The Loki Familia advances slowly through the Labyrinth in a rigid, highly organized formation.
At the front, large and powerful adventurers form a true moving wall, wearing heavy plate armor and wielding massive tower shields, sacrificing weapons entirely to achieve maximum defense.
Immediately behind them, two interwoven ranks of spear users serve as the primary offensive force, killing any monsters stopped by the shield wall.
Along both flanks, more mobile adventurers with varied equipment guard the formation against threats emerging from the walls, ceiling, or ground, angles the long spears cannot easily cover in such confined space.
At the center, a lot of archers and a few mages provide controlled long-range support, taking advantage of straight corridors without disrupting the formation.
Scattered among the ranks are lightly armored coordinators marked with the Loki Familia's colors, responsible for relaying orders and keeping the leader informed of the situation across all sides.
At the heart of the formation commands a blond Pallum of frail appearance, far from the image of a powerful warrior, yet this very Pallum was the captain of the Loki Familia, Finn Deimne.
Finn suddenly stopped.
He raised his head, eyes narrowing, as if his gaze pierced straight through the layers of steel, bodies, and torchligh, reaching into the darkness ahead of the corridor.
'Something's coming.'
Tap Tap Tap
Hurried footsteps echoed against the stone, uneven and frantic, growing louder by the second.
From the darkness, a single figure emerged, running straight toward the formation.
The shield bearers reacted instantly.
The tower shields slammed down as one, planting themselves into the stone floor, rising into a solid, immovable wall.
— Stop right there! Identify yourself! — someone shouted.
The lone adventurer skidded to a halt just short of the wall of shields. He raised both hands high, fingers spread in a clear sign of surrender.
— My name is Rald Fenwick, of the Familia Janus! — he shouted back, forcing the words out between breaths.
Spear tips lowered slightly, finding his chest, his throat, his legs. No one relaxed. No one trusted him.
— Show a proof of your Familia!
Rald's eyes widened.
— I-I don't have time for this! There's a monster wave coming from the rear corridors, I told you! We don't have time for formalities! — he snapped, panic bleeding into his voice.
— Show a proof of your Familia, right now!!!!! — The voice came even louder and hysterical.
Rald, using his last two malfunctioning neurons, he thought it was a great idea to take a step forward.
— Don't move! Don't move! Don't move!
A wall of spearheads rained down menacingly on him, lightly piercing him in a few places as a warning, but drawing a few drops of blood nonetheless.
Sweat rolled down Rald's face as his gaze flicked from spear to shield to the empty darkness behind him.
— Listen to me! If you don't let me through now, people are going to die! I need to speak to Commander Deimne, right now!
His ordeal was in vain; words meant little down there. All he gained was the icy sensation of metal against his skin.
Things seemed poised to escalate rapidly, and someone was going to die, in this case, him.
Then-
— Let him through.
The voice came from deep within the formation.
The movement stopped instantly.
— I remember his face.
Silence fell over the corridor.
The adventurers exchanged uneasy glances, confusion flickering across their expressions. Slowly, reluctantly, the shield bearers pulled their tower shields apart, just enough to open a narrow path.
Rald froze, disbelief flashing across his face.
— Move!
Still shaken, Rald broke into a run the moment he cleared the formation.
He nearly stumbled, boots slipping against stone, before dropping to one knee in front of the small Pallum, head bowed low, one fist pressed to the ground.
— Commander Deimne!
Finn did not move at first. His eyes rested on the kneeling man, calm, sharp, measuring.
— Speak, what happened? — he said.
Rald swallowed hard, then forced the words out.
— Sir, a monster wave is approaching. More than a thousand monsters. Mixed types.
The reaction around them was immediate.
Several adventurers stiffened.
Hands tightened around weapons.
A few exchanged quick, uneasy glances.
Murmurs began to spread through the ranks, short and hushed exchanges filled with disbelief and unease, the discipline of the formation holding, but strained by the sheer scale of the enemy numbers.
— A thousand…?
— That's impossible…
— In this area…?
But while the ordinary adventurers felt their throats tighten with fear, Finn did not react.
And why would he?
A level six adventurer, facing monsters of what, level two or three at most? With nothing but his spear and refined martial skill, he could carve through an entire horde without breaking a sweat. But Finn Deimne was not merely a warrior.
He was a strategist.
A Familia captain.
And actually, the commander of the rescue expedition.
Charging to the front to deal with such threats personally would be a mistake.
'This might actually be useful.'
A controlled engagement + A large enemy force = An opportunity to gain Excelia.
'A chance to temper the newcomers… and to build trust between members of different Familias.'
That was precisely why the expedition had been organized into mixed squads, instead of keeping each Familia isolated under its own banner. Cooperation forged under pressure was far more reliable than orders given in safety.
And there was also-
'Loki told me to keep an eye on her.'
If anything went wrong, Finn could intervene at any time and take control of the battlefield himself.
He raised one hand, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose, eyes closing for a brief moment as calculations ran through his mind.
— Are you certain? How do you know this? — Finn asked calmly.
Rald lifted his head.
— I'm part of the Tenth Reconnaissance Squad.
— We were assigned to scout the surrounding corridors and eliminate isolated threats ahead of the main force.
— At first, everything was normal. Then… we were boxed in. Monsters started appearing from every direction. Walls, side tunnels, collapsed passages, we couldn't tell where they were coming from anymore.
His hands clenched against the stone.
— My squad stayed behind. They fought to buy me time. To call for help. But... i know there's no helping anymore... — He lowered his head, sad, no words were needed to explain the reason.
He hesitated, then continued.
— On my way here, I saw it. That massive monster mass. They're gathering… moving together without the expected chaos in large groups of monsters.
Finn opened his eyes.
— Direction.
— South by the compass. — Rald answered immediately.
— If they don't change course…
He looked up at Finn, eyes wide.
— They'll pass directly through this area.
Silence followed.
Finn lowered his hand slowly, eyes sharp and focused once more.
— I see.
— You did well getting here alive. Remain here and recover. — Finn said.
He walked past the kneeling man.
Then his voice rose, cutting through the corridor with authority.
— Maintain current formation! Prepare to fight for your lives! Hold this position!
For a heartbeat, everything froze.
Then...
— You heard him! Move, move!
— Prepare for battle!
— Everyone to your places! In your places!
The army moved, the chaotic noise, the dozens of footsteps, and the sensation of the vibrating ground might suggest they were moving in desperation.
But in reality, they were all acting in a very organized manner. Just as they had learned to do at recent times.
Already at the front, the shield bearers took two more steps forward, stomping their feet on the ground.
Then, they planted their shields on the perfectly uniform stone floor.
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
One after another, the shields were slammed straight down, standing perfectly upright. The sound rolled through the corridor in heavy succession, like iron pillars being driven into the earth.
Each man pressed his shoulder firmly against the inner side of his shield, feet braced wide, bodies coiled and ready, as if preparing to absorb a direct blow head-on.
— Shields set!
— Lances!
From behind the wall, the first rank of spear users moved forward.
Now that the shield bearers stood sideways, narrow gaps had opened between them, just enough space for a single man.
Long spears slid forward.
Steel tips emerged through the narrow spaces between each shield, all pointing straight ahead down the corridor.
These lancers raised their weapons higher, angling them upward, forming a second layer of killing reach, ready to strike over the first rank or intercept anything that leapt, climbed, or fell from above.
— Hah!
— Hah!
— Hah!
Short, unified breaths echoed as each lancer locked into place.
— Set the lights up! The front line needs clear visibility for at least ten meters ahead! Spread the rest through the formation, cover every angle, no blind spots!
— Yes, sir!
A figure broke into a run, weaving swiftly through the formation.
In one hand, he carried what looked like an unlit lantern, its glass dark and opaque. In the other, a long wooden pole, absurdly long, flexible yet sturdy, its far end curved like a hook.
— Light bearer coming through! — someone called.
The adventurer slid into an open space near the front line and dropped to one knee.
He opened the lantern.
Inside was a shallow chamber already lined with a faintly shimmering oil. From his belt, he pulled a small cloth pouch and loosened its drawstring.
Twinkle
Inside lay a fine powder of minuscule crystals, dark blue tinged with violet.
Refined monster core.
One of the most sought-after byproducts of mana stones, made directly in Orario by the industrial sector and then exported by the guild.
This crystalline powder has several uses, primarily as a source of magical fuel for certain applications, but it can also be used more crudely to light a powerful fire for a hell of a time.
He sprinkled a careful amount into the lantern's chamber. The crystals dissolved into the oil with a faint hiss.
Then he struck flint.
Fssh
The flame caught instantly.
The lantern ignited in a deep, radiant blue, the fire swelling unnaturally as the refined magical dust burned, intensifying the light far beyond that of any ordinary torch, almost blinding the guy who lit it.
The adventurer sealed the lantern shut and fixed it onto the hooked end of the pole. Rising to his feet, he lifted the massive staff and extended it forward, holding the blazing light far ahead of the shield wall, well beyond the reach of claws or sudden strikes.
The corridor flooded with light.
Every stretch of tunnel ahead was laid bare as if under a miniature sun. So bright, but at the same time so expensive.
This kind of light burned money as much as fuel. Each second consumed refined monster core, a resource reserved only for opportune moments.
Normally, that cost would be unbearable.
But the Dungeon made the choice for them.
Any torch or light fixed to the ground and walls was swallowed by the Labyrinth. Only light actively held, carried by living hands, are given permission to exist, as if the Dungeon were constantly showing that one slip-up is all it needs.
More movement followed.
Three additional poles rose near the front line, long and flexible, each crowned with a blazing blue lantern. Others were lifted within the formation's center, carefully spaced to eliminate shadows and blind spots.
The remaining adventurers flowed into their final positions.
They were all already in the correct formation while moving; all they had to do was stop in place and pay attention so as not to disturb others around them.
Light warriors in the flanks, some spreading through the inner gaps of the formation.
Forming a hollow circle in the center, archers stepped back, bows half-raised and the few mages present took their places among them, staffs grounded.
Within that circle gathered the rest, porters, field medic, support personnel. All the other that can't fight but are necessary for the stable mobilization of a large group over a long period of time.
And behind it all.
At the very rear, where only a single line was needed to guard their backs, stood Finn Deimne, his spear resting lightly in his hand.
— Hold your position. Stay together.
Movement slowed and the last echoes of motion faded away, leaving behind only the oppressive silence of the labyrinth and the steady, measured breathing of nearly a hundred adventurers standing ready.
Eyes darted across the corridor. Fingers tightened around grips, brushed against bowstrings, or pressed firmly. For a moment, there was nothing, only endless tunnel stretching forward under the blue glow of the lanterns.
Then it happened.
Quakes
At first, it was nothing more than a strange sensation beneath their boots, a faint vibration traveling through the Dungeon's perfectly uniform stone floor, subtle enough that some might have dismissed it as imagination or nerves.
Yet it did not fade. Instead, it lingered, like a distant heartbeat, comming and goinng.
With every passing second, the vibration grew clearer.
The stone tiles trembled just enough for armor to faintly rattle, the adventurers instinctively adjusted their footing. A quiet unease spread through the formation, raising the hairs along exposed skin and tightening grips around weapons.
Then the sound reached them.
At first, it was little more than a distant murmur, seeping through the winding corridors of the Labyrinth like a breath carried from far away.
— Aaa…
The sound did not come from a single throat.
It layered itself, multiplied, voices overlapping voices as the murmur deepened and swelled.
— AAAaaa…
The vibration beneath their feet intensified in response, stone trembling as heavy impacts rolled through the corridor in steady waves.
The roar grew closer.
Until the shadows at the far end of the corridor writhed with movement, and the sound finally shed all restraint.
— ROAAAR!!!
The cry burst forth from the darkness as a single, overwhelming howl, raw and violent, shaking the air and crashing into the formation like a physical force.
At that exact moment, Finn lifted his spear.
'I don't really like doing it, but I have to boost morale, right?' He thought with resignation and self-shame.
— AAAAAH!!!! — He shouted.
The single word detonated through the formation.
— AAAAAH!
The shout rose as one, long and unified, overflowing with resolve. Fear burned away, replaced by momentum and purpose.
The blue light surged forward.
And from within it, shapes emerged.
Monsters.