The entrance to the rumored First Labyrinth was found exactly where Hayabusa's rumor suggested: hidden beneath a discarded pile of junk in a forgotten, derelict storehouse just outside the city walls.
It wasn't the majestic, arched gateway of a proper dungeon, but a narrow, cracked spiral staircase descending into the earth, reeking of damp stone and stale air.
Hayabusa, leading the way, shone a faint light generated by a system-provided starter lantern.
Ryo, axe at the ready, looked nervous but excited. Zanshin, taking up the rear, felt only dread.
As Hayabusa's foot landed on the moss-covered floor of the first subterranean level, a brilliant, gold-colored banner unfurled in the air above their heads, visible only to the party.
[ACHIEVEMENT: First Labyrinth Discovered!]
[BONUS: All party members receive the 'Pioneer' effect for 72 hours! +15% Experience Gain, +5% Item Drop Rate.]
"Yes!" Hayabusa hissed, pumping his fist. Ryo cheered quietly.
Zanshin watched the banner vanish, the bonus a fleeting, meaningless detail to him.
The thrill of discovery couldn't penetrate the cold certainty that this dungeon was where he would finally falter.
The mobs in the dungeon were immediately and significantly more dangerous than the Frenzy Boars.
They encountered Grave Grunts, undead skeletons armed with rusty swords that moved with surprising speed and precision.
Their levels were clearly higher, likely closer to Level 5 or 6, judging by their health bars and the damage they dealt.
The initial success of the party was due entirely to Hayabusa's competitive foresight and Ryo's surprisingly sturdy defense.
Hayabusa, utilizing his sword skill Vertical Square, was effective at exploiting the skeleton's weak points.
Ryo used his axe to keep the mobs contained.
Their strategy, however, was fundamentally flawed because of Zanshin.
"Zanshin, pull!" Hayabusa yelled as two Grave Grunts shambled into view.
Zanshin initiated his frantic run, his white figure immediately drawing the skeletons' attention.
But unlike the slow boars, these mobs were agile.
They closed the distance quickly, forcing Zanshin to rely on clumsy lateral steps and desperate turns, unable to shake them easily.
He was the perfect lure, but he was also a constant drag.
"Pull back faster, Zanshin!" Ryo shouted, narrowly deflecting a blow from the second skeleton.
"You're making us chase you around the corner!"
Zanshin knew Ryo was right.
He wasn't pulling efficiently; he was panicking clumsily.
Against the quick-moving skeletons, his failure to use a combat skill meant the mobs never became staggered or debuffed, making the encounter twice as long and consuming precious HP and potions for Hayabusa and Ryo.
He was insufficient. He wasn't just bait; he was an anchor, a weight tied to their progress.
His heart hammered in his chest with the shame of his inefficiency.
He was taking the safest path for himself—never swinging, never risking a destructive miss—but in doing so, he was maximizing the risk for his two teammates.
After clearing a small nexus room and securing a minor drop—a slightly improved leather chest piece for Ryo—the party took a much-needed break.
The tension was thick, and Ryo was openly irritable, patching his HP bar with a cheap starter potion.
Hayabusa waited until Ryo was distracted, then moved close to Zanshin, who was sitting rigid against a cold stone wall, the Glaive resting across his knees.
"Hey, Tsurugi," Hayabusa said softly, using his friend's real name.
"We need to talk about that Glaive."
Zanshin didn't look up.
"I told you, I need the reach. I'm being effective."
"No, you're not," Hayabusa countered, his voice firm but laced with sympathy.
"You're the only reason we're spending five minutes on a single mob. We're doing great because of the Pioneer buff and Ryo's grind, but you're running terrified, if you ain't gonna step up man we'll die. And you still won't swing. It's not about the weapon, man. It's about what happened a year ago."
Zanshin flinched, the words striking him like a physical blow.
"Don't bring that up. It has nothing to do with this game."
"Of course it does!" Hayabusa insisted, his voice rising slightly before he checked himself.
"You're afraid of breaking things. You're afraid of hurting people. That's why you're using that huge, slow weapon—because you think if you miss, it'll be slow enough to correct. And that's why you won't even trigger the skill cues—because you're afraid of the focused force behind them. I know we're only level three, and the system won't let you do anything world-breaking. But you're treating the Skill Cue like it'll unleash the same mistake that caused the accident. You think you'll accidentally kill me."
Hayabusa sat down heavily next to him, his shoulder barely touching Zanshin's.
"Listen to me, Zanshin. Look at me. That was an accident. A freak confluence of events, a mechanical failure, a massive mistake—but it was an accident. You did not mean for any of it to happen. That's why I'm here. That's why I looked for you."
Hayabusa's voice was low, filled with an unexpected, raw confession of his own.
"If I thought for one second you were a malicious person, that you intentionally hurt people, I wouldn't be in this party. I wouldn't be your friend. But I know you. And I know you tried to deny our friendship because you felt guilty, and that just proves how much you care. You need to stop punishing yourself by trying to make yourself useless. You didn't mean it, Zanshin. You didn't mean to cause the accident."
Zanshin finally looked up, his golden eyes wide with dawning, terrible clarity.
Hayabusa's words—You didn't mean it—were true. Logically, rationally, Zanshin knew the accident wasn't malicious.
The realization hit him: The guilt wasn't about the accident anymore.
The fresh, crippling guilt was about his reaction.
It was about abandoning everyone—Klein, his team, his life—after the accident.
Choosing a massive, useless weapon, hiding from his trauma, and now actively crippling Hayabusa's party with his self-imposed incompetence.
His deepest shame was not the original catastrophe, but his subsequent, pathetic failure to cope.
Hayabusa is right.
I didn't mean to hurt him then. But now, in this dungeon, I am intentionally setting him up for death.
His hands, resting on the Glaive, began to shake violently again.
The raw, desperate truth was that he could not allow himself to commit to a skill cue, because the moment he did, he would be committing to the focused, controlled force that his trauma now violently rejects.
Catastrophic tremor would garble the input, triggering a devastating skill failure and a fatal cool-down.
The fear was too ingrained.
He tried to articulate the new, complex layer of self-loathing, but only managed a choked whisper.
"It doesn't matter what I meant," Zanshin rasped, pulling his knees up to his chest, shrinking away from Hayabusa's touch.
"I am dragging you down right now. I am the reason you'll need more potions. I am the reason we will die in here. I am the problem."
Hayabusa sighed, rubbing his forehead.
He understood Zanshin was in too deep.
"Alright. Fine. But just know, if we die, we die together, man. And it won't be because of a mistake you made a year ago."
He stood up, retrieving his sword.
"Let's move. We're close to the second level. Stay focused. We need you."
Zanshin nodded, but the chilling realization had changed nothing about his behavior.
He stood up, still shaking, and followed his friend deeper into the darkness, knowing that he was a coward wrapped in a lie, leading the one person who still believed in him toward inevitable failure.