
Yunis, however, showed no panic. He maintained his gentle demeanor. "Grelion, if you truly worked with Denron, you should know where the team was wiped out?"
Grelion fell silent for a full three seconds before squeezing out a couple of words through gritted teeth. "...Ember Gorge."
Yunis nodded. "Ember Gorge. Correct. That's indeed what the Guild records say."
He paused, his tone turning profound. "But my master wrote in his private journal that the real location wasn't Ember Gorge. The Guild's record is wrong."
Roland watched Yunis's performance, his heart utterly unmoved.
In the current situation, this was an unfalsifiable verbal trap. Yunis used a journal he mentioned to refute Grelion.
However, simultaneously, when Grelion said "Ember Gorge," Yunis immediately agreed, "the Guild records indeed say that."
This meant Yunis himself had access to Guild record intelligence, indicating he held considerable influence within the Guild.
All three were lying.
They might each have genuinely lost an item, but it definitely wasn't this badge on the pedestal.
The atmosphere fell into dead silence again. All three realized this newcomer wasn't so easily fooled.
Vera suddenly moved. She abandoned her leaning posture, walked a few steps to Roland's side, lowered her voice, and spoke in a tone only the two of them could hear:
"Listen, I'll be honest with you. That badge isn't mine. I lied to you."
She pointed at Grelion and Yunis, her eyes filled with undisguised mockery. "But I'm helping you now. Those two are lying to you, too.
"Grelion isn't from any fourth team at all. Look at his gear. The armor style is Southern Kingdom military. The fourth team was Guild-organized; they don't wear military armor.
"As for Yunis... don't you find it strange? A priest, wounded, not using healing magic? Instead, using bandages?"
Vera spoke fast, her logic sharp, each sentence hitting a critical point.
"That badge belongs to someone named Denron, but he's not here." Vera looked directly into Roland's eyes. "Just declare to the Doll that the owner is Denron. That's it. The door opens, we all leave."
Roland looked at Vera's face so close to his.
She had proactively exposed the other two, making herself seem the most credible. But the suggestion she gave was for Roland to declare "Denron."
The rules were clearly written: [Claimant designates the correct owner → Door opens]
The error scenario was that the claimant stays, others leave.
Denron was indeed the name engraved on the badge; though that may be, who was Denron? Was he even alive? If the Labyrinth's logic was extremely strict, judging that a deceased person held no ownership, then "Denron" would be a wrong answer.
Once Roland spoke the declaration, he would be judged as having "designated the wrong owner." The result would be Roland staying, while Vera and the others left over his corpse.
Even if it were correct, it would mean Vera's words were "right," that she hadn't lied.
"...She's right. I'm not from the fourth team."
Grelion's heavy voice came from the other side. He had heard Vera's whisper, his face dark and grim. "But her last sentence is meant to harm you."
Grelion heavily tapped his own breastplate, his gaze burning as he stared at Roland. "Look clearly at that rule: 'Claimant designates the correct owner.' It says 'claimant designates.'"
"The moment you speak and designate any name, you become the 'claimant.' Guess right, everyone leaves. Guess wrong, you stay, others leave."
He took a deep breath, as if shedding some pretense. "Why haven't we three spoken for two days? Because none of us wanted to be the claimant."
"Now a newcomer arrives–you. She wants you to be the one to speak, to take the risk for us."
Grelion's words tore off the last shred of pretense. They didn't care about the truth at all. They only cared about who would bear the cost of trial and error.
Even so, Roland remained vigilant.
What was Grelion's purpose in this seemingly righteous reminder? If Roland didn't speak and the stalemate continued, what benefit would that bring Grelion?
Roland's gaze swept imperceptibly over the few dried dark red bloodstains on the floor, then over the hastily bandaged wound on Yunis's side, which was still oozing blood.
There had been fights in this stone chamber, and more than one.
"...So now everyone's dropping the act? Fine."
Yunis let out a long sigh, the compassion on his face vanishing completely, replaced by an icy indifference:
"I truly don't know any Denron. I lost the Holy Sigil myself; it has nothing to do with this badge.
"That said, one thing is true: I've been observing this stone chamber for two days. Have you noticed?"
He pointed at the lifeless Doll beside the stone platform: "Every time someone approaches the platform, its body turns slightly toward that person. But if no one approaches, it always faces that wall."
Yunis's finger pointed directly at the seamless stone wall on the west side.
"There might be a fifth option behind that wall..."
Roland followed his finger, adding another possibility to his considerations.
At that moment, the stone chamber fell into dead silence once more.
Three people, three completely different strategies–Vera guiding, Grelion intimidating, Yunis adding extraneous ideas.
They were like three venomous spiders perched on a web, patiently waiting for Roland, the fly, to land in the center.
However, Roland didn't look at the west wall, nor at any of them. He simply lowered his head, his gaze locked firmly on the few dried bloodstains on the floor.
All the clues collided and pieced together rapidly in his mind.
Fact one: The badge was engraved with [Fourth Squad · Captain Denron] on the back.
Fact two: All three admitted the badge wasn't theirs.
Fact three: The rules clearly stated [If the claimant designates the correct owner → the door opens], [Claimant designates the wrong owner → Claimant stays, others pass].
Fact four: These three had been trapped for two days, none willing to be the "claimant."
Fact five: There were dried bloodstains on the floor. Yunis had fresh injuries, yet they claimed they had "been in a stalemate the whole time."
Fact six: Only three corners of the stone chamber were occupied. Four walls, four corners… one person was missing.
And he was the newly arrived adventurer.
Roland's breathing suddenly became extremely light and shallow. In this stone chamber, there hadn't been three people at the start–there had been four.
The four of them had been trapped here together. They had fought, and in the chaos, someone had died.
And that corpse... had vanished.
Roland's gaze slowly shifted to the Pure White Doll beside the stone platform.
The bloodstains were located right near the platform, and the white surface of the slate was spotlessly clean, except for those few overlooked dark red drops.
Someone had cleaned this place.
The Doll.
The Dolls collect everything in the Labyrinth; Vera herself had said that.
If an adventurer died in the stone chamber, what would the Doll do?
It would clean up, take the body away, take the deceased's belongings... away.
"Relic," the name of the trial.
That person died. The Doll cleaned the scene, casually placed the badge from the deceased onto the stone platform, and then generated a completely new set of rules.
Why did the Doll put the badge there? Roland didn't know either; it was just a guess.
And that was why none of these three dared to speak–because they didn't know the answer.
The badge was engraved with "Denron," but that was only the badge's original owner.
One possibility: The answer was Denron.
Another possibility: The answer was the fourth person, who had obtained this badge from Denron; whether stolen, bought, or found, it was unknown.
Another possibility: No owner.
They all claimed not to know.
So they were facing a three-choice gamble. Was the answer "Denron"? Was it the dead person? Or was it "no owner"?
A one-in-three chance of survival. No one was willing to gamble with their life.
So they reached a tacit understanding: wait for the next person to enter, let the newcomer step on the mine.
After all, three against one–even if the newcomer saw through the deception, they weren't afraid.
But over two days, hunger, thirst, and fear began to erode their nerves. Yunis was injured in a conflict, with blood splattering on the floor.
After that, Roland arrived.
They didn't have time to renegotiate their strategy, so they could only perform based on the lines they had rehearsed earlier.
Albeit there were now inconsistencies at the scene, they couldn't explain… Yunis's wound.
That's why Vera proactively mentioned, "Yunis is injured but isn't using Healing Art." She wasn't helping Roland analyze; she was preemptively incorporating this inconsistency into her own narrative framework.
Roland slowly raised his head, sweeping his gaze over the three of them. His eyes were as sharp as blades, passing over each of their scheming faces.
"I have a question." Roland's voice sounded exceptionally clear in the empty stone chamber.
Vera frowned. Grelion clenched his fist. Yunis narrowed his eyes.
"You said there were only three of you from the start." Roland extended a finger, enunciating each word deliberately. "Whose blood is that?"
"...It's mine." Yunis was the first to speak, his voice unnaturally calm. "Two days ago, right after we entered, Grelion and I had a disagreement. He pushed me, and I hit the corner of the stone platform."
"Then why didn't the Doll clean it?" Roland countered.
All three froze simultaneously.
Roland took a step forward, his voice cold as tempered iron: "When I came in, I fell to the ground, cut my lip, and a few drops of blood fell on the slate."
He pointed to a small area of slate beside where he had been standing, which had already been wiped spotlessly clean.
"In less than three minutes, the Doll walked over and wiped the bloodstains completely clean."
Roland's gaze fixed on Yunis's face: "Your blood has been there for two days, but the Doll didn't clean it–unless those bloodstains aren't from two days ago. They were shed recently, shortly before I came in."
"You had a conflict just now."
A crack finally appeared in Yunis's mask. The corner of his mouth twitched.
Roland gave them no time to catch their breath. He turned around, walked back to the stone platform, and pointed at the badge:
"But compared to your grudges, I'm more concerned about something else.
"The rules say, 'The object on the platform has an owner.'"
Roland recited word by word, then lifted his eyelids. "But the rules also said two other words, the two words at the beginning."
He emphasized his tone: "Relic."
"Under what circumstances is something called a 'Relic'?" Roland pressed, staring into Vera's eyes.
"I..." Vera hesitated.
"–When its owner is already dead." Roland answered the question for her.
Roland paid no further attention to these three scheming individuals. He placed the badge engraved with the name "Denron" squarely back in its original position.
Four people were already the full number. He had no desire to do those things.
One-in-three odds... that's much higher than some adventures I've experienced.
He took a deep breath, faced the Pure White Doll, and declared in a trembling voice:
"The owner of this relic is dead. Here, there is no owner."
Vera, Grelion, Yunis–all three held their breath, staring intently at the Doll's reaction.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
Suddenly, a violent ripple spread across the smooth surface of the Pure White Doll's body, eventually converging into two enormous characters:
[–Correct]
The expressions of all three changed dramatically in the same instant; not fear, not anger, but delight.
Suppressed for two long days, the ecstatic joy of having survived a disaster.
Vera's shoulders, tense for forty-eight hours, suddenly slumped.
Grelion let out a heavy, turbid sigh.
Yunis even unconsciously took half a step forward, his eyes gleaming.
As the characters [Correct] appeared, the seamless stone wall on the west side emitted a dull rumble. The hard rock slid silently apart to both sides, revealing a deep, dark passageway.
At the same time, an extremely faint cracking sound came from the badge on the stone platform.
The patina peeled away, the metal weathered.
In the blink of an eye, the badge that had borne countless schemes turned into a handful of grayish-white dust, dissipating into the air.
The door was open.
The three of them almost instinctively stepped toward the passageway.
"Halt."
Roland's voice wasn't loud, but it was like a steel nail, pinning their footsteps in place.
He didn't turn around, merely turned sideways, letting the three see the longsword in his hand, its blade reflecting a cold, faint light.
"You seem to have forgotten something."
Roland's voice was so calm it didn't sound like a threat, more like stating a fact.
"The rules say, if answered correctly, everyone passes." He turned around. "But the rules didn't say–you can walk out."
Suddenly, Grelion's pupils contracted to pinpoints. He frantically grabbed the hilt of his greatsword–but before he could even draw it, Roland's figure vanished from his vision with a thunderous speed, too fast to capture!
Roland's first strike was like a sudden clap of thunder, severing the armor straps on Grelion's right wrist with a crash!
The air rippled from the extreme speed. In the next instant, the flat of the second strike slammed heavily into the back of his knee.
A dull, bone-crunching sound reverberated in their ears. The heavily armored warrior grunted, one knee buckling violently as he crashed to the ground.
Vera's reaction was undoubtedly the fastest. She retreated like a gust of wind, her Poison-Tempered Dagger flying from her hand almost simultaneously!
Instantly–
The dagger shot toward Roland's throat with a swift whistling sound, its aim frighteningly precise.
But Roland didn't even tilt his head. He merely shifted his body slightly to the side, and the sharp dagger whistled past his ear.
The air was torn with a faint hiss!
In one swift motion, he took a step forward, a sudden lunge bringing him within arm's reach of Vera!
The longsword didn't thrust upward toward her vitals. Instead, the blade abruptly dropped, a flash of cold light as it swept sharply across her ankle.
"Ah…!"
Vera let out a short, agonized scream, her whole body crashing forward onto the ground.
She struggled to get up, only to discover in horror that the tendon in her right ankle had been cleanly severed.
Her foot hung limply like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
"Hum…"
Yunis's fingers had already gathered a Shadow Orb, black energy dancing at his fingertips.
He was about to hurl it violently, but Roland gave him no chance–not even a millisecond.
In that instant, the hilt of the longsword crashed down forcefully onto his wrist. The sound of bone shattering was clear and distinct!
The Shadow Orb instantly lost control, dissipating into a wisp of black smoke mid-air.
Before he could react–The blade flashed past with a shriek!
Two horrifying, bone-deep wounds appeared behind the knees of Yunis's legs. He collapsed limply to the ground, completely unable to support himself.
From Roland's first strike to the last person crashing to the ground, the entire process took only a few short breaths.
Grelion lay prone on the ground, trying desperately to push himself up with his elbows.
However, the tendons in both his legs had been completely severed. His face contorted into a knot, whether from excruciating pain or extreme humiliation.
Vera lay on her side on the cold stone slab, blood gushing from her ankle, staining the white floor with a shocking patch of dark red.
She bit her lip hard, refusing to let out any more sounds, but the malice in her eyes was almost tangible.
Yunis was actually the quietest one. He lay on his back, staring vacantly at the chamber's ceiling, a self-mocking and bitter smile hanging at the corner of his mouth.
Roland moved swiftly, sheathing his sword; He looked down at the three wretched figures on the ground from his commanding position.
"You set up this trap for two days, waiting for me. I solved the puzzle for you, the door opened, you can leave."
He paused.
"But I'm not some kind-hearted person. You planned to use my life to buy your way out... there's a price for that."
Roland turned, gripped the sword hilt, and was the first to step into the passageway.
He didn't look back. Behind him came Grelion's suppressed roar, Vera's sharp curses, and Yunis's low groans.
But these sounds were soon swallowed by the echoes in the passageway, becoming blurred and distant.
The passage was narrow, only wide enough for one person to walk single file. Weak luminous stones were embedded in the walls on both sides, barely illuminating the path underfoot.
Roland's footsteps were steady and cautious. He knew this Labyrinth wouldn't let anyone go just because of one puzzle.
The passageway ahead suddenly opened up.
A moderately sized stone chamber appeared before him. In the center of the chamber sat a treasure chest emitting a soft glow.
The lid of the chest was half-open, filled with Refined Iron Ore radiating high-purity magical energy fluctuations, and a Magic Longsword gleaming with a cold light.
One person's share.
Roland glanced at the chest, a slight upward curve at the corner of his mouth.
He reached in, took out the longsword, weighed it in his hand, then stored all the Refined Iron in his backpack.
From the passageway behind came an extremely faint dragging sound–someone crawling with their arms.
Thud.
A rumbling sound came from behind. The wall had sealed shut.
Roland walked toward the exit on the other side of the stone chamber without looking back.
...
In the Labrynth's bedroom.
Labrynth was hugging a pillow, rolling wildly on the carpet, laughing until tears streamed down her face.
Awesome!
"Ahahahahaha... So brilliant! Ahahaha... I rejoice in your actions!
"Actually, in this trial, only the one who answers can leave!"
The holographic projection faithfully recorded everything that happened in the stone chamber. On the interface panel, the Emotion Points representing greed, betrayal, despair, and anger were rising.
"Human nature is the ugliest, yet most delicious, dessert in the world."
Arias stood to the side, pushing up her glasses with a smile.
"But that swordsman is quite something."
Arias added, her gaze falling on the green dot representing Roland traveling alone on the projection. "He solved the puzzle, then turned around and settled accounts with his companions after clearing the trial. Calm, decisive, without hesitation."
"He could be a candidate for a Soul Brand... no, I should say, a holder of a Puppet Mark."
"Yes, yes, yes! Very capable!"
Labrynth laughed until her stomach hurt. She lay on the carpet, panting as she waved a hand.
"Arias, have the little Doll go clean up that passageway. The bloodstains have dirtied the silver slate; it's hard to wash."
"And those three who can't even crawl; throw them into the Thunderfire Furnace as per usual."
"As you wish, My Lord." Arias gave a slight bow.
Labrynth sighed contentedly, ready to climb back onto the sofa to continue enjoying the misfortunes of other adventurers.
...
If you want to support, please consider Patreon, and read advanced chapters! Your support keeps this series going! [Patreon.com/RedZTL]