The fresh air of Fraella was a welcome relief as they finally stepped out of the labyrinth. Roland rolled his shoulders, still feeling the phantom pull of divine energy from where he had forced the Worldtree’s roots to obey. He exhaled and glanced up, finding familiar faces waiting for them.

Winz and Pystria stood at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed. Beside them were two Flameborn—a towering, broad-shouldered man with the same dark purple skin and bone-plated armor as Beryn, and a woman with a baker’s apron still dusted in flour. Beryn’s parents.

Before Roland could say anything, Celeste clapped him on the back and strode toward the others. “Come on,” she said to the Motherborn, motioning them to follow. “We need to talk.”

Roland watched as she led them a short distance away, speaking in low tones. He couldn’t make out the words, but there were nods of understanding, a few glances back toward him, and then, finally, Winz and Beryn’s father turned and walked off without another word.

Celeste returned a moment later, dusting off her hands.

Roland raised an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know what that was about?”

She smirked. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

That, of course, made him worry.

Instead of pressing her, he took a deep breath. “We’re going back in, aren’t we?”

Celeste’s expression turned serious. “Yes.”

Roland wasn’t surprised. “When?”

“Now.”

He nodded. “Alright.”

This time, though, they wouldn’t be going in alone.

“Winz and Beren will be coming with us,” Celeste explained. “We need to finish off the boss before it establishes a domain link to this world. If that happens, it won’t just be part of the labyrinth anymore—it will anchor itself here, and dealing with it will be much harder.”

Before Roland could respond, a loud groan cut through the conversation.

Beryn crossed his arms, scowling. “So what, I don’t get to go?”

His mother placed a firm hand on his shoulder, her voice calm but unyielding. “You’ve done enough.”

Beryn opened his mouth to argue, but one sharp look from her was enough to shut him up. With a huff, he turned and stalked off, his mother following close behind.

Roland smirked slightly. “Guess that settles that.”

A few minutes later, Winz returned, fully armored, his black stone-like skin reinforced with additional plating. His presence alone radiated an air of quiet power.

Not long after, Beren arrived as well, a massive double-sided axe resting against his shoulder, its edges gleaming in the afternoon light.

Roland exhaled, gripping his shield. This time, they had a proper team.

And this time, they weren’t coming back until the job was done.

The labyrinth was already falling apart.

It didn’t take them long to find the Boss Veil-ling—the damage it had done in their absence made it impossible to miss. The walls trembled, cracks splitting through the grey stone, divine energy bleeding into the air like mist. Whatever lingering Veil-lings had remained, the Boss had slaughtered them. Even the divine essence scattered throughout the space had been consumed, torn apart in its growing fury.

Celeste came to a halt, eyes scanning the destruction with a sharp, assessing gaze. “It’s unstable,” she murmured. “If we don’t finish this quickly, the whole thing could collapse while we’re still inside.”

Roland tightened his grip on his shield, ready to step forward, but Celeste caught his arm.

“No,” she said firmly. “You’re here to observe. Watch. Learn. Right now, you’d only get in their way.”

Roland exhaled through his nose but didn’t argue. He hated standing back, but he understood. This wasn’t his fight. Not yet.

Celeste turned toward Winz and Beren as divine energy gathered at her fingertips. “I’ll give you both regeneration. That’s all I’m doing.”

Winz smirked, flexing his massive hands. “That’s all we’ll need.”

Beren spun his axe once in his grip, his expression sharp and focused. “Let’s finish this.”

The ground trembled.

The Boss Veil-ling stepped from the shadows, silver-fire eyes locked onto them. It had been waiting.

The massive shadow-wolf prowled through the broken remnants of its domain, its liquid form shifting unnaturally, silver-fire eyes narrowing as it took in the intruders. The moment it saw them, its lips curled back, revealing fangs that dripped with dark, shimmering energy.

Winz stepped forward first, the ground shaking slightly beneath his sheer weight. His armor, a masterwork of Veil-forged metal and stone, pulsed with enchantments, golden lines flickering as they activated. His shield alone was taller than Roland, and his warhammer—almost comically oversized—rested effortlessly against his shoulder.

Beren stretched, his stance relaxed but predatory. Where Winz was an immovable wall, Beren was speed. He held his massive double-sided axe with ease, its edges glowing faintly from the divine energy coursing through it. The firelight reflecting off his bone-plated arms made him seem almost wreathed in flames.

Celeste whispered a prayer, her hands glowing faintly as she cast a regeneration blessing over both of them. “That’s all I’m giving you,” she said flatly. “Don’t die.”

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Winz chuckled, rolling his neck. “Not planning on it.”

Then the fight began.

The wolf lunged, its body blurring like ink dissolving in water. It was too fast—one moment it was yards away, the next it was already mid-leap, claws extended toward Winz’s head.

But Winz was ready.

He planted himself, shield rising in a single, fluid motion. The wolf’s claws met the enchanted barrier with an earsplitting crash, but Winz barely budged. A burst of golden energy pulsed outward from the impact, the glow of his inspiration aura flaring.

Beren didn’t waste a second.

The moment the wolf’s attack stalled, the Flameborn vanished—a blur of motion as he dashed to the beast’s side. His axe sang as it cut through the air, striking at the wolf’s exposed flank with terrifying speed.

The first strike landed clean, a deep gash forming along the creature’s shadowed body. Divine flames licked at the wound, burning away part of its form. The second strike came before the first had even finished its arc, Beren spinning the axe in a perfect follow-through.

The wolf howled, twisting unnaturally, its form flickering like a dying flame. Before it quickly recovered and regenerated. Then it countered.

It flowed instead of dodging, its body shifting away from the axe’s path while simultaneously forming another limb—a shadowy claw shooting out from its own side, aiming for Beren’s chest. A new skill it must have gained from the extra divinity it had absorbed.

Beren twisted, just barely avoiding a fatal strike, but the claw raked across his shoulder, tearing through armor like paper. He hissed in pain but didn’t slow. The wound quickly regenerated thanks to Celeste's blessing and didn’t appear to have been poisoned.

Winz moved instantly. He slammed his shield into the ground, a shockwave of divine energy surging outward. The sheer force sent the wolf skidding back, forcing it into a more solid form for just a moment.

That moment was all Beren needed.

He surged forward, his axe spinning in his grip before coming down in a brutal, fire-wreathed arc. The wolf snarled, trying to retreat, but Beren was already inside its movement.

The axe cleaved deep, divine energy searing through the creature’s form.

The wolf howled again, its body flickering wildly, silver eyes blazing with desperation. It tried to lunge away, but Winz was already there.

With a roar, the massive Starborn swung his warhammer in a full-bodied arc. The weapon, pulsing with stored divine energy, collided with the wolf’s side with the force of a falling mountain.

The creature was launched sideways, slamming into the labyrinth wall with an unnatural screech. The impact sent deep fractures rippling through the already-unstable space, cracks forming along the surface like broken glass.

The wolf tried to rise, its shifting body struggling to hold itself together, but Beren was already on it, his axe poised for the finishing blow before it could regenerate again.

It wasn’t just speed or strength—it was perfection. Every strike calculated, every movement refined from centuries of training. Beren moved like fire itself, relentless and precise.

With one final motion, his axe came down, splitting the wolf’s form in two.

The Veil-ling gave one last, shuddering snarl—then collapsed into darkness.

Silence fell.

Winz exhaled, resting his hammer against the ground. “Well,” he rumbled, “that wasn’t too bad.”

Beren rolled his shoulder, wincing slightly at the wound on his arm. “Could’ve gone better.”

Celeste smirked. “Could’ve gone worse.”

Roland had barely moved during the fight, his hands clenched into fists, his soul gaze still flickering. He had seen everything. Every opening, every moment where hesitation could have cost them, every way the Veil-ling had adapted.

And more importantly, he had seen just how far he still had to go.

Then, without another word, Celeste practically skipped over to the remains of the Veil-ling, eyes gleaming with excitement. Roland had seen her eager before, but this was something else entirely.

“She’s giddy,” he muttered under his breath.

Winz rumbled a chuckle. “Let her have her moment.”

Celeste wasted no time, pulling a set of fine, razor-edged tools from her belt. The Veil-ling’s shifting, shadow-like flesh was already beginning to dissolve, but she worked quickly, carving through it with practiced ease. Every piece mattered—its hide, its claws, even the faint traces of divine energy still lingering in its bones. But the real prize lay deeper.

The heart.

When she finally cut it free, it pulsed faintly in her hands, a swirling core of dark, condensed energy. She held it up to the light, grinning like a cat with a fresh kill.

Winz stepped forward, his heavy frame casting a shadow over her find. He examined the heart, his stone-like fingers running over its surface, his sharp gaze dissecting every inch of it. Roland could see his mind working, gears turning like a craftsman evaluating raw material.

“This,” he said finally, “along with the pelt… would make a fine cloak of regeneration.”

Celeste’s grin widened. “That’s what I was thinking.”

Roland raised an eyebrow. “A cloak?”

Winz nodded. “The Veil-ling could heal itself, shift its body at will. That power is still lingering in its remains. If reforged properly, the pelt could weave that energy into its wearer, allowing them to recover from wounds at an accelerated rate.” He turned the heart over in his hands. “And this? If refined correctly, it could be the core of the enchantment.”

Roland exhaled. “That… sounds incredibly useful.”

Winz’s lips curled in a rare, satisfied grin. “It will be.”

Celeste clapped her hands together. “Well then, let’s get this back to the forge.”

Roland watched as they gathered the materials, feeling an odd mix of relief and exhaustion. The fight was over. The labyrinth was done.

--

It had taken two full days, with Winz and Pystria working tirelessly alongside a tailor, but the cloak was finished.

Roland ran his fingers over the pelt, now refined into a deep black cloak with silver-threaded patterns that shimmered faintly under the light. The craftsmanship was flawless—the material smooth and impossibly light, yet he could feel the strength woven into it.

Pystria adjusted the clasp at his shoulder, stepping back to admire their work. “Unlike normal enchanted gear, this won’t drain your mark,” she explained. “It was made with a Veil-ling core, so anyone can use it—as long as it stays charged.”

Roland looked up. “And how do I keep it charged?”

“There are a few ways,” Pystria said, holding up a finger. “First, the easiest—you can use divine essence. Just press a crystal to the core, and it’ll absorb the energy.” She raised a second finger. “Or, if you don’t have any on hand, you can use your mark—but that’s going to take a toll.”

Roland nodded, absorbing the information. He fastened the cloak properly, adjusting the weight on his shoulders. It fit perfectly. More than that—he could feel the enchantment settle over him, a subtle warmth beneath his skin, like a steady pulse of protection.

With their preparations complete, Roland and Celeste finally left Fraella. None of the Motherborns came to say goodbye. Roland assumed that goodbyes were unnecessary for races that could live forever.

The town had been an unexpected stop, but it had changed everything. He had entered the labyrinth with barely a plan and walked out with new allies, better equipment, and a clearer purpose. He wasn’t sure how much of this was going according to Celeste’s plans.

Celeste led the way, striding forward with purpose. Roland followed, his new cloak settling comfortably around his shoulders, its heft reassuring. He had no doubt she had already planned out their next steps.

Sure enough, she glanced back at him with a smirk. “We’re heading to another gate.”

Roland raised an eyebrow. “Another one? Already?”

“This one’s larger,” she admitted. “More dangerous. But it’s necessary.”

Roland exhaled, adjusting the strap of his pack. “You really don’t like easy jobs, do you?”

Celeste chuckled. “No point in wasting time. We have two years to get much stronger.”

Roland frowned. “Two years for what, exactly?”

She turned fully, her expression more serious now. “To help some of the Motherborn return home.”

Roland blinked. He hadn’t expected her to say it outright, but hearing it confirmed sent a fresh wave of resolve through him.