Hasphien's POV
There was no sound.
Only a low hum—vibrating through my spine, like the world itself had a heartbeat.
Then… pain.
Not sharp. Just pressure. All over.
I opened my eyes to a haze of blue.
The floor beneath me was stone—mossy and carved with glowing lines. The air was cold and heavy. I blinked a few times, trying to adjust my vision, and slowly pushed myself upright.
"Where...am...I?"
Massive, marble pillars stretched upward toward a ceiling that wasn't a ceiling at all, but a simulated night sky where constellations pulsed in a void. There was no sun, yet a faint, bioluminescent glow clung to every surface. Below, a grid-like corridor branched out in perfect, terrifying geometry, extending in every direction like a sprawling stone labyrinth. It felt less like a dungeon and more like the inside of a gargantuan, ancient maze.
Faintly carved into one of the nearest pillars was a mark I didn't recognize—an angular spiral, almost like a claw scratching inward toward a tiny, dot-like center. It pulsed subtly, as if aware I was looking. Was it a warning…?
Then—
It appeared again.
The interface shimmered into existence, a fracture of light in the dark. But the terror was gone. It was as if I had bled out every emotion I possessed back in that living room, leaving nothing but a vast, silent crater where my heart used to be. The light didn't feel like a threat anymore; it felt like an answer.
I didn't flinch. I didn't fight. I simply watched with dead eyes as the blue light stabilized, the flickering static smoothing out into sharp, crystalline lines.
Then, the void began to speak in a cascade of scrolling text.
[ Transportation Complete. ]
[ YOU have entered the Labyrinth. ]
[ Welcome to the "Labyrinth," HASPHIEN MAXENCE. ]
[ This is a personal calibration field. ]
[ You will remain here for 100 days. ]
[ Initializing Daily Task Protocol... ]
[ Each day presents one floor. ]
[ Total Floors: 100/100. ]
[ Floor Difficulty: Progressive. ]
[ Progress Rewards will be granted upon each successful floor clearance. ]
My breath caught.
"A hundred… days?"
The message continued as if it didn't care how confused I was.
[ First Task: Survive Floor 1. ]
[ Fiend Count: 100/100. ]
"What even is a fiend—?"
[ Fiends detected: The Hundred Gnawlings (Level 1). ]
I hadn't even finished framing the first question when the silence was flayed open.
It started as a dry, skittering scratching—a sound like dead leaves catching in a gale, but heavier. Sharper. It didn't come from a single point; it echoed and bled from the jagged edges of the pillars until it seemed to come from every direction at once.
It was the sound of a hundred claws—thousands, maybe—dragging across the cold, ancient cobblestone. It was rhythmic, hungry, and fast. The darkness between the pillars began to shift, the scratching growing into a deafening, frantic clicking that set my teeth on edge.
Something was coming, and it wasn't alone.
From behind the grid of stone, pairs of glowing crimson eyes blinked into existence. Six. Ten. Then dozens, peeking out from the shadows of the repeating columns.
They crawled out in a twitching, unnatural unison—small, rat-like, their bodies stuttering and flickering like corrupted frames of a broken recording. It was as if reality itself couldn't quite hold its shape together. The nearest one scuttled forward, its mouth opening sideways in a way no living thing should. It ground its jagged rows of teeth together with a metallic, ear-piercing screech that echoed through the vast, open hall.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I looked left, then right. In every direction, the grid of pillars stretched into the blue haze, and from behind every single one, more eyes were opening.
I was being hunted in an open graveyard.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I turned and bolted. I didn't know where I was running; there were no walls to guide me, only the infinite, suffocating grid of pillars stretching into the blue haze.
I scrambled past one pillar, then another, my breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps that echoed too loudly in the vast space. I tried to put distance between myself and the crimson eyes, but no matter how fast I ran, the scratching followed. It wasn't just behind me anymore—it was echoing off the stone to my left, to my right, weaving through the pillars like a physical tide.
The farther I ran, the more the sound began to close in—sharper, louder, a rhythmic metallic clicking that echoed off the cold walls. Every time I looked over my shoulder, I caught the same flicker of a jagged shadow darting behind the columns I'd just passed. They were moving with a terrifying, silent fluidity.
My stomach twisted as the realization hit. They weren't just chasing me; they were herding me. Every turn I took felt like it had been chosen for me, a calculated funneling toward a destination I couldn't see, but could already feel waiting in the dark.
Suddenly, the blue interface flared directly in the center of my vision, pulsing with an aggressive, warning red.
[ WARNING: If you continue to flee, this challenge will not proceed. ]
[ The trial will persist until the last fiend is defeated. ]
I skidded to a halt, the soles of my shoes screaming against the cold floor as the truth finally caught up to me. There was no exit. No hidden door, no narrow passage, and no one coming to save me. I was trapped in a dead-end.
I turned back, my breath coming in jagged, shallow hitches. There was only the swarm—a vast, shifting sea of eyes and teeth—and the crushing weight of my own heartbeat. Just me, and the hunger waiting for me.
"So this is how I die," I whispered, gritting my teeth until they ached. "In an unknown place, being eaten by these creatures."
The swarm coiled, their spindly legs folding beneath them with a frantic, rhythmic twitch. They moved with the terrifying precision of a predator gauging the distance to its prey—and then the tension snapped. One by one, they lunged. They weren't just jumping; they were projectiles, launched at me in a blurred, screeching arc of rusty fur and hunger.
"WHAT THE—!"
I barely rolled aside as the first one crashed into the floor where I'd been standing, the stone shattering under its impact. The swarm surged behind it, their bodies rippling like a single, bloody tide.
A jagged metallic claw lashed out, raking across my side. White-hot pain bloomed—but it was sharp, focused. Instead of drowning in the agony, my brain seemed to categorize it.
[ Reflex Synchronization: 12% … 26% … 41%... 100%. ]
[ Synchronization Complete. Optimal Combat Tempo Established. ]
I didn't have time to process the numbers or the cold, synthetic voice echoing in my skull. My body simply moved.
Before I could even think about retreating, I stepped into the next strike instead of away. It was a fluid, predatory movement I hadn't known I possessed. I caught a gnawling's spindly, metallic limbs mid-air, twisted my weight with a sharp pivot, and slammed it into the stone floor.
The crunch was sickeningly loud.
The sound silenced the swarm for half a heartbeat. In that sudden vacuum of noise, a jarring collision of absolute amazement and raw confusion slammed into my head.
It was happening again. Just like during the physical assessment, my body was moving completely on its own.
I looked ahead, and the silence fractured. Another dozen pairs of crimson eyes blinked open in perfect, terrifying unison—a hive-mind of hunger locked onto a single target.
I felt the adrenaline surge—not as a flush of heat, but as a sharp, electric current that rewired my nerves. My vision narrowed, the world slowing down until I could see the individual tremors in their small bodies. The wild, desperate heat in my chest crystallized into something cold and jagged.
"Fuck it," I snarled, the last of my fear snapping into a razor-sharp focus. "Let's do this!"
Another wave lunged, a chaotic blur of claws and gnashing teeth, but to me, they were like moving through molasses. I dropped low, the world decelerating into a series of static frames as I swept my leg through the front line, the impact echoing with a satisfying crack.
I twisted in a single, fluid motion. My palm snapped against a throat, the force of the strike shattering the windpipe like dry glass; in the same heartbeat, my knee drove upward, caving in the ribcage of another. Bodies didn't just fall—they broke. Where they hit the floor, black-crimson blood splattered the walls in a jagged, violent rhythm, painting the geometry of the room in gore.
I wasn't just fighting. For the first time in my life, I was the one holding the blade. I was the one in control.
[ Fiend Count: 70 / 100. ]
Thirty lay dead at my feet. But the swarm didn't flinch. Another twenty surged forward in a frantic, desperate wave, their claws screeching against the floor. Behind them, at least fifty more lurked in the deeper shadows, a sea of lashing tails and glowing eyes waiting for a single opening.
One leapt onto my back, its teeth sinking into my shoulder. I roared, slamming my back into one of the pillars and crushing its skull with my elbow. I spun, grabbed another by its tail, and swung it like a flail into three of its kin.
The swarm adapted. Their movements grew sharper, coordinated—like the swarm itself was learning my patterns. But I was changing, too. My chest heaved, my arms trembled, but I wasn't slowing down. I was... aligning.
I wasn't just getting stronger. I was getting in sync.
[ Fiend Count: 45 / 100. ]
The corridor stank of metal, blood, and death. My knuckles were raw, the skin torn away, but my footing only sharpened. Ten more tried to box me in—I dropped low, shifted my center of gravity with a shove of my heel, and watched them tumble into each other like a house of cards.
Another wave. Another rhythm broken.
[ Fiend Count: 12 / 100. ]
I moved through the final cluster with a precise, cold inevitability. Bones snapped like dry twigs under my feet. Skulls crushed beneath my strikes. Finally, a heavy, suffocating silence stretched across the corridor.
I stood there, drenched in sweat and dark ichor, my uniform hanging in tatters. I looked across the vast open space.
It was waiting. The one who had watched from the shadows since the first claw hit the floor. The last one.
[ Fiend Count: 1 / 100. ]
At first, it looked like the others—small, twitching, pathetic. But as it stepped over the mountain of its dead kin, the gnawling began to swell. Its frame twisted with a wet, grinding sound. Muscles knotted and expanded; its shadow stretched.
A few more steps, and it wasn't a rat anymore. It loomed monstrous, a hulking titan of fur and jagged metal, its eyes fixed on me with a sharp, calculating malice.
It hadn't just been waiting. It had been watching. And now, it knew exactly how I fought.
Then it came at me like a falling hammer.
Too fast. Too brutal. Its first strike slammed into my ribs with the force of a high-speed collision, fire ripping through my chest. I flew across the floor, my breath hitching in a silent scream before my back hit the stone pillar with a sickening thud.
Vision blurred. Static danced at the edges of my sight, flickering like a dying monitor. I coughed—a wet, hacking sound that rattled my lungs—and felt the sharp, iron taste of blood fill my mouth. I slid down the side of a massive pillar until I hit the floor, every rib screaming in protest as if they were being ground into dust.
"Isn't this a bit much… for a welcoming floor?" I rasped, my voice sounding like gravel.
I spat a crimson glob onto the floor, watching it glisten under the blue light of the labyrinth. I waited for an answer, for a sign of pity, or even for the world to stop spinning.
But the pillars didn't move. The blue haze didn't lift.
The creature shrieked—a sound that clawed at my eardrums like jagged glass—and surged forward again. Its rusted talons gleamed in the dim light, snapping inches from my throat. It didn't care about my remark. It only cared about the hunt.
I forced myself upright, every muscle fiber trembling with a fatigue so deep it felt like it was written into my genes. My legs threatened to buckle, but I wouldn't let them. If this was the welcome, I wasn't going to stick around for the goodbye.
The monster's gaping maw lunged again. I dropped low, my fist shooting upward into its chest. A surge of static—cold and sharp—burst from my knuckles upon impact. The beast let out a bone-splitting roar, stumbling but not falling.
I didn't give the creature a millisecond to recover. I closed the distance in a blur of hyper-accelerated motion, my strikes raining down like a localized storm.
Every impact was a cacophony of screeching metal against bone. Sparks erupted in violent, electric bursts whenever my knuckles collided with its plated limbs, lighting up the dark in jagged strobes. I could feel the vibration of the armor buckling under my fists—a brutal, rhythmic feedback that told me I was no longer just hitting; I was dismantling.
I learned its rhythm in the heat of the pain—the way it paused for a fraction of a second to reset, the heavy twitch in its shoulders before a wide swipe.
I jabbed forward with a knee, caught its claw mid-swing, and yanked. I used its own momentum to slam it into the pillar. Cracks spiderwebbed across the stone. Sweat and blood streamed into my eyes, stinging like salt in an open wound, but I didn't wipe it away. I was finally finding the tempo.
Low, high, twisting, slamming. Each hit I landed dented its frame; each counterstrike it landed left me bruised and gasping. Finally, summoning every ounce of adrenaline left in my system, I landed a crushing blow to its center mass.
The shriek it let out was hollow, echoing like a dying machine, before it crashed into the stone like a falling tower.
Silence followed—vast and suffocating.
Across the space, the remaining swarms glitched apart like fractured glass, dissolving into the shadows until I was the only thing left. I stood there, clutching my side, feeling splintered bone grind with every ragged breath.
I was alive. But I was breaking.
[ Floor 1: Cleared. ]
[ Reward: Basic Weapon Selection Unlocked. ]
[ Attribute Points: +5 (Allocated Automatically). ]
The screen pulsed, the red warning tint fading into a cool, clinical blue.
[ Would you like to proceed to weapon selection? ]
"Proceed," I muttered, my voice a broken whisper as I collapsed onto the cold floor.
The display shimmered, three options unfolding in the air like holograms.
[ Rusted Dagger ] — Swift and lethal.
[ Asymmetrical Shards ] — Precise and versatile.
[ Heavy Pike ] — Relentless and enduring.
My eyes lingered. The Pike offered distance—safety. The Shards offered control. But the dagger... it was just a rusted blade, dull and unassuming. Yet it called to me. It was light. Simple. Direct. I didn't want to keep my enemies at a distance; I wanted to be close enough to see the light leave their eyes.
I tapped the screen.
[ RUSTED DAGGER selected. ]
[ Congratulations. You have acquired your first weapon. ]
The blade materialized, hovering above me. I reached out, my fingers brushing the corroded metal. It felt weightless and ice-cold, with a faint, heartbeat-like pulse thrumming beneath the rust.
I let my arm drop back to the cold floor, my body finally giving in to gravity. I'd read the stories before—the web novels and manhwas where people were trapped in death games. But those stories never mentioned how much the blood actually stank. They never mentioned the bone-deep, nauseating ache of a rib that wasn't supposed to be bent that way.
As I lay there, a faint, rhythmic vibration thrummed at the base of my neck.
Right before my eyes, the translucent blue interface didn't just display my stats—it began to actively rewrite them. Tiny, geometric threads of light bled out from the borders of the screen, stitching themselves directly into my skin. I watched, horrified and fascinated, as the swelling in my forearm began to recede in real-time, the agonizing pressure in my chest softening as the system forced my fractured bone back into alignment.
It was too precise. Too intimate. A health monitor boosted your muscles; it didn't piece your skeleton back together like a master weaver.
I stared into the center of the glowing interface, the phantom warmth of it humming inside my skull. My lips parted, and a question finally clawed its way out of my throat, raw and demanding.
"Who… or what are you, really?"
The interface flickered. The scrolling lines of data ground to a sudden, absolute halt. For the first time since the activation, the text didn't look like a programmed command. It felt like a breath.
[ ... ]