Somewhere deep in the labyrinth, people were still fighting for their lives. While Benny had survived and found some semblance of sanity, those he'd left behind were still battling against hordes of skeletons.
These weren't your typical animated bones. They had ligaments and muscles that allowed them to move their limbs, making them stronger than expected. But they had no organs—instead, each one contained a jewel floating hidden somewhere within their muscle. Sometimes it was easy to spot, sometimes it wasn't. This mana core powered the dead to rise, collecting both mana from the surroundings and the darkness that kept the labyrinth alive. To destroy a skeleton, you had to locate and destroy their mana core. But was it that simple? Hell no.
There was no fixed location where a mana core could be consistently targeted. Sure, there were only so many places to hide it inside a skeleton's body, but it was always well concealed behind ligaments and muscle tissue.
The skeletons seemed programmed to attack anyone within ten meters of their position. They had no organs or brains to work with, yet somehow possessed intelligence. The remaining survivors had studied defeated skeletons and discovered that the core itself had inscriptions—magic circles embedded into it. These acted as conduits for the labyrinth's master to send commands to the undead beings.
Fighting these skeletons was a nightmare. They couldn't die in the conventional sense, didn't bleed, and had no fixed vital organs to target. But since their movements weren't as refined as a living human's, they had weaknesses. They were just skeletons with ligaments and muscles holding joints and limbs together—no real intelligence to speak of.
There were ways to slow them down. Since they had muscles and ligaments attached to their limbs, you could target those areas to render body parts useless. If they had flesh attached to them, it basically meant they could be defeated. They weren't particularly strong or agile, but they had numbers. Their greatest weakness was randomly placed throughout their bodies, and unless that mana core was destroyed, the skeleton would keep moving forward like a machine.
Another problem: if you triggered one skeleton's aggression, it would likely alert the rest of them to converge on your position. A steep price to pay for these hard-learned lessons.
The party of twenty held strong while gradually retreating toward the surface. They took turns holding off the skeleton horde, splitting into two groups. One would rest and secure their rear, while the other fought on the front lines.
This strategy had worked so far, but there had been many sacrifices—friends and comrades who gave their lives to learn their enemies' weaknesses.
They were also running out of time and resources. How long they could hold out, nobody knew. This floor had multiple sanctuaries, but none of them had found one yet since skeletons guarded those places heavily.
The undead were literally everywhere. The most annoying ones to deal with were probably the ranged skeletons—archers that kept their distance while pelting the group with arrows. They'd also encountered a mage skeleton that moved differently and was heavily guarded by others. It acted as a captain for the skeleton forces, its commands audible through the clanging of its teeth.
But most dangerous of all were the heavy armored skeletons. There weren't many of them, but they'd killed more pioneer adventurers than the regular ones. These were probably the ones the survivors hated most. Not only were they incredibly sturdy, but it wasn't easy to pierce their armor—both heavy and thick, designed to withstand attacks from physical weapons. They also didn't have stamina limitations, so technically they could carry that weight for the rest of their skeletal existence.
This expedition had long been a lost cause. The people who remained were purely in survival mode now.
Meanwhile, unknown to them, one of their own was living a life of relative luxury near the entrance—the same entrance that had been blocked by those cowards who'd left them all here to die.
The labyrinth was both dark and a massive maze. The floors expanded the deeper you went, making navigation crucial. But how could you navigate when you were constantly under attack from all angles?
For now, the chaos below was deadly but controlled. The few remaining survivors were still fighting on, but the question remained: for how long?
Meanwhile, Benny was sleeping comfortably. His earlier psychological episodes had died down considerably. What would he feel when he eventually met those he'd abandoned? When he heard their stories of suffering while he'd been safe in his sanctuary? Would they blame him? Would they lose their minds and try to kill him on sight?
That was all up to fate now. But for the time being, their reunion would remain unforeseen.
The contrast was stark—while his former comrades fought desperately against an endless horde of undead horrors, Benny rested peacefully beside his smoking meat, unaware that others still suffered in the depths below. The labyrinth had separated them not just by distance, but by completely different realities of survival.
Soon enough, though, those realities might collide in ways none of them could predict.