Chapter 56

Chapter 56

Alon possessed a far deeper understanding of a person called Myaon than the rest of the mercenaries did.

This knowledge came from Myaon being a companion who would join the protagonist’s group in ‘Psychedelia’ upon completing a specific labyrinth stage.

During the initial parts of the game, numerous players often enlisted her early on, even at a low rank, since she would become a member at a significantly advanced level.

Having experienced a number of her personal storylines, Alon was inevitably familiar with her character.

“……”

Yet, in spite of this prior knowledge, the proposition Myaon put forward was so unexpected that it left him speechless, and Alon continued to say nothing.

“Is something troubling you?”

Myaon offered a faint smile.

Alon, who had been studying her face—still bright despite its markings—eventually replied with a slow, questioning tone. “So abruptly…?”

“Abruptly? We have encountered each other three times now.”

Myaon’s feline ears gave a slight twitch as she went on, “We understand each other by this point, don’t we? I am aware of your power.”

“Ah.”

A soft sigh escaped Alon at her statement, finally pulling his mind from its stalled state.

He now understood the probable reason behind her offer.

He recollected that Myaon’s people followed a custom of respecting strength.

While the memory was old and somewhat hazy, he knew her tribe harbored a powerful sense of esteem for anyone superior in might.

‘A reverence for power… They feel a deep draw toward those stronger than themselves.’

Alon observed the many scars adorning Myaon’s form, almost like tribal insignia, and stated, “I must refuse, I’m afraid.”

“Oh?”

Myaon’s face revealed a hint of dejection at his response.

But shortly after, she released a breath, as if surprised she had displayed such a reaction moments earlier.

“Well, I suppose there’s nothing to be done. I was genuinely excited when you subdued me with a single motion…”

Her voice was laden with regret, yet her expression was akin to a merchant who had just lost a sale.

Witnessing this, Alon reflected once more.

‘I was aware that the thought processes of beastfolk and humans are distinctly different, but this aspect… is truly in a class of its own.’

As Alon was lost in thought, Myaon spoke again, “Well, if you reconsider, do tell me. I have my appealing qualities, you know?”

Like a tenacious vendor, she delivered her final line and departed.

While Alon gazed vacantly at her leaving figure, he suddenly heard the voice of Rine, who had been quiet until then.

“Shall I handle it, Sir?”

“…What? That won’t be necessary.”

“She addressed you with disrespect, Sir.”

Rine, who had kept her eyes fixed on Myaon until she was out of sight, delivered this icy remark.

Alon pressed his lips together firmly.

“No… you can’t be considering killing her over a few words, can you?”

Recognizing that someone even more peculiar than Myaon was close by, Alon answered swiftly, “It isn’t needed. She didn’t truly do anything wrong.”

“Understood, Sir.”

Rine gave an immediate nod and turned her attention away.

Alon experienced an odd feeling.

‘Something is not quite right.’

He tilted his head, sensing that Rine’s manner toward him was disproportionately extreme compared to how others, such as Deus and Seolrang, behaved.

Just at that moment—

“The break is finished! Everyone, move out!”

Argonia’s piercing voice signaled the rest period was over, and Alon, setting his musings aside, rose and resumed walking into the gloom.

***

Approximately one day later.

The squad assembled to eliminate the foreign entity had spent a night within the labyrinth, a place comparable to a chasm, and pressed onward.

They had now arrived at the 4th stratum.

‘Just as I thought, it’s nothing like the game.’

Alon clicked his tongue; it had taken over a full day to only reach the 4th layer.

Given the slow speed of the large group and the impossibility of using shortcuts, the actual experience of navigating the labyrinth was harshly unlike the game.

In the game, merely defeating specific monsters would progress you to the next stage, but here, in the gorge’s depths, monsters attacked without end, and managing them alone had consumed more than a day.

Alon reaffirmed his decision to never enter the labyrinth again as he surveyed his surroundings.

The mercenaries, who had journeyed into the labyrinth on multiple prior occasions, were accustomed to the chasmic darkness and even cracked the occasional joke, but for Alon, this location had already become a place he wished never to revisit.

‘There is a useful item for magic-users near the labyrinth’s 40th floor, however…’

For a brief moment, he remembered a piece of information from the game, but he quickly dismissed it, resolving to abandon the item entirely.

It had taken over a day just to get to the 5th floor, so what would reaching the 40th entail?

It was simple to deduce that it would require a vast amount of time.

After some more time had passed, a call came from the front.

“We’re nearing the 5th floor.”

Alon, who had been walking in a daze, turned his eyes toward the sound and saw a door in the distance, shining as if it were the labyrinth’s exit.

Soon after, they finally made it to the 5th floor.

“…So this is the 5th floor,” Alon murmured, his face blank.

But that was merely external. Internally, he was truly taken aback.

He could see the sky, as if they were no longer inside the labyrinth.

And it wasn’t just any sky—it was a brilliant, clear one.

Observing the blue-tinted grasslands and the broken ruins spread out below, Alon thought to himself.

‘…This is totally unlike what I remember from the game.’

While the view was comparable to the game’s, the sensation of being here was somehow not the same.

In the game, the 5th floor served more as a rest point, but here, it was authentically serene.

Alon felt a short-lived tranquility, as if a heavy weight on his heart was easing.

However, it was fleeting.

“Alright, take a brief rest and then begin preparations at once,” Argonia’s voice jolted Alon back to their mission, and he slowly started to run through the plan again.

‘Let’s just hope everything goes according to the operation…’

***

Shortly after the Outer God extermination force reached the 5th floor, the mercenaries, following a quick rest, soon rose and began their preparations in earnest, exactly as Alon had directed.

And then—

“Tch.”

Watching their methodical movements, Maverick clicked his tongue and turned his look elsewhere.

He looked at Alon.

To be frank, Maverick still did not care for him much.

No matter how he examined him, Alon did not appear especially powerful.

‘What is so impressive about a man who is already out of breath just from walking through the labyrinth?’

Maverick recalled the discussion between Argonia and Himan from a few days prior.

Or, more precisely, he recalled their expressions during it.

They had been soaked in a cold sweat, holding their breath in silence.

‘What in the world did they witness?’

Maverick had glanced at Alon numerous times but still found nothing remarkable, so he turned away, his face showing obvious puzzlement.

And then—

“Hm?”

At that instant, he detected something unusual.

Something very minor.

But accompanied by a sense of familiarity.

As Maverick wondered what it could be, he looked again and recognized the source of the déjà vu.

It was the sound.

The clamorous noise his subordinates had been making as they readied Alon’s plan—it had all vanished.

It was as if time had frozen.

Sensing a problem, Maverick observed the mercenaries and soon found the origin of his disquiet.

It was the mercenaries themselves.

Only moments ago, they had been talking and jesting while performing their duties, but now, they were all completely still.

As if they were puppets.

They had halted in the precise postures they held while executing the plan.

Utterly motionless.

As an increasingly alarmed Maverick tried to speak—

The mercenaries’ bodies started to fall apart.

In a slow, deliberate motion.

Beginning from their legs as if they were supports, the mercenaries’ forms tilted sideways and collapsed onto the earth.

Splaaashhh!

Crimson stains soaked the ruins and the green fields.

And then—

“!”

Maverick, his eyes wide with shock at the sudden event, saw it.

Standing casually before the dropped mercenaries was a goblin.

A profound feeling of powerlessness washed over him as his eyes met the goblin’s emotionless stare. In that split second, he comprehended several truths.

The goblin before him had slain his men.

The goblin before him was the foreign being this mission was meant to destroy.

And that he needed to unsheathe his sword right away.

Yet, despite being conscious of all this—

He was incapable of action.

He could not cry out in fury.

He could not pull his sword.

He could not even call for help.

He could do nothing.

Even though the being before him was a goblin—one of the thousands he had previously killed—

Instinctively, he knew that ‘this’ was no common goblin.

The gaze of the goblin—or rather, ‘it’—connected with Maverick’s.

Instantly, Maverick interpreted the sentiment in that look.

It was one of endless tedium and conceit.

It was brimming with ennui, as if uninterested in all occurrences.

And there was arrogance, as if viewing everything from a great height.

At the culmination of those sentiments—

“Who allowed you to look upon me?”

It delivered its verdict.

A finger lifted.

Slowly.

But inevitably.

It aimed directly at Maverick, as if precisely designating his impending death.

And then—

Just as Maverick, swamped with dread, shut his eyes upon seeing the finger start to move—

“Freeze.”

A voice, cold and devoid of feeling, rang out.

Crack-crack-crack-!!!

The ground turned to ice.

Ice crystals, extending like ravenous tendrils, washed over the grass in surges, freezing all they touched.

“Crystal.”

Crack-crunch~!

A frigid noise, like something being compressed and shattered, resonated through the air.

“Get a grip.”

Hearing that voice, Maverick opened his eyes and saw—

A man standing with his back to him, a black coat flapping in the icy wind. From his left hand, a pale gray magical energy drifted like mist.

In front of him, the goblin—or rather, ‘it’—was imprisoned inside a crescent-shaped ice crystal, its eyebrows faintly twitching as it confronted the man.

It was Count Palatio.

Maverick, as if mesmerized, could only stare vacantly at that back.