The campfire crackled softly in the dim corner of the ruin. Its flickering glow bounced across the timeworn stone walls. The party was at rest, gathered around the fire after a long day of navigating the twisting corridors of one of Vaelkran's Labyrinth floors.
Alaric snored lightly, his gleaming sword resting beside him. Lyra mumbled something in her sleep, curled up beneath her priestly robes. Thalia lay sprawled out, one leg twitching as her tail flicked in a dream. Emmy sat quietly, reading a small leather-bound book by the firelight.
Noa leaned against a half-collapsed pillar, pretending to sleep, though his eyes were open. He felt like a guest in a house full of strangers, and while he'd managed to blend in with the role of a clueless adventurer, his instincts kept him alert.
Unnoticed by all, Selene Askarra moved in silence.
She disappeared down one of the darker corridors of the ruin. She reached into a satchel at her hip and pulled out a thin scroll—elegant, black-edged parchment infused with demonic magic.
She pressed a glowing red seal at the corner, and the scroll shimmered. The image of a woman—voluptuous, draped in flowing silks that did very little to cover her—appeared in the air before her.
"Selene~ Did you enter the labyrinth?"
Selene nodded once, her voice clipped and emotionless."Yes. But there's a problem."
Azmyra raised a curious brow. "Problem? What is it?"
"I found the Sword of Chaos."
Azmyra's eyes widened, but before she could celebrate, Selene added coldly,"But it's in the hands of a boy."
Azmyra's mood shifted instantly. "What?! A boy? Is he the otherworlder?"
"I don't know yet," Selene replied, her tone still flat. "But… it's possible."
The succubus pinched the bridge of her nose and let out an exasperated sigh. "Ugh. This complicates things. If the sword is bound to him, we can't just take it. If we try, the sword will resist—and likely destroy whoever dares."
Selene remained quiet, eyes sharp, thoughtful.
Azmyra leaned closer through the projection, her voice suddenly serious, low, and calm."Listen carefully. Stay close to him. Observe. If he is truly the chosen wielder… then we wait. If not, remove him and bring the sword to me."
A pause, then a mischievous grin spread across Azmyra's lips."And if he's cute, maybe bring him too."
Selene blinked slowly. "...Understood."Then after a brief pause—"And… he's not entirely unpleasant to look at."
Azmyra burst into laughter. "Ohohoho~ I knew you weren't completely heartless!"
Selene scowled, ending the communication spell without another word.
***
The stone floor echoed softly under their boots as the group made their way down the wide corridor.
They stopped in front of a massive door—twice the height of any man, sealed shut with old iron hinges and faded carvings etched into its surface. Dust clung to every inch, undisturbed by time or trespass.
Alaric stepped forward with the confidence of someone narrating his own legend.
"Looks like a boss room," he said, placing a dramatic hand over his chest. "Stick behind me, everyone. I'll protect you."
He didn't wait for a response before pushing open the ancient door.
The rusted hinges groaned like a beast waking from slumber. A dim blue light spilled into the room, revealing a vast chamber. At the far end, beneath a crumbling archway and against a wall of cold stone, sat a grand throne—empty.
In front of it, kneeling with eerie grace, was a knight in full black armor. He didn't move. Didn't breathe. His hands rested on the hilt of a sword planted into the ground, the blade's tip buried in the stone beneath him. Dust floated around him like the room itself was holding its breath.
Noa's eyes narrowed the moment he saw him.
That one… bad news.
Something deep inside twisted—like a warning bell ringing in the marrow of his bones. The air felt heavier now, almost suffocating.
This is gonna be a little hard.
But Alaric just smiled.
"Watch closely, all of you," he said confidently, his voice carrying through the chamber. He turned slightly, casting a sideways glance at Selene. There was a flicker of something there—ego, challenge, maybe even a need to impress.
He drew his sword with a flourish, its blade catching what little light there was.
"I'll show you how a true hero handles darkness."
As Alaric stepped boldly into the chamber, sword raised and cloak fluttering behind him like a hero from a painting, the girls behind him lit up like a well-rehearsed chorus.
Lyra clasped her hands together, eyes practically sparkling."As expected of Alaric-sama," she whispered dreamily. "So fearless... so noble..."
Thalia, the cat-eared girl with the collar, twirled one of her twin tails and giggled. "Way to go, master! Show that tin can who's boss~ You look suuuper cool right now."
Even Emmy, the quietest of the three, gave a soft nod of approval, her green eyes steady with admiration. "He's strong… and he knows it. I feel safer already."
Noa, standing behind them, raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress the twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Is this a fan club or a dungeon party? he thought, dryly.
Selene, however, remained silent, her golden eyes fixed on the armored knight beyond the throne. She didn't even glance at Alaric's back. Her expression stayed unreadable—cold, focused, detached.
Without a single word, the knight rose.
The grinding echo of metal against stone filled the chamber as he stood from his kneel—slowly, deliberately. A suffocating wave of pressure burst from him like a silent roar, thick and crushing. The air turned cold, heavy, like the room itself was holding its breath.
Alaric, who had been closest, staggered as if hit by a physical force."H-Hngh—!" he grunted, knees buckling. His proud stance crumbled in an instant, and he dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.
The knight took one step forward. Just one.
Then, without so much as drawing a weapon, he lifted his gauntleted hand and backhanded Alaric across the face.
CRACK.
The sound echoed like thunder through the chamber. Alaric's body flew backward—slammed into the stone wall with a sickening thud, then crumpled to the ground, unmoving.
"Alaric-sama!" Lyra screamed, rushing forward in panic.
The others froze in place, stunned by how easily their so-called hero was dismissed—like an insect brushed off a sleeve.
Noa didn't move. His eyes were fixed on the knight, a slow, unsettling grin starting to spread across his face.
This one's not a pushover, he thought. Good... I was getting bored.
One moment, there was silence.
Then
Lyra screamed as Alaric's limp body hit the stone floor. She bolted forward, robes fluttering around her like panicked wings. "Alaric-sama!!" Her voice cracked with terror as she dropped to her knees beside him, desperately casting a healing spell, hands glowing with pale light.
But Thalia and Emmy didn't hesitate.
They weren't thinking anymore.
"Bastard!!" Thalia howled, claws bared as she darted forward with animalistic speed. Her tail whipped behind her like a lash, her dagger flashing in her hand.
Emmy followed in silence, her usual quiet grace replaced with the speed of a cornered wolf. Her eyes burned—not with fear, but with fury. She was a mage but, she even forgot to keep her distance.
They charged the knight together.
But the knight didn't flinch.
He didn't even draw the sword.
He simply moved.
A single, brutal arc of his armored arm cut through the space between them. No magic. No flourish.
Just raw, merciless strength.
The air cracked with the impact.
Thalia's body hit the ground first, skidding like a ragdoll, her throat bent at a wrong angle. Emmy collapsed a moment later—silent, blood seeping from a deep gash that ran across her chest.
Lyra's scream was high and broken. "N-NO… THALIA? EMMY!?"
Noa blinked slowly, his arms crossed, still leaning casually near the rear of the chamber.
"…Welp," he muttered under his breath, tone dry. "Fan clubs really are dangerous."
But his expression had changed.
That smirk on his lips was growing again—slow, unsettling. His eyes gleamed not with fear… but excitement.
Selene stood still, golden eyes narrowed as she watched the knight slowly raise his sword—finally drawing it free of the stone floor with a sound like steel scraping against bone.
For a heartbeat, everything stood still.
Selene and Noa locked eyes across the chamber. Neither said a word. They didn't need to.
The message was clear: Now.
Both moved at once.
Selene vanished.
To the untrained eye, it looked like teleportation—one moment she stood still, the next she was behind the knight, her twin short swords already mid-swing. Shadows curled around her movements, her silver hair trailing behind like a flash of moonlight.
The knight shifted—just barely fast enough.
Steel met steel as Selene's blades crashed against his raised blade. Sparks flew. The sheer force behind her assault forced him into a guarded stance for the first time.
And that was the opening Noa needed.
He lunged from the front, his sword a blur of motion as he brought it down in a vicious arc.
The knight couldn't counter—only brace.
With a loud clang, the impact sent a shockwave through the chamber. Dust erupted around them as the knight staggered back, boots grinding against stone. He skidded nearly ten feet before stopping, leaving gouges in the floor.
Noa stood still, sword raised, his chest rising and falling from the effort.
Selene landed lightly beside him, golden eyes narrowed in surprise.
The knight looked down at his armor—where Noa's blade had landed.
A shallow scratch.
Just a single, faint line across the black metal.
Noa stared.
"…You've gotta be kidding me."