The dawn of departure broke over Nyvaris like a wistful sigh. Pale golden light filtered through crystalline towers, brushing the streets where only hours ago laughter had echoed. The final day had passed, and now, carriages lined the outer rings of the capital like a solemn procession waiting to bear away dreams.
Lavish magical carriages of every shape and design—each one enchanted and personalized for their respective kingdoms—waited at the borders of the great city. Soldiers, nobles, and commoners alike stood near the gates, luggage in hand, hearts heavy.
Children cried, tugging at their parents' sleeves.
Merchants clung to their goods, not for profit but sentiment, whispering, "This city… it's unlike anything we've ever known."
Nobles argued softly among themselves, reluctant to step into their carriages.
One noblewoman, in elegant crimson robes, declared, "Mark my words—if Nyvaris ever opens its gates for settlers, I will leave everything behind to live here."
Several others nodded, murmuring similar oaths.
Even kings and queens, dignified and regal, exchanged looks of regret.
Queen of Belludora, voice solemn: "We danced beneath floating lanterns with strangers and drank beside dragons… I wonder if we will ever experience something like this again."
King of Varseld: "We witnessed unity in a world riddled with division. I now know it's possible… and I won't forget it."
Some citizens attempted to remain hidden, slipping into alleyways, disguising themselves in hopes of becoming one with the city—but it was futile. A subtle, ancient magic wove through Nyvaris, cast long ago by Varvatos himself. It shimmered like dust on the air, unintrusive but absolute. Anyone not of Nyvaris was slowly, gently, but firmly drawn toward the exit gates. A magical push—compassionate, but irresistible.
Within hours, the last of the visitors had been transported. With gentle bursts of light, the carriages vanished, drawn into magical portals that would return them to their homelands.
And then, silence.
Only the wind remained, curling softly through the now quiet streets. The city sighed in stillness, resting after a celebration for the ages.
But not all had left.
Still standing on the marble plaza outside the Labyrinth's massive obsidian gate were seven towering presences—each one a force that could shake nations.
Guy Crimson, arms folded, crimson eyes gleaming with curiosity.
Milim Nava, bouncing on her heels, barely containing her energy.
Leon Cromwell, composed, yet eyes sharp and analytical.
Luminous Valentine, regal and unreadable.
Draguel, stoic and watchful.
Carrion, with a confident grin, stretching his arms.
Frey, calm and poised, hair dancing in the wind.
Clayman, elegant and aloof, but clearly intrigued.
And before them stood Varvatos, the Eternal Sovereign of Nyvaris, his presence calm and timeless.
Varvatos, hands behind his back, asked in a measured tone, "So. Do you intend to enter as one… or face the Labyrinth alone?"
There was a pause.
Guy glanced at the others. "We all want different experiences. Better to go separately."
Leon nodded. "Agreed. I want to gauge the Labyrinth on my own terms."
Milim, however, was already bouncing in place. "I wanna go first! I've been waiting forever!"
Varvatos smiled slightly. "You can enter together… but once inside, you will walk alone.
The Labyrinth senses your power. It will shape itself to you—your strength, your nature, your fear."
Frey, softly: "So even if we step in together… the Labyrinth splits us apart?"
Varvatos: "Exactly. Different paths. Different challenges. You will not meet inside… unless the Labyrinth wills it."
The Demon Lords exchanged glances.
Clayman, adjusting his glove: "A curious construct indeed."
Carrion grinned. "I say we go now. No point in waiting."
Milim shouted, "LET'S GOOOO!"
With that, the seven Demon Lords stepped before the massive Labyrinth gate. It pulsed—alive, aware—and as they placed their hands upon it, the obsidian doors swung open with a deep rumble that echoed like thunder across the empty streets.
One by one, they stepped through.
As each passed the threshold, they vanished into motes of starlight, the magic warping space around them.
And then…
She landed on soft grass, but the sky was raging. Purple lightning flashed above a wide-open canyon, the wind howling. The floor cracked beneath her boots with each step—not from weakness, but from the overwhelming pressure her body emitted.
Suddenly, massive flying beasts dove from the storm clouds, their screeches echoing across the cliffs.
Milim's smile widened. "YESSSSS!! FINALLY!"
She leapt into the air, meeting the beasts head-on, laughter echoing like thunder as the battle began.
He appeared in a black-glass wasteland. His own reflection stared back at him from every surface. Then, with a flicker, the reflections stepped out—doubles of himself, each wielding his power, each moving with his exact speed.
Guy smirked. "A test of self, is it?"
He raised his hand—and the glass shattered in a symphony of crimson fire.
He arrived in a glowing marble cathedral suspended in space. Divine statues watched him in silence. Then the light dimmed, and ethereal knights, forged of starlight and judgment, began to descend the spiral stairs, blades raised.
Leon drew his sword, golden aura flaring. "Come."
A moonlit rose garden stretched endlessly around her. Shadows moved beneath the petals. Whispers danced on the breeze.
She smiled faintly. "Illusions and death… How nostalgic."
Then the rose bushes exploded as a bloodshade beast lunged from the dark, fangs like blades.
The air was still. The sky, frozen. Before him stretched a vast crater where time itself stood still.
Until it began to reverse.
Draguel's eyes narrowed as ancient beasts reformed before his eyes—dinosaurs, titans, creatures lost to history—all charging toward him.
He landed in a stone arena surrounded by golden statues—each statue transformed into a former warrior Carrion had once defeated in life. They remembered.
Carrion cracked his knuckles. "Heh. Let's see if you've improved since then."
Floating platforms above clouds. Harpies and wind spirits danced around a massive floating temple.
Frey spread her wings. "A challenge of flight and grace… very well."
The Labyrinth pulsed with life as the Demon Lords began their trials.
And deep within, the core of the Labyrinth—ancient and conscious—watched.
The grand plaza of Nyvaris, once bustling with the laughter and chatter of countless guests, was now hushed in reverence. Floating in the air, dozens of glowing magical projections shimmered to life, each one displaying a different scene within the Labyrinth.
Citizens gathered in awe. From the marble walkways to the crystalline towers, people stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing at the living visions of the Demon Lords in action.
High above, seated on a floating crystalline balcony, sat Varvatos alongside Velzard, Elmesia, and Rimuru, surrounded by his trusted generals: Benimaru, Diablo, Veldora, Souei, Hakuro, Shion, Shuna, Rigur, and Ranga. All of Nyvaris had come to witness the trial of gods.
Thunder cracked overhead as Milim danced across the storm-ravaged cliffs. Lightning beasts, born of the very clouds, dove at her with electric roars. Their bodies sparked with divine energy.
"WOOHOO! Is that all you got?!" Milim shouted, punching a beast into a mountain.
Then the ground trembled.
From the horizon emerged a colossal titan, over 300 meters tall, armored in lightning-forged obsidian. Its roar silenced the storm.
Rimuru, watching: "That thing… it's built to match Milim's output exactly."
Velzard (smirking): "She won't hold back. She lives for this."
Diablo: "To think the Labyrinth calculated her rage output and desire for fun..."
Milim charged, hair wild in the wind. The clash shook the projection itself.
Crimson fire licked the shattered floors as Guy faced down six duplicates of himself. Each wielded one of his core powers—space magic, time freeze, abyssal fire, reality cut, absolute will, and pure destruction.
Guy: "Guess I'll have to outsmart myself."
He blinked behind one double, only to find the others had anticipated it. Blades clashed. Magic collided. The air tore.
From the shadows, a labyrinth inhabitant emerged—a robed figure with no face.
Inhabitant: "Defeat your Pride. Take the sigil of the Phoenix Crown. Survive. Or vanish."
Elmesia, eyes sharp: "This isn't just a fight—it's a philosophical trial."
Hakuro, arms folded: "A warrior who defeats himself becomes invincible."
Leon moved with elegance, blade gleaming gold. Around him, knights of starlight fought with divine fury. Their strikes tore the air. Each one forced Leon to block, parry, and counter with perfect precision.
At the altar ahead stood a gold-armored paladin, unmoving.
Paladin: "You have taken the mantle of justice. Prove your law surpasses mine."
The fight erupted in a blinding clash of law-magic and divine flames.
Shuna, wide-eyed: "Leon's magic is… graceful. Almost like a dance."
Souei, whispering: "But that paladin… he's not going easy."
Benimaru: "The Labyrinth doesn't know how to go easy. It only reflects your essence."
Petals bled light as Luminous faced monstrous creatures woven from nightmares—silken wolves, mask-faced banshees, and thorns that moved with purpose.
Yet Luminous barely flinched. Her eyes glowed crimson as she waved her hand, tearing shadows apart with divine light.
Then came the Voice of the Garden—a sentient vine entity, with a hundred rose faces.
Voice: "Show mercy. Show wrath. Choose what the Empress of Twilight truly is."
Shion: "This is creepy."
Diablo, smiling: "Ah, but it's beautiful. She's being asked to reveal her true self—not the mask, but the core."
Luminous stepped forward. "I am mercy and wrath. I am twilight."
The Garden responded with silence… and bowed.
Draguel stood against prehistoric beasts—each one stronger than the last. A massive Time Serpent coiled above, distorting time with its breath.
Draguel's aura surged. "So be it."
He unleashed temporal control, slowing, pausing, reversing small sections of the battlefield as he fought. But the Serpent adapted, learning from every loop.
Then came a Labyrinth inhabitant—an old man dressed like a clockmaker.
Clockmaker: "Defeat the Serpent without reversing. Can you master time… without fleeing into it?"
Ranga: "That's hard… even for Draguel."
Veldora, nodding: "Time manipulation is addictive. He's being asked to resist his instinct."
Varvatos, quiet: "It's a test of restraint."
Every statue in the arena sprang to life—each a past opponent Carrion had once fought. But they were stronger now, reborn from memory and magic.
Carrion grinned. "Then let's see how far I've come!"
He transformed into his beastman form, claws crackling with lightning. One by one, he took down his foes—but with each victory, he grew more tired.
Then the Echo appeared—a perfect replica of Carrion, built to mimic his growth.
Echo: "Only you can defeat yourself."
Rigur: "That's deep…"
Shuna: "He's not just fighting muscle—he's fighting growth, complacency, doubt."
Frey soared through floating ruins. Elemental wind beasts blocked her path. Lightning javelins, piercing gales, magical updrafts—all tried to stop her ascent.
Then a group of Skybound Judges, angelic winged beings, barred the final platform.
Judge: "You may fly. But can you rise?"
The final challenge: a vertical vortex. No wings. Only faith.
Frey folded her wings. "Then I'll trust the wind."
She leapt, diving into the column.
Benimaru, impressed: "That's a warrior's heart."
Elmesia: "She understands air… and surrender."
The projections pulsed as the Labyrinth continued to evolve. Each floor deepened. Each challenge grew.
Varvatos, standing, voice calm but proud: "This is the beginning. The Labyrinth is more than combat—it is revelation. It sees all… and brings it to light."
Rimuru (smiling): "They'll come out stronger… or not at all."
The crowd watched, breathless, as the trials of the Demon Lords continued.