While Benny was stuck at the third floor, the others were also making their way back up to that same level. They had explored much of the fourth through tenth floors, memorizing their old and new routes and gathering new materials for better equipment. They decided it was now time to return to the upper floors for a much-needed break. They had been constantly fighting for who knows how long already. Weeks? Months? Time blurred together in the darkness.
They also had six more people with them in the beginning. Though these six weren't active combat fighters. They were the people who had survived the initial collapse with them and had been left in the labyrinth. Before Gustav's group went through the dimensional portal to the rat kingdom, they had found these six still hiding on the first floor when they returned. Alive, but barely functional.
Now, the core group had to drag them around like dead weight.
People who, time and time again, they had considered as liabilities. Though they also didn't kill them outright. Well, almost. Ripler had come close on several occasions because these six did nothing and relied entirely on the main group. The fighters were always exhausted, always bleeding, always hungry. And these leeches just complained to them. Complained about the food. About the pace. About the danger. About everything.
The core group told them not to follow, told them to stay in the sanctuaries and wait. But these people were quite thick-skinned. They refused to be left behind, terrified of being alone in the dark.
So the group got tired of them. Tired of sharing rations. Tired of protecting people who wouldn't protect themselves. Tired of hearing complaints from people who contributed nothing.
Then one day, an opportunity arose. By some miracle or twist of fate, during one of their descents to the seventh floor, they were ambushed by the denizens there. The enemies seemingly must have sensed them going down the stairs. Perhaps they had scouts. Perhaps they had traps that detected movement.
And there, a battle ensued.
Those six useless people died in the chaos. Most of the core group celebrated inwardly when these pieces of shit finally fell. Ripler even thanked them afterward, saying that finally they had made some use out of themselves. At least their bodies could serve as distractions while the real fighters escaped to a favorable position.
It was a genuine relief that may seem somehow inhumane and cruel to outside observers. But they could no longer spare sympathy, especially not for those six. Especially not after everything they had been through. Sympathy was a luxury they couldn't afford.
Though the loss of possible capable hands who could have helped them clear this labyrinth was significant, it also wasn't. Not really. Because those six were never going to become capable. No, they were now the husk of what they have once been, the proud and courageous adventurers who had become too broken to be fixed and refused to see that there is still hope amidst their situation. They were more than just a liability. They were a danger to the overall party. A weak link that could get everyone killed.
In truth, if the ambush hadn't killed them, someone in the group might have eventually done it themselves. Better to lose six cowards than one competent fighter.
Anyways, now they were treading back to the upper floors where the enemies were a lot easier to handle. Where they could take actual breaks without constant vigilance. And they could use the materials they'd gathered to upgrade their weapons and armor at the safer sanctuaries above.
Currently, the remaining members of the core group who had originally gone with Benny to attack the first floor rat kingdom subspace were:
Gustav, their de facto leader. Hardened and cold-blooded now.
Ripler Flamesworthy, the fire elemental warrior mage and famous veteran whose rival had sealed them all in here. Bitter and ruthless.
Meredith, a spear user who had once been enthusiastic and empathetic, now tempered by loss and violence.
Kael, a former soldier who knew discipline and warfare better than most, but was out here for vengeance to avenge his former comrades.
Torin, a blacksmith's apprentice who could repair and improve their weapons even in this hell.
Senna, a scout whose sharp eyes had saved them from countless ambushes.
Greaves, an older adventurer who had seen more than any of them and somehow still survived.
Zy, who specialized in traps and ambush tactics, turning the labyrinth's own methods against it.
Nida, the assassin. The one who still thought about Benny sometimes. The one who had been the last to see him alive.
Hiro, a dual blade fighter whose style came from another continent, it was as beautiful as it was deadly.
And Roman, who fought with his hands and body, a martial arts style that turned his entire form into a weapon. The quiet one who kept everyone's spirits up when the darkness pressed too hard.
Eleven survivors out of the original one hundred. Too many faces had been lost along the way.
Meanwhile, Benny must have gained some form of reason during his paralysis in the sanctuary. He had vacated the third floor after his strange day of stillness. He went back up to the first floor, and he'd had some thoughts about it. About how he should get some more proper rest. About how pushing himself to the edge wasn't sustainable.
He had an ample supply of food stocked, so he wouldn't have to hunt for a few days. At least, that was what he thought. That was the plan. Rest. Recover. Try to remember what it felt like to be human.
The meeting would be something to look forward to, though none of them knew that each other still lived. The core group assumed Benny was long dead, his body rotting somewhere in the depths. And Benny only understood that there must have been people other than him in the labyrinth. He'd seen the signs. The camps. The equipment in the third floor sanctuary.
Not that he knew that was actually factual, or that he was sane when he thought about it. His grip on reality was tenuous at best. And he certainly didn't know that he may have known these people as friends before. That they had fought together. That they had trusted each other once.
But none of those things he could confirm or deny with his current state. His memories were of holed cheese. His identity was fractured. His humanity was hanging by a thread.
The meeting would be challenging, to say the least.
Would they recognize him? Would he recognize them? Or had he changed so much that he was unrecognizable? The Benny they knew was a nervous young man trying to prove himself. The Benny that existed now was something else. Something that had terrorized entire kingdoms. Something that had earned the title of Grim Reaper.
Gustav's group made their way up from the lower floors, exhausted but alive. They moved with practiced efficiency now, each person knowing their role. They'd lost so many, but the ones who remained had become incredibly dangerous. Hardened by endless battles. Sharpened by constant death.
They reached the third floor and began setting up camp in the sanctuary there. The same sanctuary where Benny had seen signs of human activity. Where he had found the equipment and sleeping spots.
"Let us rest here for a few days," Gustav announced, setting down his pack. "We need to get our strength back before we decide whether to push deeper or hold position."
Nida looked around the sanctuary, a strange feeling settling over her. Something felt different about this place. Like someone had been here recently. The air felt disturbed somehow.
"Does this place feel weird to anyone else?" she asked.
Roman shrugged. "All these places feel weird. That's kind of the point."
But Nida couldn't shake the feeling. She walked around the sanctuary, examining the corners and alcoves. And there, in one spot, she found something that made her heart stop.
A sleeping spot that was still warm. Recently used. Within the last day or so.
"Someone's been here," she said quietly.
The group immediately went on alert. Weapons drawn. Eyes scanning the darkness beyond the sanctuary's boundaries.
"Another survivor?" Meredith asked hopefully.
"Or something worse," Ripler muttered.
They didn't know how right he was. Somewhere above them, on the first floor, the Grim Reaper rested. And soon, very soon, their paths would cross once more.
The question was: would it be a reunion as friends or a massacre?