When Edris reopened his eyes, the cacophony surrounding him had been replaced by an eerie stillness.

He swung his head around, vigilant of his surroundings. The remnants of adrenaline still flowed in his veins, and it took a few long seconds for his perceptions to clear up.

Edris blinked.

“…Here again.”

What awaited him was no other than the [GARDEN].

The dream-like space retained its pristine, almost idyllic image from the last time, as though it had been lifted from a painting. A single paved path of smooth, ivory stone stretched through the space, bordered by wrought-iron fences that enclosed beds of vibrant flowers with each petal in full bloom. Their delicate petals swayed gently with an unseen breeze, a steady rhythm against the backdrop of an impossibly clear sky.

To the side of the path, a circular platform rose by a few shallow steps, its surface polished to a mirror-like shine. It seemed almost ceremonial, the centerpiece that commanded attention.

Edris paused, taking in the surroundings. He glanced down, noting that his turtleneck and dark cloak were back, neat and unmarred, as though they’d always been this way. The lightness of being a Shadow had disappeared, replaced by the firm touch of his footsteps, soft against the stones of the pathway.

His gaze flickered to the others—Ace, Roos, and Owein—standing stiffly, their postures tense. Behind them, other players scattered across the path, each silent with their own thoughts.

The relative peace of the [GARDEN] was shattered when two players, standing a short distance away, locked eyes. Both looked to be in their forties. The one on the left had an eyepatch over his eye, but even that couldn’t conceal his contempt towards the bearded man standing before him.

“You!”

Within moments, the eye contact had escalated into a confrontation. The eyepatch man growled as he lunged forward, fists raised, while the other reached for his scabbard in response.

The commotion caused some to turn their heads, but none acted in response, only watching the confrontation in silence. Player-to-player grudges weren’t exactly rare, given what they’d gone through in the Labyrinth.

Before any of them could land a blow, an invisible force seized the bearded man in midair. The force struck like lightning, pinning him to the ground. A faint shimmer pulsed across the air where the attack had come from.

Watching the man crash and slide across the pavement, Edris turned to Ace, who gave a subtle shake of his head.

“A safe zone,” the white-haired man murmured, voice low but certain. No mana, no violence—it was a rule, silently displayed but absolute. Edris nodded once.

They were safe here, for now.

The next moment, a player rushed to the fence, bent over, and emptied his stomach.

“…Gross.” Roos shuddered, patting down her own stomach while Owein shook his head.

Edris watched in dismay as more players joined him, feeling quite disgusted himself. The air was thick with the sweet smell of pollen. On any other occasion, it might have been soothing—a tranquil, earthy aroma to calm the nerves. But now, it lingered like an unwanted reminder of the absurdity of their situation.

For everyone present, the scent was cloying, suffocating, like a mockery of the chaos they had just survived.

The players exchanged glances, their faces pale and drawn.

Their numbers had drastically dwindled.

Where there had once been a crowd, barely a quarter remained, their faces hollowed by recent trials.

Across the [GARDEN], Robin and Dove stood in stark contrast to the exhausted crowd. Robin leaned back, stretching languidly, his nonchalance almost mocking. Dove, however, remained upright, her gaze darting across the garden like a predator surveying its prey.

Their eyes met across the distance, and Robin’s lips curled into a grin, his tongue flicking out in a gesture both taunting and grotesque.

Edris and Ace looked away, collectively choosing to unsee the display.

Perhaps it was due to the violence-free nature of the area, but neither attempted anything more.

The serenity of the [GARDEN] was disconcerting. Without the professors—acting as moderators from last time to explain the next steps—the space felt hollow, as though it were merely a stage with unseen spectators.

Ignoring the empty gags in the background, Edris continued forward, his eyes drawn to the circular platform ahead. As he stepped closer, the familiar sight of the two wells began to materialize at its center.

The two structures rose from the ground with fluid grace, their shimmer lighting the faces of the remaining players.

Roos blinked, her lips twitching into a smile that failed to reach her eyes.

“Haven’t seen those in a while.”

Regarding the familiar cylinders before his eyes, Edris recalled each of their functions.

The first well on the left, clear and glistening, offered monetary compensation for surviving the Labyrinth. The players would drop their remaining cards into the well, which rewarded those seeking immediate relief but offered no protection for future challenges.

On the other hand, the second well on the right promised power-up cards and abilities that could be carried into the next Labyrinth. Like the first well, players would offer up their remaining cards as well as a drop of their blood to complete the exchange.

Before any discussions could unfold, each player found themselves enveloped in a translucent barrier that cloaked them in isolation.

In the pillar of light, the same two wells surfaced before Edris, awaiting his decision.

His pale eyes shifted from the left to the right, weighing the current situation.

Chances were that just like the last time, the same, if not even more, amount of players would gravitate toward the latter. Some sought an edge to stay alive; others believed currency was meaningless without survival. Regardless, in the possibility of another pull, having access to more powerful cards was equivalent to a more advantageous position.

Seasoned by the past two trials, this was inevitable.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

The air buzzed with quiet desperation as players approached their chosen well.

Like the others, Edris stepped forward. The shimmering barrier encased him, muting the outside world. For a moment, he stood alone with the two wells, their waters reflecting his pale face.

The left well rippled serenely, while the right well exuded an almost magnetic pull.

Edris stared into the depths of both, gears turning in his mind.

He still possessed the [BLAZING TORRENT], a potent card he could relinquish to the first well.

It didn’t take much to realize that the players around him were opting for the second well, seeking the tools to aid their future survival.

Given the current information, the more cards one possessed, the more backing they’d have if they were to reenter the Labyrinths.

But was it really that simple?

Would the Labyrinth system really give them perks like those for free?

Edris exhaled through his nose.

The balance was tipping.

Every choice came with a hassle, and Edris always strove to avoid as much trouble as possible. He couldn’t ignore the possibility that the more players chose power, the more skewed future Labyrinths may become.

He glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers as if testing their strength. The faint weight of the Sacrificial Hourglass around his neck was a silent reminder of the danger behind these “trades.”

It wasn’t Edris to harvest crops knowing their potential poison.

His hand hovered over the wells, and the waters rippled in anticipation.

With a long breath, Edris reached forth, his decision firming. He planned to discuss it with the Crown Prince and others upon exiting first. It was still too early to trust the Labyrinth, especially with all the inconsistencies found in the last one.

Edris pressed his palm onto the first well.

YOU HAVE CHOSEN THE FIRST WELL!

CONFIRM YOUR CHOICE?

[YES] [NO]

Player [EDRIS] has made his decision!

Like the last time, he'd kept the [BLAZING TORRENT] card. After all, it wasn't something he'd obtained from the Labyrinths. There was no reason for him to give up something unnecessarily.

The glowing barrier around the well shimmered green as he made his choice. The next moment, a wooden door appeared before him, signalling for entrance.

As Edris stepped through the door, he was engulfed by a warm and almost suffocating surge of light. As he felt his material body pulled away, he closed his eyes, ready to descend back into Odeen.

There was much to do. He wasn’t sure how long had passed in the real world, but he’d have to contact the Crown Prince to debrief about the situation.

However, the final landing never came.

Instead, when the light receded, Edris could only knit his brows into a deep frown.

Half expecting to be in Odeen, he had instead stepped right into a barren wasteland, cracked earth stretching endlessly under a dull, colorless sky.

The only striking feature was the enormous gate towering before him.

The structure gleamed as though untouched by the desolation around it, and across its archway, bold letters spelled out:

ANCHOR HOUSE

Edris’s eyes narrowed, scanning his surroundings. Players were scattered around him, many looking as bewildered as he felt. More began to spawn in, their bodies materializing from thin air in bursts of light, much like his own arrival.

More importantly, many of these players were unfamiliar faces.

“So this is how it is.”

Edris’s earlier suspicions solidified into certainty—this was no isolated event. Multiple Labyrinths were running simultaneously, and this "game" was far larger and more orchestrated than he’d initially imagined.

A voice boomed from an unseen speaker, unnaturally cheerful against the dull canvas.

“Dear players, welcome to [ANCHOR HOUSE].”

The gates creaked open, revealing a vibrant, colorful fog swirling inside, masking whatever lay beyond. Edris tensed, glancing over his shoulder as familiar figures began to emerge from the light—Roos, Owein, and Ace.

Before he could process more, a figure strode out from the fog, silver hair shimmering as though under its light. The woman had porcelain skin and no visible irises or pupils, her gaze eerily hollow. Pinned to her pristine blouse was a small name card: The Caretaker.

“Welcome to [ANCHOR HOUSE],” she greeted, her voice mechanical yet unsettlingly sweet. Her movements were unnaturally fluid as she handed out brochures, one to each player.

Edris accepted his brochure hesitantly, its surface cool against his fingertips. The moment he touched it, his [PROFILE] interface lit up, and a new tab appeared:

ANCHOR HOUSE MANUAL

The Caretaker began her explanation, her tone bright and robotic.

“You are now standing at the entrance to [ANCHOR HOUSE], a sanctuary and resting point between Labyrinths where you may recover and prepare. Mana and violence are strictly prohibited and impossible here, ensuring your safety during your stay.”

She gestured toward the colorful fog.

“You will find and enjoy our many amenities. You will find the layout both intuitive and luxurious. The funds will soon appear in your inventory for those who deposited your cards in exchange for monetary compensation. For those who traded cards for upgrades, your enhanced cards will soon be visible in your [CARD SLOT].”

A ripple of groans swept through the crowd as some players realized the opportunity they’d lost by choosing the first well. The Caretaker’s unchanging smile seemed to grow sharper.

“For your convenience,” she continued, her tone unnervingly cheerful, “[ANCHOR HOUSE] offers a bank for accumulated wealth, stored safely until the end. You may write a will at the [COCOON], located on the 21st floor, should you wish to allocate your earnings in the event of your demise.”

“The next Labyrinth will begin upon further notice,” the Caretaker announced, her gaze flickering briefly toward Edris. “From this point forward, your memories will remain intact upon exiting each Labyrinth. You are now veterans of the system. Adjust accordingly.”

Edris stiffened as her gaze lingered on him for a fraction too long, her unblinking eyes sending a chill down his spine.

Gasps and murmurs broke out among the players. The reality of their situation sank in—a never-ending cycle of Labyrinths, with no clear path to escape. For many, this revelation was a breaking point.

A player dropped to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. “I thought… I thought we’d be free…”

The Caretaker didn’t even glance his way, her expression as sunny as ever. “But of course, you have all the time and freedom in the world to enjoy yourselves here at [ANCHOR HOUSE]. We’re sure you’ll find your stay most pleasant.”

Her words felt like a cruel joke.

The vibrant fog of [ANCHOR HOUSE] beckoned, but all Edris could feel was the tightening noose of inevitability. He tapped the side of his leg in silence, scanning his surroundings with a look of measured wariness.

He took note of the surge of bodies.

Clearly, those people were not only from Labyrinth 53 but also survivors from other Labyrinths, judging by the same haunted expressions they bore on their faces.

The presence of all the unfamiliar faces pointed to a disturbing truth: multiple Labyrinths could run simultaneously, each feeding into the next, with no discernible exit back to reality.

Edris pursed his lips, reflecting on the Caretaker’s ominous words.

Retained memories, card roster, temporary safe zone… all the signs suggested a long-term battle.

In this new version of the Labyrinth structure, there was no relief, no triumphant freedom awaiting those who survived a single pull. Instead, players found themselves shuffled into a possibly endless cycle, barely given time to breathe.

“…”

Edris suddenly felt very tired.

He hadn’t thought about his break in a long time.

The possibility of constant physical and mental burden took root in his thoughts, though he tried to stifle the irk that came with it.

Yet he showed no outward frustration. He merely stood, calm and alert, storing every piece of information for future use. If there was any hidden path or secret to unravel this cycle, he intended to find it.

For the sake of his retirement life, he would find it no matter what.