The old town outside was shrouded in a thick mist that permeated everything—dusty offices, creaky wooden floors, and faintly flickering lamps all contributed to the decaying atmosphere.

Down the stale-looking hallway, Ives walked alongside Ace, her eyes scanning their surroundings. Despite the dreary environment, there was something almost clinical in her gaze. As they approached the next room, she turned to him.

"So what did take you so long?" she asked. "I had to ask around the natives for ‘a tall guy with white hair’ myself to find out where you were."

Ace didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he paused for a moment, staring at his [PROFILE], reading the details of the current situation. It seemed like he had been given the role of detective in this Labyrinth. His eyes lingered on the [MAIN QUEST]:

MAIN QUEST:

Find out who killed Tinope Res!

TIME LIMIT: 03:00:00

He ran a finger across the translucent interface, processing it without much emotion.

Ives noticed the delay.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t look at the [PROFILE] until now,” she said.

Ace remained silent, and Ives’s brow furrowed.

“Is it just me, or are you having more trouble than usual with this whole ‘player’ thing?” She said. “Mister Edris mentioned something about it in the first Labyrinth too. He said you didn’t recognize him at first.”

Ace’s voice was low and distant. “It felt… too natural.”

The seven-old stopped walking and crossed her arms, giving him a skeptical look.

“Well, that can’t be good,” she muttered. “From now on, would you please let me know beforehand if anything feels off? I need time to start thinking about backups.”

Ace turned to look at her, his expression unreadable. "You’re starting to sound awfully like him."

Ives blinked, caught off guard by the comment. She then turned around with a shrug.

"I don’t know what you mean."

The white-haired man didn’t respond further, but Ives noticed the fleeting look in his eyes. Something was off, and though she wasn’t sure what, she made a mental note to keep a closer eye on him.

The two of them made their way into the waiting room, where the other three players were already gathered. Before entering, Ives turned to him one last time.

"The three in there are all the guests remaining. I've tested them—all players," she said quickly. "The annoying one is Masen from Nolmes; you'll know when he starts talking. Jaymes is the one with the scar. The woman's name is Carrie."

Ace responded with a brief nod, pressing his hand onto the handle and pushing it open.

The room was dimly lit, much like the rest of the place, and the atmosphere was thick with suspicion. Two men and one woman sat near a large wooden table, their faces a mix of uncertainty and silent tension.

The man on the left was the first to speak.

"So, you’re the remaining player?” His voice was sharp and direct. “Took your sweet time, I see."

Ives tilted her head slightly, watching Ace’s reaction. He didn’t respond right away, his eyes briefly scanning the room. “Masen.”

"Oh? Looks like the little lady here has already given the updates," Masen said, ignoring the deadpan stare from the seven-year-old.

Jaymes, the burly man with a huge scar running across his nose, raised an eyebrow. “A little suspicious. What’s your role?”

Ace didn’t hesitate. “Detective.”

Carrie, a young woman with a round face and long, wavy hair that complemented her ruffle dress, smiled sweetly. “Oh! You must know a lot more than we do then. Makes things easier.”

Ives shot Ace a look, but he merely nodded once in acknowledgment. She could sense the discomfort in the room growing.

From the looks of it, none of these people were first-time Labyrinth goers. The experience wouldn’t make things easy, but that was to be expected. Ace had always preferred to work alone, and now, in this strange Labyrinth, it seemed like everyone else was just an obstacle in his path.

The group was supposed to work together to determine Tinope Res's killer, but the man clearly wasn’t interested in collaboration.

Ace straightened up, crossing his arms, his eyes sweeping over the others.

"The culprit is among us," he said. "Speak up now to make things easier for all."

A momentary silence followed his words. The others blinked, stunned by the man’s straightforwardness.

On the other hand, Ives was already used to this. She sighed, looking away as she took a step back. Unlike Mister Edris, who could charm anyone into cooperation, Ace was as blunt as a hammer and had no patience for playing nice.

Masen seemed to recover first, his posture still tense as he shifted in his seat.

"Alright, Detective," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Let’s not be pinning titles so quickly. How are you so sure the killer’s among us and not among the greater list of guests?"

“That, I can answer,” Ives popped in. “This Labyrinth has a time limit of three hours. The staff just now has also told us that although many were invitees at the company event, the majority have been dispatched without knowing what truly went on.

“I looked at the list earlier, and nearly a hundred attendees are on the guest list. Although the Labyrinth likes to undermine its players, I don’t think it’s evil enough to give us the task of going through all these people and pinning the culprit within such a short time.”

“It is more of the Labyrinth’s style to have its players turn against each other in the process,” Ace said simply. “The killer is among us.”

"If you’re so sure,” Masen said with a trace of amusement. “What do we do next?"

"Interrogation.”

“I refuse,” Jaymes said immediately. He crossed his arms. “According to my [ROLE], I’m supposed to be mourning over my father’s death.”

“Tinope Res is merely a character,” Ace explained patiently. “He’s not your real father.”

Jaymes’s face twitched ever so slightly. “You think I don't know that?”

Ives shifted her weight, stepping up beside Ace. She couldn’t help but feel the pressure build as the rest of the group watched.

Ace stared at Jaymes with cold, emotionless eyes, his mind already working ahead, calculating the next move. Jaymes, still visibly agitated, continued to voice his objections, but from the looks of it, the man was already tuning him out, his focus fixed on the situation at hand.

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He turned towards Tammy, his voice sharp and direct. “Gather the group.”

Tammy hesitated, glancing from Ace to the others. The tension was thick in the air, the eyes of everyone in the room shifting uneasily. Tammy seemed uncertain, but he knew better than to question the detective directly.

With a meek nod, he motioned to the others to assemble.

Jaymes wasn’t ready to give up. His agitation spiked.

“I have the right to refuse!” he snapped, his fists clenched at his sides.

Ace’s response was simple and without hesitation. “No, you don’t. I am the detective.”

Jaymes froze for a moment, then barked, “You’re just given that role by the system!”

“So?” Ace replied, his voice flat, unaffected by the challenge. He stared right at Jaymes, offering nothing more than the quiet certainty that this wasn’t a question he needed to answer.

Masen, still hovering nearby, added his voice to the tensing room.

“I mean, Jaymes does have a point.” He sounded almost mocking. “Just because you have the [ROLE] of the detective, at the end of the day, it’s nothing more than a title granted by the Labyrinth itself.”

Jaymes stood there for a moment, silent and fuming.

Carrie, who had been standing off to the side watching the exchange, stepped forward, trying to defuse the situation with a smile. “Oh, come on, don't be like that. And Mister Pretty-Detective, you think you could be a bit nicer?”

Ace didn’t even glance at her. Without hesitation, he turned to her and said, “I’ll start with you then.”

Carrie blinked, taken aback. “Wh-what? I didn’t—”

Jaymes cut in, his frustration mounting. “This is ridiculous! I refuse to be treated like a suspect! I’m supposed to be helping you solve this case! This is my [MAIN QUEST] too!”

Ace didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch. Finally, he turned his cold gaze back to Jaymes, his voice steady. “Then what are you afraid of?”

“...”

Jaymes froze. The question lingered in the air like a weight, and for a long moment, he didn’t speak. He looked at Ace, as if seriously pondering the implications behind the words.

“...Hm.”

“You’re questioning me. Expected.” Ace tilted his head slightly, his eyes cold but focused. “But you're misunderstanding something. I wouldn’t be standing here right now if I were the killer. I’d have already framed someone else, used the confusion to my advantage, and walked away without anyone suspecting.”

He spoke the words so casually that it took a second for the rest of the group to process them. Ace allowed the silence to hang in the air, yet it was Ives who continued on.

“That said, it's quite clear that the detective is not the killer. After all, so far, he's the only one actively trying to solve this case, while others are pretending to mourn over a fake father...”

“You—!”

The seven-year-old immediately hid behind Ace, who didn't give Jaymes time to respond.

“Unless you’d like to keep playing the guessing game, we need to focus. You can doubt me all you want, but it’s a waste of time. And if I’m guilty, it won’t matter who the real killer is, because we’re all dead anyway.”

His final sentence hung heavily in the air.

Ives shot him an impressed look. Ace’s calm demeanor was unnerving—one that subtly drew others under his control.

Under this control, they had no choice but to believe that the man was innocent and that he had nothing to hide.

"Uhm..." Amidst the stalemate, the curly-haired Tammy slid in hesitantly. "If I may offer a piece of humble information that may ease the situation—"

"Just spit it out already." Jaymes groaned.

"The founder!" Tammy jolted. "He was the one that actually incentivized us to seek out Mister Detective. He said that he was a close companion of his and a trustworthy ally, so if there's anyone we should ask for help if there ever comes the time, it'd be him."

Finally, Jaymes's anger fizzled out into a heavy sigh.

“Screw all this. Why does he get such a nice [ROLE]?” He shot Ace a glare. “Do whatever. I have nothing to hide. And it's true. We can’t afford to waste more time.”

Ives, who had been watching quietly, finally stepped in. Her tone was calm, almost childlike, but there was an edge to it that caught everyone’s attention.

“Now, now. Ace only calls it an ‘interrogation’ to stay in character. It’s really just an exchange of information.” She tilted her head, smiling up at the white-haired man before turning to the rest of the group. “Everyone here has different [ROLES] in this Labyrinth. We should be pooling our knowledge, not fighting over it. And with discussion always comes new insights."

Her eyes twinkled.

"You never know. What if the culprit slips up somehow during one of the conversations and blows their own cover?"

The seven-year-old's words cut through the tension like a knife. The others paused, and for a moment, it seemed like the group could breathe again.

Masen, who had been standing to the side, stepped forward, his tone less antagonistic now.

“The little lady’s got a point,” he said. “This isn’t the time for us to argue. We need to figure out what happened here, not waste time with petty squabbles.”

Ives beamed at him. There was a chill to her smile that made the room go quiet, and for a brief moment, even Ace glanced at her with a strange, unreadable look.

“Well then,” she said, tone light. “Shall we get started?”

***

NOLMES. ZACRIYA KINGDOM.

The palace of Zacriya was eerily quiet.

A stillness hung in the air, a heaviness that weighed down on those within the Crown Prince’s office. Dolan Zacriya sat at the large, meticulously polished desk, his usual confidence and poise masked by the concern in his eyes.

Before him sat three individuals—Magnus Vyris, the archmage of the kingdom; his twin sister Mia Vyris; and Yukioe, a member of the Soul Patcher faction. They were all absorbed in the grim news that had unfolded before them.

“Any sign of them?” Dolan’s voice broke the silence, but it held no urgency, merely a quiet resolve.

Magnus, his eyes closed in concentration, slowly shook his head. “I’ve traced their movements through the currents of the mana passage,” he said. “Edris, Ace, Ives, and Celio—all of them are gone. They’ve been pulled back into the Labyrinth.”

Yukioe’s face darkened further at the revelation. He ran a hand through his curly hair, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on him.

“I feared as much,” he muttered. “It’s expanding, isn’t it? The Labyrinth is pulling more than just a few people now. Coming more and more frequently.”

Dolan didn’t respond immediately, but his gaze turned to the floor. His thoughts were racing, but he understood the gravity of the situation. The Labyrinth had begun to expand its influence beyond the confines of what they had previously known. A ripple of anxiety ran through the room, despite the stoic appearances of those within it.

Before anyone could offer a response, Yukioe’s Infuser Orb crackled to life. He quickly snatched it up, his brow furrowing as he listened intently.

A few seconds later, he clicked the device off with a sharp exhale.

“People from the Healing Faction are missing as well. The situation is worsening.”

Dolan’s jaw tightened. The walls of the room felt as if they were closing in. This wasn’t just about Edris and his companions anymore; the Labyrinth’s reach was stretching, pulling in victims from beyond Odeen, even past the Adalan Kingdom.

“I’ll handle this,” he said, rising from his desk with a deliberate, measured calm.

He was the Crown Prince, after all. He had always been one to carry the weight of his kingdom with quiet resolve.

“Quine Poet will oversee the management of refugees from Odeen.” He turned to Magnus. “You and Mia will coordinate with Professor Harkness and the Royal Mage Brigade to investigate what’s behind this disturbance. As for Fortune and Resource, please make sure they are providing the necessary therapy for the refugees. We cannot let panic spread.”

His eyes shifted to Yukioe, whose frown deepened at the mention of the situation. “Monitor the situation with the Healing Faction, and keep clear communications with the Risk Faction. Nest is still running about, and we can’t afford to let other organizations take advantage of the chaos.”

Dolan’s gaze sharpened. “I’ll need Faren Ablemore on the ground, alongside the coordinates I’ve provided. He’ll need to find the machina. Go find Alan Grennor.”

Magnus nodded, his lips tight in concentration. Mia, standing beside him, gave a small, silent nod of agreement as well. Dolan knew they were committed to handling the task at hand, but he couldn’t help the twinge of concern as he left the room.

As he stepped out of his office, ready to head to the emergency meeting, an attendant rushed up to him. “Your Highness, someone is requesting an audience.”

Dolan raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Norman,” the attendant replied, his tone hesitant. “Secretary of the Chief of the Wendimore Kingdom.”

Wendimore Kingdom.

Dolan blinked.

They weren’t on the best of terms with Adalan, especially given their exploitation of the gigapelts, a native species in Wendimore known for their warm fur coating. It was a relationship on thin ice, one tainted by distrust and conflicting interests.

When the representatives of Adalan had reached out to him with their plea for help, Dolan had been certain that the Wendimore leaders, who’d also gotten the request, wouldn’t respond.

After all, Wendimore was a kingdom more concerned with its spiritual practices than political matters. It was secluded, insulated from the rest of the kingdoms. They preferred to stay out of the conflicts of the outside world, focusing on their own traditions and beliefs.

The idea that they might come all the way to Zacriya in person, especially after the past tensions, was… unexpected.

His eyes narrowed as he processed the situation. The sudden appearance of a Wendimorean representative was a sign—either of a shift in their isolationist stance, or something more urgent.

“Send them in,” Dolan instructed, his voice even. The wheels in his mind were already turning.

Something was happening—something even bigger than he had anticipated.