Back at the castle, the warmth of the torches did little to chase away the chill in the air.
Miyu sat curled on an ornate velvet couch, face buried in her hands. Her shoulders trembled with soft sobs, each one timed like the toll of a bell. Golden light flickered off her damp cheeks, making her tears shimmer like they belonged there. Anyone watching would see heartbreak. But behind those tears… there was nothing but calculation.
Ms. Fujimoto knelt beside her, voice low and maternal. "It's okay, Tachibana. You don't have to hold it in."
Miyu sniffled, her voice a fragile thread. "He just… ran off. I tried to stop him. I really did…"
Takeshi stood nearby, arms crossed but his frown betrayed unease. "That's not like Noa. He always stayed close, even when he was scared."
"He was shaking," Miyu whispered. "He kept saying he was weak, that he'd only hold us back. I tried to tell him it didn't matter, that we'd support him. But he… he just ran into the woods."
Aiko perched on the edge of the couch's armrest, her brows knitted with worry. "Why would he do that? He wasn't reckless. Not like this."
Miyu slowly lowered her hands. Her eyes were red, lips trembling—perfectly imperfect. "I don't know. Maybe he wanted to prove something. Or maybe… maybe he thought we'd be better off without him."
The room fell still. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, a thin echo of comfort that didn't reach anyone's hearts.
Riku leaned against a nearby column, arms folded across his chest. "Tch. He was always a burden. Couldn't even swing a sword right."
"Riku," Ms. Fujimoto snapped gently, casting a sharp glance his way. "That's enough."
He shrugged, offering no apology.
"I should've gone after him," Miyu said, voice small. "I should've done more."
"No," Ms. Fujimoto said, rubbing Miyu's back. "You did everything you could. It's not your fault he made that choice."
Aiko looked at the floor, chewing her lip. "What if he's still out there?"
Takeshi stepped forward, chest puffed out as he struck a proud, almost theatrical pose. "Do not worry, Miyu," he declared, voice ringing with conviction. "We'll go search for him. Right now. I won't leave a classmate behind!"
For a moment, the room held its breath—his words filling the silence like a promise of hope.
But then Renji scoffed, arms folded, leaning against the stone wall with a casual arrogance. "Forget it," he muttered. "We saw him get ripped apart by those goblins. That loser's dead. You're wasting your time."
The words hit like a slap.
Miyu's eyes widened, and then the dam broke. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed, her cries raw and piercing. The sound echoed off the cold walls, stirring discomfort even in those who didn't know what to say.
"Renji!" Ms. Fujimoto's voice snapped like a whip. "That was cruel."
Renji just shrugged. "I'm being realistic."
Miyu's cries drowned out their argument. She clung to the nearest pillow like a lifeline, her body shaking uncontrollably.
*****
The Night Before the Labyrinth
The castle's inner chamber was dimly lit, the warm glow of enchanted sconces flickering across polished stone walls. Heavy curtains muffled the night outside, sealing the small room in secrecy.
Around a circular table, five figures sat in hushed conversation—each one cloaked not in robes, but in shadows of intent.
Renji leaned back in his chair with a smirk tugging at his lips, arms lazily draped across the backrest. "Damn, Miyu. I didn't know you were this cold." His eyes sparkled with a twisted sort of amusement. "Heartless might be too soft a word."
Miyu didn't flinch. She crossed her legs, her expression composed and perfectly still. "Don't make it sound worse than it is," she said coolly. "This isn't our world. We're not here to babysit someone who can't even hold a blade properly. He's a liability, and he'll only drag us down in the long run."
Daigo chuckled lowly from the other side of the table, exchanging a glance with Shunpei. "A little harsh," he said, though his tone was anything but disapproving. "But you're not wrong."
Shunpei gave a halfhearted shrug, though his eyes didn't quite meet anyone else's. "He's dead weight. I mean, seriously—he flinched when that trainer yelled. What's he gonna do when a real monster shows up?"
Seraphina, seated at the head of the table, rested her chin lightly on her gloved fingers. Her posture was regal, but her voice was cold steel wrapped in silk.
"I cannot believe we wasted a hero's summoning on someone like him," she said, gaze narrowing. "No affinity. No class. No potential. He isn't just weak—he's useless."
The room fell quiet for a beat.
Miyu broke it, her tone sharpening. "I tried. I stayed by his side longer than I should've. But it's clear now—he's not cut out for this. Sooner or later, he's going to get someone killed."
Renji let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "And here I thought you were the sweet, loyal girlfriend type. Turns out, you've got fangs."
"Don't confuse pragmatism with cruelty," Miyu replied coldly. "I'm doing what needs to be done."
"Yeah?" Renji leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Then what exactly are we doing tomorrow?"
Seraphina didn't smile, but her voice darkened with satisfaction. "Nothing direct. Not yet. But should he find himself separated from the group… I doubt anyone will ask too many questions."
Shunpei shifted in his seat. "what the king's thought about this?"
Seraphina stood by the tall arched window, moonlight glinting off the silver in her hair. Her voice, smooth and low, carried authority as she turned to face the others.
"The king?" she said with a faint scoff. "He's nothing but a gluttonous puppet, more concerned with his next meal than the affairs of the realm. The queen is the real power—and all she cares about is results. As long as we deliver, no one will question our methods. The prince is nothing more than a playboy, and he's not even in the kingdom."
She paused, allowing the weight of her words to sink in.
"The entire Night Order answers to me. That means no interference. No questions. This will be simple. All you need to do is play your part in front of the class. Keep up appearances. Leave the rest to me."
Renji chuckled, lounging in his chair with arrogant ease. Then his gaze shifted toward Miyu. Slowly, he stood and stepped closer, tilting his head with a smirk.
"So now that you've finally dumped that useless deadweight…" he said, voice dripping with suggestion, "what do you say, Miyu? Why not be mine?"
He reached out, gently lifting her chin between his fingers.
But before anyone could react, Miyu's fist crashed into his gut with stunning precision.
Renji staggered back, coughing sharply as the air fled his lungs, a trail of blood slipping from the corner of his mouth.
Miyu stood over him, eyes narrowed, calm and composed. "Know your place, Renji," she said coldly.
He grunted, wiping his lip with the back of his hand, but she wasn't finished.
Her fingers gripped his collar, and in one swift motion, she pulled him close, pressing her lips to his in a brief, dominant kiss.
When she pulled back, her voice was a low whisper just for him. "But... if you do your part right tomorrow—flawlessly—maybe I'll keep you as a pet."
Renji blinked, stunned for half a second. Then his grin returned, wider and blood-smeared. "Don't worry," he rasped. "I'll give you exactly what you want."
*****
"It's been a while since I've had a visitor."
Noa's eyes fluttered open, the pain nearly unbearable. His vision swam in darkness and shifting light, but the voice pierced through it like a blade.
"W-Who... who's there?" he rasped, his throat dry, his lips cracked.
The voice hummed thoughtfully, amused. "Mmm, I see. An otherworlder, huh?"
Noa's heart skipped. "H-How do... you know that?"
A low laugh rolled through the cavern like thunder muffled by stone. "Hahahaha... I'll tell you that later."The tone shifted—softer, yet still laced with mystery. "But first... you're standing at death's door. It's a miracle you're even conscious, let alone speaking."
The words sent a shiver through Noa's battered body. His chest burned. His limbs wouldn't move. Even the blood seeping from his wounds felt too tired to flow.
"Tell me, child..." the voice asked slowly, deliberately, "Do you want my help?"
Noa clenched his teeth, mustering every ounce of strength left in him. Pain surged through his body like fire. He had no pride left. No time. No options.
"Is... is that even a question?" he groaned. "Of course... please... help me. I... I don't want to die."
The voice laughed again—low, rich, and ancient. There was no cruelty in it... but no kindness either.
"Nothing in this world is free, boy. Even miracles come with a price. "The silence after hung heavy. "So tell me—will you do me a little favor if I heal you?"
Noa didn't hesitate. His survival instinct screamed louder than any fear or doubt.
"Yes," he said, hoarse but firm. "I'll do anything... just—just save me."
The movement the words escape from his mouth, thick black liquid oozed from the cracks in the stone, crawling like living tar toward Noa's broken body. It wrapped around him, cool and suffocating—at first like a second skin, then like armor. The pain faded. Cuts vanished. The bruises and blood? Gone. Within seconds, he stood fully healed, breathing deeply, light-headed from the sudden absence of agony.
Noa slowly looked around, his eyes adjusting to the dim glow that clung to the cavern walls. Now that his vision was clear, he realized what kind of place he was truly in.
It was no ordinary cave.
The chamber stretched far, a wide-open underground hall cloaked in shadows. In its center sat an old, dust-covered coffin. Massive chains coiled around it like iron serpents, their ends embedded in glowing glyphs etched into the stone floor. The very air hummed with ancient power.
Then came the voice again—now unmistakably from the coffin.
"Now we can talk properly."
Noa took a cautious step forward, brows furrowed. "Who are you?"
A pause. Then the voice chuckled, deep and slow.
"Hmm… You're surprisingly calm for someone who just crawled back from death."
Noa's lips twisted into a bitter smile. "After what I've been through... it's going to take a lot more than creepy voices and cursed coffins to shake me."
"...Interesting."The voice held a trace of amusement now."Very well, then. I am one of the Ten Monarchs in this world. You may call me Vaelkran."
Noa's eyes narrowed. "Vaelkran? Wait... is that why this place is called Vaelkran's Labyrinth?"
"Indeed." A heavy sigh echoed through the space like a wind brushing old bones. "Thirty thousand years ago, I was defeated by the Archangel Vivian. That winged vermin managed to seal me here just as I struck her down. My body was bound within this labyrinth… a tomb shaped from my prison."
"Monarchs? Archangels? This is all new to me," Noa muttered, trying to take it all in.
"Don't worry. You'll come to understand them soon enough. And now, for the favor I mentioned earlier..."The voice grew colder, weightier. "I need you to ascend to the Upper Realm… and destroy the World Tree. That is the root of my prison. Shatter it, and I will be free."
Noa narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "And why do you think I'd do that? You know I'm an otherworlder. You must've seen everything… even how I was betrayed by the one person I trusted most."
The voice erupted into laughter—low, mocking, amused.
"Hahahahaha… oh, don't worry about that, child."It paused, letting the silence stretch. "The moment you said 'yes' back then, our contract was sealed. Whether you want to or not, if you fail to uphold your end of the deal… you'll be mine. Forever. A slave to my will."
Noa's fists clenched, the weight of his reality settling in. There was no turning back. Betrayed, broken, and now bound to a power he barely understood. Whatever awaited him at the top of this twisted world, he had no choice but to climb.
And somewhere deep inside, a part of him welcomed the climb—even if it meant burning down everything that had turned against him.