The Maze Monster
Unlike Stage 3, where sponsor interventions had been sparse, Stage 4 saw a surge of users backed by mid-tier sponsors. As a result, the Maze Monster event—unlocked by simply raising the difficulty a notch—had become fairly well-known. At first glance, it might evoke the Minotaur from Greek myth. But the creature was no bull-man. What awaited inside was closer to a small boy.
Walking beneath a darkening sky, rain would begin to fall. At first, a gentle drizzle. With every step, however, the downpour grew heavier until it became a raging storm. At the heart of the disaster, in the eye of the storm, stood a child wearing a yellow raincoat.
“Hello?”
I greeted the small boy through the tempest. The child in the yellow coat stared at me with empty eyes.
“Who are you?”
I smiled. “I’m Baek Suhan. Where are you headed?”
“I’m… going home. But the rain’s so heavy I can’t see ahead. Where is this?”
Users who encountered the raincoat boy in the downpour treated him with extreme caution. Understandable—carelessness meant death in this world. Yet suspicion and disgust were contagious. The more wary the user became, the more the boy withdrew. In that awkward silence, the truth surfaced: the child was not human. Combat began.
The boy was a mass of writhing tentacles. Only his face resembled a human’s; beneath the coat, countless tendrils squirmed. Once battle commenced, he slaughtered summoned creatures. Still, no user who had reached Stage 4 was weak enough to fall to a tentacle monster. Thus the Maze Monster came to be regarded as nothing more than a mildly unsettling event.
After experiencing the Stage 3 events, however, I found myself questioning the true nature of these events. What if I reversed the perspective?
The boy wandered endlessly through the storm that followed him. No matter which way he turned, the same scene stretched on forever. He was lost. To him, this place was the maze. And at some point, he encountered someone inside it—a monster intent on taking his life. From the boy’s viewpoint, the Maze Monster was simply the user.
So I decided to think differently. Did I have any reason to harm the child? None. Therefore, what he would meet today was not a monster, but an adult who would guide him out of the maze.
“Where’s your house? I’ll take you there.”
A brief silence. Then the boy spoke. “The… Quiet Plain.”
I knew the place. I stepped beside him and summoned zombies around us. The boy flinched.
“Don’t worry. They’ll scout ahead beyond the storm.”
The storm that roamed the maze. Hundreds of zombies moved through it, guiding us toward the Quiet Plain. I took the trembling tentacle boy’s hand and held it firmly.
“Let’s go home.”
His shaking hand gradually steadied. We led the boy out of the downpour and into calm.
The unofficial gathering of tournament sponsors convened. Most beings affiliated with the major corporations “Death” and “Heaven” were elites—individuals who had already made names for themselves before even entering the workforce. Not all of them, however. Some had climbed from mid-tier firms to the majors purely through sales prowess. To distinguish themselves from the born elites, they had formed the secret society Success Myth. The group welcomed members regardless of corporate affiliation, valuing only proven track records. Their influence rested on the countless protégés they had recruited and the power they wielded.
When the tournament began, most Success Myth members volunteered for dispatch. Finding pearls in the mud—that was how they proved their worth. And they succeeded. Over eighty percent of the two hundred tournament winners came from their sponsorships. Success Myth raised their glasses in celebration.
Of course, most of those two hundred would never clear Stage 3. Still, they had demonstrated superior sales ability, and that was enough. Then the anomaly occurred. Contrary to expectations that clears would be nearly nonexistent, several participants achieved over-clears and even perfect clears. When they heard Linzel’s announcement, Success Myth members could barely contain their excitement. If someone had hit the jackpot, it had to be one of their own.
That expectation shattered. While many who achieved clears and over-clears were indeed their sponsored users, the summoner who attained a perfect clear was not among them. The atmosphere resembled watching a national team return with only silver medals despite having won. They had triumphed, yet it felt like defeat. And they despised that feeling.
Members began investigating. After gathering information through every available channel, a bizarre keyword surfaced: Returnee. It made no sense. Summoners could not return to their original world. Even the greatest concepts could not accomplish such a feat without twisting the central system. The pieces connected: the vampire giant summoned in Stage 2, the administrator’s deleted records, the impossible existence of a returnee, the perfect clear.
“Found it!”
The trap the major corporations had set to locate a specific summoner had worked. They still did not know the exact identity, but the pool of candidates had narrowed dramatically. Soon everyone would know who the summoner was, and a fierce bidding war among the majors would erupt. Before that happened, Success Myth intended to snatch the summoner for themselves.
Seated among them, Heaven’s Rabbit was sweating profusely. She felt a crushing sense of dread. She still did not know who had sponsored the perfect-clear summoner. One thing was certain: it was not Success Myth. If it had been, they would already be boasting over drinks. That meant someone else had claimed the prize.
Then a memory struck her. In the conference room reserved for sponsors of winners, that fool Death’s Cat had been present. Don’t tell me… it can’t be…?
She was the one who had removed the cat from Heaven’s surveillance net. If the cat had won the summoner, she was in serious trouble. This was no minor incident that would end with a simple reprimand.
Please. Please please please.
Heaven’s Rabbit broke into a cold sweat, desperately praying that anyone but the idiot cat had landed the perfect clear. The fire had reached her own doorstep as well.
The Quiet Plain was a safe zone located near the monkey habitat. It earned its name because a sign stood at the entrance: Welcome to the Quiet Plain. As though someone had placed it there specifically for visitors to find. It was the only area whose name had not been assigned by users but existed independently.
Now that I thought about it, every location where the Maze Monster appeared was near the Quiet Plain. Perhaps the boy had never been meant to be eliminated in the first place.
As we reached the edge of the plain, the storm gradually subsided. The boy pointed at the sign and smiled brightly.
“Here it is! We made it!”
So the sign really was for you.
The rain stopped completely, revealing a vast meadow. I recalled the rain-soaked zombies and stored them away. Each time one vanished into my body, the boy waved.
“Goodbye. Thank you. Goodbye.”
Finally, Baengnae approached and thumped her chest.
“Baengnae did it.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Baengnae.”
“Madda.”
Once we reached the plain, the boy relaxed completely. He had walked in silence, clutching my hand, but after the rain ceased he chattered nonstop, proudly displaying his knowledge about the flowers, stone towers, and everything else around us. At last we arrived at our destination: the cabin.
“We’re here!”
Ah, that house.
The cabin the boy pointed to was the main reason this plain had been designated a safe zone—the so-called Repel House. A safehouse that drove creatures away. Zones were ultimately just lines users had drawn. If you fled mid-battle, the native monsters would chase you regardless of zone boundaries. Yet strangely, once you entered that cabin, the creatures would retreat.
Knock, knock, knock—the boy approached the cabin and rapped on the door.
“Mom! I’m home!”
Come to think of it, killing the Maze Monster had always caused the plain to lose its safety. Green tentacles would sprout across the entire area, turning it into a forbidden zone that killed anything that approached.
The door opened and a woman who appeared to be the boy’s mother stepped out. Seeing me holding her son’s hand, she offered a gentle smile.
“Oh my, we have a guest? Please, come inside.”
Hmm…
I had wanted to do a good deed, but helping the boy had also been a calculated move. After reading the community posts, I judged that I could handle any sudden developments from a tentacle boy. That was why I had been able to extend the kindness of escorting him home. Judging by the current situation, the green tentacles that would have covered the plain belonged to the woman before me. And that was a danger I could not handle.
I hesitated to step into the cabin. Noticing my reluctance, the raincoat boy squeezed my hand.
“Stay a little while, okay? My mom’s soup is really delicious. Please?”
I might end up as that soup…
Of course, common sense said she wouldn’t turn a guest who returned her lost child into soup—but that was Earth’s common sense. Just as I was about to refuse, something inside the cabin caught my eye.
Is that… a map?
A massive map that seemed to depict all of Stage 4 hung on the wall. It had not been there in the original cabin. Sensing my gaze, a voice spoke.
“Would you like to have it?”
I looked up quickly. The boy’s mother studied me, then nodded as if she understood.
“You look like someone exploring the surrounding regions. If you want the map, I can give you a copy.”
She retrieved a scroll from a drawer.
“If you ever need shelter from wind and rain, feel free to visit. You are my benefactor. Thank you.”
She handed me the map. The boy released my hand, stepped inside, and waved goodbye. He told me to come play again soon.
Somehow… I feel guilty. But it can’t be helped.
Event “Maze Monster” has been concluded.
When I opened the door again, the cabin stood empty, as though no one had ever lived there. Yet I could feel it clearly—a profound goodwill directed at me, settling over the entire plain. It seemed I had obtained a safe zone within the maze.