The exit stood before him, an enormous archway carved from dark stone, pulsing with an unnatural glow. Unlike the previous floors, there was no grand staircase, no waiting portal. The Labyrinth of Beasts had not just been a test of strength. It had been something more—something alive.
Asher could still feel the god's presence lingering in the air, though it had faded into a distant hum at the back of his mind. The moment he rejected the pact, something inside him had shifted. The darkness in his shadow had deepened, thickened, taken on a weight that was not there before.
He stepped forward, crossing the threshold.
A wave of cold energy washed over him, freezing his breath in his lungs for a split second. The labyrinth was gone. The oppressive stone walls, the endless corridors, the whispering voices—they all faded into the abyss.
The world shifted.
And then he was somewhere else.
The floor beneath him was smooth and reflective, stretching infinitely in all directions like a darkened mirror. There was no sky, only a swirling void of black and gold, stars blinking in and out of existence. The air was still, heavy with something ancient.
Then, without warning, text appeared in the sky, glowing with an eerie blue light.
[Second Trial Complete.]
[Participant: Asher Damien – Status: Unranked]
[Time Taken: 5 Hours, 42 Minutes]
[Rank: Impossible]
The last word burned itself into the air, and Asher narrowed his eyes. Every hunter who entered the tower had a recorded rank for their performance. The higher the rank, the greater the rewards, the greater the recognition.
Ranks ranged from F to S. Only the best hunters ever received SS-Rank.
But "Impossible"?
That was not normal.
A new notification appeared.
[Participant has cleared the Labyrinth of Beasts in record time.]
[Participant has rejected a divine pact.]
[Participant has taken something beyond comprehension.]
The last line sent a pulse of unease through him. Whatever had happened in the labyrinth, whatever he had absorbed—it was beyond the tower's understanding.
The air shifted.
He felt eyes on him.
Not human eyes.
Not mortal ones.
The gods were watching.
Asher exhaled slowly. Let them watch.
A final notification appeared.
[Proceeding to the Third Floor.]
The reflective floor beneath his feet shattered like glass.
He fell.
The abyss swallowed him whole.
Cold air bit into his skin as he landed on solid ground. His boots pressed against damp stone, the scent of rain thick in the air. He straightened, glancing around, assessing his new environment.
This was no endless corridor, no twisted maze.
He stood in the middle of a ruined city, massive stone structures stretching toward the sky, their walls cracked and overgrown with creeping vines. The streets were filled with debris, broken statues, and the remnants of something ancient.
A ruined civilization.
A gust of wind carried whispers through the air, voices long dead, memories of a time long lost.
A notification appeared before him.
[Third Floor: Trial of the Forgotten City]
1. Survive for 24 hours.
2. Uncover the truth of the lost kingdom.
3. Do not let them see you.
The last rule sent a chill down his spine.
Before he could react, a distant scream echoed through the ruins.
Not human.
Something else.
Something hungry.
Asher unsheathed his blade.
The hunt was beginning again.
He moved through the ruins, keeping to the shadows. His footsteps were silent, his breathing controlled. The further he went, the heavier the air became. There was something unnatural about this place, something that did not belong.
A flicker of movement caught his eye.
High above, perched on the remains of a broken tower, a figure crouched, its long limbs stretched unnaturally. It had no face. No eyes, no mouth, no features—just smooth, pale skin stretched over its elongated skull. Its body was thin, its arms too long, its fingers ending in curved talons.
Asher did not move.
The creature did not move either.
It was waiting.
A test of patience.
A single step in the wrong direction, a single breath too loud—and it would strike.
He could feel the pressure in the air, the way the creature's body tensed. It was a predator. And it was testing him.
Slowly, Asher lowered his stance, his grip on his sword steady.
The creature's head twitched.
Then, it vanished.
Not a step. Not a movement.
It simply was not there anymore.
Asher's instincts screamed.
He twisted, blade flashing through the air.
The creature reappeared behind him.
Its talons slashed forward, aiming for his throat.
Too fast.
But Asher was faster.
He dropped low, avoiding the strike by inches. His sword lashed out, cutting through the creature's ribs, black ichor spraying through the air.
The thing did not scream.
It did not even react.
It simply twisted.
Its body bent at an impossible angle, its talons reaching for him again.
Asher's shadow pulsed.
Before he even thought about it, something inside him moved.
Dark tendrils lashed out from beneath him, wrapping around the creature's limbs.
For the first time, the faceless monster hesitated.
Asher's eyes narrowed.
"You don't like that, do you?"
The tendrils tightened.
The creature convulsed, its limbs spasming, its body disintegrating into mist.
Then, it was gone.
No corpse. No blood.
Nothing.
Asher exhaled slowly, his shadow retracting back beneath him.
The whispers in the air grew louder.
They had seen.
Something else was coming.
He needed to move.
As the hours passed, Asher realized the truth.
The ruined city was not just haunted.
It was alive.
The creatures that lurked in the shadows were not hunting him randomly.
They were watching. Learning. Adapting.
And worse—they were multiplying.
Every time he killed one, another took its place.
By the twelfth hour, the streets were no longer safe.
By the eighteenth, even the buildings were dangerous.
By the twenty-first, he was running.
He needed an exit.
He needed to find the truth of this city before it consumed him.
And if the whispers in the air were right—
He was already too late.