The stench of blood still hung in the air when Edris lifted his head, voice calm yet carrying an unnatural clarity. Chaos flared around them—smoke, groans of wounded guards, the Manager’s trembling form impaled on the spear—but somehow, Yesteria could hear every word.

  “A horse’s heart isn’t on the left, Miss Yesteria.”

  She felt a chill slice through her. Then, in one swift motion, the man drove the spear deeper, twisting it cruelly into the horseman’s chest.

  Raising his hand into the air, Edris flicked out another card. Before Yesteria could make sense of it, the slip of paper vanished into shimmering particles, and a blazing column of fire erupted from his palms. The flames traveled along the spear’s metallic shaft, surging into the horseman’s wound.

  A strangled wail rattled in the Manager’s throat as the inferno devoured him from the inside out. The conflagration soared higher, licking the white ceiling in snarling tongues of heat. Yesteria felt the temperature spike against her face, a harsh dryness scratching her lungs.

  Yet Edris did not flinch.

  He cast a perfunctory glance at Terrace, who lay nearby, dropped on the floor the moment the serpent guards had abandoned him amid the uproar. Without warning, Edris seized the wounded intern by the collar. Terrace had only a fraction of a second to register panic before Edris flung him into the waiting flames.

  Whatever protest Terrace tried to muster died in his throat—his entire body swallowed up by fire in an instant. There was no question of mercy. No time for a scream to form.

  Edris stood at the epicenter of this destruction, eyes unblinking and face illuminated by the flicker of the blaze. Yesteria felt her own pulse pound in horrified fascination. The dance of orange fire rendered his features almost serene, a stark contrast to the devastation he’d wrought. Through the haze of heat, her single thought was unshakable:

  This man is dangerous.

  Edris, meanwhile, stood lost in his own thoughts.

  I used [TEN-TEN] too soon, he lamented inwardly, eyeing the message that had popped up on his [PROFILE] upon activating the card.

  Ideally, he’d want to keep the card until a more dire situation, but the alternative would have drawn the confrontation out. But if his deductions were correct, this card would soon renew itself.

  For that to happen, though, they had to get out of this first.

  Edris took a measured breath, letting the heavy odor of smoke and scorched flesh roll over him without reaction.

  He’d made this decision in a split second, but it wasn’t out of impulse. Although Terrace had snitched on him back in the second cycle, there was a more critical factor Edris had considered in taking his life:

  The Labyrinth operated on a peculiar equilibrium.

  He couldn’t precisely say the threshold, but judging by the past Labyrinths, the door out often refused to open until enough eliminations had occurred. Considering the qualifications in the past two Labyrinths, he suspected the number was at least less than half.

  They’d started with seven players here, so at least one more had to go.

  He touched the pendant around his neck, recalling the silent deal he’d struck with Morris not so long ago. Edris wasn’t charitable by nature nor squeamish about casualties. But a promise was a promise—even if the man did not fulfill his own end.

  That said, throwing Yesteria into the flames was out of the question.

  Which left poor, poor Terrace as the remaining option.

  Eventually, the effects of [BLAZING TORRENT] sputtered out, replaced by a thick haze of soot and the pungent reek of charred remains. All that remained of the horse-headed Manager and Terrace was a mound of ash on the once-shiny floor.

  Edris flicked some ash from his hair, then turned, surveying the aftermath. Yesteria stood a short distance away, staring at him with shock plain on her face. The overhead lights cast her expression in stark contrast: a mixture of alarm and—something else he couldn’t quite pin.

  Edris suspected he looked like a man possessed, but in truth, he felt very little: just the slight ache of having to lose two of his cards so quickly.

  He wiped the sweat and ash from his brow. The remains of the inferno smoldered, and the floor was slick with grime. Celio hovered near Yesteria, both warily eyeing the smoldering pile of blackened remains.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Master,” the beast tamer said, shooting up from the ground. “Are they… dead?”

  “If not, we’ll be.”

  Edris came forward, sliding the last bits of the dissolving spear aside; the burning tip hissed softly against the tile. Yesteria flinched before him, fear momentarily overshadowing her earlier bravado. He realized she might still be in shock from the situation, but he felt no desire to explain his actions nor the Labyrinth’s rules.

  He frowned slightly. “What are you waiting for?” he said, letting his voice carry over the last flickers of flame. “Let’s go.”

  Yesteria’s lips parted. For a moment, she seemed at a loss, as though a part of her wanted to question his motives. But no words came out; she settled for nodding faintly, drifting after them.

  The three moved in a silent line over the burnt remains, the air tainted with the acrid smell of ashes and burnt flesh. Edris and Celio had to stop multiple times to check on Yesteria, as the young woman looked like she was about to vomit out the entirety of her organs.

  “I- I’m fine,” she said, hauling over once more.

  Edris swallowed and averted his gaze. He feared that if he lingered any longer, the next hurling over the debris would be himself.

  Surprisingly, Celio was the most put-together out of the three. The young beast tamer crouched over, passing over a handkerchief to Yesteria.

  “We’re almost there,” he consoled.

  Yesteria paused in her vomiting to stare up at the boy, then mustered a nod.

  “Th-thanks.”

  They continued on, and eventually, the corridor led them to a closed door bearing an enormous green sign on the doorframe.

  [WELLNESS CENTER].

  “Master, we’re going in?” Celio blinked. “But this is…”

  “You’ll see,” Edris responded.

  Not explaining further, he gripped the handle without pause and pushed inward.

  The moment they stepped through the doorway, the world swirled in a flicker of white. Instead of anything resembling a medical space, they found themselves in an empty chamber of pure brilliance, with walls, ceiling, and floor of seamless ivory. Celio gasped, reflex driving him to backpedal.

  “What—!” he started, turning to reach for the door behind them, only to find it gone. Where the sign once hung was now a bronze plaque that spelt out “BOSS’S ROOM”.

  Tension rippled through his shoulders as he looked past the windows, towards the typing sheep and reassembled office space. The view outside was back to when they first arrived, as though the fire had never occurred.

  He looked back to Edris. Somehow, the dark-haired man did not appear surprised.

  Edris let out a faint sigh and surveyed the empty whiteness. He recalled all too well how Labyrinths operated.

  “The essence of Labyrinths is assimilation,” he said softly, his words carrying in the barren stillness. “If my guess is correct, the current one was designed with three main pitfalls to break the players. First is this—the Wellness Center. If you were declared ‘unwell,’ that was a convenient path to assimilation, as it’s actually the Dread Chamber in disguise.”

  “Dread Chamber?” Yesteria blinked. “The one invented by the Archivist? I heard it was used by factions to break the mind by dissecting memories of prisoners, drowning them in despair.”

  “You know it your history well.” Edris gave her a sideways glance.

  Yesteria furrowed her brow, unsettled by how the space seemed to warp at the edges whenever she glanced too far to the side. Celio took a cautious step backward, fighting the impulse to bolt now that the exit had disappeared.

  The effects of this place were gradual but noticeable. It wouldn’t be long before their [AFFINITY] began plummeting.

  “Next, was what all players are told is the [BOSS’S OFFICE],” Edris said. He touched the side of the wall—solid, but cold and featureless. “Everyone assumed that upon finishing these tasks, they’d find an exit. But who’d have guessed it was the same snare?”

  “Then why did you take us here? ” Yesteria asked, the hush in her voice betraying her nerves. “Shouldn’t we be trying to get out?”

  Edris did not respond verbally. Instead, he flicked his hand, and a swirl of purple light coalesced in midair—a storm-like aura that spread, enveloping the whiteness.

  “This is the way out,” he said quietly.

  The Dread Chamber may be skilled at eating away people’s psychological barriers, but luckily, Edris had plenty of experience with this sacred artifact. Whereas the Dread Chamber functioned on mana manipulation, his Tempest was made to neutralize all presence of mana.

  Wind roared through the sterile space, swirling darkness rising from nothingness to envelop them in a shield. The blank white around them rippled like a disrupted reflection.

  For an instant, it was as though they existed in two worlds: the Dread Chamber’s illusions pounding from the outside, the swirling Tempest holding them safe from within. Celio blinked, struggling to keep his footing on the now-shuddering ground.

  “You mentioned three traps,” he gasped, voice barely carrying over the gale. “What’s the third?”

  Edris tightened his hold on the swirling magic. Right on cue, something cracked in the purple barrier—a narrow fissure that let in a bright glow. Like a crack in glass, it spread rapidly. The pressure exerted by the Dread Chamber buckled, shattering under the Tempest’s cancellation. The space twisted violently, and everything lurched.

  Before anyone could react, a jarring pull yanked them away from the white room, into a disorienting rush of color and space.

  Their vision blurred. Then, with a collective jolt, they found themselves blinking in the overhead lights of the main waiting area—back at the start of the Labyrinth’s opening scene.

  Edris blinked, disoriented; the brightness receded to reveal a familiar desk, a contract lying flat upon it, and a cheap ballpoint pen poised beneath his fingers.

  He realized, in a breathless second, that he was gripping the pen as if about to sign. Standing before him, the Manager watched with a patient, expectant gaze – no trace of wounds, no hint of the flames they had just kindled. It was as though none of the bloodshed or chaos had ever happened.

  Celio and Yesteria stood to Edris’s sides, likewise blinking as they adjusted to the abrupt reset.

  The Manager smiled, equine muzzle stretching into an almost predatory grin.

  “Intern Edris,” he said softly. “Is there something wrong?”

  Edris’s eyes lingered on the form. He felt the slightest tremor in his hand, the tip of the pen hovering over the signature line.

  With a decisive motion, he let the pen slip from his grasp and clatter onto the desk. Then he seized the contract in both hands and tore the paper right down the middle. The Manager’s features flinched with naked displeasure, but Edris didn’t wait for his reaction.

  Behind him, Celio and Yesteria blinked in tandem, then followed suit – each ripping up their own forms. The sound of tearing paper reverberated like thunder in the hush. All around them, the office lights flickered like a glitch in reality.

  A hush settled in the gleaming white lobby, a stillness that seemed to warp time. In front of Edris, a torn contract sheet drifted listlessly to the ground. Celio and Yesteria, standing nearby, felt a humming tension in the air.

  The next moment, their [PROFILE] screens jittered simultaneously. A barrage of new lines emerged, overriding the current [MAIN QUEST]:

  “A new [MAIN QUEST]!” Celio blinked in surprise. “Master, what’s going on?”

  Edris glanced down at the ephemeral text. He couldn’t deny a slight twinge of satisfaction.

  His guess was spot-on.

  “The [MAIN QUEST] we’ve been trying to complete is a fake,” he said. “They begin by tricking you into signing a contract, one that activates a sham [MAIN QUEST]. If we followed it and became an official worker, it’d be no different than consenting to assimilation.”

  Celio set his pieces of paper on the table. “Then the real [MAIN QUEST] was to—”

  “Reject this entire charade,” Edris confirmed, his voice quieter now. “We were never meant to sign on to this intern position. The contract triggered an alternate space that fed us illusions.”

  Yesteria gulped, looking at the destroyed contracts and the now frantic expression on the Manager’s face—his once smug confidence replaced with confusion as the illusions warbled out of alignment. She breathed in shaky relief.

  They’d broken through the Labyrinth’s third trap: the contract itself.