Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Alon’s public justification for traveling to the lands of Estrovan was to forge alliances. Yet, the genuine motive behind his week-long trek was a labyrinth situated to the south of the territory.

“…Is this the location where you mentioned you had matters to attend?”

“It is.”

“It took us a fortnight to locate this spot, yet… there is nothing here?”

Evan slowly surveyed the vacant woodland as he spoke. Alon’s gaze also swept their surroundings.

True enough, all that surrounded them was an unkempt path and a forest that appeared long-forgotten; no distinctive landmarks were visible.

‘That is precisely why I had to struggle for two whole weeks.’

Alon’s face was a mask, but internally, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Following the ball, Alon had devoted nearly twenty days within Estrovan, dedicating his efforts to locating this specific labyrinth.

‘I underestimated the challenge simply because it was easy to find within the game.’

Thinking this, Alon turned his eyes toward a narrow gorge visible past the trees. He started walking toward the sole clue that had enabled him to find the labyrinth.

“Are you certain this time?”

Having already been led on two fruitless excursions, Evan complained as he trailed behind Alon.

Hearing Evan’s footsteps following him, Alon swiftly arranged his thoughts.

‘The labyrinth is named the “Whispering Labyrinth.” It is a dungeon accessible around the midpoint of the game, and the prize for conquering it is the item known as “Constraint.” Once I acquire that, my purpose here will be fulfilled.’

Remembering the attributes of the labyrinth he had entered countless times before, Alon walked with certainty. Soon, he reached a small ravine beyond the forest.

“…This place feels wrong, no matter how you observe it.”

Evan spoke the moment they arrived at the ravine.

Just as he muttered, the ravine, while small, possessed an undeniable air of abnormality.

Despite the sun being high overhead, the interior of the gorge was unnaturally dark, as if actively repelling the daylight.

This triggered a feeling of alarm and wariness in Evan.

“Let’s proceed.”

“Young Master!?”

Yet, this very phenomenon filled Alon with satisfaction.

The strange effect within the ravine matched the environmental aura of the Whispering Labyrinth he sought.

This confirmed the labyrinth’s presence, so he stepped into the dark ravine without a second thought.

Evan watched Alon with astonishment but had little choice except to follow him inside.

Entering the ravine felt like the sun’s presence moments before had been an illusion; the interior was engulfed in shadow.

Within the gloom, various stones—carved with patterns that seemed man-made rather than natural—were scattered about.

Walking past these, Alon soon found an entrance submerged in absolute blackness.

Alon stood staring at the unmistakably artificial door, covered in intricate designs.

“How did you know this place existed?”

“Because I’ve visited frequently.”

“What?”

Realizing his slip of the tongue, Alon quickly amended his statement.

“It was a jest.”

“…A jest? With that expression, it sounded entirely serious… So, how did you truly know of it?”

“I have my methods.”

“For a man with methods, it certainly took you a considerable time to locate this place.”

“…I also did not anticipate it requiring this much time.”

As Alon briefly recollected his past experiences, Evan posed another question.

“Then, who created this disagreeable place?”

“It was made by an individual named Palaon.”

The Whispering Labyrinth.

Alon recalled that in some circles, it was also called Palaon’s Water Rocket Labyrinth.

“Palaon, you say?”

“Let’s enter.”

Choosing not to answer any more of Evan’s inquiries, Alon moved toward the labyrinth entrance, and Evan, wearing a tense and cautious expression, followed him.

Soon, the entrance to the labyrinth was empty.

***

Screeeeech~!!!!

Crack! Crackle! Crunch!

A Hell Gargoyle, a monster meant to be challenged only during the mid-narrative of the game, was being slowly crushed as if caught in a gigantic stone press that had descended from the ceiling.

Evan watched, his face pale.

“O…”

Witnessing such a formidable creature, one he could never hope to defeat alone, die in such a brutal and pitiful manner, was enough to leave a mark on his usually unflappable mercenary’s nerves.

However, what made Evan’s heart beat even faster was the realization that the massive stone slab currently crushing the gargoyle was suspended above their own heads as well.

‘How can the young master remain so composed in this situation…?’

Evan looked at Alon.

Despite the fact that failing to solve even a single puzzle in this labyrinth would lead to a horrific death like the Gargoyle’s, Alon’s face showed no emotion.

He seemed to be merely waiting for the door to open, completely undisturbed by the circumstances.

Seeing Alon like this only deepened Evan’s curiosity about him.

Typically, no matter how enigmatic a mage might be, four years in his service should have revealed at least a glimpse of his true nature.

Moreover, Evan had assisted Alon with numerous tasks over those four years.

Sometimes he rescued orphans.

Sometimes he dismantled malevolent organizations.

Other times, he aided an enslaved girl or settled an old man’s debts. If not, he would deliver messages that seemed to carry no clear meaning to various acquaintances. He handled a wide array of assignments.

Yet, despite performing all these duties, Evan still felt he did not know Alon.

This was because none of the tasks Alon had given him provided any insight into his actual motives.

The nearest thing to a common pattern was that Alon appeared to maintain a lasting interest in some of the children he had saved, arranging for them to be placed in orphanages.

Beyond that, there was much about Alon that remained a mystery to Evan.

For instance, how Alon knew of a place like this despite never having left the Palatio lands before.

Or how he comprehended the mechanisms of this sinister labyrinth and could answer its questions with such confidence.

Nevertheless, despite his suspicions, Evan had developed a strange trust in Alon, sufficient for him to follow his master into this ominous place, partly because all the tasks Alon had undertaken had ultimately resulted in positive outcomes.

‘What is he truly preparing for?’

But even with this trust, his curiosity did not wane. Evan looked at Alon with a gaze mingled with respect and intrigue as the young master inspected their surroundings with an air of detachment.

‘…I think I’m going to be ill.’

In truth, Alon was deliberately avoiding looking at the gargoyle’s gruesome crushing.

‘I knew it was violent, but not to this extent…’

Screeeeech~!

Alon confirmed the door opening as soon as the gargoyle’s execution concluded and let out a quiet breath.

Even though he lacked proper combat prowess, the reason he could confidently enter the Whispering Labyrinth, a dungeon meant for mid-game, was his prior knowledge of it.

‘Thanks to that, I have cleared it with ease.’

This labyrinth was composed of eight chambers, each demanding the solution of a puzzle before progression to the next.

Knowing every puzzle meant he could avoid fighting any enemies, and Alon remembered each one with precision.

No, from the viewpoint of a seasoned player, the puzzles in this labyrinth were unforgettable.

This was one of the few dungeons one could re-enter repeatedly without claiming the final reward, making it perfect for level-grinding.

Naturally, Alon, who had used this place for mid-game grinding across countless playthroughs, had memorized every puzzle and reached the labyrinth’s end without difficulty.

Pulling along Evan, who was thoroughly drained despite no fighting having occurred, Alon entered a small chamber at the labyrinth’s terminus, where he picked up a ring resting on an aged table in the center.

It was a plain-looking ring, so unassuming that one might voice disappointment, sensing no power emanating from it.

Yet, Alon smiled.

He was certain the item he held was the “Constraint” he had been searching for.

He was also unconcerned by the ring’s lack of a spectacular appearance.

“…Huh? Young Master, that ring you were holding just…”

This item did not function as a typical artifact; it was more akin to an elixir that would be absorbed into the user’s body the moment it was utilized.

“Now that we have what we came for, let’s depart.”

As the ring vanished from Alon’s hand, Evan, who had been startled, saw Alon turn as if his business was complete. Evan, still appearing bewildered, hurried after Alon out of the room.

And, the moment they reached the exit, the labyrinth deactivated entirely, as if its purpose had been served.

Alon and Evan, having escaped safely, found themselves facing an unexpected development.

“…Did you anticipate this as well?”

The moment they exited the labyrinth, they were met by humanoid golems holding weapons, arranged in a formation. They had not been there moments before.

“These golems are the stone piles we passed earlier…”

Realizing these constructs were the countless stone piles they had walked past, Evan, now tense, drew his sword.

“I will manage this.”

“Huh?”

Evan reacted with confusion to Alon’s words.

Before he could even pose a question—

“The Constraint is now in effect.”

The declaration came from Alon’s lips.

***

Seated in the carriage returning to the Altia Duke’s estate, Roria released a heavy sigh, her face filled with profound hopelessness as she looked at the estate in the distance. A self-mocking smile touched her lips.

‘As I suspected, I was a fool.’

Roria thought of the man she had met at the ball.

Alon, the third son of the Palatio family.

But that was merely his public identity. According to the rumors spreading among the nobility, he had killed his two older brothers, significant figures in the underworld, and had even obliterated Avalon, which had nearly controlled the eastern region, in a single night.

He was the true power behind the Palatio family, concealing his strength and waiting for the right moment to bare his claws.

‘No, it is more than just rumor.’

Having met Alon, Roria knew without doubt that those rumors were true.

The emotional control he had exhibited at the ball could not have come from an ordinary man.

‘It was almost like looking at Father…’

Roria thought of her father.

The Duke of Altia, called the “Noble One” among the aristocracy for his ability to manipulate both the Royalist and Noble factions within the kingdom to his will, and a man who must never be crossed.

Her father, who never carelessly revealed his feelings and always remained dispassionate in his judgments.

His eyes resembled those of Alon, whom she had seen five days prior.

That was why Roria had clung to Alon, recognizing him as her final hope, and she had failed.

Honestly, the outcome did not surprise her.

The moment she saw Alon’s eyes, Roria had understood he was not a man swayed by trivial sympathy or pity.

Still, she had pleaded for that very sympathy and pity.

Because she possessed nothing else to offer.

What she did have was merely an illusion of power, maintained by the Duke’s fleeting mercy and affection.

No matter how hard she tried to grasp something more substantial, her efforts were always thwarted by her contemptible relatives, who could hardly be called family.

In other words, she was powerless, and thus, incapable of seizing her last chance.

Or rather, she was the only one who had considered it a chance.

No one would be willing to engage in a transaction where the risks were more obvious than the potential benefits.

‘Ha.’

In truth, it would be a lie to claim she was ignorant.

Even if it was just a semblance of power, she had already endured numerous situations, battling against her vile relatives who possessed everything, striving to secure her own position.

So, even though she had not yet reached adulthood, her mind was already well-acquainted with the world’s harsh logic.

She understood all too well that every relationship and narrative involved both profit and loss.

‘Good things will happen.’

As Roria gazed out the carriage window at the estate’s scenery, she recalled those seemingly meaningless words Alon had spoken at the end.

Approximately 30 minutes later, upon returning to the mansion…

“…What did you say?”

“Lady Faylin and Lord Kigg… have taken their own lives!”

She heard from a maid that two of her siblings, who had tormented her relentlessly, had committed suicide.

Hearing this news, Roria, feeling perplexed, went to her room, baffled by their deaths.

Her detestable family members were far more likely to stab one another in the back than to kill themselves.

In other words, the notion that those two had committed suicide made no sense from the start.

‘This is unbelievable.’

Certain some scheme was at play, Roria suddenly remembered the words of that man, the third son of the Palatio family.

No.

‘Good things will happen.’

Recalling the words of the true mastermind who had killed all his siblings and risen to become the heir of the Count’s family,

A cold shiver ran down her spine.