Floor 9 — The Hounds of the Labyrinth (1)

◆ Floor 9: The Hounds of the Labyrinth (1) ◆

At around 2:04 in the early hours of this morning, the 'Tower of Trials' ranking board located in the Pacific Ocean was updated. South Korea's Kwon Suhyeok once again claimed the top spot on the leaderboard. Second, fourth, and sixth place were likewise held by South Korea's Ha Heijeong, Seo Hosu, and Seo Harin.

Thanks to the exploits of these Earth climbers, Earth maintained its position as first among the four planets of Sector 'C-66432' on Floor 8 as well.

Scientists both at home and abroad have been pouring their attention into the 'Tower of Trials' and the other intelligent beings of the universe, yet the exact nature of either remains beyond their grasp. Amid the mysterious voice that rang out across the entire planet, the mention of a 'Greenbelt' has lent weight to claims of an impending alien invasion — while doomsday cults proclaiming it divine punishment are gaining momentum of their own. Nothing, for now, can be known for certain. Only this much is true: thanks to Kwon Suhyeok's exploits, Earth had held onto first place once again.

A portion of the stats that had been shackled by my sponsorship stake had recovered. I couldn't calculate it precisely, but it felt like somewhere around five percent had come back to me.

A skill called Mimicry had appeared as well — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠presumably a trophy from taking down the Skill Thief.

How was it supposed to be used? The question nagged at me. Did I simply imitate whatever skill my opponent was using? There was no skill description in the status window, which was maddening. This was something I'd have to test out later.

I could have tried it on Dobby, but I had no desire to wake the little guy up when he was sleeping so soundly.

Essence of Lightning and Sixth Sense had both climbed a level, too. Sixth Sense had rung the alarm bell on Floor 8, so that one made sense. The rise in Essence of Lightning, on the other hand, seemed to be the reward for killing the 'Skill Thief Gremlin'.

Lucky me. It had been a random skill, after all.

And then the thought struck me — what if I'd randomly lost a skill on Floor 8 instead? I couldn't be certain, but on the opposite side of that coin sat the fact that Essence of Lightning had leveled up. Which most likely meant I hadn't lost it. A strong premonition told me that was exactly how it had played out.

A chill ran down my spine. From here on out, I couldn't afford to overlook even the smallest detail of the Tower's messages.

Cole, having arrived at the Waiting Room, had sent his party message a little late. Unlike the others, his tardiness had worried me — and sure enough, Cole had lost a skill.

He'd made it up alive, and that was what mattered. Besides, it wasn't a skill he needed.

The old man, on the other hand… judging by the laughing, he'd gained one.

So there were Skill Thieves in other parts of Floor 8 as well. And since the old man and Seo Harin had been shown different illusions, maybe the trick shifted from person to person. After all, there were bound to be people who intended to pick Keep no matter what anyone said — people who'd be shown an opponent choosing Keep precisely so they'd swing over to Rob instead.

Still, Seo Harin had held out well. There had been a real chance her opponent would choose Rob. When you're weak in a fight, that's how you have to play it. There was no reason to gamble for nothing — and for a priest, simply climbing out alive was what counted.

Sure enough, the community was in an uproar over everyone the Skill Thief had swindled.

Scrolling through the new posts, I spotted a handful of other climbers who had managed to kill their Skill Thieves. Not that any of them had done it knowingly — more ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a case of catching a mouse while backing away from a cow.

The vast majority, though, had been fooled, and the community had descended into pure chaos. Accusations of lying flew back and forth, and even when other people told them outright that it had all been an illusion, it did no good. These were climbers who'd just come up from the Tower with rage still clouding their eyes — they had no interest in verifying anything. They simply wanted somewhere to dump their fury.

Hm. Staring at the pandemonium was making my head spin. It was probably time to close the community for a while. When a place is burning like that, the wise move is to stand back and let it burn.

The moment I shut the board, Ha Heijeong came to mind. Unlike on every other floor, she hadn't sent me a message. She'd always messaged the instant I reached each Waiting Room — so why not now? What was different about Floor 8?

What's the reason?

Even though Floor 8 was a floor with a hidden mission, she hadn't passed on any information. She'd promised to tell me whenever a hidden mission came up. And it wasn't that she didn't know — other people in the community had clearly figured out that Floor 8 had one. Which meant she'd simply trusted that I'd handle it myself, knowing my personality the way she did.

Just blaming her Sixth Sense didn't add up either. There had been times my instinct failed to trigger.

Then it hit me, sudden and cold — the posts about people killing other people.

Could it be… that Heijeong wanted me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to kill someone?

Yes. That would explain the silence. It was the most plausible answer — otherwise, there'd have been no reason at all to keep quiet.

I didn't feel any resentment. What I felt instead was curiosity about the reason.

Heijeong had sworn to support me unconditionally, with everything she had. If she wanted me to experience taking a life, there had to be a reason behind it.

And what came to mind, naturally, was the me from before her regression.

Wait… could it be that I killed someone back then and my mind collapsed for a while?

It didn't feel like something I'd do. Killing other races had never troubled me much. But would a fellow human be different?

I liked to think I knew my own character. I was the kind of person who could turn colder than anyone when it mattered — which was exactly why I'd been ready to choose Rob on Floor 8.

But that was only my guess. Even if the kill had been necessary, even if the other person had been scum — would I really have accepted it so calmly?

No one could know the future.

No — Heijeong does know it.

Was that why? Because at some point in her first timeline, I killed someone and suffered a trauma so deep it broke me? And so she decided it was better to make me overcome that trauma here, on the Tower's lower floors, where the stakes were small?

That was probably it. I could be misreading things, but the conviction was all but certain in my mind.

What had that version of me been like? Who had I killed that it shattered me so completely?

The question had no answer. As if in a trance, I opened the message ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠window to Heijeong.

But I couldn't find the words. Why didn't you tell me? Did you want me to kill someone? I didn't want to ask either of those things.

I had no idea what emotions had driven her choice, but it must have been a hard one for Heijeong too. And that choice had, at its core, been made for my sake. Knowing what pain awaited the future me, it must have weighed on her as well.

If I had been the one to regress, could I have made the same decision — for Heijeong's future?

And if I had, what would I have felt doing it?

It sounded like a joke, but in that moment I think I understood Heijeong.

Though it wasn't really a joke at all.

In the end, I sent something utterly meaningless.

Nothing in Heijeong's message gave anything away. What gave it away instead was the reply time — slower than usual. A stretch of silence after she received mine.

That was all the confirmation I needed. My guess had been right.

What was she thinking about right now? Weighing how she was supposed to look after the future me?

I couldn't know. I had no talent for peering into another person's heart. I'd never seriously thought about murder before in my life. All I knew was that from this point on, I would have to start steadying my mind, slowly, one step at a time.

Fair enough — it was a labyrinth, so a hidden room wasn't out of the question. The problem was that even finding the exit was uncertain, let alone carving out spare time to hunt for a hidden room.

Perhaps because Floor 8's time limit had been only an hour, the Waiting Room on Floor 9 offered precious little reprieve. About an hour remaining, all told. Fine — even a short nap was better than nothing.

The long stone-walled corridor I remembered from the tutorial came into view. And behind our party… stood a white portal.

The instant the notification's message ended, everything around us — everything but the party itself — began warping past at breakneck speed.

It felt like riding in a car at full throttle. The torches lined along the path beside us whipped by in a blur, one after another.

Wait — a labyrinth. The exit. I had to memorize the path, even a little of it.

Left, right, left, left, right, left… Orcs!?

Right in the middle of my recitation, a pack of orcs came into view, standing directly in our path. We were moving far too fast to dodge.

Damn it all — we're going to crash!

I tried desperately to throw my body aside, but it wouldn't move at all — as if nailed to the floor.