Chapter 9: Labyrinth (2)

The Mossbound roared, and the vault seemed to tremble with it.

Dust fell from the ceiling as the ancient creature surged forward, its limbs cracking like trees in a storm. It moved with terrifying speed for something so massive, its moss-covered arms swinging wide.

"Spread out!" Mal barked, diving to the left.

Tinsel rolled low, twin daggers flashing. She slashed at its legs, but her blades barely cut through the thick bark. "Its hide's too tough!"

"I'll make an opening!" I shouted, rushing in with my sword raised.

I dodged under one heavy swing and struck with all my strength. The blade dug in just barely.

The Mossbound howled and twisted, vines snapping out from its back like whips. One caught my shoulder and sent me flying into a crumbled pillar.

"Ryazania!" Mal's voice rang out as he hurled a firebolt at the creature. The spell hit with a sharp burst of light, burning away some of the moss but only angering it more.

It turned on him, vines dragging along the floor. Fein stepped between them and slammed the base of his polearm into the stone. A pulse of energy blasted outward, staggering the Mossbound just long enough for Tinsel to leap onto its back.

"Go for the eyes!" she yelled.

The beast thrashed as she drove one of her daggers deep into the moss near its head. It reared back, slamming her into the wall, but she held on with a snarl.

I forced myself up, vision still spinning. "Mal, can you weaken it more?"

"I've got one shot!" he shouted, gathering energy in his palm. A golden sigil flared around him, and he launched a radiant bolt that struck the Mossbound in the chest, burning through layers of bark and moss.

Now.

I rushed forward as the creature staggered, roaring in pain. Fein flanked it from the right, striking low to slow it down. I climbed the rubble and jumped, driving my blade into the exposed center of its chest, where the Clockroot twined around a shattered Aether crystal.

The Mossbound gave one last violent jerk… then crumbled.

It collapsed with a ground-shaking thud, bark splitting, and moss curling and dying with its final breath.

Silence followed. The kind that echoed.

Tinsel sat beside the broken pedestal, breathing heavily. "Tough bastard."

Fein nudged the mossy remains with his boot. "At least it didn't call for backup."

Mal lowered his hands, exhausted. "Let's grab what we need and go before something else shows up."

I stepped forward and began cutting the Clockroot free, the silvery veins pulsing faintly beneath my blade.

"One down," I murmured, wrapping the vines carefully.

Tinsel looked over the rest of the list, her voice soft. "Next up… threaded Moonsteel. There's a forge chamber in the lower ring. We'll have to be careful. That place is cursed."

I nodded.

The battle with the Mossbound left us winded, blades slick with sap and sweat. But the Clockroot was ours, and its silver-threaded vines glimmered faintly in Tinsel's pack as we descended further into the labyrinth.

"Next is the Moonsteel Wire," I said, glancing at the list still crumpled in Tinsel's pocket.

She nodded, leading the way back toward the main descent path. "Lower ring. There's an old forge down there, abandoned. Supposedly where the Moonsteel was first processed during the war."

"How do you even know that?" Fein asked, eyeing her sideways.

Tinsel gave a quick smirk. "Same way I know how to hotwire a rune-sealed door. I read things I probably shouldn't."

The air grew colder the deeper we went. The moss and fungi of Mossspire gave way to cracked obsidian walls and long, uneven steps carved straight from the black stone. Strange chimes echoed faintly in the distance, metal hitting metal, or perhaps just the labyrinth shifting again.

Mal held the map Vengir had given us, tilting his head at the faded ink lines. "This section, this ring, was used for forging weapons during the Aetherian Wars. If Moonsteel Wire still exists, it'll be near the forge beds."

"And what's the catch?" I asked.

"There's always a catch," Fein muttered.

We arrived at the threshold of the lower ring, the deepest part we had gone so far. The arch leading down was sealed with rusted chains, long broken. Tinsel kicked one aside with her boot.

Then we continued walking in silence, the only sound the scuff of our boots on ancient stone.

The tunnel curved downward into shadow, the last stretch before we reached the old forge.

Our flares flickered against the damp walls, casting reflections on rusted metal plates embedded in the stone.

I walked beside Tinsel. She hadn't said much since we regrouped-just kept her head down and her hand on the hilt of her blade.

Earlier, she'd pointed toward a collapsed corridor and murmured, "They're there." No names. No story. Just a direction and a silence that said not to push.

But now, with the pressure rising again, I asked anyway.

"Tinsel… those comrades. What happened?"

She didn't answer at first. Her pace didn't change. But I noticed the way her shoulders tensed.

Fein walked quietly behind us, watching. Waiting.

"I led them," Tinsel said at last. "That day. Down here. Thought I'd memorized the map. Thought I was good enough. We ended up in the lower vaults too deep, too fast."

Her voice was distant, flat. Almost rehearsed.

"There were constructs, old war machines still running. We triggered something. They came from the walls. I tried to pull them back, but…"

She stopped walking. The flarelight showed her jaw tight, eyes fixed on a point in the dark.

"I ran. I didn't mean to. I just… ran."

I felt my chest tighten. I'd seen that look before in cousin's eyes the last time we spoke.

Survivor's guilt.

"I got out through a collapsed shaft," Tinsel said. "Barely. I tried to go back with another team, but the vault had sealed. No bodies. Just… nothing."

Fein looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn't.

"And ever since?" I asked.

She shrugged, then pulled a small metal ball from her coat and rolled it across her fingers. It clicked softly, a smooth mechanical rhythm.

"If it happens again," she said. "If it ever gets that bad… I'll end it before anyone else gets dragged down."

Fein's brow creased. "What is that?"

She looked at him. "A failsafe. One last burst. Big enough to take me and whatever's around me."

"Are you serious?" I asked.

She smiled faintly, no humor in it. "Always."

The forge's massive entrance loomed ahead, quiet for now. But we knew it wouldn't stay that way.

Tinsel pocketed the metal ball, her hand lingering on it for a second longer than necessary.

I didn't know what waited beyond the next room. But I knew what Tinsel carried now and not just the metal in her pocket.

And as we stepped into the cold, metallic glow of the forge chamber, I couldn't help but feel we were walking into something we wouldn't all walk out of.

"Here we are," I heard.

"Welcome to the Old Forge," she said with a dramatic bow.

The forge was cavernous and scorched black, the ceiling lost in the darkness above.

Huge forgehammers lay shattered across the floor. Rows of rusted tools were scattered beside collapsed benches, and the remains of old war golems sat slumped against the walls, hollow-eyed, long dead.

Then I saw it.

In the center of the forge sat a spindled loom of black steel, partially buried in rubble. Wrapped tightly around it was a strand of glimmering silver, Moonsteel Wire. It shimmered like captured moonlight, impossibly thin yet obviously strong.

"There," I whispered.

We moved carefully, but Tinsel raised a hand. "Wait."

The air shifted. A faint whirring sound rose from the corners of the forge. A pair of glowing eyes blinked on in the darkness. Then another. And another.

"Auto guards," Mal said grimly. "War-era constructs. Probably left behind to protect whatever's left."

The machines rose, sleek and segmented, moving like spiders made of obsidian and metal. Each one bore a brand of the old Aetherian legions across its faceplate.

"Well," Fein said, drawing his polearm, "at least we're getting our cardio in."

Tinsel cracked her knuckles, her daggers flashing once in the silver light. "I'll flank. Someone distract."

I stepped forward, sword ready. "We get that wire, no matter what."

Then the constructs charged, and the forge roared with the sound of war once more.

The first Auto-guard lunged, its limbs slicing through the air with a mechanical hiss. I ducked under a sweeping blade arm, my sword flashing upward to parry the strike. Sparks burst where metal clashed with steel, and the force of the blow sent a shudder up my arm.

"She was already moving," I shouted. "Tinsel, now! "

She was a blur of silver, sliding beneath one of the constructs and jamming her dagger into a joint. The machine jerked, shuddered, then collapsed in a heap of twitching limbs.

Fein met another head-on, his polearm spinning in practiced arcs. He struck low, sweeping the legs out from under it, then jabbed the spearhead into the exposed gears beneath its chest. The construct spasmed and fell still.

"Don't let them group up! " Mal warned, lifting his hand. A pulse of golden light burst from his palm, slamming into an oncoming machine. The construct staggered, its armor scorched, but kept coming.

I moved to intercept, locking blades with it. Its strength was immense, every movement precise and cold. I gritted my teeth, sparks flying as I pushed back with all my strength.

Behind me, Tinsel shouted, "Two more! left side! "

Mal shifted positions, chanting quickly. A glyph flared at his feet, and a burst of radiant energy arced through the air, striking both incoming constructs. One fell apart mid-run, gears spilling across the stone.

The other slowed just enough for Fein to finish it off with a heavy swing.

The last construct, larger than the others, stepped forward from the shadows near the forge's heart. Its frame was bulkier, reinforced with darker plating. A blade arm folded into a cannon and let loose a burst of energy that shattered a column beside us.

"Okay, that's new!" I yelled, diving behind cover.

"It's a commander model," Mal said, voice tense. "It's learning."

"Then let's not give it time," Tinsel snapped, already circling.

We fanned out, striking from different angles. Fein drew its attention with wild, heavy swings while Mal laid suppressive bursts of light across its sensors. I darted in from behind and carved deep into its back, revealing a core of glowing white light.

Tinsel, agile as ever, leapt up onto its shoulder and drove both daggers down into the core. The construct froze, convulsed, then erupted in a crackle of white energy.

We hit the ground as it exploded, shards of metal raining down like deadly hail.

Then the forge trembled.

Something massive stepped out from behind the spindled loom... a towering Auto-guard, taller than the rest combined, plated in jagged black armor etched with crimson glyphs. Its face was a smooth, blank slab of silver, its limbs thick as tree trunks.

A forgotten warbeast.

It opened its chest, revealing a glowing core like a miniature sun. A blast of energy surged from it, tearing through the ground between us. The shockwave threw us backward like ragdolls. I hit a pillar hard, gasping for breath.

Fein was bleeding from the scalp. Tinsel clutched her shoulder, her daggers lost somewhere in the debris. Mal lay motionless, smoke rising from the edge of his robes.

"No," I muttered, pushing myself to my feet. "We have to-"

The warbeast lunged.

I barely raised my sword in time. Its massive claw smashed down, shattering my blade in two. The force of the blow knocked me back straight through the crumbling edge of the forge floor.

I fell.

Stone and ash gave way, and I plummeted down a dark shaft, landing with a heavy crash on a metal platform far below. Pain exploded in my side. Everything hurt. But I was alive.

Coughing, I sat up.

The surrounding room was ancient. A massive hall of dark crystal and cracked marble. At its center stood a pedestal and upon it, a sword.

Not just any sword.

It hovered above the stone, suspended by unseen force, wrapped in chains of fading light. Its blade was a deep silver, veined with blue, like frozen lightning. The hilt bore runes I didn't recognize yet felt… familiar.

Somewhere above, I heard the roar of battle. My friends were still fighting. Still losing.

Drawn by it, I stepped forward.

I wrapped my fingers around the hilt.

And the chains shattered.

The air pulsed. Light flooded the chamber, and the sword ignited in my grip....not with fire, but with memory. It was like the weapon knew me. Like it had been waiting.

For me....who?

FEIN POV:

The air still crackled with energy from the warbeast's blast. I groaned, staggering to my feet, vision swimming. Blood ran down my face, hot and sticky, but I didn't care.

Tinsel lay twisted nearby, her arm bent at a sick angle, blood staining the stone beneath her. Her chest rose and fell, shallow, but alive. Mal was crumpled behind a toppled brazier, unmoving, smoke curling from the hem of his robes.

And Ryazania was gone.

I turned toward the edge where the floor had given way, where she'd fallen.

No sign of her.

The Auto Guard's heavy footfalls echoed through the ruined forge as it advanced again. Each step shook the ground. It was slower now, sparking in several places, but still terrifying. Still standing.

I clenched the broken haft of my polearm. My breath came ragged, adrenaline burning through every nerve. There was no time to hesitate.

"This isn't over", I muttered. Then I ran.

I darted past rubble and the smoldering remains of the previous constructs, aiming straight for the warbeast's flank. It turned its head, sensors whirring, but I was already in motion.

I leapt and jammed the broken polearm into a seam between its plating.

Sparks erupted. The machine let out a deep mechanical shriek, jerking violently. It grabbed at me, claws whistling past as I ducked under and rolled, drawing a short sword from my belt.

I struck again, slashing at its legs, carving into whatever joints I could find. It flinched, stumbled, but didn't fall. Its core pulsed once more.

Behind me, I heard a gasp.

Fein…? Mal's voice, hoarse.

I glanced back.

He was alive, trying sitting up now, clutching his head, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Where's Ryazania?" he asked, coughing. Where is she?

I gritted my teeth, blocking a blow from the construct's claw that sent me skidding back.

"She fell!" I shouted. Through the floor. That thing....it knocked her off!

Mal's face paled. "What?!"

"No time!" I yelled. She might still be alive down there. I have to believe that.

The Auto Guard lunged again. I barely dodged.

Mal staggered to his feet, wobbling, his hand lighting with pale golden energy.

"Tinsel!" I snapped, eyes flicking to where she lay motionless. She's still breathing. Heal her! Now!

He blinked, dazed, then nodded quickly. "Arghh! Right..Right. On it."

He stumbled over to her, muttering incantations, hands glowing brighter. As light flowed from his palms, Tinsel's body stirred faintly, her fingers twitching.

The Auto Guard roared, its core flaring again. It wasn't done yet.

And neither was I.

I turned back to face it, bloodied, half-armed, and furious.

"You want more?" I growled. "Then come get me."

MAL POV:

I pressed my hands against Tinsel's chest, letting the magic flow through trembling fingers. The spell stuttered, the golden light flickering with my fading strength. Her breathing was faint, her body limp, skin pale beneath the blood. I could feel her slipping.

She blinked up at me, grimacing through the pain. "Leave me," she rasped. "Just take the Moonsteel Wire and go. We're not all making it out of this."

"Don't be stupid," I muttered, forcing the incantation again. "We've all come this far."

"You can't waste your strength on me." She grabbed my wrist weakly, eyes sharp despite the tears. "If I slow you down, we all die."

"No," I said, biting down the panic swelling in my throat. "You're not dying in some crumbling forge with a bunch of scrap machines."

She groaned as her bones knitted, the light dulling as the spell ran shallow. "Then at least just enough to move. That's all I need. I can crawl if I have to."

I hesitated. I could have healed her fully, maybe even gotten her on her feet swinging again. But Fein was alone, buying time against a monster, and Ryazania....

Gone. Somewhere beneath us. Or worse.

I swallowed and reluctantly released the spell. Her breathing steadied.

She wasn't dying...not yet.

"I'll be back," I said, rising.

"You better be."

I ran, weaving between shattered columns and broken gears, toward the loom where the Moonsteel Wire still shimmered in its cradle. The construct's roar echoed behind me, Fein's grunts and shouts like thunderclaps through the ruined forge.

My fingers touched the Moonsteel. It was cold, like starlight turned solid, thin as a whisper, but stronger than anything I had ever seen. I carefully spooled it into my pouch, all the while my mind spinning.

Why are we even doing this?

We were deep in a hell of gears and metal, risking everything for a wire to build… what? A printing press? To do what?

I thought of the cloaked figure, the Overlord, or so he claimed. The words he had spoken in the dark halls of the prison, when Ryazania was dragged before him in chains.

"That girl… she holds memories no one else should have. Knowledge not of this age or this world. What she chooses to do with it could either break us or lead us into a new age. Even you must feel it, yes? The way the dark energy sings in her presence?"

At the time, I had scoffed. Just another zealot whispering grand ideas about destiny and chosen ones.

I had seen too many self-proclaimed prophets in the wastes beyond Tairun.

But now?

Now I wasn't so sure.

A girl with a enegry signature older than the sky, A printing press to do something we don't even understand. And we keep diving deeper, bleeding for materials.

"Something greater," he had said.

And I had asked him, "What greater? You mean your chaos? Your dominion?"

The cloaked one had only smiled.

"No. I mean evolution."

I looked down at the Moonsteel in my hands, then back toward Fein, a silhouette locked in deadly motion, sparks flying in arcs around him.

And I thought, maybe we weren't building a machine.

Maybe we were building a future.

One cut from the same cloth as war and memory.

And Ryazania… maybe she was the thread holding it all together.

My blade scraped against the Auto-guard's plating, sparks flaring as I twisted to avoid a retaliating strike.

The massive warbeast moved with terrifying precision, its core glowing like a furnace, each step a quake beneath my feet.

I lunged again, feinting low, only for its arm to whip around and smash into my ribs. Pain bloomed. I skidded across the floor, metal grating against my armor. Blood filled my mouth. Still, I stood.

The construct paused.

Then its head tilted.

A grinding sound issued from within its frame. A voice followed- cold, artificial, yet unmistakably sentient.

"Motion within the sword chamber. Initiating protocol: {revīvere}."

A pulse rippled through the forge.

I turned just in time to see the scattered parts of fallen Auto-guards twitch, then shift. One by one, fragments of metal dragged themselves across the floor. Arms snapped into sockets. Heads rolled back onto necks. The corpses of machines began to reassemble, jerking like puppets, eyes flaring with fresh light.

"Mal!" I shouted.

He had just sat Tinsel against a wall, wrapping her shoulder as she groaned.

His gaze shot to the constructs reawakening. His lips tightened.

"We're out of time," I said, my voice hoarse.

Tinsel stirred. "Then go."

Mal looked at her, surprised. "What?"

She pushed herself upright, breath shallow. "Take the wire and find the girl. I'll hold them off."

"You're in no shape to-"

"I said go." She forced a grin, though her eyes glistened. "My comrades died one floor below us, Mal. When things went wrong, I ran. I left them screaming. I've carried that for years."

Mal's face softened. "Tinsel…"

"This isn't for glory. This is for them." She looked toward the rising army of machines. "I'm done running."

He hesitated.

But then he nodded.

"Tinsel," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "You're not alone anymore."

She smiled.

Mal turned to me. "Fein! Fall back!"

I didn't argue.

Something in his tone said they had a plan.

As I limped toward them, Tinsel pulled two things from her belt - a half filled healing potion, which she drank in one go, and a metal sphere no larger than her fist.

A bomb.

She stood, shoulders square despite the blood and pain, and walked toward the advancing constructs.

"For the floor below," she whispered.

Then she hurled the sphere.

Light swallowed the forge.

Fire bloomed like a flower of death.

And she was gone.

RYAZANIA POV:

The sword pulsed in my hand, not with power, but with pain.

It wasn't mine.

It fought me. Tested me.

Showed my mind: a thousand battles, not my own, voices long gone, faces I'd never met.

Their hopes.

Their rage.

Their final moments.

I dropped to my knees, clutching my head as the chamber trembled around me. The explosion above rang like a bell of death, reverberating through the metal walls. Dust trickled down from the ceiling. I looked up.

I didn't know what happened, not exactly. But I felt it. Something had been lost.

The sword's chain-light had shattered completely now, drifting like smoke into the air. It no longer hovered.

It rested in my hand, solid and heavy. Waiting.

No.

Calling.

My fingers tightened around the hilt. The sword's runes gleamed faintly, responding to my grip. It was like it was watching me, listening, judging.

I stood on shaky legs.

My knees screamed, my ribs ached, but the pain was distant now- dulled by something deeper.

I wasn't alone down here. Not really. Whispers stirred the stale air. Energy coiled like breathless wind. I could feel the labyrinth's pulse.

This place was alive.

And it was watching.

I turned toward the hall beyond the pedestal. A narrow corridor stretched into shadows, but the walls... they pulsed faintly, responding to my presence like veins beneath flesh. The sword hummed.

Step by step, I moved forward, sword in hand, breath steady.

Whatever was waiting, whatever this place buried, I would face them.

For Fein.

For Mal.

No.. maybe this is an opportunity for me to escape while I can.

To figure out everything on my own and-

No, I've come this far because of them.

"All this blood, sweat, and tears would mean nothing if we didn't finish the printing press."

"For now, I'll stay by their side."

The corridor stretched on, lit only by the faint silver glow of the sword in my hand. My footsteps echoed softly across the stone, but my heart thundered like a war drum. Whatever this place was, it hadn't been touched in ages. Yet the air felt alive, thick with the scent of blood.

Then the sword pulsed. Not with violence, but with recognition.

A flicker of light shot across its blade. Then it began to glow.

[SYSTEM MESSAGE: The sword recognizes you as its owner.]

[Welcome, Bearer of Memory.]

[Name: Ryazania. Alignment: Undetermined. Purpose: To be revealed.]

I froze.

"What… was that?" I whispered, staring at the blade.

The glow faded, but something shifted within me. The sword… it wasn't just a weapon. It was sentient. 

Why?

I wasn't strong like Fein. I didn't have Mal's magic or Tinsel's speed.

I just-

[Your presence has activated dormant protocols.]

[Fragmented memories detected.]

[Initiating compatibility resonance.]

A pulse surged through the hilt, racing up my arm and straight into my mind.

A sigil appeared on my arm, shifting and twisting until it formed the symbol: XC.

Maybe this was the sigil from before.

The one the cloaked figure spoke of.

I stumbled, gasping, clutching my temple as images exploded behind my eyes. Burning skies. Fallen cities. A hooded figure standing atop a mountain of steel corpses. A woman...no, a warrior...wielding this sword, facing down something vast and monstrous.

And in the distance, a familiar voice.

"...Ryazania…"

I turned, breath catching.

Fein?

I didn't know if it was real or part of the sword's vision, but I knew what I had to do. They were still up there. Still fighting. Still buying me time.

[Command recognized: Seek. Protect. Ascend.]

[New objective: Return to the upper forge.]

MAL POV:

The tunnel shuddered behind us as the explosion tore through the forge.

Heat and dust slammed against my back as I half-carried, half-dragged Fein through the crumbling corridor. The world became smoke and echoes. Somewhere behind us, the forge...

Tinsel..was gone.

We didn't stop running until we reached the passage connecting the lower ring to the descent. A collapsed pillar gave us cover.

I dropped to my knees, coughing violently, while Fein slumped beside me, his arm bleeding where jagged metal had grazed him.

He stared at the ground. Silent. Breathing hard.

"…She bought us time," he muttered.

I nodded slowly. "She made her choice."

Fein looked at me, eyes hollow. "Do you think she lived?"

I didn't answer.

The truth was, even if she did… she was gone. That kind of sacrifice doesn't come back the same.

"She said her comrades died a floor beneath," I said quietly, recalling her words just before the explosion. "She thought this was how she could atone."

Fein leaned his head back against the stone. "That stupid metal ball… I didn't think she'd actually use it."

I didn't respond. My thoughts were still with Ryazania, beneath us, deeper in the ruins, alone.

"The sword chamber," Fein muttered after a beat. "She fell through the floor. Think she's still alive?"

"She has to be," I said, more to convince myself than him. 

Fein nodded, eyes distant. "Let's find her then." 

RYAZANIA POV:

I returned to the spot where she had fallen.

The air was unnaturally still, as if the labyrinth itself were holding its breath. Then, without warning, the walls began to shift. Stone groaned and cracked as stairs emerged in ascending spiral pattern up the walls.

A thick scent clung to the air- fire and blood, sharp and metallic. Higher up, a new smell joined it: the unmistakable stench of burning flesh.

My nose wrinkled.

Something or someone was burning above.

Stirred, my whole body aching as I pushed myself up from the cold stone floor. The air was thick- choking with smoke, blood, and something far worse.

Everything was burning.

Flames curled along the walls, casting jagged shadows across the wreckage. I saw the stairs, newly formed, carved into the walls like they had always been there, leading upward through a haze of smoke and fire.

But I barely noticed them.

My eyes were locked on the wreckage ahead.

And then I saw it.

The body. Or… what was left of it.

A charred figure lay at the center of it all, surrounded by twisted metal and cracked stone still glowing with heat. The scent of burnt flesh hit me heavy, sour, unforgettable. My breath hitched. My heart dropped.

Tinsel.

She had done it....blown herself up to destroy the Auto-guards. This… this was the cost.

I stumbled forward, legs weak beneath me. I'd seen danger before. I'd looked death in the face. But this?

This was different.

This was the first time I'd seen something so gruesome. So final. Not a clean death. Not a warrior's fall.

This was sacrifice.

This was loss. 

And it hurt more than I was ready for.

I forced myself to look away, to breathe...but the stench, the sight, it clung to me like smoke on skin. My hands trembled. My chest felt like it was caving in.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breath, trying to think. But the truth hit harder than any blade could.

She was dead.

Because of me.

All of this... the expedition, the materials, the descent into this cursed place, it was all for a printing press. A stupid printing press.

So I could mass produce missing posters. So I could find him.

My cousin. My family.

I wanted so badly to bring him back, to see his face again, to know he was alive somewhere. And now... someone else had died for that hope. For my hope.

Tinsel gave her life and what did I give?

I clenched my fists, willing the tears back, forcing my legs to stop shaking.

I had to be strong. I had to keep moving.

But the guilt was a weight that wouldn't let go.

"She died because of your selfishness."

"She died because you're weak."

"She died because of your carelessness."

A whisper in the smoke, telling me I was the reason this happened.

And I couldn't deny it.

[System recognizes the desire of the user.]

The words weren't spoken aloud. They echoed in my mind, deep and cold, as if coming from the walls, the stone, the world itself.

My desire? To find Ryuu? To see him again.

But at what cost?

The flames hissed around me, and in that moment, I realized something terrifying:

The labyrinth was watching me. Responding.

And it had heard.

I forced myself to my feet, my legs weak beneath me, but I couldn't stay there. Not like this.

I had to find Fein and Mal. They were out there, somewhere, and I couldn't let them face this alone. Not after what happened.

The air felt suffocating as I moved forward, my head pounding with the weight of guilt and confusion.

My eyes scanned the wreckage...twisted metal, melted stone, the scorched remnants of what used to be the Auto-guards.

Then, a strange voice cold, mechanical, and eerily familiar echoed in my mind.

[System offers to locate "Fein" and "Mal." Do you accept?]

My brows furrowed in disbelief. This thing knows them?

I hesitated for a moment, then, driven by a mixture of frustration and desperation, I spoke out loud.

"Fine. Do it."

[System has used "dark energy signature location."]

Woah.

A strange sensation filled the air, like a pulse vibrating just beneath my skin.

A map materialized in front of me. A glowing chart, with pinpointed markers that showed the locations of Fein and Mal, flashing clearly against the backdrop of the labyrinth's destruction.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

This... this was real.

Without wasting another moment, I started moving, my heart racing. The labyrinth was a twisted mess, but at least I had a way forward.

As I walked through the burning rubble, my gaze fell on Tinsel's body once again.

My stomach turned at the sight -the charred remains of someone who had given everything.

I couldn't leave her like this.

Kneeling down amidst the wreckage, I gathered what was left of her, my hands shaking as I carefully buried her corpse among the rubble. A quiet tribute to a life lost.

I used a broken shard of metal, jagged and cold, to mark the spot.

an unspoken symbol for Tinsel, for her sacrifice.

And with that, I stood again, the weight of her loss settling on my shoulders. I had to find them. I had to make sure we didn't lose anyone else.