They left the labyrinth at dawn. The sun hadn't fully risen yet; pale light filtered across the cracked earth, soft and cold. Their footsteps were quiet as they walked through the ruins, leaving behind stone, blood, and memory. Zara walked with her arms crossed, gaze set forward.
"No treasure in the end," she muttered.
Pierre glanced her way. "Of course not. You read too many fairy tales."
She gave him a look. "Excuse me for having a little hope."
"The Labyrinth of Darkness was never meant for treasure seekers. It was a prison."
Lato tilted his head. "A prison for what?"
Pierre shrugged. "No one really knows. But back in my academy days, we studied the mythologies of a lot of pantheons. Not just the ones we worship or receive blessings from."
"Like the Olympus pantheon?" Zara asked.
Pierre nodded. "Exactly. They're a prominent one, but mostly followed in the Red Kingdom. The Church of Olympus. A sibling church of my church. But their myths are... widespread. Respected. Studied, if not followed." He kept walking, spear slung over one shoulder. "One of their old tales speaks of a labyrinth built to imprison a creature named Asterion. The first minotaur."
"The father of the one we fought?" Vaylan asked.
"Yes," Pierre said. "But that thing we fought... it was just an avatar, a recreation of the real thing." He looked down the path ahead, his gaze distant. "The tale goes: long ago, a mortal king defied one of the Olympus gods. He refused to sacrifice a sacred bull. So the god cursed him. Made his queen fall in lust with the beast."
Zara grimaced. "That's disgusting."
Pierre didn't smile. "From that curse came Asterion. A failed creature. Half man. Half bull. Too human to be a beast, too monstrous to be a man. They locked him in a labyrinth until a hero named Theseus finally killed him."
Lato narrowed his eyes. "So the gods... took the corpse of a failed monster and made another?"
"No. They took the head. The core. They used it as a vessel. A blueprint. And then created something better. Directly. Not from man. Not from sin. From power."
"Tauros," Vaylan said quietly.
Pierre nodded. "A true divine construct. Born from a god's will alone. Not a cursed accident like Asterion."
"But Tauros is still just a boss monster on Floor 9, right?" Lato asked. "Why trap something like that inside the Tree?"
Pierre slowed his steps. "Because gods can't fight each other. Not directly. They can't even leave their own floors. But they can create things. Apostles. Monsters. Agents."
"Apostles being mortals who form contracts," Zara said.
"Right. Mortals like us. Ascendants. Or rather soon-to-be Ascendants. We climb. And if we're strong enough, or promising enough, sometimes... we're noticed. And a god reaches out."
"But when an apostle dies…" Vaylan murmured.
Pierre nodded. "It weakens the god who blessed them. Because that bond, once formed, costs power. Maintaining it drains their strength. Losing it stings. A lot."
"So monsters like Tauros kill apostles," Lato said. "And since they respawn, unlike mortals... No risk to the god that made them."
"Exactly. It's just another move on the board."
Zara glanced down at the mark on her hand. "I've climbed before," she said. "Didn't make it past Floor 0. Got kicked out."
"You're still ahead of us," Pierre said. "The rest of us never even climbed before. I have never even got past the gate." He held up his hand. No mark. "The Hound blocks anyone from ascending unless they pay the price. Gold. Lots of it."
"Then we'll pay it together," Vaylan said suddenly.
Pierre looked at him, surprised. Before he could reply—Movement. Figures. Dozens. Emerging from behind pillars, stepping from shadows. Hooded. Armed. The road ahead was blocked.
One man stepped forward. "Well well," he said, his voice oily. "Didn't think I'd see you again, boss."
Pierre's face hardened.
"You survived the labyrinth," the man said. "Didn't expect that. Thought we'd be picking up scraps by now." He tilted his head toward Vaylan. "But I get it. You saw the rich boy and decided to cash in early, huh?"
Pierre said nothing. Another stepped up. "You switching sides? That it? Trading us in for better help?"
Pierre took a slow step forward. "Leave."
The first man laughed. "C'mon. You trained us better than that. We know a bluff when we hear one."
Zara moved one of her daggers between her fingers. "They're seriously trying to rob us?"
Lato bared his teeth. "They're welcome to try."
Vaylan looked at Pierre. "Your call."
Pierre's grip tightened on his spear. "I said leave."
The man drew a knife. Pierre moved first. His spear cracked the stone under his foot as he lunged. The first man went down with a scream, arm broken, blade clattering to the dirt.
And just like that, the rest drew their weapons. The sun finally broke over the horizon.
And then...
Chaos.
Blades rang out as the first clash hit like thunder. Dust kicked up into the early light. A dagger flew past Pierre's face; he didn't flinch. His spear spun around, catching the next attacker square in the gut before reversing to slam into a second's shoulder. Lato launched off the ground with a blur of gray, claws ripping across exposed skin and cloth. Zara was already slicing through the backline, two bandits dropping before they even saw her coming.
Vaylan met his first attacker with a wide sweep of his saber. Sparks flew as the blade met a thick iron cleaver. He parried the second strike, then the third. But on the fourth—crack. The saber snapped. He stumbled back, blinking at the jagged hilt in his hand.
"You have got to be kidding me!" A bandit rushed him; he ducked, slammed the broken hilt into the guy's throat, and shouted, "I knew that old bastard at the market was a scam artist!"
Pierre, between gasps, managed a breathless laugh. "You're lucky it didn't break fighting Benithar."
"No kidding!" Another blade came for Vaylan's side; he dodged with [Fleet Foot], kicking up sand as he flipped backward and threw a [Fire Ball] mid-spin. The fireball exploded across the sand and sent two of the bandits scrambling away, singed and coughing.
But the numbers kept coming. Pierre's spear still danced, but slower now. His legs wobbled. His strikes hit less clean. "I'm running out of juice," he muttered. Then—he tripped. A bandit raised his blade over Pierre's back. And dropped.
Zara landed in a crouch behind him, her dagger already stained. "Move," she said. Pierre rolled out of the way. She stepped forward. This time, her footwork was different. Still the precision of silat, but something else layered on top. Swifter. Sharper. Direct. She moved like Vaylan. Not copying him, learning from him.
A bandit lunged with a curved blade. She vanished and reappeared at his side, her blade slicing through his ribs in one clean motion. Another tried to flank her. She slid under his swing, kicked his knee out, and ended it with a backhand slash across the throat.
Pierre, sitting up, watched in awe. "That's... amazing." Zara didn't respond. She didn't need to. Each move was clean. Final. The silat triangle patterns were still there, but more aggressive, less evasive. A hybrid of control and speed. Another bandit tried to run. She moved faster than he could scream. As the last enemy dropped, a pulse of blue moved behind her eyes. A glow. Brief. Faint. But unmistakable. A skill was awakening.
Zara exhaled hard, blades still raised. "I think... I get it now."
Silence settled over the ruins. Pierre let his head drop against the cracked stone. "What... the hell was that?"
Vaylan walked over, still holding the broken hilt of his saber. "That was terrifying."
"You're welcome," Zara said.
Lato moved blood off his claws. "I thought she became a different person altogether."
Pierre sat up slowly. "I'm... sorry. Again. It's my fault they attacked."
Zara looked at him. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood."
Vaylan nodded. "Relax. You're already forgiven." They all turned to Lato. The cat crossed his arms. Glared. Vaylan reached over. Pulled his tail.
"OW—what the hell is wrong with you?!"
"Forgive him."
Lato grumbled. "Fine. You're forgiven. But I'm watching you."
Pierre laughed under his breath. "Fair enough."
***
They returned to Edgaris as the sun climbed higher. Katalin's house was just the same: quiet, slightly lopsided, with mismatched windows and a crooked front step. The door creaked open the moment they approached. Zara barely got a word out.
"What happened to you!?" Katalin shrieked. Her eyes darted between bandaged arms, bloodstained boots, tattered cloaks, and bruises that even mana hadn't fully healed.
"Nice to see you too," Zara said. Katalin dragged them inside without another word. After an hour of scolding, healing balm, tea, and wiping dust off faces, she finally turned to Pierre.
"You're... Pierre de Ficquelmont?"
Pierre blinked. "Yes?"
"Oh my gods," Katalin whispered, clutching her teacup. "Zara. You have an actual gift. You drag home princes from storybooks now?"
"Katalin," Zara hissed. "Stop."
"No really. First the blue-eyed wonder boy, and now a tragic noble heir with a magic spear and bad decisions? Who raised you?"
"..."
Katalin grinned. They told her everything. The labyrinth. Tauros. Benithar. The puppet. The fight. The mana core. Everything. By the end, Katalin had gone quiet.
"So... you're climbing again."
Zara nodded. "Tomorrow."
Katalin looked down. "You're going to get killed."
"No I'm not."
"You almost died."
"I didn't."
"Zara."
Zara stood. Walked over. Kneeling, she took Katalin's hands in her own. "I'll be okay. I have… friends now. Real ones." She glanced at Vaylan, Pierre, and even Lato, who looked away, pretending he wasn't listening. "We'll watch each other's backs."
Katalin swallowed hard. "I just don't want to lose you."
Zara hugged her. "You won't."
Outside, the wind howled through the sand. And far in the distance, the Tree waited.