Ace stood in the center of the Cocoon, a vast, cavernous expanse that occupied the entire 21st floor of [ANCHOR HOUSE].
His eyes traced the black stone walls, smooth and polished, pulsating faintly with an ebb and flow of ligh. It was almost as though the stone itself were breathing—like a heart that had been hollowed out and filled with something more ancient than time itself.
The floor beneath him was slick, dark as obsidian, reflecting his figure in a warped mirror. Above, the ceiling arched high, vanishing into an expanse of shadow.
In the center of the room stood an imposing structure: a tree, though unlike anything in nature. Its trunk was crystalline, its veins glowing faintly with golden light, pulsing with each breath the room seemed to take. The tree’s roots extended outward, twisting and branching across the floor, connecting to smaller pods embedded in the stone walls—pods that hummed quietly, like sleeping sentinels.
The tree—there was a strange aura to it, its energy vibrating through the air. As Ace stepped further into the chamber, his boots silent on the floor, he saw the veins on its surface pulse more intensely, almost as if it were responding to his presence.
Surrounding the trunk and sprinkled all over the 21st floor were the pods. They lined the walls, white as bone, with surfaces smooth and pristine, stark against the obsidian surroundings. They were scattered around in a seemingly arbitrary fashion, but Ace didn’t approach them immediately. Instead, he studied them, noting the faint glimmer of rules etched into the air near each pod—rules, wills, all floating around in whispers, impossible to ignore.
The deeper he looked into them, the more disconnected they seemed from the idea of a “haven.”
He approached one of the pods, his fingers hovering just above the surface. These pods were an enigma but unmistakably connected to the larger Labyrinth system. Players—those like himself—were meant to engage with this place.
Yet when he tried to enter one of the pods, an invisible barrier flickered into existence, blocking his way.
[ERROR! FEATURE NOT AVAILABLE AT THE MOMENT!]
Ace paused, his expression bittering as he withdrew his hand. Was this because of the system errors from the last Labyrinth? Or was it still not the right time?
Turning away from the pods, Ace’s gaze naturally fell on the central tree. Its crystalline trunk stretched up, rooted deep in the chamber, like it was part of the very foundation of the [ANCHOR HOUSE].
He stepped forward and approached the crystalline trunk. The glowing veins seemed to pulse faster as he laid his hand against the surface. A low hum vibrated through his fingers, the energy thrumming in time with the rhythmic beat of the chamber itself.
Without thinking, he pressed his palm harder into the trunk.
A hidden compartment slid open within the tree’s bark, revealing a small crystalline shard, barely larger than his palm. The shard shimmered faintly with a golden glow, etched with strange markings—coordinates.
They were coordinates he did not recognise, despite having all the mapped areas of both the Eastern and Western continents accessible at the back of his mind.
Ace studied the shard intently, but as his fingers hovered over it, a message flickered to life with a warning:
UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED
The white-haired man fell into thought. This [ANCHOR HOUSE] place, as immaculate as it seemed, was not just a checkpoint, a neutral ground between Labyrinths. There was more to this place than anyone had realised—perhaps even more than the Labyrinth system itself.
As he stood there, staring at the message, the message board flickered again. This time, the screen displayed something more telling:
1/5 Memory Fragments Collected
4/5 Remaining
[CORE] Access Pending...
Ace narrowed his eyes. Back in Labyrinth 53, the system had announced that he’d be able to collect the reward upon exiting, but now, here in the [ANCHOR HOUSE], it seemed that it was turning back on its words.
Something, or someone in the Labyrinth was trying to block his progress.
It was as though the Labyrinths were actively working against him, trying to delay or suppress his redemption. From the sudden interruption in the Principal’s Office to the strange mechanics of the Cocoon, it was becoming increasingly clear that there were forces at play. Forces that wanted to play against him, to keep him in the dark.
But why?
Why the Labyrinths, and why him?
The questions turned over in his mind as Ace stood there, motionless. Before he could formulate any answers, he heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching, followed by a familiar voice.
"There you are."
The white-haired man turned slowly, his expression unchanged, to find Edris and the rest of the group entering from the lift.
They were silhouetted against the dim, almost otherworldly glow of the [ANCHOR HOUSE], and in the stark contrast, Ace felt like an inverted blot of paint—out of place, disturbing in a way that was hard to define.
But it was Edris who stepped forward, his gaze calculating as always.
"Seems like you found something interesting," the man said, his tone casual, though his eyes flicked toward the glowing shard in Ace’s hand. "You didn’t think you’d be able to keep it to yourself, did you?"
The moment Edris stepped into the [COCOON], the first thing that had struck him was the sheer coldness of the place, the kind that seeped into your bones even if the air felt still.
The circular chamber stretched far, its black stone walls pulsating faintly like the interior of some great, dormant beast. Along the perimeter, rows of pristine white pods stood like sentinels, gleaming beneath the light—too immaculate, too perfect.
At his question, the white-haired man gave no immediate verbal reply. Edris turned to him and tilted his head.
“This place has secrets,” Ace said finally, his voice flat. “The Cocoon has its rules, like everything else here. It will be difficult to understand them.”
He stepped back, his hand still clutching the shard but showed no intentions of explaining further. Edris's eyes flicked between the shard and Ace's face, reading the subtle shifts in expression.
“Difficult, but all the more rewarding once we do,” he mused, stepping past him.
He studied the room carefully, his eyes narrowing as he took in the glowing pods, the tree, the rhythmic pulses of the space.
Faint etchings traced the walls as he walked, lines and symbols that seemed both random and deliberate, forming a cryptic pattern in his mind’s eye. Some were simple, others complex: alchemical symbols, hastily scrawled coordinates, circular seals, and names with dates—timestamps from players who had passed through here before.
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The air felt thick, saturated with memories and secrets, a constant reminder that they were not the first to be here. The walls seemed to whisper, though no one spoke.
Ace, now beside him, regarded the pods with a quiet stillness, his eyes flicking between the walls and the glass enclosures.
"It did not let me enter," he stated, his voice distant.
Edris raised an eyebrow, his lips curling just enough to show the glint of amusement. His gaze flicked over to Ace. There was a peculiar sharpness in his eyes as he spoke.
“Oh? What kind of machine dares to discriminate against the great Ace?”
“...”
Edris stepped closer to one of the pods and lightly tapped the surface. It hummed in response, and the door silently opened. Before he climbed in, Celio called out to him from behind, his voice laced with concern.
“Master! Is it safe?”
“It is meant for players, at least according to the Caretaker,” Edris replied and, upon seeing the apprehensive look on the boy’s face, shook his head.
“But…”
“I’ll be fine,” he said, waving a hand in reassurance.
“Be careful, Mister Edris,” Ives said.
Edris nodded and turned to the pod. Pressing his palm onto the stony surface, the exterior lit up in a gradient wave, and the next moment, he had sunk into the interior.
The pod was different than what he’d imagined.
The walls inside were smooth, reflecting the light like frosted glass. Small compartments lined the interior, just enough space to hold personal items—money, cards, or other things obtained from the wells. There was a certain sterile quality to it, like a safety deposit box, though the weight of what it represented was far heavier than anything monetary.
It was more practical.
More real.
Edris's [PROFILE] flashed up in front of him as he settled into the seat. His eyes quickly scanned the details. The display showed his history of Labyrinths:
PLAYER ID Edris PLAYER'S LABYRINTH HISTORY
[1] Labyrinth #53
[2] Labyrinth #17
The first record of Labyrinth 53 was to be expected, but the second one—the supposed "updated version" of MW Academy—was now labeled as number 17.
He narrowed his eyes.
Was the change intentional? Labyrinth 17 was not a continuation of Labyrinth 53, after all?
His fingers hovered over the [CARD SLOT], and the corresponding details popped up:
CARD SLOTS
SLOT 1: [BLAZING TORRENT]
SLOT 2: [EMPTY]
SLOT 3: [EMPTY]
SLOT 4: [EMPTY]
His slot capacity had increased—four slots now—as announced by the system back in Labyrinth 53.
Symbols were etched into the pod's interior as well—smaller ones, hidden in places only visible to someone who looked close enough. Alchemical sigils, coordinates, names... all left by those who had come before. A history of players who, presumably, had not made it out.
At on the ceiling of the pod—his eyes drifted upward—a large circular podium floated through the now-transparent roof. A holographic screen hovered before him, guiding players through the process of writing their wills. Rather than free responses, the screen held three simple options:
[1] Transfer to Another [PLAYER]
[2] Donate to the [SYSTEM]
[3] Destroy Upon Death
Edris felt a cold pressure in his chest. There was no question in his mind about donating to the system. He wasn’t here for charity. That left two paths: give his earnings to someone else or destroy them altogether.
He looked down at the Sacrificial Hourglass that hung around his neck. The unsettling absence of backlash from the exchange still gnawed at him. Was it coming? Or had it already begun, and he just hadn’t noticed? The weight of the pendant felt heavier now, colder against his skin.
For a long moment, he sat in silence, the weight of his thoughts pressing in on him. Finally, he made a decision.
“If I can’t choose now, I’ll just choose later.”
He reached up to deactivate the pod, but as he tried to exit, the doors remained firmly closed. Edris blinked twice. He pushed against the smooth surface, but it did not react to his efforts.
...So that’s how it is.
Once you entered, the pod would not let you leave until you made your choice. Edris lightly knocked his fingers at the side of his leg, thinking.
The words Transfer, Donate, Destroy echoed in his mind.
Shaking his head, he pushed the unease aside. The Labyrinth was nothing if not transactional. It operated on rules, and for now, that was what he had to abide by.
Player [EDRIS]'s decision has been recorded.
Edris smiled coldly.
So be it.
***
“What’s taking Master so long?”
Celio wondered out loud as he slumped over another pod. The rest of the group lingered around the Cocoon, awaiting the results.
“It’s only been a minute since he went in,” Owein commented.
“One minute and thirty-four seconds,” Ives corrected, turning to Ace for confirmation. The latter nodded.
“He’s out!” Roos exclaimed, pulling the group together as they directed their gaze toward the pod.
Under five pairs of eyes, Edris stepped out.
“Is there something on my face?” He smiled.
“Quit the dilly-dally.” Roos rolled her eyes. “So? What was in there?”
“I got a good look inside the pod,” Edris began, his voice calm but firm. “It’s not just a storage space. You enter, and you’re locked in. You don’t get to leave until you make a choice. The pod links to your [PROFILE] and gives you three options.”
He glanced over at Celio, who was still standing by the tree, his brow furrowed in thought.
“First, you can transfer your earnings to another player. You’d give everything you’ve gathered to someone else.” Edris paused, letting the implication of that sink in. “Second, you can donate to the Labyrinth itself. This option is pretty self-explanatory: give everything back, with no strings attached.”
He shifted slightly, looking at Ace, whose unreadable expression seemed to hide an unspoken question. “The third option is to destroy everything you’ve earned upon your death. A clean slate. You make the choice, and there’s no going back.”
He let the silence stretch, gaze moving between them.
“But once you step in there, the pod won’t let you out until you’ve decided. I suggest knowing what you want before you enter.”
Celio looked at him thoughtfully, but it was Ace who spoke up next.
“What did you choose?”
Edris paused, almost unexpectedly, as he held Ace’s gaze for a moment longer than necessary. For a split second, there was a flicker of hesitation in his expression.
He opened his mouth to answer, but before the words could form, an earsplitting screech pierced the air.
The group flinched, and the world seemed to snap back into focus as the sound reverberated throughout the chamber, harsh and grating. It was coming from outside, from the direction of the balcony.
Edris, his face still composed but now with a sharper edge of vigilance, motioned for the group to follow. Without another word, they moved swiftly toward the glass doors, Ace taking the lead with his quick, long steps.
As they stepped out onto the balcony, the sight before them sent a chill down Edris’s spine. Above the horizon, the once-flickering digits of the clock were changing.
The digits shifted slowly at first, but then, with a sudden intensity, they stabilised. Each digit turned from question marks to numbers.
24:00:00.
Another countdown.
At the same time, Caretaker’s voice echoed from above, mechanical and detached.
“The next Labyrinth pull will arrive exactly a day from now.”
The announcement was repeated, over and over again, its mechanical tone almost robotic in its precision.
“The next Labyrinth pull will arrive exactly a day from now.”
“The next Labyrinth pull will arrive exactly a day from now.”
Edris’s gaze hardened, his eyes narrowing slightly as the announcement echoed again, drilling into their minds. The clock, now marked with the countdown, hung like a specter in the air above them.
Ace’s eyes flicked up to the sky, his expression unreadable, but there was something in the tension of his stance that suggested he, too, understood the gravity of what this meant. The Labyrinth’s next pull was coming, and the next phase of survival was imminent.
Edris’s mind raced. One day. Twenty-four hours. That was all they had before the next round, whatever it may entail. His thoughts briefly flickered back to the Cocoon pods, to the decision he’d made there, the choices they all had to make.
“The next Labyrinth pull in three days.”
The Caretaker’s voice cut through the air again, a final reminder of the inevitability of what was to come. Her message hung in the air like a shadow. The Labyrinths were not finished with them yet.
Edris let out a silent sigh.
Not by a long shot.