Chapter 277 — Refusing to Kneel
Valor smiled.
A slow, condescending smile, as if the entire situation were nothing but a joke.
He looked down on him.
— Hehehe…
— A miserable rank D.
He took a step forward.
— Kneel.
— Right before me.
— And maybe I'll spare you.
This version of Valor had the same arrogance as the original.
But something was different.
More raw.
More deliberately humiliating.
Ilan clenched his teeth.
No.
— If I submit now… he thought,
— then what was the point of floor 1… floor 5… floor 10…
— What was the point of my defeats, my mistakes, my choices?
His heart pounded.
— You want to tell me that all of this…
— that all this path…
— was for nothing?
He raised his head.
— I refuse to accept that.
Valor did not answer immediately.
He simply placed his shoe on Ilan's face.
Without unnecessary violence.
Without anger.
Just a natural gesture.
— What did you think? he said calmly.
— That you were the main character of the world?
He burst out laughing.
— Hahahaha…
— This isn't a manhwa.
He pressed his foot slightly, crushing Ilan's face against the floor.
Then withdrew it.
And with a sharp kick, sent him flying.
Ilan hit the wall, rolled, then stopped on his knees.
The impact was real.
The pain too.
But he was alive.
The labyrinth was not trying to kill him.
It was trying to see how far he would bend.
Of course…
Valor represented everything Ilan was not.
Born rich.
Born talented.
And during the event five years ago — the one where humans awakened —
he had reached rank S immediately.
While Ilan…
remained rank D.
Ilan rose slowly.
Wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.
And lifted his eyes.
— It's not you…
— A child who always had whatever he wanted…
— Who will make me kneel.
Valor's smile vanished.
He grabbed Ilan by the collar and lifted him effortlessly.
— I asked you one simple thing, he spat.
— How does trash like you dare refuse before a being like me?
Ilan stared at him.
Despite the pressure.
Despite the pain.
— Whether it's the original…
— or a copy…
A tired smirk stretched across his lips.
— Always so arrogant.
A heavy silence fell over the corridor.
And somewhere, deep within the Labyrinth,
something noted the response.
Ilan had not won.
He had not dominated.
But he had refused to disappear.
And for this trial…
That was exactly what was required.
Chapter 278 – The Fracture
The copy of Valor smiled.
But it was no longer the arrogant smile Ilan had faced just moments earlier.
It was neither the scornful sneer of the hunter born at the top, nor the grin of crushing domination.
It was… something else.
— Not bad, he said calmly.
Ilan did not reply.
His body was tense, ready to endure another humiliation, another blow, another proof that the world only rewarded the privileged.
— You didn't falter, the copy continued. — Stay on this path. — Don't abandon your ideals.
A sharp crack echoed in the corridor.
Ilan flinched.
The skin of Valor's copy had just begun to fissure.
Not brutally.
Not violently.
Like a statue too rigid, too perfect, unable to contain what it claimed to embody.
— …Huh? Ilan whispered, stepping back.
Fracture lines slowly appeared across the copy's body.
The colossal aura that had crushed him until then wavered, losing its density, its authority.
— This labyrinth doesn't create enemies, the copy said, its voice slightly distorted. — It creates mirrors.
A fissure ran across its chest.
— I'm not here to kill you. — I'm here to see if you betray yourself.
A fragment of its arm broke off.
It fell… then dissipated before even touching the ground, as if it had never truly existed.
Ilan clenched his fists.
He thought back to the precise moment when he could have kneeled.
To the ease it would have represented.
To the temptation of giving up, just once, to keep climbing.
— So… if I had submitted, he murmured, — if I had kneeled…
— You would have kept climbing, the copy answered without hesitation. — But emptied.
A heavy silence followed.
Valor's gaze — or what remained of it — settled one last time on Ilan.
— You are weak. — Objectively.
Ilan did not protest.
He knew it.
— You lack talent. — You lack rank. — You lack recognition.
The fissures widened.
— But you move forward without betraying yourself. — And that is rarer than power.
The copy's body was slowly disintegrating, as if the labyrinth itself no longer justified its existence.
— Remember this, it said. — The labyrinth does not demand that you be strong. — It demands that you be consistent.
Then the copy shattered.
Not in an explosion.
Not in a burst of energy.
It fragmented into pale shards of light, silent, almost respectful, before disappearing completely.
The corridor returned to stillness.
Ilan remained there for a long time.
His heart was still beating too fast.
His hands trembled slightly.
— …Damn, he finally whispered.
Nothing appeared.
No chest.
No visible aura.
No thunderous voice.
Then something happened.
Not outside.
Inside.
A subtle sensation, almost imperceptible, anchored itself deep within him.
As if an invisible pressure had just vanished.
As if, for the first time, the world stopped whispering that he was inferior.
Information engraved itself silently, without interface, without spectacle.
**Passive Mark obtained: Refusal of Submission**
- **Type**: Latent passive (non‑activatable)
- **Origin**: Trial of Inequality – obtained after the disintegration of Valor's copy
- **Effects**:
— The effects of domination, rank pressure, and natural authority are reduced against Ilan
— The more an opponent relies on status, rank, or innate talent, the less effective they are against him
— Provocations, humiliations, and mental pressures have diminished impact
Ilan did not smile.
He felt no euphoria.
Just one simple thing.
He felt… upright.
The staircase to the 14th floor appeared slowly, without grandeur, without emphasis.
Ilan approached it.
And for the first time since entering the Labyrinth…
He climbed
without asking himself
if he was worthy.
Chapter 279 – What Forces You to Stop
Ilan was exhausted.
Not the kind of fatigue that makes muscles tremble or lungs burn.
A deeper weariness.
The kind that settles in when the mind has endured too much without time to process it.
He stood still in the middle of the floor, eyes fixed on the staircase leading upward.
His legs could still move.
His mana was steady.
His wounds were superficial.
But something inside him spoke clearly:
*If you keep going now, you'll lose something you can't get back.*
— …That's enough for today, he whispered.
He inhaled slowly, placing a hand against the smooth floor of the Labyrinth.
The touch was cold, neutral, almost indifferent.
— Exit.
There was no resistance.
No voice to judge him.
No pressure to hold him back.
The Labyrinth did not seek to humiliate those who knew when to stop.
Space folded gently.
The light shifted.
An instant later, Ilan breathed different air.
Heavier. More imperfect.
Real air.
Noise reached him at once:
voices, footsteps, the constant murmur of the city mingled with the comings and goings of hunters.
He was outside.
He leaned against a wall, finally letting his body relax.
His knees bent slightly before he sat down, head tilted back.
— …Damn.
His throat was dry.
His stomach clenched immediately.
— I'm hungry.
The word felt almost strange after everything he had endured.
Supreme Bosses.
Embodied concepts.
Trials that judged more than strength.
And yet… it was hunger that pulled him back to reality.
A tired laugh escaped him.
— Seriously… dying in a conceptual labyrinth, that's acceptable.
— But dying of hunger after leaving, that would be truly pathetic.
He stayed there for a few minutes, watching around him.
Other hunters were coming out too.
Some alone.
Others in groups.
Some laughed nervously.
Others argued in low voices.
One man, face pale, nearly collapsed upon exiting, supported by his teammates.
— Did you see that thing?!
— Never thought I'd…
— Mine wasn't like that at all…
Ilan frowned slightly.
He listened without seeming to.
— On floor 12, I didn't understand anything, it felt like the ground rejected me.
— What? Seriously? Mine had some kind of beast lurking in the shadows.
— Wait… you're talking about the same floor?
An awkward silence followed.
— …Yeah.
Ilan turned his gaze away.
— So that's it…, he murmured to himself.
The floors weren't fixed chambers.
They didn't impose a single truth.
The Supreme Bosses were fixed.
Concepts.
Thresholds.
But between those thresholds…
the Labyrinth observed.
Adapted.
Presented what each person needed to face — or understand.
Not to block the ascent.
But to give meaning to progression.
No one lived exactly the same experience.
— …Makes sense, he breathed.
He realized something troubling.
The copy of Valor.
The contempt.
The pressure.
— It didn't even surprise me.
He had been afraid, yes.
But he hadn't felt crushed.
Not like before.
— I've changed…, he murmured.
Not in rank.
Not in raw power.
But something within him now refused to instinctively bow before someone stronger.
He rose slowly.
— First, food.
— Then sleep.
He cast one last glance into the void, where the Labyrinth's entrance had vanished.
— I'll return.
Not out of obsession.
Not to prove anything.
Simply… because he could.
And for the first time in a long while,
Ilan walked back into the city not as a desperate rank‑D hunter…
But as someone moving forward at his own pace.
Chapter 280 – Hunger, Fate, and Misguided Wind
Ilan stretched his arms with a loud yawn.
— Aaaah…
— I'm hungry.
A real hunger.
Not the kind you ignore with mana.
The honest kind. Human. Tragic.
— Seriously, he muttered,
— surviving embodied concepts, refusing the domination of a rank S…
— only to end up with an empty stomach, that's disgraceful.
He sighed, eyes lifted to the gray sky.
— Whoever designed this labyrinth…
— what kind of twisted angel are they, huh?
— Giving you just enough hope to remind you you haven't eaten.
His thoughts drifted.
The commander.
The elite hunters.
The chance he had been given.
Then a name crossed his mind.
— …Liora.
He gave a slightly foolish smile.
— Seriously, she…
— what an angel, that commander.
— Me, who thought my life was over…
He patted his stomach lightly.
— Right. Priorities.
— Restaurant.
— Then home.
— Scalding bath.
— Bed.
— And above all… sleep like someone who didn't almost die today.
He straightened.
— Destination: The Smoky Bowl.
A small neighborhood restaurant.
Nothing luxurious.
Wooden tables a bit worn, hearty dishes, and a homemade soup that made you forget you were poor.
Exactly the kind of place Ilan loved.
— A rank‑D hunter with simple taste, huh…, he murmured with a smile.
He walked calmly when he felt it.
Not a threat.
Not hostility.
But… a presence.
He turned his head.
A young man stood a little further away, motionless.
Short green hair, calm gaze, relaxed posture.
He observed the surroundings like someone analyzing, not like someone lost.
— …Hmm.
Ilan narrowed his eyes.
— Okay, either you're a weird tourist,
— or you're a future problem.
He approached.
— Hey, he called.
— You looking for something, or just pretending to be mysterious?
The young man flinched slightly.
— A‑Ah… sorry.
— I… was observing.
— Observing what? Ilan asked.
— The sidewalks? Because they're not very impressive.
The youth hesitated, then answered politely:
— It's my first time here.
— I come from… far away.
— Classic, Ilan sighed.
— Everyone comes from "far away."
The boy inhaled, then straightened.
— My name is Aeris.
— I come from the Northern Pantheon world guild.
Ilan froze.
— …Huh?
He looked him up and down.
— Wait.
— The Northern Pantheon?
— Like one of the four world guilds?
Aeris nodded timidly.
— Yes.
Ilan blinked.
— …Okay.
— First, you're way too calm for someone that important.
— Second… what are you doing here?
— I heard about a certain labyrinth, Aeris replied.
— My guild leader, Lysandra, gave me a recommendation.
— I'm supposed to present it to the Black Eclipse guild.
— …Of course, Ilan muttered.
— Weird stuff always happens when I'm hungry.
He studied Aeris more closely.
— Let me guess.
— High rank?
— Rank A+++, Aeris answered.
— Close to rank S.
Silence.
— …
— And I'm sixteen.
Even heavier silence.
Ilan put a hand over his face.
— …Sixteen.
— Years.
He slowly lowered his hand.
— Okay.
— I'll pretend not to compare my life to yours.
— Because otherwise I'll cry into my meal.
Aeris tilted his head slightly, embarrassed.
— Sorry…
— No no, Ilan replied.
— It's not your fault you're an annoying prodigy.
He grew serious again.
— So.
— You were heading to the guild?
— Not really, Aeris admitted.
— I'm not in a hurry.
— This labyrinth interests me more for now.
Ilan smiled.
— Bad idea.
— Very bad idea.
— …Why?
— Because this labyrinth eats you alive.
— Slowly.
— Conceptually.
Aeris seemed to think.
— …Sounds interesting.
— Of course it does, Ilan sighed.
— You prodigies are all the same.
He pointed down the street.
— Listen.
— I'm going to eat.
— Right now.
— Vital emergency.
He pointed at Aeris.
— You're coming with me.
— Uh… why?
— Because:
you look socially lost,
I don't want to eat alone,
and I've already decided.
He grabbed Aeris by the wrist.
— Come on.
— The Smoky Bowl is two streets away.
Aeris blinked, then gave a small smile.
— …Alright.
— I don't mind.
— Perfect, Ilan concluded.
— Welcome to real life.
And as they walked away,
two hunters who couldn't be more different —
one broken but standing,
the other gifted but still naïve —
stepped unknowingly into a meeting that would change far more than their evening plans.
— And by the way, Ilan said as they walked,
— if you order something too expensive,
— you're paying.
Aeris gave a small laugh.
— Promise.
Night was falling gently over the city.
And somewhere, the Labyrinth was watching.