Chapter 273 — Continuity
The eleventh floor had nothing spectacular.
No burning sky.
No floating ruins.
No dramatic music.
Just… a corridor.
Long.
Straight.
Infinite.
Ilan frowned.
— …Wait.
He stopped abruptly.
— That's not supposed to be possible.
One Supreme Boss every ten floors.
The rule had been clear.
The Measure had proven it on the tenth floor.
And yet…
The eleventh floor was occupied.
— Okay, he murmured.
— Either the labyrinth's bugging, or someone's messing with me.
He walked a few steps.
Then more.
Nothing happened.
— …Either it's a trap, or a very bad joke.
At the tenth second, he understood.
The ground beneath his feet shifted slightly.
Not visually.
Conceptually.
Each step left a trace.
Not behind him.
Ahead.
— …Wait.
He stepped back half a pace.
The trace remained.
The corridor, until then empty, began to fill.
Silhouettes appeared.
Himself.
Younger.
Slower.
More hesitant.
Then another version.
Faster.
More brutal.
Then another still.
Wounded.
Breathless.
On the verge of breaking.
Ilan ran a hand through his hair.
— Seriously…
— You're all me?
A voice answered.
Calm.
Neutral.
Everywhere at once.
— I am Continuity.
The corridor folded.
The versions of Ilan began to walk.
All at once.
In different directions.
— The rule imposes a threshold every ten floors, the voice continued.
— The Measure respects the intervals.
— I… extend them.
Ilan gritted his teeth.
— So you just decided to show up before your turn?
— No.
— I continued.
— Every decision you make does not disappear.
— It continues.
— Somewhere.
— Differently.
One version of Ilan attacked.
He blocked instinctively.
But at the moment of contact, the strike was not the one he expected.
Because it wasn't that Ilan striking.
It was the next one.
— …Damn, he growled.
He pulled back just in time, dodging a blow he already knew.
— You're synchronized.
— No, corrected Continuity.
— You are coherent.
The battle exploded.
Not in power.
In sequences.
Every mistake Ilan had ever made returned as imperfect timing.
Every good decision created an opening…
…that another version exploited immediately.
— So basically, he panted between dodges,
— I'm fighting the sum of my choices?
— Correct.
A strike came too close.
His shoulder burned.
He exhaled.
— …This is supposed to be a Supreme Boss?
— Because honestly, it's almost educational.
A silence.
— You find this easy, observed Continuity.
— I've seen worse, Ilan replied, straightening.
— And above all… I've already lived all this.
His movements slowed.
They changed.
He stopped seeking the perfect strike.
He sought the coherent one.
Same rhythm.
Same breathing.
Same intent.
The versions of him began to overlap.
To merge.
To become… a single trajectory.
— …Okay, he said softly.
— I think I'm starting to get it.
He advanced.
Not against them.
With them.
The final clash was silent.
Then the corridor folded back on itself.
— Condition fulfilled, declared Continuity.
— You did not reject your possibles.
— I'm just trying not to lie to myself, Ilan replied.
A symbol appeared in the air.
**Supreme Boss defeated: Continuity**
**Reward granted**
A bluish aura fixed itself to him.
**Aura obtained: Personal Thread of Time**
— Improves anticipation based on past experience
— Reduces penalties from repeated mistakes
— The more the user acts in accord with his past, the more fluid his actions become
Ilan exhaled.
— Two floors.
— Two existential lessons.
He looked up.
The staircase appeared.
But this time…
It rose in a spiral.
— …I knew it.
— It was too easy.
Far away, elsewhere.
Something observed.
— He has passed The Measure.
— He has accepted Continuity.
A silence.
— Let's see if he can withstand… Rupture.
The twelfth floor awaited.
And this time,
it was not the future that would attack Ilan.
It was the very meaning
of what he believed to be real.
Chapter 274 — What Cannot Be Learned in a Dungeon
Meanwhile, Valen had left the guild with Arelis.
They walked.
Not in a dangerous zone.
Not in an important place.
Just a sidewalk.
The sky was light gray, heavy without being threatening.
People passed by. Some spoke too loudly, others stared at their phones, others seemed lost in thought.
Arelis observed everything.
— They're all going somewhere, he said.
— But none seem in a hurry to arrive.
Valen gave a faint smile.
— Welcome to Earth.
They stopped at a crosswalk.
The light was red.
Arelis stepped forward… then halted when he saw Valen standing still.
— You're waiting?
— Yes.
— Why?
Valen pointed at the light.
— Because it's red.
Arelis stayed silent for a moment.
— And if you cross anyway?
— Technically, nothing stops me.
— Then why wait?
Valen thought for a moment. Not to find a clever answer. Just a true one.
— Because if everyone decides rules only matter when it suits them… nothing holds.
— Even when you're stronger than the rule?
— Especially when you're stronger than it.
The light turned green.
They crossed.
Arelis nodded slowly, as if recording the information in a place that did not yet exist.
— Humans create limits… even when they could ignore them.
— Not all, Valen corrected.
— But those who do keep the world standing without realizing it.
They kept walking.
A child ran past, chased by an overly enthusiastic dog.
A woman laughed.
A man cursed because he had spilled his coffee.
Arelis stopped abruptly.
— That man is angry.
— Yes.
— Yet he is not in danger.
— No.
— And he loses nothing important.
— Exactly.
Arelis frowned slightly.
— Then why is that emotion so… real?
Valen glanced sideways at him.
— Because on Earth, it's not the gravity of things that matters.
— It's attachment.
Arelis repeated the word softly.
— Attachment.
They passed a shop window.
Arelis's reflection appeared for a moment.
His dark hair.
His new cut.
His eyes hidden just enough.
— Valen.
— Hmm?
— Humans know they are weak.
— That they can fail.
— That they can die.
Valen nodded.
— And yet… they continue.
— They love.
— They build.
— They argue over trivial things.
— And sometimes… they give everything for someone else.
He turned to Arelis.
— That, no dungeon can teach.
Arelis stayed silent for a long time.
Then:
— Is that why you wanted to show me Earth?
— Yes.
— Not for power.
— Not for systems.
— But for what cannot be measured.
Valen smiled, genuinely this time.
— You learn quickly.
Arelis lowered his head slightly.
— I still don't know many things.
— But I'm beginning to understand why…
— you keep fighting.
They resumed their walk.
Behind them, no one turned around.
No one knew that, on that day, something absolute was slowly learning…
…what it meant to be human.
Chapter 275 — What Does Not Block the Ascent
The twelfth floor attempted nothing.
No sudden pressure.
No distortion.
No voice.
Just… an open space.
Ilan stood still for several seconds, wary out of habit more than fear.
After two Supreme Bosses in a row, his body almost expected an existential blow.
It did not come.
The floor was smooth, light gray, without notable texture.
The ceiling too high to be measured.
And above all — a rare thing — the floor imposed nothing.
— …Okay, he murmured.
— Either it's a transition floor.
— Or it's worse.
He moved forward.
Nothing triggered.
His aura remained stable.
The **Personal Thread of Time** vibrated softly, without warning.
No penalty. No amplification.
— It's empty, he noted.
— But not dead.
He walked further.
Then stopped abruptly.
Something was not false.
But incomplete.
The floor did not react to his weight.
No echo.
No return.
— …Interesting.
He turned back.
Then retraced exactly the same path.
This time, a tiny variation appeared.
Not visible.
Measurable only by sensation.
The step was… slightly shorter.
Ilan narrowed his eyes.
— All right.
— So there is something here.
He did not try to force it.
He sat down.
Breathed.
And began walking again — without intention of progression.
The floor reacted differently.
Not harder.
Not softer.
But coherent.
— …You're not a trap, he said to the space.
— You're a choice.
Then he understood.
The twelfth floor did not block anything.
It did not test anything.
It did not evaluate anything.
It let one pass.
But only if one advanced without trying to win.
A Mini‑Law.
Not active.
Not hostile.
Just… present.
— I could ignore it, he murmured.
— Climb. Continue.
He looked around.
— Or I could stay here for hours…
— and understand how you work.
The Labyrinth did not respond.
Normal.
He smiled.
— Don't worry.
— Not today.
He stood up.
Walked straight.
Without accelerating.
Without optimizing.
The staircase appeared.
Simple.
Discreet.
Almost ordinary.
Before climbing, Ilan turned back one last time.
The space was identical.
But he now knew:
This floor rewarded those who did not need a reward.
— I may return, he said calmly.
— When I have time to waste time.
He climbed.
The thirteenth floor awaited.
And somewhere, buried deep within the Labyrinth,
a Mini‑Law had just been detected.
Not defeated.
Not broken.
Simply… acknowledged.
And that was enough.
Chapter 276 — What Burns Without Asking Permission
The thirteenth floor did not wait.
As soon as Ilan set foot off the staircase, the ground vibrated slightly, like a breath awakened too soon.
The space was narrower than the previous one: slanted corridors, dark walls veined with pale lines, and a diffuse light that came from nowhere.
— There we go… he whispered.
— Back to the concrete.
He advanced three steps.
The first appeared without warning.
A low creature, fast, with too many limbs, claws scraping the stone in a sharp screech.
No crushing aura.
No concept.
Just clear hostility.
Ilan did not think.
He struck.
The blow was clean, precise, piercing.
The creature disintegrated into opaque fragments before dissolving.
— So you really exist… he murmured.
— Not symbols. Not lessons. Threats.
As if in response, others appeared.
But before he could reposition—
A shadow passed.
And the corridor ignited.
Blue flames, of unreal purity, swept through the space.
The monsters were annihilated instantly.
No cries.
No resistance.
Nothing remained.
Ilan felt a shiver run down his spine.
— …No.
His heart tightened despite himself.
Impossible.
— Calm down, he forced himself.
— This is a labyrinth. I've seen worse.
— It can't be him.
— Just a monster with a similar power… that's all.
But the blue flames…
He knew them.
Other creatures emerged farther ahead.
They were burned before even touching the ground.
Still without him seeing the attacker.
— The labyrinth wouldn't call upon a real human… he murmured.
— Not like this.
Then he saw it.
At the end of the corridor.
A human silhouette, motionless.
Covered in a colossal aura, crushing, almost insulting in its density.
In its hand, the still‑smoldering head of a decapitated monster.
Ilan's throat tightened.
— …How…
— How could a rank D hunter like me survive such a monster…
The silhouette raised its head.
The face appeared.
Ilan's breath caught.
— …You.
Valor.
Rank S hunter.
But not the real one.
He understood instinctively.
A copy.
A version created by the labyrinth, without authorization, without will of its own.
Certainly extremely nerfed compared to the original.
…But even so.
It changed nothing.
Valor spoke, his voice dripping with contempt.
— What is a hunter so mediocre doing here?
— Clearly, this labyrinth has been modified to help the desperate.
Ilan clenched his fists.
— Valor… he murmured.
— Even if I've gained strength…
— It's impossible for me to scratch you.
He did not know this version was weakened.
And even if he had known…
It would have changed nothing.
Valor looked at him as one looks at dust.
— What is an insect like you doing here?
— Kneel before the great Valor.
Ilan inhaled deeply.
— Valor…
— Are you here to help the mediocre hunter I am?
A silence.
Then a brief, sharp laugh.
— Help you?
The contempt became almost palpable.
— Who do you take me for?
Valor's aura intensified slightly.
And at that precise moment, Ilan understood.
This was not a Supreme Boss.
This was not a law.
It was worse.
A trial that wore a face.
And this time, the labyrinth was not testing his strength.
It was testing whether he would still believe himself inferior.