Ainsworth stood at the precipice between the known at the unknown. In each main cathedral of the Crown of Thorns, there were two swirling illusory gates meant for the advancement of Astrologers and Alchemists.
Down far below, locked away in a highly-protected chamber, there was another gate meant for the advancement of Black Mages. In rare cases, such as Nicole Auirore, Black Mages would be vetted and allowed into Heaven’s Roses in order to keep them off of the streets.
There was no similar exception for Heretics. Not only were they averse to the teachings of the Goddess, but also directly dangerous in that they couldn’t control their mental states easily or be appealed to by others.
So, confirmed Heretics were often killed on sight.
The Archangel, Selaphiel, stood beside Ainsworth, his hands folded and his smile calm and sincere.
“Are you scared?”
“No.” Ainsworth lied, rolling up his sleeves as he conversed with the Archangel, Selaphiel.
Recently, a rage had begun to fill up in Ainsworth. Seeing Lumière fight against the Named, Asmodeus, in their place, then again when seeing him perform effortlessly in front of so many Nameless at the show hall, his heart had filled with hate. It wasn’t a hatred for his childhood friend. It was a hatred for himself.
The church’s way of observation and inaction had caused him to become stagnant. It was to the extent that it became harmful to those around him. Ainsworth couldn’t afford to stand still any longer.
He couldn’t afford to be afraid.
"Remember your lessons. Do you recall the mantra?"
The labyrinth was known for its dangers. It would twist itself to trick, deceive, and madden the person that entered. For an astrologist, he would have to enter the labyrinth designated for astrology.
The creatures that would appear within the labyrinth were things that must either be killed, or ignored. It was his judgment as an astrologer that would determine what choice he would make in any given situation.
"Do not see, nor hear, nor talk to what must not be perceived." Ainsworth replied in a calm manner, his rapid heartbeat betraying him.
While it was not necessarily a danger to see a creature or an anomaly of the labyrinth, it could also be that witnessing certain monsters or events would cause one to instantly lose their sanity.
It was also the case that some monsters would only become aggressive once they knew that they had been perceived. So, the mantra was taught to all Heaven's Roses who sought out the labyrinth.
If possible, one was not to gaze directly at creatures they did not understand. If possible, they were to not listen to anything a creature capable of communicating would say. If possible, one must ignore the creatures of the labyrinth at all costs.
Above all, one must absolutely not talk to the creatures themselves. It was tantamount to breaking all previous rules, and opened up a gateway of communication that could end in being hexed, cursed, and corrupted. Words were a very powerful things for monsters. Using them carelessly could cost one the forfeiture of their life.
“Remember why you’re doing this, Mr. Benedict.” Selaphiel noted, before turning his head, facing away from Ainsworth.
“I know. I know what I have to do.”
With each passing second, his determination strengthened.
“Then, good luck. Make sure my endorsement of you wasn’t for naught. I did so in front of so many of my underlings. If you were to fail now, wouldn’t you tarnish my reputation?” Selaphiel smirked.
There was a reason he tried to deliberately increase the pressure on Ainsworth’s shoulders. It wasn’t because he was vindictive, or even cruel.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
‘I’ve had people like you come before me and beg me for a chance to become great when they had done nothing with their lives, but you didn’t do that from the start. It was only when you had proven yourself, clearing many trials in one night that you asked for a chance. I wondered why that was the case. Is it just because it’s the type of man you are, Ainsworth Benedict? If this is the case, that you seek not to better yourself just for the sake of power, but because of your ideals that have obviously become obscured after experiencing tragedy, then I wish to support your ascension to someone great. But someone cannot become great by simply having power handed to them, or even overcoming the boundless trials of the labyrinth. It is the determination to overcome pressure at all costs, to break down any wall in front of them for their ideals. This pressure to not fail, will you be able to handle it? If you can, then you will surely become great.’
“I won’t die or go mad, Mr. Selaphiel. I have things that I must do.”
Without another word, Ainsworth stepped through the swirling illusory gate, the world around him becoming overtaken by endless screams and pitch-black fog. In an instant, the gateroom in the monastery reformed itself, stone becoming liquid and swirling up into the air in the shape of massive twirling spires. The ground grew faces around the edges of the room, gradually contorting and becoming the origin of the screams.
The black fog around him turned a bright-red colour, like blood mist, and the mood around him settled. The spires grew walls, and the faces protruded tongues like hands to hold them up straight. Then, everything solidified once more, and Ainsworth was left standing in an ornate marble hall, devoid of shadows. Starlight sparkled all around, lining the marble in an illusory sapphire framing.
There was a fountain in the center of the hall, and it echoed a soft trickling sound throughout the seemingly-endless space. But it was not water that let off the sound. Thick spurts of crimson erratically poured from the fountain’s head —— shaped like a face —— like tears from its eyelids, pooling below.
A woman stood at the other end of the fountain. She was dressed in a black lace dress, and had a blank and unnerving expression on her face, staring past Ainsworth. His gaze quickly flitted behind him, but there was nothing there. The woman was staring at nothing.
‘There’s not supposed to be anyone else in the labyrinth! This woman, she’s definitely something the labyrinth conjured!’ Ainsworth’s mind raced, frozen in fear. His hand navigated to his side, where his blade was kept, but the woman did not react to his movements.
For the woman too seemed to fear.
“Are you lost, dear traveler?” A soft, familiar feminine voice rang out from behind him.
Ainsworth’s gaze flitted around, immediately turning his body and drawing his blade towards the voice, but nothing was there.
He realised then that the woman had disappeared from in front of him. The trickling sound of the fountain echoed louder, the spurts of blood more frequent. The fountain began to overflow, crimson puddles spilling onto the floor below, lapping at the edges of his shoes.
“This place… it’s not for little lambs like you.”
The voice came from ahead of him this time. When he glanced forward, he saw nothing. It was the same shadowless room of marble and starlight, free of any presence except for himself.
“I can offer you guidance… to the exit.” A long, spindly arm reached out beside Ainsworth, pointing with its unusually elongated finger forward. Its skin was wrinkled and grey, dotted with scarring, and large networks of veins visibly pulsated from underneath, moving with each contraction of its withered muscles.
Ainsworth’s gaze froze. His facial muscles tensed, and uncontrollable dread surged through each muscle in his body. Almost pressed up against him, the face of a creature stared at him, ice-cold breath from its staggered huffs of air spreading across his cheek.
Its face was unnaturally elongated, as if it had been stretched length-wise. This made its genial expression look odd, a terrifying smile.
Archangel Selaphiel’s warnings immediately arose in Ainsworth’s mind.
‘Do not see, nor hear, nor talk to what must not be perceived. ‘Do not see, nor hear, nor talk to what must not be perceived. ‘Do not see, nor hear, nor talk to what must not be perceived.’
He stared straight ahead, trying not to meet the gaze of the creature that had suddenly appeared beside him. His hand remained hovering over his blade, ready to counterattack at any moment.
However, the question remained: if the monster was so close to him, enough to breath upon his neck, could it even be the case that he could react in time before the monster bit down on his jugular? Should he make a split-second decision now and choose to attack, or wait and see if the mantra of the church would succeed?
Trusting the judgment of his superior who had faced the labyrinth so many times before, Ainsworth steeled his heart and remained calm, silent and unmoving.
‘What is this thing? Where did that woman go, and why has the flow of the fountain increased? If I move now, I have to be careful not to slip in the blood and fall. In this space, can I fight effectively? How can this monster attack me? Is it even possible for me to distance myself before it chooses to strike? Fuck, what a horrible situation! I should never have been distracted by the appearance of that woman.’
He was sure that the labyrinth had conjured the image of that random woman as a trap. But now it was certain, the labyrinth had conquered this monster as the true test of his will.
He would definitely have to kill it before it killed him.