The weight of the map in his satchel felt heavier with each step Rabaston took, as if the parchment itself was pressing down on him with the weight of the choices he had made. The streets of Terra Minor were alive with the usual activity—vendors hawking their goods, cultivators moving through the market in search of artifacts, and the constant hum of conversation—but Rabaston felt disconnected from it all. His mind was focused on one thing: preparation.

He moved through the narrow streets with purpose, his gaze focused ahead. The Infinite Labyrinth was his only chance to escape this forsaken planet, to break free of the limitations that had kept him trapped here for so long. But he knew he couldn't face it unprepared. His sword, his body, and his mind all needed to be sharpened to their fullest if he had any hope of surviving what lay ahead.

The first step was his sword.

Jarek's forge was a small, unassuming building tucked away at the far end of the marketplace. Despite its modest appearance, it was well-known among the lower district's cultivators. Jarek had earned a reputation for crafting reliable weapons, the kind that could withstand the harsh realities of life on Terra Minor. His clientele consisted mostly of those who couldn't afford the high-grade artifacts sold in the upper districts, but his work was respected all the same.

As Rabaston approached the forge, the familiar sound of hammer striking steel greeted him, along with the thick, acrid scent of burning coal and molten metal. The heat from the forge washed over him like a wave as he stepped inside, the temperature instantly rising as he crossed the threshold. Sparks flew from Jarek's anvil, each one a tiny burst of light in the dimly lit workshop.

Jarek stood behind the anvil, his massive frame bent over a glowing blade as he hammered it into shape. His muscles rippled beneath his soot-streaked tunic, and his face was set in a look of concentration. He didn't glance up as Rabaston entered, but the sound of the door creaking open was enough to signal his presence.

"Rabaston," Jarek grunted, setting the hammer down on the anvil and wiping his brow with the back of his hand. His voice was as rough as the steel he worked with, a low rumble that carried through the forge. "Didn't expect to see you back so soon. What brings you here this time?"

Rabaston stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "I need more than just repairs this time, Jarek. I'm preparing for something big."

Jarek raised an eyebrow, his gaze finally lifting to meet Rabaston's. "Big, huh? What kind of 'big' are we talking about?"

Rabaston hesitated for only a moment before answering. "The Infinite Labyrinth."

The blacksmith's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Rabaston. "The Labyrinth?" Jarek let out a low whistle, his voice carrying a note of disbelief. "You're serious?"

"I am," Rabaston said, his voice steady despite the weight of the admission.

Jarek shook his head slowly, setting the sword he had been working on aside. "Boy, I've heard stories about that place. None of them end well. You know what you're getting into?"

"I don't have a choice," Rabaston replied. "The Labyrinth is my only way out. If I stay here, I'll rot. I need power, Jarek. And this is the only way I'm going to get it."

Jarek's eyes flickered with something—perhaps concern, or maybe pity—but he didn't voice it. Instead, he leaned back against the workbench, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Your father said something similar once."

Rabaston's heart skipped a beat at the mention of his father. "You knew him?"

Jarek nodded slowly, his gaze distant, as if recalling a memory from long ago. "Knew him well enough. He brought that sword of yours to me more than once. Said it had been in your family for generations." He gestured toward the blade at Rabaston's side. "It's a fine weapon, but if you're going into the Labyrinth, you'll need more than just fine."

Rabaston's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. "I need it enhanced. Stronger, sharper—something that can handle what I'm going to face."

Jarek considered the request, his eyes narrowing as he studied the sword. "It's in good shape, but you're right. It could use more. I can infuse the blade with mana steel—make it lighter, stronger, and able to channel your energy more efficiently. But it won't be cheap, and it won't be quick."

Rabaston reached into his satchel, pulling out the small pouch of spirit stones he had collected. He set the pouch on the counter, his expression tense. "This is all I have. Is it enough?"

Jarek opened the pouch and poured the stones into his hand, his expression thoughtful as he examined them. The stones were of low quality, barely worth more than a few basic repairs. Jarek's frown deepened, and he set them down with a sigh.

"It'll get you a basic enhancement," Jarek said, his tone cautious. "But if you want something that'll give you a real edge… you'll need more. Higher-quality stones. Or…" He glanced up at Rabaston, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "You'll need to owe me a favor."

Rabaston tensed. He had already made one dangerous deal to secure the map to the Labyrinth, and now another debt was looming. But he couldn't afford to pass up the chance for a better weapon. He knew that the difference between a basic enhancement and a truly powerful blade could be the difference between life and death inside the Labyrinth.

"What kind of favor?" Rabaston asked cautiously.

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Jarek shrugged, his expression unreadable. "Nothing now. But if you make it back from the Labyrinth—and that's a big if—you'll owe me. And I always collect."

Rabaston hesitated, weighing the risks. He didn't like the idea of being indebted to Jarek, but he needed the blade. The Labyrinth wouldn't forgive weakness, and he couldn't afford to be weak.

"Fine," Rabaston said finally. "I'll owe you."

Jarek nodded, his expression serious. "Good. I'll start on the enhancements today. Come back tomorrow, and it'll be ready."

Rabaston nodded in acknowledgment, though his mind was already racing with the consequences of yet another debt. The Labyrinth was his only way out, but it seemed that every step toward it came with a price.

As he turned to leave, Jarek's voice stopped him. "Rabaston."

He glanced back, his hand on the door.

Jarek's gaze was steady, almost stern. "You're walking a dangerous path. Don't let ambition blind you. The Labyrinth isn't just a place—it's a test. And not everyone passes."

Rabaston didn't reply. He pushed open the door and stepped back into the bustling marketplace, the sounds of the forge fading behind him.

The heat of the forge faded behind him as Rabaston stepped back into the streets of Terra Minor. The sun had risen higher now, casting harsh shadows across the narrow alleys. The marketplace was alive with the hustle of cultivators, merchants, and traders, each one caught up in the daily grind of survival. Rabaston moved through the crowd with purpose, his thoughts focused on the next step of his preparation.

His mind still lingered on Jarek's words, the blacksmith's warning about the dangers of the Labyrinth. Rabaston knew what he was getting into—at least, he thought he did. The stories about the Labyrinth had always been vague, filled with contradictions and half-truths. Some said it was a place of endless riches, while others claimed it was a maze of death, designed to test not just strength but willpower, cunning, and heart. Whatever the truth was, Rabaston knew one thing for certain: he couldn't face it unprepared.

His next destination was the alchemist's shop, a small, dimly lit building tucked away at the far end of the market. The shop was quiet compared to the bustling streets outside, the air inside thick with the scent of herbs and potions. Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of dried plants, glowing vials, and strange artifacts that pulsed faintly with mana.

As Rabaston stepped inside, the door creaked shut behind him, the sound almost swallowed by the heavy atmosphere. He approached the counter where the alchemist, a sharp-eyed woman with thin, pale hands, was meticulously arranging her wares. She looked up as Rabaston approached, her expression curious but cautious.

"Rabaston Rose," she said, her voice smooth and quiet, like a whisper carried on the wind. "It's been some time. What brings you here today?"

"I need supplies," Rabaston replied, his voice firm. "Potions, talismans—anything that can help me survive what's coming."

The alchemist raised an eyebrow, her sharp gaze locking onto his. "Survive? And what exactly are you planning that requires such preparation?"

"The Infinite Labyrinth," Rabaston said, the words feeling heavier as they left his mouth.

The alchemist's smile faltered, her eyes widening slightly. She paused for a moment, then turned away, her fingers drumming lightly on the countertop as she considered his request. "The Labyrinth…" she said softly, almost to herself. "Many have sought it. Few have returned."

Rabaston remained silent, watching as the alchemist moved around the shop, gathering various items from the shelves. Vials of glowing liquid, jars of dried herbs, small talismans etched with intricate runes—all of it was laid out in front of him with the precision of someone who knew exactly what each item was for.

The alchemist returned to the counter, her expression more serious now. "These will help, but only so much. Mana potions to restore your strength, healing draughts to keep you alive in a pinch, and these—" she gestured to the talismans—"will ward off some of the curses that are rumored to exist in the Labyrinth. But be warned, Rabaston: there are forces in that place that no potion or talisman can protect you from."

Rabaston nodded, his face impassive. "I'll take whatever I can get."

The alchemist hesitated for a moment, her sharp gaze studying him closely. Then, with a sigh, she began packing the items into a small leather pouch. "You're determined," she said quietly. "I've seen that look before, in others who thought they could conquer the Labyrinth. Most never came back."

"I don't have a choice," Rabaston said, his voice firm. "This is my only way out."

The alchemist glanced up at him, her expression unreadable. "Perhaps," she said, almost to herself. "But remember this: the Labyrinth is not just a place. It is a trial, one that tests more than just your body. It will test your mind, your spirit, and your will to survive. Be prepared for more than just monsters or traps."

Rabaston's hand tightened on the pouch as he took it from her. The weight of her words settled over him like a cloud, but he didn't let it show. He had made up his mind, and there was no turning back now.

"How much do I owe you?" he asked, reaching for his pouch of spirit stones.

The alchemist held up a hand, stopping him. "No charge," she said softly. "Consider it a gift. If you survive the Labyrinth, you can repay me then. But I suspect you'll need every advantage you can get."

Rabaston blinked, surprised by her generosity. He had expected the usual haggling, the endless back-and-forth of bartering, but this… this was unexpected.

"Thank you," he said, his voice quieter now, filled with genuine gratitude.

The alchemist gave him a small, sad smile. "Just come back alive, Rabaston. Too many with potential have been swallowed by ambition."

Rabaston nodded and tucked the pouch into his satchel, feeling the weight of it alongside the map. The preparation was almost complete, but the hardest part still lay ahead. He knew that entering the Labyrinth was more than just a test of strength—it was a test of survival, a challenge that would push him to his limits.

He turned to leave, but as he reached the door, the alchemist's voice called out to him one last time. "And Rabaston…"

He paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

"Be careful," she said quietly. "The Labyrinth doesn't just take lives. It takes something much more valuable."

Rabaston didn't ask what she meant. He simply nodded and stepped out into the street.

The sun was higher now, casting long shadows over the marketplace as Rabaston moved through the crowd once more. He felt the weight of his preparations pressing down on him—the enhanced sword he would retrieve from Jarek tomorrow, the potions and talismans tucked safely in his satchel, and, most of all, the map that led to the Labyrinth.

But with every step, a gnawing feeling grew in the back of his mind. The alchemist's warning lingered in his thoughts. The Labyrinth didn't just test a cultivator's strength—it tested everything else. His mind, his will, even his spirit. What would the Labyrinth find when it tested him? Would he be strong enough to survive, or would he fall, like so many before him?

Rabaston shook his head, pushing the doubt away. He had no choice but to succeed. The Labyrinth was his only chance to escape Terra Minor, his only chance to claim the power he needed to break free of this life. Failure wasn't an option.

As he made his way back to his apartment, the noise of the marketplace faded into the background, replaced by the steady beat of his heart and the thoughts racing through his mind. He had chosen this path, and now, there was no turning back.