Standing on the canyon's edge, a man dressed in parts of leather and metallic armor observed the challengers' situation from his hiding place.
His cloak fluttered with the wind, covering his head from the sun. There was no real nighttime on the sixth floor. Either two suns hang in the fake sky or one.
Though, that didn't bother Behir Lamat, the moderator of the sixth floor. At his level, there were no need for sleeping.
Sleep was for the weak.
He considered himself the dutiful type and did his best to prepare challengers for the outside. And since those who reached the sixth floor were considered "okay" in his dictionary, he intended to teach them the meaning of helplessness, temporarily.
He had feared the black challenger would actually break that delicate balance. Fortunately, the orcs managed to restrain him using his weakness.
What stupidity that was.
