The Archmage in the Labyrinth
If asked what an archmage was, people would say this: a being who could single-handedly shift the tide of war. One who had reached the realm of the gods, surpassing even swordmasters who had honed their blades to the absolute limit. A seeker of truth, sovereign of the magical path.
Throughout history, those worthy of the title "archmage" could be counted on one hand. They were objects of awe the moment they appeared.
In the other world where Cheon Ji-hoo resided, there had been archmages as well. One who strutted around proclaiming "I'm the strongest!" after establishing bizarre theories like 7th Circle or 8th Circle. Another from the necromancy school, harboring grudges and raising an army of undead to usurp a kingdom. And a peerless genius from the academy. Ah, the last one was a dragon in human disguise.
In any case, in that era, several archmages had appeared, including Cheon Ji-hoo himself—but even all of them combined couldn't match him. All three had been thoroughly crushed by his hand.
"Hoo…."
There was one precisely targeting him with killing intent. Likely intelligent, with the ability to evade wide-area detection. In a labyrinth like this, it had to be a necromancer commanding undead.
His assessment was swift, his judgment unhesitating. As Cheon Ji-hoo advanced, he opened his subsace. A white robe draped over his shoulders and billowed dramatically; a staff materialized in his hand.
For a brief moment, he savored the reassuring familiarity of equipment he hadn't used in ages. Then, a fierce wind howled from the dark corridor ahead.
It was the wind of death. A tempest infused with thick deathly energy, composed entirely of mortality itself. An ordinary person would drop dead or fall unconscious the instant it hit them.
But Cheon Ji-hoo, who wouldn't falter from such a gale, pressed forward into it and thrust his staff ahead.
"Enough games."
The tip of his staff glowed faintly, tracing a magic circle. Dazzling light flowed along the walls, illuminating the corridor.
From the opposite side emerged a boy with black hair and pallid skin. Clad in a black robe opposing Ji-hoo's white, he swung his hand to ignite the wall torches, then approached with heavy steps before halting at a distance.
“■■■.”
"Evading wide-area detection and even reverse-tracing my position… You're no pushover. Guess I've gone soft on Earth."
“■■■■■■■■■■■■!”
"But you picked the wrong opponent. You'll regret letting me into this labyrinth."
“■■■■!”
"Yeah, yeah, I'll kill you quick, so don't rush me."
Bluffing through dialogue wouldn't work. But from his gestures and tone, the intent was clear enough. Something like, 'What fine material! I'll make a splendid undead out of your corpse!'
It was the same drivel every dumb necromancer he'd met before had spouted. Of course, none of them had walked away with all their limbs intact.
Cheon Ji-hoo tapped the floor with the tip of his staff. The air vibrated. His heart pounded fiercely, unleashing vast mana.
The boy across from him responded in kind, radiating enormous mana befitting the labyrinth's master. No more words were needed. Mages proved themselves through magic, not talk. The one left standing held the truth.
The boy struck first. From a gloomy black magic circle, rusted spears sliced through the air in a dense barrage that filled the corridor, leaving no room to dodge.
Cheon Ji-hoo chose Barrier. A wall of mana blocked the rusted spears, and with his free left hand, he gestured. Dozens of magic circles bloomed in the air.
The boy flinched at the sight of the spinning light wheels and thrust both hands forward, multiplying his spears. But none reached Cheon Ji-hoo.
"Outdated spells…."
Rusted spears, huh. Probably a variant of the necromancy spell Copper Spear. But it was all too predictable. Mages who didn't evolve were doomed to obsolescence. Without constantly acquiring new formulas and incantations, they'd be overtaken by upstarts.
From the spinning light wheels shot simple Magic Missiles. Blue projectiles streaked through the air like waves, weaving between the encroaching rusted spears and detonating.
The boy's incantation faltered. Staggering from the backlash of interrupted magic, he quickly regained his footing and unleashed a new spell. Undead now erupted from the floor: zombies, ghouls, even banshees and death knights. A diverse assortment.
Resurrection of the Dead, the basics of necromancy. As the labyrinth's lord, his mastery was decent. Layered with Death Aura Release and Bone Armor for reinforcement. The formulas weren't from his otherworld, but the framework was similar.
Cheon Ji-hoo pondered briefly, then tossed his staff into his subsace.
"Guess I misjudged you."
He'd thought evading wide-area detection meant something formidable. But recalling necromancy spells, there was Hibernation—self-induced suspended animation to dodge tracking. The boy was clever enough and knew some magic, but…
His level was laughably low. Brute-force attacks and undead combos? Pathetic. Even academy freshmen could manage that.
Just outdated spells juiced with raw power. After thrashing necromancer archmages back in the otherworld, this was child's play.
"Got any countermeasures for holy magic?"
If not, time to prepare for death. He shed his robe into his subsace, gripped the brim of his hat, and stomped the ground.
A magic circle rapidly formed at his feet, splitting exponentially: one to two, two to four, four to eight, eight to sixteen. In seconds, they densely filled the space between him and the boy.
The boy warily eyed the circles but ordered his undead forward. They charged bravely—only to melt into light upon contact, dissolving into sludge.
As undead vanished one by one atop the circles, the boy panicked, summoning more to send ahead. Futile mana waste.
"Holy magic, Holy Landmine."
Light magic and holy magic were distinct. Light converted mana to luminous heat; holy was the most fantastical of fantasies. Infusing spells with the omnipresent power of gods? What wild notion was that?
Roughly, you drew a circle invoking divine aid, poured in mana, and the gods responded by lending power to smite evil. Mostly priests' domain—ordinary mages shunned it. But Cheon Ji-hoo was an archmage.
With all the churches in Korea, you could think of them as Jesus-planted mines.
The boy scowled as his undead failed, turning to flee—tactical retreat. Cheon Ji-hoo wouldn't allow it.
He extended his hand; the floor's holy landmines shifted, crawling along walls and ceiling to encircle the boy.
The boy surged mana to leap over, but his foot touched one and vanished instantly.
"In a Dead Man's Labyrinth, the master is likely undead too. I figured you'd have holy countermeasures as common sense, so I held back…."
Cheon Ji-hoo sauntered over, hands in pockets. Why skirt the easy path?
Too steeped in otherworld logic: 'Necromancers must prep for holy magic!' Next time, lead with holy spells against them.
Anyway, he reached out, grabbing the legless boy rolling on the floor by the collar and hoisting him up.
The dangling boy snarled, lunging with his hands—but each reached with a sickening crack, bending unnaturally. As he screamed and thrashed with both arms twisted wrong, Cheon Ji-hoo dropped him and stomped his solar plexus, gazing down coldly.
"Wish you could talk."
Then he could ask why you'd invaded my home, if you were after the flower. No translation magic existed. Decoding unknown tongues would border on divine power.
Pity. Time to end it.
"Holy Lance."
He raised his right hand; a white circle formed, spinning into a long, drilling lance. Thrusting it pierced the boy's heart; he melted like the other undead and vanished.
Not quite a lich—maybe one step below. Good; liches were a hassle to kill.
Confirming the death, Cheon Ji-hoo dismissed his Holy Lance and Holy Landmine. Turning to return to the safe zone—
"Ha!"
Absurd. That gloomy mana surged again, deeper inside than before.
"So, not just any dead man's labyrinth…."
But so what? No intent to pursue now. Deeper in would just lure him further; better to evac people with remaining mana.
Crushing it fully could wait.
Yeah, just hold on a bit.
I'll slaughter you all soon.
* * *
"Oppa, you okay?"
"Yeah. No issues."
Cheon Ji-hoo nodded at Cheon Ji-yoon's question. His condition was better than when he'd left the safe zone, thanks to filtering and absorbing traces of the boy's mana.
"No trouble here?"
"Nope. They're planning to wait for rescue. Don't know the way out, and monsters everywhere."
Wise choice. Why do they say stay put if lost? Wandering leads to worse spots.
After a moment's thought, Cheon Ji-hoo said, "Let's go."
"We can get out?"
"Exit's not far from here."
"But with all these people…."
"I'll scout ahead. Follow with them in ten minutes."
"W-wait, oppa!"
He moved immediately. While people comforted each other and debated, he slipped into the passage toward the exit.
As he vanished into the dark, Cheon Ji-yoon stared after him, muttering, "What am I supposed to do, bring them how?!"
Not even a hunter—just a student. She glanced at her right hand, fiddling with the ring. Maybe this could help? If so, test it in ten minutes.
Ten minutes later, as time approached, she approached the group, clenching her fist and whispering, "Help me, oppa."
Then.
A surging power erupted, golden wings of light unfurling brilliantly from her back. A dazzling radiant wing that instantly drew every eye.