Arena of Contention (3)

The moment the last barbarian fell, the scores settled.

"Hah… hah… hhk."

Isabella stood gasping, sweat pouring from every pore. A golden wave rose from the barbarian's corpse and flowed into her, drawn as if by gravity.

"Isabella. How many hours of Golden Rule did you gain?"

"Hahh… sixteen hours and twenty-seven minutes."

Roughly sixteen hours. There seemed to be a direct relationship between the points and the Broken Fragments of the Golden Rule one carried.

Which also meant that killing me would net someone over nine hundred points in an instant.

A soft rush of air. Hands stretched from the walls toward the corpses. I watched every body get absorbed into the stone and frowned slightly.

"Did the Desert Queen enter as well?"

"…I don't know. But given that barbarians are here, we can't rule it out."

Among the great warriors of the desert, only a select few ever earned the title of Barbarian. They were the most honored of the Desert Queen's personal guards.

And those same guards were here in the labyrinth — apparently hired for coin. That only made sense if Faisalmer itself were drowning in financial crisis.

Or the hiring is just a pretext.

Flooding the labyrinth all at once would only breed chaos. Splitting into groups and infiltrating separately was far more advantageous. So they were embedding themselves among other entrants under the guise of hired muscle, each group running its own assault.

What did that mean? Why had they begun their campaign on the Abyss Labyrinth at all?

If the Queen herself has entered, avoidance ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is the only sane choice.

The Desert Queen was half-human, half-demon. She wore a human face, but a monster lived underneath — and even I didn't know what that monster truly was. No one did. Judging by the curses she laid and the blood she drank, she was likely some high-ranking bloodsucker. Without Serengeti, the only option was to stay clear. We couldn't face the Queen and a host of barbarians at the same time.

"Don't shake your head."

"Ah… thank you."

Isabella had nearly gotten herself ejected. This restriction was more of a nuisance than I'd expected — especially in the thick of a fight, or in the daze right after, when there was no room left to mind such things.

Players, the desert city, the Goddess Sect, the Earth God Sect… who else has thrown their hat into this?

Far more factions had joined this labyrinth war than I'd first assumed. I couldn't afford to let my guard down for a second.

Then it came.

Not far at all. The Labyrinth Merchant had arrived.

Damn it all.

The man bit down hard on his lip. Every guildmate he'd brought with him had been slaughtered — by a single person.

What the hell was that thing? What the hell was he?

A swordsman in a silver fox mask. Guild members who had hunted Level 10 Elite Raid Bosses had been wiped out by that one man alone — in an instant, before any of them could even react.

He was wearing a black bell. I'm sure of it.

The image of the black bell at the man's waist rose unbidden. Wasn't the black bell the symbol of the Death God Religion? Did that mean the silver-fox-masked swordsman was connected to them?

"H-hey!"

A woman was passing in front of him. She turned at the sound of his voice, having been walking by without a second thought.

"Were you calling me?"

"Yeah, you! You got any potions on you?"

"Potions?"

"No — wait. You're a priestess of the Goddess Sect, aren't you? Then heal me. I'll make it worth your while!"

He couldn't give up here. That damned silver fox mask. He was going to kill that bastard.

And luck, for once, was on his side. The woman wore a ring stamped with a golden crest — one of the Goddess Sect's emblems. Only priests of high rank or above were ever granted that ring.

I've seen that face somewhere before…

He shook the thought off. Saintess Seia had died during the Great Expedition, hadn't she? Either way, a priestess of the Goddess Sect wouldn't simply walk past a wounded man.

She nodded and stepped closer.

"I'll heal you."

"Th-thank you."

She laid a hand on his head.

And then—

Crack.

She twisted his neck clean around. Looking down at the man who had died on the spot, she wore a bright, sunny smile.

"All better~"

114.447 — the coordinates where the Labyrinth Merchant had appeared.

114.331 — my current position.

Using a horizontal-vertical grid where each unit roughly equaled ten meters, the merchant was somewhere within a few kilometers at most.

Broadcast to every single entrant.

That was the problem. I wasn't the only one who'd seen the message. Every entrant had — hundreds, maybe thousands of them. How many would come running for the merchant was anyone's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠guess.

The rabble didn't matter, no matter how many of them piled up. The real obstacles were the strong ones. Player Transcendents like Gracia and Master. Pangenia's own powerhouses, the Desert Queen among them — there would be more of those, without question.

If we ran into them and the competition turned bloody, casualties were inevitable. Either they died, or we did. One side would be wiped out completely.

…And right now, the latter was overwhelmingly more likely.

Common sense says stay away.

I still didn't know how many points I'd need. Beyond the heavy hitters, a swarm of piranhas would come thrashing in — that much was certain. And even if the merchant was close, this was a labyrinth. Start wandering and you might never reach those coordinates at all.

I didn't even know what the merchant was selling. If it was junk I didn't need, the whole trip would be a waste. Better to push forward hard while the others tore each other apart over the merchant. Slip past them quietly, and I could take the lead.

"What will you do, my lord?"

"Run."

Still — life was a gamble, and you went all in.

Gracia flicked the blood from his blade and stared at the message floating before him.

The Labyrinth Merchant.

He hadn't expected it to appear this soon. If the rumors were true — that the merchant sold things no ordinary means could obtain, including the soul of a Hydragon — then he had to be first.

I must claim it before anyone else.

Anyone who stood in his way would be cut down. This was the Arena of Contention, the Abyss Labyrinth. Everyone who entered had come prepared for that.

A wet gurgle rose from among the corpses. Something was still alive — a grotesque chimera.

"Annoying."

He threw his sword. It punched through the chimera's brow and killed it instantly, but his head tilted of its own accord.

The Abyss Labyrinth wasn't filled with humans alone.

Why are there chimeras and undead here?

Monsters. They could have been skill-summoned constructs, of course — but the quality was far too high for that. Level 8 at minimum; some approached Level 10. In Gracia's knowledge, the people capable of crafting undead of this caliber could be counted on two fingers: the mad biologist who had created the Hydragon, and the player MintChocoIsDelicious.

Neither of them shows their face in a place this public.

They operated from the shadows, always. If it wasn't them, then these were genuine monsters — and plenty of creatures commanded undead of this scale. Eldritch beings. Dark Lords. Abyssal Rag Ghouls. Death King, one of the Four Pillars. Every last one of them was a headache to run into.

Gracia shook his head.

If they block my path, I cut them down. That's all.

He didn't waste time fretting. He didn't care who the enemy was. His ultimate goal was the Sword Saint Laily — the ruler of the labyrinth, the master of the Abyss, a being who wore the same title of Sword Saint as he did.

I will kill him, prove myself, and become the master of this zone.

This was the Abyss. Laily was its master. And the Abyss was the old surface of Pangenia — land that had never been reclaimed, the dead ground in which Laily was imprisoned. Kill Laily, and this land would rise into the sky, join the continent, and become a city. The one who struck the killing blow would become the master of that Labyrinth City — just as it had happened with every other Abyssal overlord whose death had birthed a city.

Anything that stood in the way of that process, he would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠simply cut down.

A low hum. A rising drone. A rushing howl of steel.

Behind Gracia, nearly a thousand swords lifted into the air.

"Find it."

They shot outward in a storm, flooding every corridor of the labyrinth, lighting the paths and hunting for the Labyrinth Merchant.

Entrants poured toward the Labyrinth Merchant from every direction. Reach it first, and the "special goods" were yours.

Puff!

That sound was the beginning.

"Wh-what?! Why is there smoke all of a sudden?"

"Mushroom spores?"

"It's poison!"

Someone stepped on a trap. Spores burst and blackened the air, the toxin within seizing nerves and locking them down.

A hiss. A wet impact.

"Gah!"

Arrows cut through the haze. Most who were hit died on the spot. Those who survived barely fared better.

"I—I can't see!"

"Help me!"

"M-my body—!"

"Aaaagh!! It hurts so much!! Just kill me already, please!!"

Screams filled the corridor — and mixed among them were cries of pure, unbearable agony. Begging to be killed. Pain so fierce that living no longer seemed worth it. Those screams stoked the terror of everyone still standing at the edge.

Who the hell is shooting, and from where?

That's no ordinary bow. It's got a special effect that amplifies pain.

They set traps. Walking in is suicide.

Someone had laid the groundwork and was waiting for prey. Everyone else was already a step too late. A coordinated assault from all sides might have broken through — but with every person a rival, unity was a fantasy.

Damn it. What now?

Should we wait for the next one?

They hovered at the perimeter, fretting. And when the smoke finally cleared—

"What? There's no one here?"

Whoever had been loosing arrows from inside the cloud was already gone. In their place stood only the Labyrinth Merchant.

"…A vending machine?"

A single vending machine, sitting alone in the open.

After that, the war began.

"Kill them!"

"Don't let anyone near it!"

They butchered each other, clawing and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thrashing for a chance to touch the machine. Amid the chaos, one man slipped through under stealth, laid a hand on the vending machine, and smiled in pure triumph.

Idiots. Too busy brawling to notice they're getting cleaned out.

Heart hammering, he pressed his palm to the machine. A list bloomed before his eyes. He took one look at the available stock, and his face went rigid before twisting into a scowl.

"…Why is the remaining inventory this garbage?"

It was an opportunity the gods themselves had handed me. A Labyrinth Merchant spawning this close and simply ignoring it went against every fiber of my nature.

I sprinted as hard as I could, claimed the merchant, and sowed my seeds.

Not enough points.

The merchant taking the form of a vending machine had been unexpected — but more importantly, I didn't have the points to buy anything.

A few people arrived before us, checked the machine, and left empty-handed.

We hadn't been first. They'd simply pulled out early because they lacked the points, before the crowd could descend. It was only a matter of time before this place became a battlefield — that much was plain as day.