Chapter 2
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Floor 1 - Lv. 2 Hunter (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
This realization hit me after more than a hundred runs in this labyrinth.
No matter what, I needed to play a game that left something behind even after death.
Every time I died and came back, I reset to the starting state.
Even Soulslike games steadily left you with something, guiding you toward the clear.
Roguelikes offered no mercy.
The NPCs you grew close to, the character named "me" that you poured effort into—they all vanished as if they never existed.
If my heart had its way, I'd flop over for a week and not do a damn thing.
That's how badly I wanted to soothe my sense of loss.
But even so, I couldn't afford to take it easy.
[Remaining Time: 1216 days, 12 hours, 12 minutes]
The screen perpetually floating in the upper right corner relentlessly hounded me.
A little over three years left? At least it wouldn't tick down for a short while now.
It was the grace period given because I hadn't started the next game yet.
Back when it was just a game, the time limit was merely background flavor.
A minor detail to heighten player immersion.
Not anymore.
The people dragged into this labyrinth from countless worlds all pushed forward toward clearing it, stepping over innumerable deaths.
That heroic goal came with a time limit.
100 years.
According to the lore, what happened after that time was simple.
You couldn't start the game over.
You couldn't return from death.
From that point on, in that world, I was no longer the protagonist.
On the flip side, there was also the setup for what happened if you succeeded.
Complete liberation.
Everything in the labyrinth would be freed.
All the exiles from various worlds would return to where they came from.
I wanted to go home.
On the small scale, I missed carbonated drinks. On the large scale, I was utterly sick of this world.
Most fantasies were horrifying once they became reality.
A roguelike game world was even worse.
Someone's malice,
Death that could strike at any moment,
Misery too wretched to witness with open eyes.
Shadows like those loomed over my life constantly.
Few people could ignore that reality and carve out solitary happiness.
I missed games.
Back in the game days, everything stayed inside the screen.
Dot characters didn't breathe, think, or converse autonomously.
Their lives boiled down to brief backstories, never detailed descriptions.
It wasn't even real-time—it was turn-based.
Now that it was reality, so much had changed.
The NPCs who merely had the "setting" of being kidnapped into the labyrinth alongside the player...
Now they all carried memories from their own runs.
Everyone lived believing themselves to be the protagonist.
Real humans, not bland code blobs, inhabited this place.
Why did I have to witness the rise and fall of countless lives here?
I wanted to go home.
I desperately, fucking desperately wanted to go home.
I couldn't bear how much I missed the peace and tranquility of modern society.
So I hit the start button again.
The start button glowing below the remaining time blinked and vanished.
[2975th Run Begins! Good Luck!]
Time began flowing once more.
[Remaining Time: 1216 days, 12 hours, 11 minutes]
[TIP: The title "Exile" was coined with the hope that someday they could return to the homes from which they were taken.]
[Considering how few actually made it back in real history, the odds are slim to none.]
The tiresome text over the loading bar finally vanished.
"Huh? Uncle, you're awake?"
The first thing to check upon opening my eyes is the surroundings.
No ambushes.
The dungeon's first floor, boasting its symbolically beautiful and majestic splendor, looked exactly as I'd seen it countless times before—utterly familiar.
"Hey, aren't you up yet?"
Not a place with fond memories.
Even though boredom had set in, the initial intense recollection still gnawed at my mind.
The first floor was designed to crush new exiles who had no prior experience reaching the labyrinth with despair.
"Your eyes are open. What's wrong? No reaction?"
An open gray stone maze with no ceiling.
Ornately decorated walls like ancient ruins.
A murky abyss, unnaturally dark even for a night sky, hung in place of the heavens.
As those thoughts crossed my mind, I spotted the girl waving her hand in front of my face, finally rearing back to slap my cheek.
"I'm up, so calm down."
"Why should I calm down? You're ignoring me even though you see me."
The girl shot back sulkily.
Then she switched to an expectant expression and asked,
"Uncle, do you happen to know where this is?"
No lies in that innocent face. In cases like this, she was a first-run newbie dragged into the labyrinth.
Considering how many lost their wits to the overwhelming sights and atmosphere, it was commendable composure.
I answered almost habitually.
"No clue."
The girl's demeanor sank in an instant.
What a colorful range of expressions on this kid.
"Let's get moving for now."
"Huh?"
Whether the puzzled girl followed or not, I started walking.
The first floor always had this ancient temple vibe.
Floating over an abyss like outer space, it exuded profound mystery.
The only exit was the staircase to the next floor.
Most experienced their first death here.
Myriad traps scattered everywhere or veteran exiles hunting humans provided the cause.
The alien atmosphere, the repeating deaths.
A stark hint that this was utterly unlike any world they'd known.
Most who set foot here for the first time would die clueless.
And after dozens of deaths, they'd finally learn how to act.
In such an environment, if a multi-year exile happened to be nearby—and if they were kind—it counted as luck.
I didn't bother explaining that luck to the girl trailing behind me.
To be precise, there was no time to explain.
A wave of mental fatigue hit me, the kind that made me want to off myself.
"So I was like, 'Why the hell should I help with your love life?' and..."
"Kid, please, could you be quiet for a bit?"
The girl tilted her head as if truly baffled.
"I'm not a kid."
"Why question the back and not the front? Kid."
"High school age isn't a kid."
What the hell is this tiny thing yapping about?
"Fine, got it. Miss, could you quiet down a little?"
The girl replied brightly.
"Aw, staying silent in a strange place like this kills the vibe."
I gave up on persuading her.
High school girls were uncharted territory, even for me.
From the start, she hadn't shut up for a single moment.
They say three women together can shatter plates, but this one could do it solo.
Still, I'd gleaned quite a bit from it.
Most was useless info like her high school classmate's love life or gripes about her lecherous big bro.
Not all of it was worthless.
"Hold up. Stop right there."
"Why?"
I picked up a stone and tossed it wordlessly. A ping sounded as an arrow shot from the wall.
The arrow's crash against the wall, snapping on impact, echoed far louder.
A direct hit would've been fatal.
"Whoa, it's just like the one at home."
Of course, normal high school girls didn't have arrow traps installed at home.
Nor did they call their brothers "big bro."
All randomly generated NPCs came with backstories for plausibility.
In game days, hovering the mouse and right-clicking would've popped up the all-knowing status window.
Now, I had to infer through conversation bit by bit.
"You live in Korea?"
I barely leaped over a pressure-plate pitfall that would drop the floor. The girl landed lightly behind me.
I was winded; she showed no strain, keeping her smile.
"Obviously. Aren't you speaking Korean right now?"
No. In the labyrinth, all languages unified into one. Must've been like before Babel Tower fell.
"By any chance, surname Jeong?"
Even struggling with my shut-in's pathetic stamina in this early stretch, this kid's physical prowess didn't scream high school girl.
My long experience pinpointed what that implied.
NPCs were just random combos of various settings.
The simple permutations numbered like grains of sand on a beach, but knowing key traits made inference possible.
Some NPCs were constants, not variables, if they spawned.
The Korean Jeong family, always set as a superhuman lineage, was one such case.
"How'd you know?"
Her face was adorably perplexed.
Of course.
This run, the Jeong family had a daughter.
I chuckled softly.
Watching me, the girl warned,
"Hey, Uncle, watch out there."
"Got it."
Before she spoke, I'd already tilted my head. A poison needle from the wall grazed past.
This girl was already trained enough to spot first-floor traps easily. What level of talent was her setting?
"Ever heard whispers of being a genius in the family?"
"Wow, do you know me?"
This time, genuine surprise—and a hint of smug pride slipping through.
After 97 years rolling in here, my greatest gain was reading thoughts from expressions and gestures.
Real roguelikes demanded mind games even against NPCs; no choice.
Experience told me fleeting confidence like that was usually a positive clue.
Regardless, this one had to survive and descend. Class build could come later.
Not a bad start.
Her nonstop chatter had mentally bridged the reset marathon gap.
Now I felt a slight distance again.
Whether the girl knew it or not, I'd been methodically scouting as I moved.
Mazes generated randomly, but play long enough and patterns emerge.
Play longer, and you could predict spawn points and movement tendencies of others.
Turning a corner, sure enough, four people wandered as expected.
How many among them were first-timers?
One had already hit a trap, limping badly.
The injured one's pained grimace, their supporter, and the other two lost in anxiety.
The vibe screamed all newbies.
I shouted to gather them, neutralized traps ahead, and pressed on.
The clueless followers gained trust seeing me lead.
Pointing to the stairs, they descended to floor 2 without hesitation.
But the initial girl had no intention of joining them.
"You said you didn't know where this is. Total lie."
I brushed it off casually.
"It is a lie. Habit."
"Why?"
"No gains pretending to know in this dump."
Tall poppies get chopped everywhere, but extremes amplify it here.
If leading, own it fully as the leader.
Or hide completely.
Led last run till I was sick of it; not on this plan.
A small party of three or four suited me fine.
Not everyone blindly following was brain-dead.
No labyrinth experience, but deadly traps everywhere? Quick realization.
At the cost of sacrifices.
Thus, some shoved the weak ahead to clear traps for self-preservation.
Feasible with scant conscience and wit.
Fired arrows didn't reload—logical even.
Good adaptability, but ugly sight.
I'd frowned at it every run once.
Now? Numb.
But thinning the herd? Hard to approve.
Fewer survivors meant slimmer odds.
Long years taught: spare potential future party members.
Solo-overwhelmable threats were rare.
Thus, I charged and smashed the bald thug's shiny dome from behind.
"For fuck's sake! No killing on floor 1!"
Better I kill for EXP than watch trap fodder.
The cursing turner was a muscled Hispanic with writhing arm tats. Drug cartel vibe from South America.
Fierce glare, fists clenching instantly.
Sad truth: trash like this often had usable physiques for labyrinth grind.
So spare for now.
Fist flew. Deflected smoothly, grabbed, dislocated joint.
No mercy needed. Legs intact meant walking; suppress hard.
Disabled both arms quick; he freaked, spewing curses.
Onlookers plenty terrified.
Some thug barked, startled them; now I popped his shoulder.
Saner than the trailing girl.
Fear made them obey sweeter.
Kicked him to walk; cartel grasped the sitch.
Street scum fleeing violence? Easy handlers—they cowed before it.
Shoved the pack to floor 2 stairs first.
More survivors, more possibilities.
Yet the girl stuck with me.
Just asked curiously,
"Uncle, are you some hero or something?"
Plainly saving folks; fair assumption.
I didn't shake my head this time.
Joked instead,
"Of course. I'm this labyrinth's hero."
Clear and liberate all? Truth then. No lie.
"Hahaha, Uncle, you're nuts."
The girl laughed in disbelief.
I laughed too.
Countless NPCs had seen me as hero, savior, god.
Post-2975th? None to meet again.
I just smiled at the giggling girl.
----- Author's Note -----
The protagonist has died, on average, once every 12 days so far.
Due to many readers struggling with the NPC settings, I'll temporarily explain here in the author's note.
This explanation will be removed once the main story clarifies it.
Starting with the original roguelike game before possession:
NPCs with the same "Exile" setting as the playable character were randomly generated and placed from the start.
The lore player was just one "Exile" among them.
All "Exiles," including the player, get a 100-year deadline. Exceed it, lose revival from death in other worlds.
Deaths beyond that point are permanent, non-regressing.
Exiles self-mock as "Labyrinth Residents" in that state.
Separately, non-Exile labyrinth natives—"NPCs"—exist.
They view exiles poorly: unpleasant transients popping up and vanishing from their homeland.
Over long years, protagonist pondered NPCs.
Possibilities abound. Worst: he too a random-generated NPC.
The "possessed into game" setup? Maybe assigned memory from random gen.
An NPC spawned with 2975-run experience.
Thus, protagonist decided: everyone but me is NPC.
Most convenient, believable truth.
+Added April 22nd
This isn't grimdark. It's real...
Roguelikes just demand expending lives by nature...
+Added April 25th
Removed some NPC statements prone to misunderstanding.