Nekros—the demon continent
Deep within the obsidian spires of the Crimson Sanctum, a pair of golden eyes stared blankly out a window. The wind whispered through the ruins, tousling strands of silver hair as Selene Askarra stood motionless, her expression unreadable.
"Selene~," a silken voice purred from behind, "You're always so stiff. I bet if someone tickled you, your bones would snap."
Selene didn't flinch. "If someone tried to touch me, I'd cut off their fingers."
From the far side of the room, lounging atop a throne that was far too ornate for the room's ruinous condition, sat a woman cloaked more in sensuality than fabric. Azmyra,—one of the subordinates of the Demon King. Rested her chin on one hand and gave a mock pout.
"You wound me, darling. And here I was thinking we could have some girl talk before your mission~."
Selene turned at last, arms folded, eyes sharp as knives. "Just tell me the objective."
Azmyra sighed, her wings twitching behind her lazily. "Fine, fine. Straight to business, as usual." With a snap of her fingers, an orb of dark mana flickered into being above her palm. Inside, a shifting image of a labyrinth revealed itself—stone corridors lined with rusted spikes.
"This is Vaelkran's Labyrinth," Azmyra said, voice lowering into something almost reverent. "The prison of one of the Ten Monarchs. There's a relic inside—his blade. The Sword of Chaos."
Selene's eyes narrowed. "You want me to retrieve it."
Azmyra licked her lips. "Smart girl. Yes. Bring it to me, and do not let anyone else get their hands on it. Not the humans, not the church, and certainly not the angels. Especially those self-righteous pigeons with halos."
"I assume it's not going to be simple," Selene said, brushing a finger along the hilt of the shortblade on her thigh.
"Obviously not." Azmyra leaned forward, and the orb dimmed. "There's a survivor inside. An Otherworlder. The labyrinth has chosen him… or maybe Vaelkran did. Either way, if he's not dead already, he'll be a complication."
Selene tilted her head. "Eliminate him?"
Azmyra gave her a sly smile. "Only if he tries to get in your way. Or flirts with you. Or smells too much like a hero."
Selene turned away, already walking. "Understood."
"…But if he's cute, at least consider bringing him back," Azmyra added with a playful wink.
Selene didn't answer. She was already gone, cloak fluttering behind her like a streak of shadow.
Azmyra sighed dramatically and kicked her legs over the arm of her throne. "Why are all my subordinates so uptight? Just once I'd like someone who brings me a relic and a nice bottle of wine…"
*****
Three days had passed since Noa painted the goblin village red.
Now, he lounged on top of a massive snake corpse. All around him, the remnants of an ancient stone structure loomed—weathered pillars that had long lost their shape, crumbling walls blanketed with vines, and broken archways that led into shadowy corridors. Time had clearly forgotten this place.
Noa sighed, stretching his arms lazily behind his head, as if this blood-stained ruin was the most natural place in the world to rest.
Noa sat cross-legged on the coiled corpse, poking at the air like he was navigating a hologram only he could see.
"Status," he muttered.
A translucent screen blinked into view, and he eyed it with the detached boredom of someone checking the weather forecast.
Name: Noa Itsuki
Level: 98
Class: —
Strength: 203
Speed: 250
Agility: 167
Stamina: 198
Endurance: 331
Active Skills:
• [Crown of Dread] – Opponents below your level feel unexplainable unease and creeping fear when they meet your gaze.
Passive Skills:
• [Devour] – Increased chance of acquiring skills from defeated enemies.
• [Demonic Vitality] – Passive regeneration over time
• [Whispers of the Void] – Small chance to resist death or madness effects.
• [Night Vision] – See clearly in darkness.
Elemental Affinity: —
"Mhm. Mhm." Noa nodded to himself, slowly, thoughtfully, as if he were inspecting a restaurant menu and debating between spicy curry or ramen.
His expression twitched into a mild frown. "Still no affinity. Still no class. Uhhhhhh…" He leaned back until he was half-sprawled over the snake's body and let out an exaggerated groan. "I seriously want to kill something with some cool-ass magic already."
He waved his hand dramatically, as if trying to summon a fireball through sheer frustration. Nothing happened. Just a gust of musty dungeon air and the groan of a distant windpipe echoing through the stone.
"Like, bam—'Fire Spear Explosion of Death!'" he said, voice cracking a little as he mimed throwing a spear. Then he stared at his own hand in disappointment. "Nope. Just fingers."
The corpse beneath him gave a slight squelch as he shifted his weight. Noa sighed.
"Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the sword. It slices through everything like tofu. But come on. Everyone loves a little 'pew-pew magic' now and then, right?"
His voice echoed faintly off the surrounding walls of the chamber. No answer came, only silence.
He scratched his head and muttered, "Maybe I've got to eat a mage next…"
He laughed—quiet and a little unhinged.
"God. I sound like a lunatic."
Still chuckling to himself, he stood, brushing off the dust and snake guts clinging to his clothes. The dim torchlight shimmered against his sword as he slid it back into the black scabbard formed by his own shadow.
"I should get moving. This place won't conquer itself."
He walked forward, leaving behind the snake's corpse—its massive body a silent testament to how far he'd come..
"How am I even supposed to leave this place?" Noa muttered, pacing in circles atop the dried bloodstained stone floor. His voice echoed faintly off the surrounding stone walls, wild and unfiltered, as if he were arguing with a version of himself that refused to shut up.
He ran a hand through his messy hair, eyes twitching slightly with exhaustion and impatience. "No map. No guidance. No glowing exit signs. Just me, a sword, and a lot of dead things."
He let out a dry, slightly manic laugh—half frustration, half amusement.
Then he froze.
Voices. Human voices.
He turned his head slowly, instinct sharpening. Soft footsteps. The clink of metal. Laughter. Conversation.
A group of five…Adventurers?
Noa crouched down, eyes narrowing, every sense now razor-sharp. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. A chill ran through him—not fear, but something colder. A calculating stillness.
Whatever came next… he'd be ready.
If they made it this far… they must know a way out.
Noa exhaled slowly, taming the wild grin that had crept onto his face. His instincts screamed to hide in the shadows and watch. Maybe even strike first. But no—this time, he needed information more than blood.
ok. Time to play the lost adventurer card.
He slicked his blood-matted hair back and patted the dust off his clothes, though they still reeked faintly of scorched goblin and snake bile. Not exactly the scent of trustworthiness, but it would have to do.
A few deep breaths later, he stepped off the snake's coiled corpse and began walking in the group's direction, sword sheathed, expression somewhere between confused and relieved.
"Hey! Hey, over here!" he called out, waving his arms a little too enthusiastically. "Thank the gods—I thought I was gonna starve down here!"
He added a huff, made his voice a bit more hoarse. "I got separated from my party days ago… Been trying to find the exit ever since."
As the footsteps drew closer, Noa slowed down and gave his best awkward chuckle. "You guys wouldn't happen to know the way out, would you?"
A man stepped forward from the group, tall and broad-shouldered, his armor gleaming despite the dim lighting of the labyrinth. His confident stride screamed self-importance, and his perfectly styled blond hair only added to the image.
"Oh? What's your name, friend?" he asked, voice theatrical but not unkind.
"I-I'm Noa. Noa Itsuki," Noa replied, deliberately stammering a bit. He scratched the back of his head like someone genuinely overwhelmed.
"Mmm… Itsuki," the man repeated, placing a hand dramatically on his chest. "Fear not! I, the hero of justice—Alaric Dawnhelm—shall protect you. It is my sacred duty to shield the weak and guide the lost!"
Of course your name is Alaric, Noa thought, forcing himself not to roll his eyes.
From beside him, a petite priest girl clapped her hands together with stars in her eyes. "That's our Alaric-sama for you!" she beamed.
A girl with fluffy cat ears and a jingling collar around her neck wrapped herself around Alaric's arm like a devoted pet. "Way to go, master!" she purred.
Meanwhile, a smaller girl—almost childlike, with emerald-green eyes and a staff taller than she was—nodded to herself with a smile, as if checking a box on a mental list.
And then… there was her.
Standing slightly apart from the group, arms folded, silver hair cascading over her shoulders and golden eyes like molten metal, was a girl in light armor. She said nothing. Her gaze met Noa's, cool and unreadable.
Noa blinked. Huh?
She stared at him like she saw straight through the act.
Alaric gave Noa a reassuring smile, still radiating that glowing confidence of a man who believed he was the center of his own epic tale.
"Well then, Noa! Let me introduce my valiant party," he said, gesturing to each in turn like presenting prized treasures.
"This lovely lady here is Lyra, our brilliant priestess and the heart of our group."
Lyra gave a sweet smile and a small wave, her white robes almost too pristine for a dungeon. "It's nice to meet you, Noa-kun. Don't worry, we'll get you out of here safely."
Alaric moved on, placing a gentle hand on the head of the cat-eared girl now clinging to his arm. "This energetic little troublemaker is Thalia. Rogue, scout, and sometimes a pain in the ass."
Thalia giggled, her tail swaying lazily behind her. "Only sometimes, master? You flatter me~"
Noa chuckled awkwardly. They're really playing their roles to the letter…
"And this," Alaric continued, turning to the short girl with green eyes and the oversized staff, "is Emmy. She might be small, but she's our prodigy mage."
Emmy gave a silent nod and a tiny smile, still not saying a word. She was already scribbling something in a floating notebook made of glowing runes.
"And finally—our newest recruit," Alaric said with a dramatic sweep of his hand toward the silver-haired girl who hadn't moved or spoken a word, "Selene."
Selene's golden eyes locked with Noa's again. Still expressionless.
"She's... well, cold," Alaric admitted with a shrug. "But you can count on her in battle."
Noa nodded slowly. Selene, huh? Something's off about her.
"Thanks... all of you," Noa said aloud, offering a sheepish smile. "I really thought I was gonna die alone in here."
Alaric gave him a hearty slap on the back. "Not while I'm around! Let's get moving, team!"
And as the group turned and continued through the dungeon, Noa followed—his eyes lingering once more on Selene's back, her silence louder than anyone's voice.
As they made their way through the dark corridor, Noa glanced at Alaric, trying his best to look sheepish.
"S-So, Mr. Alaric," he began, rubbing the back of his neck, "how do we, uh… leave this place?"
Alaric burst into a hearty laugh, full of heroic bravado. "With a teleportation scroll, of course! You didn't know?"
Noa blinked. "Teleportation scroll…?"
Alaric grinned, still walking proudly ahead. "Don't tell me you entered Vaelkran's Labyrinth without one?"
Noa forced a nervous laugh, scratching his cheek. "Hahaha… yeah. Our party was… uh, kind of new. Real green. We didn't really know what we were doing."
Lyra gasped softly behind him. "You poor thing. It's a miracle you survived."
Thalia giggled. "Guess he's got more luck than skill, huh?"
Noa just smiled, playing along. Inside though, he sighed in relief. So that's how people get out… good thing I ran into them.
Selene, still at the back of the group, glanced sideways at him. Her golden eyes narrowed ever so slightly—just for a second.
Noa noticed. And it made his skin crawl.