The day had come for the grand demonstration inside Eterna's Labyrinth, the creation that stood as Atem's divine masterpiece — an eternal monument of both challenge and order. The arena was packed with adventurers, nobles, merchants, and warriors. Every eye was fixed upon the center stage, where the presentation of the Resurrection Bracelet was about to begin.
At the head of it all stood Souka, the commander chosen to lead the demonstration. Atem sat silently upon his throne, elevated above everyone, his presence radiating an invisible pressure. His crimson cloak flowed like liquid flame, and though he said nothing, the aura of his kingship made every being in the hall aware — this was not a man to defy.
Souka began explaining with a clear, calm tone.
"Everyone, please pay attention. The Resurrection Bracelet is designed to protect the challengers of the Labyrinth from true death. Once a wearer dies inside the Labyrinth, the bracelet activates, restoring them completely and teleporting them to the surface."
A few murmurs broke out among the crowd. Atem narrowed his eyes slightly. Even that tiny gesture silenced the room. His gaze alone could have frozen the blood of men.
Souka continued, "However, it only works inside the Labyrinth. If someone attempts to use it outside, it will not activate."
Atem's deep, commanding voice echoed from his throne — smooth yet heavy with authority.
"Make sure they understand that well, Souka. There will be no mercy for fools who ignore divine law."
His words carried the weight of a god's decree. Everyone in the audience straightened immediately. None dared even whisper.
Souka nodded quickly. "Y-Yes, Lord Atem. I'll make it clear."
With that, she repeated, "Once again, do not attempt to use this bracelet outside. It will not work beyond these sacred grounds. Any misuse is entirely the fault of the wearer."
Atem leaned back slightly, one hand resting against his chin. His golden eyes gleamed faintly.
"I've seen enough mortals who break rules and then beg for pity when punishment comes. Here, ignorance is not an excuse. If one dies through their own arrogance, then so be it — death is the only teacher left for them."
The silence that followed was heavy and absolute.
Then came the demonstration.
"Now, we will have a volunteer test the bracelet."
Souka's voice wavered slightly. The audience exchanged nervous glances, no one willing to step forward.
A loud voice erupted from the crowd.
"Hmph! You think we'll believe that? That's some royal nonsense right there!"
The man was bald, broad-shouldered, and full of arrogance. His name was Basson, a B-rank adventurer with more muscles than brains. He spat on the ground. "No one can come back from death. Stop with your lies."
Souka frowned, but before she could answer, another man stepped forward — Gai, the Splendacious Sword Fighter. His smirk was sharp, his eyes full of challenge. "How about we make it interesting? Let's have someone test it — not just anyone, but someone who won't chicken out."
He turned, pointing his blade at Myourmiles, who stood quietly among the attendants.
"What about him? The advisor of Lord Atem himself. Surely he trusts his own invention, doesn't he?"
The crowd gasped. Souka clenched her teeth, but Myourmiles only smiled calmly.
"I accept."
He removed his glove and slid the bracelet onto his wrist, then nodded respectfully toward Atem's throne. "My lord, if this is your will, I shall demonstrate it."
Atem inclined his head slightly. "Do it."
The tone in his voice made even the boldest adventurers flinch.
Myourmiles entered the testing field. Souka followed, raising her sword slightly.
"Then, I'll strike first—"
But Gai interrupted her, moving faster than expected.
"Don't think you can trick me, woman! I'll see the truth myself!"
He lunged forward with his blade, slicing Myourmiles's arm clean off.
"Wait—!" Souka shouted, but it was too late.
"Argh!" Myourmiles winced but didn't scream. Even in agony, he stood tall.
Gai laughed loudly, mocking him. "Hah! Some miracle, huh? Let's finish this!" He swung again, slashing across Myourmiles's neck.
The moment the sword connected, Myourmiles's body burst into pure golden light. His form vanished instantly, dissolving before the stunned crowd.
Gasps filled the hall.
Then, the crystal orb projected the image of Myourmiles reappearing at the surface. Whole. Unharmed. Even his clothes restored.
He raised his hands and smiled broadly.
"As you can see, everyone, I'm perfectly fine!"
The audience erupted.
"Unbelievable!"
"A true miracle!"
"Lord Atem's creation is divine!"
The cheers filled the arena, echoing up to Atem's throne. But Atem's expression remained cold and unmoved. His golden eyes glowed faintly as he spoke.
"Now you've witnessed the truth. My designs do not fail. And remember this — such power exists by my permission alone. Use it wrongly, and the gods themselves will turn their eyes from you."
The tone of his voice silenced the crowd once again. They felt it — that suffocating weight of authority, of divine control.
Even Diablo, standing beside the throne, felt a chill down his spine. The air thickened slightly, and the ancient markings of Atem's Pharaoh Dragon Haki rippled faintly behind his back — golden serpents coiling in the air before fading.
The people dropped to one knee instinctively, without command.
Atem stood then, his cloak flowing as if carried by divine wind.
"This is not a game. This is judgment made manifest. The Labyrinth exists not for amusement, but as a crucible for the unworthy. And those who defy order…"
His aura surged — golden and blue flames coiling around his form, eyes burning like twin suns.
"…will be erased without a trace."
Everyone in the room froze. Not even a breath could be heard. The demonstration had ended — not just as proof of the bracelet, but as a warning.
The Pharaoh's Law had been declared.
Souka swallowed hard and bowed deeply.
"Understood, my lord. The message will be spread without fail."
Atem's aura slowly withdrew, the room returning to normal. The pressure faded, though the memory of it would never leave their hearts.
Myourmiles, now kneeling, spoke up respectfully. "Thank you, Lord Atem, for your faith. Your power… truly surpasses the boundaries of life and death."
Atem gave a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
"It is not faith, Myourmiles. It is truth. Remember that."
And thus, the demonstration of the Resurrection Bracelet concluded — with awe, fear, and reverence carved deep into every soul present within Eterna.
"Now then," Souka declared with confidence, her voice carrying across the grand chamber, "you may start exploring the Labyrinth! Once you step inside, you will find yourself in a world of unknowns. What will these brave adventurers encounter there—?"
The massive viewing screen lit up behind her, illuminating the entire arena. The broadcast began, showing the first groups entering the Eterna Labyrinth. Every corridor, every twist of stone, and every flickering shadow inside that divine structure was projected clearly for the audience to see.
Souka's voice was calm and immersive as she described what was happening. "As you can see, the Labyrinth is vast, its walls constructed from enchanted stonework. Magicules flow through the air, altering perception, light, and even sound. This is no ordinary maze."
From his throne above, Atem watched in silence. His golden eyes gleamed beneath the light of the screen. He leaned back, one arm resting upon the gilded armrest, and spoke in a deep, measured tone.
"She explains it well. Souka's eye for detail serves her purpose. Good."
He lifted his goblet slightly and took a sip, gaze still fixed on the screen. The room fell into silence again. When Atem spoke, no one else dared to.
"Let's look at Basson's team," Souka continued, zooming in on the reckless group.
The projection shifted, showing Basson and his party wandering aimlessly along the first floor. The walls, perfectly uniform and indistinguishable from one another, stretched endlessly before them.
Atem's expression hardened. "They have no formation, no strategy… pitiful."
Basson's group continued laughing loudly, kicking at stones and chatting instead of focusing.
"Boss, didn't we already pass this hallway?" one man complained.
"Tsk, shut up! These are all tricks. The Pharaoh's just trying to confuse us with illusions," Basson barked.
Atem narrowed his eyes, his tone low and edged with amusement.
"Tricks? You call divine architecture a trick? Insolent fool."
Even Solarys, the Sovereign of Wisdom within Atem's soulscape, remained silent. It was clear that Atem needed no counsel for such trivial matters.
Souka's narration continued nervously. "It appears that Basson's team… is already lost."
Atem exhaled softly through his nose, not quite a sigh — more a sound of restrained irritation.
"Mortals who enter a god's design without humility will only find despair. Let them wander until understanding is beaten into them."
The screen displayed Basson growing angrier by the minute.
"Boss, this is bad! We've been walking forever. Everything looks the same!"
"Calm down! I told you — it's magic! Illusion magic! The Pharaoh's trying to make us doubt ourselves."
"Yes, Boss!"
Atem raised his hand slightly, tapping the armrest with a single finger. The sound echoed through the quiet hall like thunder.
"They call themselves adventurers, yet they cannot even mark a wall or draw a map. Children would fare better."
A faint smile curved his lips — one of judgment rather than humor.
Souka hesitated. "Lord Atem… should we guide them out?"
"No," Atem replied immediately, his voice firm and calm but carrying divine finality. "A trial without suffering is not a trial. Let them face their own folly. If they perish, the bracelets will return them to the surface. Their failure will serve as warning to the next."
The broadcast continued. Basson's group stumbled deeper, frustration mounting. Then suddenly—
"Wait! What's happening!?"
Before anyone could react, Basson's entire party vanished into thin air. The audience gasped.
"A-Are… did they just fall into a trap!?" Souka exclaimed. Her eyes darted toward the throne.
Atem slowly rose to his feet, his long cloak trailing behind him like flowing night. His voice was quiet but heavy with command.
"Ramiris."
The tiny fairy flinched. "E-Eh? Y-Yes, Atem?"
He descended one step from his throne, golden light rippling faintly around him like the shimmer of divine heat. His smile was calm — too calm.
"I was the one who designed that floor. I do not recall permitting traps there."
Ramiris's wings fluttered nervously as Atem's shadow stretched over her. "W-Well, you see… I might've added a few little surprises! Just, uh, tiny ones to make it more exciting!"
Atem's smile widened slightly. It wasn't friendly. He moved closer, resting one hand behind his back and leaning forward just enough for his eyes to meet hers.
"Exciting? You thought changing the Pharaoh's design was exciting?"
His tone was controlled, quiet, yet it carried a terrifying power beneath the surface. The faint shimmer of his Pharaoh Dragon Aura began to pulse around him — golden serpents of light dancing faintly in the air. The crowd watching the broadcast could feel it too; a cold pressure that made their skin prickle.
Ramiris stammered, "I-I just wanted to make it better! You know, like, maybe they'd fall to the lower floor quicker and—"
"Enough." Atem's voice sliced through her words like a blade.
He raised one hand slightly, and invisible energy tightened around Ramiris's small form. She yelped as he lifted her gently into the air — not in pain, but trapped in divine restraint.
"You tampered with a divine design, Ramiris. You do not understand balance — nor consequence. Fall traps have purpose. A trap that serves no purpose… is chaos. I do not tolerate chaos in my domain."
Ramiris's eyes watered. "I-I'm sorry! I'll fix it, I promise!"
Atem's golden gaze softened only slightly. He released her, and she hovered weakly, clutching her chest as she sighed in relief.
"Next time," Atem said, turning his back on her, "ask before you alter what belongs to me."
He returned to his throne and sat down with that same effortless grace, the weight of his authority still lingering in the air.
"Now," he said, eyes returning to the screen, "show me the status of the other teams."
Souka nodded rapidly, grateful for the shift in focus. "Y-Yes, Lord Atem!"
The broadcast moved on to the next group, but the silence in the room remained heavy. Even the audience watching from afar could feel it — the unmistakable pressure of divine hierarchy.
Atem, the Pharaoh of Eternity, ruled not just through power, but through presence.
And within his Labyrinth, every action — every mistake — carried the echo of his will.
To be continued…