Chapter 288 – Entering Without a Role
The Labyrinth's gate had not changed.
Always that dark surface, motionless, like water that had forgotten to reflect the world.
Hunters went in.
Others came out.
Some spoke loudly to mask their fear.
Others stayed too quiet.
Ilan adjusted the strap of his bag.
— You really don't need to come with me, you know.
Aeris stood beside him, a light hood over his green hair, aura deliberately contained.
Almost… ordinary.
— I know, he replied. — But I want to.
Ilan exhaled.
— You realize if anyone senses your real level here, it'll turn into a circus?
— That's why I'm careful.
Aeris tapped lightly at his temple.
— Low breathing. — Dispersed flow. — Nothing leaking out.
Ilan looked at him, impressed despite himself.
— …You're really making yourself small on purpose, huh.
— It's harder than commanding a storm, Aeris admitted. — No one teaches you how to be small.
They approached the gate.
A guild agent glanced quickly at their cards.
— Rank D and… rank A+++? He looked up, surprised.
Aeris lowered his gaze slightly.
— I'm an observer.
The agent shrugged.
— As long as you follow the rules. — Good luck.
The gate swallowed them.
The sensation was different this time.
Not more violent.
But… denser.
Ilan felt it immediately.
— …It noticed, he murmured. — Entering as two.
Aeris nodded.
— The Labyrinth doesn't react to strength. — It reacts to relationships.
The floor that opened before them was neither hostile nor empty.
A fragmented terrain.
Broken structures, like the remains of an old village.
Silhouettes moved among the ruins.
— Monsters, Ilan noted. — Standard.
— Yes, Aeris replied. — But look at their paths.
Ilan observed.
The creatures weren't patrolling at random.
They were slowly encircling certain areas…
and avoiding others.
— …They're guarding something.
— Or someone.
A sharp sound rang out.
A creature leapt from a collapsed arch.
Ilan drew his weapon instantly.
— I'll take this one.
— I don't intervene, Aeris reminded him.
— I know.
The fight was brief.
Dirty.
Efficient.
Ilan slashed, dodged, took a blow too close to his shoulder.
— Damn…
Aeris didn't move.
But his eyes analyzed everything.
— You favor your right side too much when you're tired, he observed. — And you misread feints.
Ilan grunted as he finished the creature.
— Thanks, coach.
— Just noting.
They moved on.
The further they went, the more the space seemed… hesitant.
As if the Labyrinth were recalculating constantly.
Then they reached a central square.
In the middle, a human figure.
A man sitting on the steps of a broken fountain.
Simple clothes.
Empty gaze.
— …An NPC? Ilan asked.
— No, Aeris answered slowly. — An embodied trial.
The man lifted his head.
— You're late, he said calmly. — I've been waiting a long time.
Ilan felt a familiar pressure.
Not domination.
Not threat.
A weight of decision.
— Who are you? he asked.
— Someone who made the wrong choice. — And who keeps living with it.
Aeris drew a deep breath.
— Not a Supreme Boss.
— No. — A story.
The Labyrinth had just confirmed something.
This time, the trial demanded neither strength nor refusal to submit.
It demanded something else.
— …Great, Ilan muttered. — Looks like we'll have to talk.
The man gave a tired smile.
— You can fight if you want. — But it won't make you move forward.
Aeris exchanged a glance with Ilan.
— Do you want to take the lead? he asked.
Ilan nodded slowly.
— Yeah. — This one… it's mine.
The Labyrinth fell silent.
And for the first time since they had entered together,
it opposed neither obstacle nor monster.
It posed a question.
Silently.
Chapter 289 – What No One Validates
The square remained silent.
Not a heavy silence.
Not a hostile silence.
A silence… waiting.
The man seated near the broken fountain had not moved.
He watched Ilan without curiosity, without judgment.
Like someone who had already seen every possible reaction.
— You say fighting won't make us advance, Ilan said. — Then what's the trap?
The man slowly shook his head.
— There is no trap. — Just a question no one wants to hear while there's still time.
Aeris stayed slightly back.
He did not cut the wind.
He did not hide his presence.
He simply existed, attentive.
— My name was Kess, the man continued. — I was a hunter. — Rank C. — Not useless. Not brilliant.
Ilan frowned.
— And?
— And one day, I had a choice. — Not a grand heroic choice. — Something simple. Dirty. Human.
Kess placed his hand on the cracked stone beside him.
— There was a team trapped in a dungeon. — I had the strength to help them. — But no guarantee of coming out alive.
Ilan felt something tighten in his chest.
— You left them.
— Yes.
No tremor in his voice.
No excuse.
— I rose in rank after that. — I lived. — I ate hot meals. — I slept peacefully.
A brief, bitter smile.
— And every day since… I know exactly what I chose.
Aeris murmured, almost to himself:
— It's not judgment. — It's continuity.
Kess nodded.
— The Labyrinth doesn't punish me. — It replays me.
Ilan clenched his fists.
— What do you want from us?
— Nothing. — I want to see.
— See what?
— If you're looking for validation.
A shiver passed through the space.
Not an attack.
A clarification.
— If you think there is a universal right answer. — If you expect someone to say: you did well.
Ilan stayed silent.
He thought of his mother.
Of the broken door.
Of his anger.
Of Aeris, earlier.
Of himself.
— And if we answer wrong? he asked.
Kess smiled softly.
— Then you'll continue anyway. — But with one more lie.
The Labyrinth vibrated slightly.
Like a heartbeat.
A notification appeared, plain. Without fanfare.
**Active Trial: Testimony**
No combat required
No perfect success
Condition: answer without expecting approval
Aeris stepped forward.
— You want him to speak for himself, he said calmly. — Not for the Labyrinth.
— Exactly.
Ilan drew a deep breath.
— Alright.
He raised his eyes to Kess.
— I don't know what I would have done. — And I won't try to judge you.
Kess blinked, surprised.
— But I know one thing, Ilan continued. — If I had lived afterward… I wouldn't be at peace either.
Silence.
— Not because I would have made the wrong choice. — But because I would have made a choice. — And living with it… that's the real weight.
The Labyrinth did not react immediately.
Then, slowly, the pressure faded.
Kess stood.
— That's enough, he said. — You didn't try to be right. — You accepted responsibility.
His body began to dissolve, not into light, but into calm dust.
— Don't forget, Ilan. — No one validates our decisions. — We move forward with them.
The square vanished.
The staircase appeared.
But this time, something remained.
**Trace Acquired: Silent Responsibility**
Passive Effect:
- Choices accepted strengthen mental stability
- Regrets not denied lose their power to fracture
- The more the user advances without external justification, the clearer his actions become
Aeris looked at Ilan for a long moment.
— You didn't try to be strong. — You didn't try to be good.
Ilan smiled faintly.
— I just answered honestly.
The Labyrinth let them pass.
No applause.
No verdict.
Just… letting them continue.
Chapter 290 – What Advances Without Witness
The staircase descended.
Not brutally.
Not like an imposed fall.
It descended with an almost reassuring regularity, each step identical to the last, as if the Labyrinth refused any unnecessary surprise. A constant, relentless progression that left no room for doubt… nor retreat.
Aeris and Llan moved side by side.
Their footsteps echoed faintly, muffled by a dark material that was neither stone nor metal. A neutral surface, without texture, without real temperature. It absorbed sound, vibration, almost intention itself.
Yet, despite this perfect uniformity, Llan felt something.
Not pressure.
Not threat.
An alteration.
Each step seemed identical… but each gave him the impression of drifting further from what he knew. As if the memories of the outside world were slowly losing their weight. As if the city, his mother, the anger, the fear… were becoming progressively unreal.
— You feel it too? he murmured.
Aeris nodded slowly, without turning his eyes.
— Yes.
— It isn't hostile…
He paused.
— But it isn't passive either.
The staircase ended before a portal.
A simple rectangular frame, perfectly smooth, suspended in the void. No door. No panel. Inside, a translucent surface streaked with glowing blue lines, like living circuits constantly recomposing themselves.
No symbol.
No inscription.
But a mute certainty pressed upon them, heavy and undeniable.
Fifteenth floor.
They exchanged a glance.
There was nothing to say.
They crossed the threshold.
The sensation was immediate.
A brief, violent vertigo.
A pressure behind the eyes.
Then… the ground.
They stood atop a building.
Around them stretched an immense, vertical city. Towers of glass and steel rose endlessly, linked by aerial walkways. Giant screens covered the façades, streaming incomprehensible flows of information: numbers, graphs, anonymous faces, performance curves.
In the sky, drones moved silently, tracing perfect trajectories.
No birds.
No natural wind.
Everything seemed controlled.
Optimized.
Calculated.
— …Looks like a world without chaos, Llan murmured.
Aeris frowned slightly.
— Or a world where chaos has been locked away.
Before Llan could answer, a vibration rippled through the air.
The scenery froze.
The screens went dark.
The drones halted mid‑flight.
The sky itself seemed to lose depth.
Then a voice resounded.
Neutral.
Devoid of judgment.
Everywhere at once.
**Trial of Fifteen.**
Simulation of incarnation in progress.
Abandonment of individual identity required.
The ground dissolved beneath their feet.
Llan barely had time to think he was falling…
before the sensation stopped abruptly.
When he opened his eyes, he was no longer exactly himself.
Or rather… his mind was intact, but his body… different.
He lowered his gaze.
His hands were larger, marked with old scars. A light armor covered his torso, worn, functional, without ornament. No sophisticated weapon. Just a short blade strapped to his thigh, dulled by use.
Information pressed into his mind, without words, without voice.
**Incarnation: Kael Dravos**
Status: Frontline fighter
Simulated rank: Lower B
Role: Advance. Endure. Hold the line.
Llan understood immediately.
Not a hero.
Not a chosen one.
A soldier.
A few meters away, Aeris straightened.
His appearance had changed as well.
More slender. More agile. A flexible outfit, adapted for movement, minimal protection. Around him, the air seemed to respond faintly to each gesture, not as unleashed power, but as a mastered, limited skill.
**Incarnation: Erynn Valca**
Status: Mobile support fighter
Simulated rank: Lower A
Role: Observe. Adapt. Assist without dominating.
Aeris inhaled slowly.
He understood at once what the Labyrinth demanded.
Here, they were neither prodigy nor failure.
Neither rank D nor future S.
They were cogs.
Fighters among others.
Without witness.
Without recognition.
The voice echoed one last time.
**Objective: Progression.**
Failure condition: Voluntary halt.
Success condition: Continue.
Before them, the city transformed.
Buildings cracked.
Walkways partially collapsed.
Silhouettes appeared in the distance, humanoid, armed, countless.
Not monsters.
Not exactly.
Functional adversaries.
Without hatred.
Without emotion.
Llan instinctively tightened his grip on the blade's hilt.
Aeris, meanwhile, observed the battlefield in silence.
— …We're not asked to win, he murmured.
Llan nodded.
— Just to advance.
And for the first time in a long while, neither of them knew how many steps would be required…
nor what they would lose along the way.
Chapter 291 – The Front Line
They advanced.
Not running.
Not as heroes.
Simply because standing still was not an option.
The street ahead stretched for several hundred meters, lined with gutted buildings. The façades still bore broken screens, frozen on fragments of incoherent data—dead streams of information, suspended like thoughts someone had refused to erase.
The air was motionless.
Too motionless.
The silhouettes in the distance began to move.
They had nothing monstrous about them.
Human bodies.
Standardized armor.
Simple weapons, worn, functional.
Fighters.
Not symbols.
Not concepts.
Lines to hold.
— Contact in ten seconds, Aeris announced—
He stopped inwardly.
No.
Erynn.
The name imposed itself with cold clarity. The Labyrinth left no room for doubt. No overlap. No confusion. Here, he was Erynn.
At his side, Llan—no… Kael—nodded.
He felt the difference immediately.
His body was heavier.
Slower.
But grounded.
Each step resonated with a new density, almost reassuring. He didn't have the crushing power of a higher rank, nor the explosiveness of an elite fighter. But something compensated.
A constant resistance.
An endurance that didn't shine, but endured.
The ability to take hits without panicking.
— I'll take the front, he said simply.
Erynn did not protest.
He placed himself slightly behind, to the right, where the lines of sight were wider. Where his role was not to overwhelm… but to support.
The adversaries arrived.
Not screaming.
Not charging.
They advanced in loose formation, methodical, weapons raised, faces neutral. The kind of enemies who don't hate you… but will never let you pass.
Kael inhaled.
The first impact was sharp.
He blocked a spear strike with his armored forearm. The vibration shot up to his shoulder, brutal but bearable. He answered with a short, precise blow, aimed at the joint of the armor.
The opponent fell.
Not dead.
Neutralized.
— Behind you, Erynn called.
A precise breath of air—surgical—deflected a blade just enough to miss its axis. Not a gust. Not an area attack. Just what was needed.
Kael dodged.
Struck.
Stepped forward.
Then another step.
He understood quickly.
This was not a fight to shine.
Not a fight to dominate.
It was a fight to hold.
Each enemy defeated gave way to another.
The street seemed inexhaustible.
As if the world were testing not their strength… but their ability to stand without breaking position.
Fatigue came quickly.
Not spectacular.
Not dramatic.
A progressive heaviness in the arms.
A slight lag between intention and movement.
Breathing that grew shorter.
Kael took one hit too many.
The impact forced him back two steps.
— Kael, fall back a meter, Erynn ordered.
— No, he answered through clenched teeth.
He stayed.
Because instinctively he felt:
if he retreated further, the line would break.
Erynn understood then.
Here, Kael was not fighting to win.
He was fighting not to yield.
The wind around Erynn grew denser… then tightened.
Not stronger.
Not more destructive.
Just better placed.
It slowed charges.
Unbalanced footing.
Created openings without ever stealing the victory.
Because he knew.
He could sweep everything away.
Erase the battlefield with a single breath.
But if he did, the trial would collapse.
And with it… everything it sought to measure.
— Do you always do this? Erynn asked between interventions.
— What?
— Advance even when it's stupid.
Kael gave a brief, breathless laugh.
— Only when stopping would hurt more.
They held.
Minute after minute.
Blow after blow.
The adversaries eventually thinned.
Then stopped.
The street regained its artificial silence.
Kael let his arm drop. His breathing was heavy. His legs trembled slightly.
— …That was just the first wave, wasn't it?
Erynn studied the buildings in the distance. Movements were already forming, slow, methodical.
— Yes.
Kael smiled.
Tired.
Clear‑eyed.
— Then we keep going.
No notification appeared.
No reward.
Just a crushing certainty:
This world would offer them nothing for free.
And yet…
they advanced again.
Because this time,
they knew exactly why.