MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

Chapter 416: The Shifting Labyrinth

The descent into the third floor felt like a slow crawl into oblivion, each step taken in a suffocating embrace of darkness.

The staircase spiraled downward, vanishing into an oppressive gloom that seemed to swallow them whole.

The walls around them, smooth and unyielding, were made of seamless black stone.

Strange, labyrinthine patterns were etched into their surface, shifting subtly and flickering at the edge of their vision, as if the stone itself were alive.

Every footfall sent a strange vibration through the air, an uncanny hum that seemed to emanate from the very architecture, as though the walls themselves harbored some malevolent consciousness, watching, waiting.

When they finally emerged, it was not into a chamber, but into a narrow, unending hallway, an unsettling stretch of featureless stone, save for the identical twisting sigils etched deep into the walls.

A hollow wind howled from unseen vents, its mournful whispers brushing past them, clawing at their sanity like tendrils of some invisible force.

”Weʼre inside a labyrinth”

Seraphim murmured softly, her hand trailing the smooth, cold surface of the wall as though trying to confirm its existence.

”A shifting one”

Anthony added, his gaze hard and piercing, his attention focused on the intricate patterns that seemed to warp and twist before his eyes.

”The patterns... theyʼre changing when we arenʼt looking”

As though to confirm his words, the wall behind them groaned and shifted with an agonizing grinding sound, sealing off the staircase entirely.

They were trapped.

”Iʼm starting to get tired of these floors”

Dale muttered, scanning the endless hallway with a sense of growing frustration.

”I donʼt know if these are supposed to be trials, but they feel too easy to be one”

A voice broke through the silence from behind him.

”Too easy?”

It was Kingsley, his tone flat and detached, his attention seemingly elsewhere.

”I seem to recall that on the first floor, without the captainʼs light magic, you would have been dead. And if I remember correctly, his control over light magic isnʼt something any ordinary light user could replicate”

Kingsleyʼs words were delivered without urgency, as though the dangers theyʼd faced were little more than a passing inconvenience to him.

”On the second floor, it was the same”

Kingsley continued, his voice carrying a sharp edge.

”Chains that multiply endlessly when destroyed, capable of absorbing vitality and sealing mana. And once again, it was the captain who ensured your survival”

His eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze toward Dale, a silent warning hanging in the air.

”Donʼt let arrogance cloud your judgment”

Kingsley added, his tone a little colder.

”You might get yourself killed on this floor”

Without another word, Kingsley shifted his focus to one of the walls, his expression unreadable, as though the conversation had already ended.

Dale and Seraphim exchanged a glance, their eyes flicking toward Anthony, who stood silent as ever.

It was unspoken, but understood: Despite the seemingly simple nature of these floors, they all knew the truth.

Without Anthonyʼs guidance and abilities, theyʼd have never made it past the first floor, let alone the second.

He was the linchpin, the one holding them all together in this cursed place.

”What Kingsley said holds undeniable truth. Do not let arrogance cloud your judgment”

Anthonyʼs voice resonated from the front.

”Let us proceed”

He continued, his tone decisive as he took the lead.

Seraphim and Reynold flanked him, their senses sharpened, ever vigilant of the shifting surroundings.

Dale and Kingsley secured the rear, their gazes ever watchful, ensuring no threat approached from behind.

And so, they ventured deeper into the labyrinthine maze, its walls shifting like the breath of some ancient entity.

The first trial emerged with swift inevitability.

A crossroads lay ahead, four identical paths stretching out before them, each one indistinguishable from the others.

A moment of hesitation hung in the air.

Which path should they choose?

But even as they stood on the precipice of indecision, the walls groaned ominously, a low, unsettling sound echoing through the corridors.

The passage behind them sealed itself shut, and a thick, clammy mist began to seep from the stone walls, enveloping the air with an eerie, suffocating presence.

”Move!”

Anthony commanded, his voice sharp with authority.

Instinctively, he chose the leftmost path, guided by a fleeting whisper of mana-sense that warned him of the imminent danger lurking within the mist.

The others followed without a momentʼs hesitation, their movements synchronized in silent understanding.

Their boots reverberated against the cold stone floor, the mist trailing them like ethereal fingers, ghostly tendrils seeking to drag them down.

It hissed as it made contact with stone and metal, a corrosive force slowly sapping their strength with every passing second.

They ran, the minutes stretching into what felt like endless hours, but in the disorienting maze, time itself seemed to lose its grip on reality.

Finally, the mist began to thin, and the passage opened up, leading them into a vast, circular chamber.

However, there was no respite to be had.

The floor beneath them rippled as if alive, its surface undulating in a grotesque display.

From the depths of the stone, monstrous forms began to emerge, twisted aberrations of shadow and rock, their features contorted and eyeless, shrieking in primal agony, slaves to the labyrinthʼs cruel will.

There was no time for strategy, no moments to weigh their options.

Only the urgency of battle.

Anthonyʼs commands rang out immediately, his voice slicing through the chaos like a blade through mist.

”Reynold, with me! We carve a path!”

Anthony commanded, his voice resolute.

”Seraphim, Dale, provide support from range!”

He called, his eyes scanning the battlefield.

”Kingsley, shield our flank!”

In the face of overwhelming odds, their movements became a fluid symphony of combat, each action perfectly synchronized under the pressure of the moment.

Anthony and Reynold wove through the grotesque forms, blades flashing with deadly precision.

They carved through the creatures, their strikes cleaving through stone-like flesh that bled not blood, but a suffocating black mist.

Reynoldʼs rapier flashed with surgical precision, each thrust and parry a testament to his mastery, while Anthonyʼs katana swept through the air, carving broad, devastating arcs that cleaved through the enemy with unrelenting force.

Behind them, Dale unleashed torrents of crimson energy, his spells precise and controlled despite the chaos, each blast searing through the mist-ridden air with unerring accuracy.

Seraphim, ever calm, wove barriers of ethereal spiritual energy with the merest wave of her hand, her defenses blunting the vicious strikes of the oncoming creatures as though they were little more than a passing breeze.

Kingsley stood as immovable as a mountain, his form unyielding against the assault.

Each attack aimed at their flank was met with his iron-clad defense, his fists sending shockwaves of destruction through the air, disintegrating whatever dared to approach.

Yet, the labyrinth was far from finished.

The very walls seemed to writhe and contort, folding upon themselves in an attempt to trap and divide them.

”Stay together!”

Anthony bellowed, his voice a clarion call amidst the encroaching chaos.

With a swift, precise movement, he lunged forward, his katana slicing through the air to sever a shadowy tendril that sought to ensnare Reynoldʼs ankle.

For a brief moment, Seraphim faltered, her foot caught on a jagged crack in the stone floor, and the shadow-creatures surged forward, their ravenous forms closing in.

Without a second thought, Dale moved with the swiftness of a seasoned warrior.

He interposed himself between Seraphim and the oncoming threat, taking the full force of the blow meant for her.

His armor screamed in protest as the strike landed, a spray of crimson marking the ground beneath him.

Seraphim gritted her teeth, her focus sharp as she unleashed a powerful pulse of spiritual energy, obliterating the creature in a burst of radiant force.

Dale, though bloodied, merely grunted in discomfort, the weight of the strike evident in his strained posture.

Yet, with steady resolve, he forced himself upright.

Without pause, they pressed forward, unrelenting in their determination.

None of them spared a second thought for Daleʼs injury.

He was a vampire, and within mere moments, the wound began to heal, the torn flesh knitting together as though it had never been.

Then, through the maelstrom of combat, Anthonyʼs eyes locked onto it, a raised platform at the center of the chamber.

Upon it stood a twisted obelisk of obsidian, pulsing with a dark, malevolent energy.

”The core”

He shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

”We destroy it”

With determination, they surged forward, each step bringing them closer to their objective.

But as they advanced, the labyrinth revealed its most insidious weapon.

From the walls and ceiling, phantoms began to materialize, twisted, mirror images of themselves, each one a dark reflection brought to life.

Anthonyʼs heart skipped a beat as he saw his own face, distorted with malice, hurtling toward him.

Kingsleyʼs eyes widened as a sneering, mockery of his own self advanced, a cruel grin splitting its features.

Dale, steely as ever, found himself face to face with his reflectionʼs contemptuous gaze, the phantomʼs eyes burning with scorn.

And worse, they moved with eerie perfection, mirroring their every motion, predicting every strike, every feint, as if the labyrinth had learned their combat style intimately.

Reynold collided with his phantom twin, the clash of steel reverberating through the chamber, a shrill ring that echoed in the madness of battle.

Dale unleashed his blood spells, only to have them mirrored and countered with chilling precision.

Reynold fought with increasing pace, attacking against a reflection that matched every strike, every move, as though his phantom knew his every tactic.

Anthonyʼs mind raced, his thoughts a whirlwind of calculations and strategies.

They couldnʼt continue like this.

They were too fragmented, too divided.

This was not the military trial where time and tactics afforded them the possibility of survival.

”Asides from Kingsley, the rest of you, switch targets”

Anthonyʼs voice rang out, his thoughts aligning with newfound clarity.

”Attack each otherʼs phantoms!”

He commanded.

The realization struck them instantly.

Dale broke away from his own reflection, his weapon cleaving through Seraphimʼs phantom with a brutal, decisive sweep.

Reynold, quick to follow, drove his rapier into Daleʼs mimic, shattering it in a burst of swirling mist.

Seraphim, with surgical precision, impaled Reynoldʼs doppelgänger using a sword construct, her strike clean and unwavering.

Anthony and Kingsley, without the slightest hesitation, dispatched their reflections in a single, fluid motion.

Within mere moments, the battlefield had fallen silent, the phantoms vanquished.

Only the obelisk remained, a dark sentinel in the heart of the chamber.

Without a momentʼs hesitation, they converged, a unified force moving as one.

Anthony struck first, his katana alight with surging mana, a gleaming arc of power aimed at the heart of the dark monument.

Daleʼs blood magic coiled around the obeliskʼs base, seeping into the stone and weakening it from within, tendrils of crimson energy devouring its foundation.

Kingsley, his strength unmatched, brought his palm crashing against the obeliskʼs defenses, breaking through the mystical barriers with brute force.

Reynold, ever precise, thrust his rapier into the growing fractures, the blade sinking deeper with each calculated strike.

Seraphim, her focus unyielding, channeled pure spiritual energy through the cracks, pushing it to its limits as if attempting to overload the very core of the structure.

Then, with a sudden, explosive release, the obelisk shattered in a maelstrom of shrieking black mist, its power consumed in a final, violent crescendo.

A deep, resonant boom reverberated through the labyrinth, shaking its very foundation.

For a brief, timeless moment, the labyrinth seemed to freeze, as if time itself had been suspended in the wake of the destruction.

”Do any of you need to recover?”

Anthony inquired, his gaze sweeping over the team.

Each of them shook their head in unison, signaling that they were fine.

Dale, Seraphim, and Reynold hailed from superior races with bloodlines of remarkable purity, their physiques honed to exceptional standards.

Their resilience was unparalleled.

As for Anthony and Kingsley, they were simply broken individuals.

Before them, the staircase unfurled, just as it had done countless times before.

Without a momentʼs hesitation, they stepped forward, descending into the next challenge.