"Umm… but what about the Green Rebellion situation from before?"
The battle had been decisive, yes—but Atem was not satisfied. They had crushed the Green Rebellion team, yet the challengers had vanished without a trace. Rumor had it their home nation recalled them, perhaps never to return. Atem's sharp gaze didn't waver.
"It could also be they struggled to obtain proper gear for higher floors," he said, voice calm but authoritative. "Whether they return or not, we must remain ready."
Even after defeating Green Rebellion, the team would continue roaming the labyrinth in secret. A labyrinth that had grown in both fame and danger required constant vigilance.
Several days had passed since the deathmatch with Green Rebellion. Masayuki's party had successfully breached Floor 49, capturing the coveted Ogre weapon series. With it, they had slain the Tempest Serpent and now dared to challenge Floor 50.
Atem observed silently. The other challengers were motivated by Masayuki's success, eager to surpass Floor 49. It was exactly as he intended: the labyrinth's progress spurred ambition, and ambition bred opportunity.
"We should broadcast the guardian fight," Atem suggested. "A proper record will serve as both entertainment and education."
The magical projector captured Masayuki's confrontation with the Tempest Serpent in full detail. Citizens of Eterna were captivated. Even without televisions, the labyrinth footage was considered prime entertainment. Atem's tone carried calm authority as he directed Myourmiles to manage the recording, editing, and distribution.
"Some will prefer uncut footage," Atem noted. "We will accommodate—but only if the price is appropriate."
Myourmiles nodded, understanding that this was more than just commerce. It was influence, reputation, and leverage.
Masayuki's smile alone held potential for profit. Atem glanced at the recordings, seeing the energy and excitement captured frame by frame. His voice carried conviction.
"This is more than amusement. These recordings will teach, inspire, and provoke challengers to improve. We are not here merely to entertain—we are here to shape the labyrinth."
Solarys, Sovereign of Wisdom, assisted in analyzing the footage. Using Analyze and Assess, the labyrinth's data could be reconstructed, replayed, and compiled into valuable records. Atem's plans were precise: every move, every fight, every display of skill was data for both strategy and training.
"And the challengers themselves?" Yuuki asked cautiously.
"They learn through exposure," Atem replied, eyes sharp. "Those who dare enter the labyrinth will see not only the limits of their strength but also the standard to surpass. Fear is a teacher; so is aspiration."
Atem's companions had also received upgrades. The ghost he commanded now shimmered with youki, blue and white flames wrapping around it like a living aura. Atem observed, approving. "Stylish. Form meets function. Keep it disciplined."
Veldora's skeleton swordsman underwent a complete overhaul. Atem had considered his request for a golden body and decided to experiment with a temporary flesh replacement—orichalcum, a blend of magisteel and gold, infused with concentrated magicules. The metal's durability surpassed expectation.
"You see the strength here," Atem said, his voice carrying authority, "but remember, it is not merely the material—it is how we wield it."
The golden skeleton swordsman moved with deadly grace, a living testament to Atem's command over both strategy and construction.
Milim, now infamous as the Crimson Comet, focused purely on speed and critical strikes. Her afterimages left red streaks across the battlefield, her reputation growing with every strike.
Ramiris had transformed as well. She embodied brute force, clad in animated armor glowing with deathly purple flames. Her Grim Reaper's great axe was her signature, crushing all opposition. Atem watched closely, approving of her evolution without interference.
"Let them build their fame," he said calmly. "It will make their victories and failures all the more instructive."
As the days passed, their names spread. Challengers feared them, respected them, and learned from them. Atem's plan worked flawlessly: the labyrinth became both a proving ground and a training arena.
"Observe, Yuuki," Atem said, voice rich with calm authority. "Every action within this labyrinth is data. Every strategy, every spell, every skill observed and recorded. We are not merely participants—we are architects of this trial."
Even the challengers' unique magic and Extra Skills were catalogued. Solarys's analytical prowess ensured nothing was lost. Atem's vision was complete: the labyrinth was no longer a simple test—it was a repository of knowledge, a crucible for growth, and a stage for authority.
"And these avatars?" Yuuki asked.
"They reflect our techniques," Atem explained. "And as we learn through them, so too will our original forms benefit. The labyrinth itself trains us now. We use every encounter to refine, to prepare, to dominate."
Every day was research. Every day was preparation. Atem's team advanced, not blindly, but with precision, foresight, and purpose. The labyrinth had become both arena and laboratory under his watchful eye.
The discoveries were plentiful. Every challenge, every fight, every new floor presented knowledge. And Atem's presence ensured that all learning was guided, purposeful, and ultimately, under his authority.
There was one occasion where Atem allowed his team a bit too much pride. They had decided—boldly, arrogantly—to challenge the entire labyrinth as a unit.
The outcome was swift and humiliating.
Even with their combined might, the avatars could not surpass the guardian on the fiftieth floor: Gozer. Atem's piercing gaze assessed the wall of muscle, magic, and steel before them. Gozer was not merely strong—he was an immovable object, a rank A sentinel whose power dwarfed all that they had faced so far. Sneak attacks, clever strategies, or brute force—none would work against him.
"We are… nowhere near ready," Atem said calmly, though the weight of his words carried authority. "Gozer is a lesson, not an opponent to be lightly dismissed."
Veldora's golden skeleton avatar let out a growl of frustration. "He's a brick wall," the dragon said.
Atem inclined his head, voice low, commanding attention. "Exactly. Observe, learn, and adapt. This is not a failure—it is knowledge. A test of strategy, of perseverance. We will surpass him, but only through deliberate preparation."
Ramiris nodded, adjusting the purple flames of her armor. "Then we train. We hone our avatars until they embody perfection."
Milim's crimson aura crackled around her. "And I'll make sure every strike lands faster than thought."
Atem allowed himself a rare smile, one that conveyed both pride and determination. "Good.
Let this lesson temper your ambition. We are here to improve, not to indulge in recklessness. Remember this clearly."
It was a process of study, growth, and self-discipline. Not play. Not amusement. Learning. Always learning.
Days passed. The challengers, ambitious yet unprepared, gradually fell, their numbers dwindling as Atem and his companions observed from their avatars.
"That was an efficient victory," Atem noted, voice carrying calm authority.
Veldora tilted his golden skull, eyes glowing faintly. "You always make it sound easy."
Atem's expression did not waver. "Because it is a matter of planning and execution. Not luck, not whimsy."
This was around Floor 38, where a rank A-minus Tempest Serpent patrolled. Its strength was considerable, far exceeding the majority of challengers daring the labyrinth. For even the avatars of Atem and his allies, carelessness could have resulted in a deadly confrontation.
"Observe closely," Atem instructed. "Growth is measured here. Every opponent, every encounter—data to refine our skills, to strengthen our understanding. We proceed at a pace that ensures mastery, not recklessness."
His emergency contact, a loyal construct called Clone, suddenly reached out.
A holographic message appeared in front of him. Its words were precise, urgent: "A guest requires your immediate audience."
Atem's brow furrowed slightly, his calm authority never faltering. "Time for a different lesson," he murmured. "Not play. Not leisure. Learning, and command—this is important."
The avatars shifted, awaiting his command. Veldora's golden bones gleamed, Milim's crimson aura flared, and Ramiris's purple flames danced with anticipation.
"We proceed to the office," Atem ordered. "All focus on the matter at hand. Discipline, observation, preparation. The labyrinth continues, but the true trial begins elsewhere."
By the time Atem arrived, Shuna and Rigurd were already waiting for him in the office. The atmosphere was quiet—too quiet for a casual meeting.
There was another presence in the room, one that immediately drew his attention.
Sitting gracefully on the couch, wings folded behind her like a silken curtain of power, was a familiar woman—Frey, the former Demon Lord. Her sharp golden eyes followed Atem as he entered. So she was the guest.
Atem's expression remained calm but unreadable. "Frey. I wasn't expecting a visit from you."
Her gaze lingered on him briefly before shifting to the others. When her eyes met Veldora's, she raised a brow, but it was when Milim stepped in that Frey's lips curled into a smile—an all-too-knowing, dangerous smile.
That expression alone spoke volumes, and Atem could already sense tension rising in the room.
"Hm," Atem murmured, crossing his arms. "That smile… I can already tell this is going to be troublesome."
Frey tilted her head slightly, her tone deceptively calm. "Ara, Milim. So this is where you've been hiding?" She let out a quiet sigh, her wings flicking behind her. "Tell me, did you finish the work I assigned to you? The guards I left to keep an eye on you… were found tied up and unconscious. Care to explain what exactly happened during that time?"
Her voice was sweet, but every word carried an edge sharp enough to cut through steel.
Even Atem, standing at the center of the room, could feel the pressure from Frey's presence—a command wrapped in elegance, the tone of a ruler who was used to obedience.
He gave a slight glance toward Milim, who froze on the spot.
"Frey," Atem said evenly, "I take it this isn't just a friendly reunion."
"Of course not," Frey replied, smiling thinly. "I only came to collect a certain someone who seems to have forgotten her responsibilities."
Milim's eyes widened as Frey's gaze locked on her. "E-Eh!? F-Frey? N-no, that's not it at all!" she stammered, her hands flailing slightly. "There's a reason! An important reason for that!"
Atem raised an eyebrow, silently watching the exchange. The aura of authority around him filled the room—subtle, but absolute. Even without saying a word, everyone felt that Atem was in complete control of the space.
So, he thought, this is the kind of situation where emotion outweighs explanation.
Still, he remained calm, leaning slightly against his desk as his crimson eyes flicked between Frey and Milim. "I see," he said finally, voice low but commanding. "Then let's hear this important reason, Milim. I'd like to know what caused this… diplomatic mess in my domain."
Shuna and Rigurd stayed silent, their expressions tense. Frey crossed one leg over the other, smirking faintly, as Milim's panic only grew.
And Atem, with that faint, knowing look of his, simply waited—his patience both reassuring and terrifying—like a king judging the words of his subordinates.
The tension in the room thickened, Frey's gaze unwavering, Milim struggling to form an answer.
And Atem stood between them—authoritative, composed, and unreadable.
The moment was a still flame—calm on the surface, but ready to ignite at any second.