Calgurio, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Armored Corps, watched the operation unfold with a satisfied smile.
Everything was proceeding exactly as planned.
From his vantage point, he observed wave after wave of elite soldiers advancing through the great ground gate. The finest products of the Empire—augmented warriors, perfected through the fusion of magic and otherworldly science—marched forward without hesitation.
Ahead of them lay the labyrinth.
A place Calgurio believed would soon become a vault of unimaginable wealth.
By now, he assumed, the monsters of Eterna must be panicking. A force of this scale did not appear every day, and certainly not without crushing everything in its path. Such a maneuver was only possible through meticulous preparation—and commanders capable of executing it.
...…
...
…
The invasion route had been refined countless times with his general staff.
The Magic Tank Division would advance openly from the front, drawing attention and pressure. The Air Assault Division would deploy a hundred airships, fully equipped to repel even the Storm Dragon—Veldora—should it appear.
Those same airships had already completed their secondary task: transporting the Magic Beast Corps, led by Gladium, westward over the sea. A safe route. No resistance expected.
With that accomplished, Calgurio reassigned the remaining three hundred airships to logistics—full-capacity transport of munitions and supplies. There was no need to waste aerial strength here.
Instead, everything was focused on the decisive front.
The hundred airships dispatched to the Great Jura Forest carried the Empire's most elite magi. With that force alone, Calgurio believed the entire western region could be crushed.
If Gladium struck the capital of Ingracia as planned, the war would end swiftly.
A perfect two-pronged operation.
And at the center of it all stood Calgurio's Armored Corps.
If this succeeded, his influence within the Empire would skyrocket.
The thought made him laugh softly.
The plan itself was elegant.
Once the enemy committed their strength against the conspicuous Magic Tank Division, Calgurio's true force—the Augmented Legion—would emerge and strike directly at the heart of Demon King Atem's domain.
According to intelligence, Atem had isolated his capital within a vast, sealed labyrinth.
Absurd—yet undeniably real.
On the surface, only one structure remained.
A single, massive gate.
Which meant only one thing.
Surround it. Seal it. Starve it.
By deploying magic cancelers, they could shut down spatial transfer and suppress all forms of teleportation. With sufficient coverage, the labyrinth itself could be isolated completely.
The only concern was the Armed Nation of Dwargon.
Hero King Gazel was no fool, and dwarven soldiers were famed for their discipline and endurance. Their thousand-year undefeated history was no exaggeration.
But—
Defeat was impossible.
With two thousand magic tanks, even the dwarves' ancient relics would crumble. Neutrality meant nothing when victory was assured.
Magic.
Science.
Combined into the ultimate form of warfare.
That was the Armored Corps.
Gazel may have been a champion—but a champion stood alone. Against overwhelming firepower, swords and traditional magic were relics of a bygone age.
The dwarves simply did not understand the future.
By the time they did, it would already be too late.
Calgurio never imagined—never even considered—that he was fundamentally wrong.
His confidence was absolute.
Then, the long-awaited report arrived.
Negotiations had failed.
War was now official.
Calgurio's forces advanced as planned, taking control of what was believed to be Atem's final stronghold.
...…
...
…
Calgurio adjusted his stance, composed and relaxed.
Perhaps it was excessive to give Gazel's head to Gaster, he thought. But soldiers need rewards.
Lieutenant General Gaster and Major General Farage were among his finest commanders. He trusted them completely.
He did not—could not—know they were already dead.
"Any word from Gaster?" Calgurio asked casually.
"No, sir. We've received no communication since his initial engagement report."
"Hm. Strange. The battle should be over by now. He must be enjoying himself."
Then—
"And Farage?"
The liaison officer froze.
Sweat beaded down his face as he struggled with the communication device.
"What are you doing?" Calgurio snapped, irritation seeping into his voice.
The officer swallowed hard.
"Major General Farage reported encountering… a monster resembling Veldora. He said he would confirm and report back immediately—"
There was nothing after that.
No signal.
No response.
The communication mage quickly explained that the magicule density of the Great Jura Forest was extreme—interference was unavoidable. This land had once been shaped by Veldora himself.
And now it belonged to Demon King Atem.
Calgurio exhaled slowly.
If Veldora is present, communication failure is expected.
He dismissed the matter.
"Hmph. Then we wait for good news. If they truly encountered Veldora, silence is understandable."
His confidence hardened.
"In that case, all the better. We will not fall behind. Begin the labyrinth assault immediately!"
Gaster and Farage had commanded overwhelming forces. Defeat was unthinkable.
If anything, the situation was ideal.
If Veldora had been drawn away, then only Atem remained inside the labyrinth.
The so-called Four Heavenly Kings were troublesome—but no match for the Augmented Legion.
Without hesitation, Calgurio committed fully to the labyrinth.
The clearing before him was vast—large enough to contain a city. At its center stood the colossal gate.
No traps.
No illusions.
Just the gate.
And the words carved upon it:
THE WEAK ARE UNWORTHY TO ENTER
Calgurio smirked.
So they hide everything behind fear? Typical monsters.
Supply raids were a standard tactic—but ineffective here.
Imperial soldiers could operate one full week without food or water. Energy-balanced rations covered all needs. Water was produced via magic. Each soldier carried enough supplies for twenty-seven days.
There was no weakness.
No shortage.
No concern.
"Do they think cutting supply lines wins wars?" Calgurio laughed. "Fools."
His staff echoed his confidence.
"Atem miscalculated from the start," one noble officer said eagerly. "He wasted Veldora on decoys."
"Yes," another agreed. "Now he hides, surrounded."
Calgurio nodded.
"Then let us drag him out and take his head."
The nobles practically trembled with anticipation.
Treasure.
Glory.
Titles.
Greed drowned out caution.
"Deploy barriers. Establish camp. Begin phased entry."
No objections were raised.
Thus began the labyrinth siege.
And immediately after—
Those confident, smiling soldiers descended the stairs.
The labyrinth did not reject them.
It welcomed them.
All safety restrictions were disengaged.
Beyond that threshold awaited something no one had ever truly faced—
The true form of the labyrinth.
The domain of Atem, King of Games.
Where strategy became judgment.
Where arrogance became sin.
And where escape… was no longer an option.
The location was one of the innermost chambers of the labyrinth.
A place hidden so deeply that even Atem, King of Games and ruler of Eterna, had never needed to acknowledge its existence. This hall existed solely for one purpose—to gather those who ruled the labyrinth itself.
The fact that everyone was present proved how grave the situation was.
...…
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At the head of the vast hall stood Beretta—Ramiris's deputy, agent, and executor of her will. Calm, unreadable, and precise.
Surrounding the chamber were the Four Dragon Kings:
The Fire Dragon Lord
The Ice Dragon Lord
The Wind Dragon Lord
The Earth Dragon Lord
Each occupied a cardinal position, their mere presence bending the air with draconic pressure.
At the center, seated around a massive ebony round table, were the true core of the labyrinth's might—
The beings collectively feared as the Dungeon's Elite Ten:
Guardian of the 90th Floor — Nine-Headed Beast Kumara
Guardian of the 80th Floor — Insect Kaiser
Zegion
Boss of the 79th Floor — Insect Queen Apito
Guardian of the 70th Floor — Immortal King Adalmann
Vanguard of the 70th Floor — Death Paladin Albert
Three figures stood out as exceptions.
Beside Adalmann sat Gadra, a sharp-eyed old mage whose presence radiated experience rather than raw intimidation.
At the far end, seated stiffly and clearly aware they did not belong, were the 50th Floor Guardians, Gozer and Mezer.
Once, they believed themselves invincible.
Now, merely sitting among these monsters made their confidence crumble.
What truly silenced them, however, was the pressure.
Even now, invisible clashes of killing intent filled the hall—distorting space itself. Power rubbed against power, testing dominance without a single word spoken.
Even Gadra, a newcomer, stood unfazed within this storm.
Gozer and Mezer understood the truth in that moment.
We're not weak… but these people are insane.
Beretta and the Dragon Kings made no effort to stop the silent power struggle. This was normal. Among the strongest, rivalry was unavoidable.
The debate over who was strongest had only
grown fiercer since Adalmann had been personally acknowledged by King Atem.
Everyone wanted to prove their worth.
Lower guardians sought relevance.
Veterans sought validation.
Newcomers sought legitimacy.
Gadra wished to secure his position beside Adalmann.
Adalmann wished to serve Atem even more directly.
Albert hungered for recognition through conquest.
Apito and Kumara were locked in open rivalry.
Kumara, guarding the 90th floor, rarely saw battle—and envied Apito's success against the Holy Knights. Apito, competitive by nature, refused to yield.
And above them all—
Zegion.
Silent. Absolute. Unchallenged.
Everyone measured themselves against him, whether they admitted it or not.
Yet for all their clashes, none truly hated the others.
They were rivals, not enemies.
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…
Now, the hall fell silent.
Every gaze fixed on two empty seats at the head of the table.
One belonged to Veldora, King of the Labyrinth.
The other to Ramiris, its creator.
Two hours had passed.
When Beretta finally arrived, the noise ceased instantly.
"Veldora-sama and Ramiris-sama will arrive shortly. Until then, remain silent."
Beretta took their seat.
Kumara spoke first.
"Chief… is this meeting about them?"
Beretta nodded.
"As you suspect. This council exists to determine how we erase the fools invading the labyrinth."
The atmosphere shifted.
Competition vanished—replaced by unity.
To become an enemy of the labyrinth meant absolute annihilation.
And then—
"Yo, everyone!"
"Thanks for waiting!"
Ramiris and Veldora appeared, and the pressure in the room exploded.
Ramiris, unusually serious, spoke first.
"This is the greatest crisis the labyrinth has faced since its creation. That's why I want everyone's opinions!"
The council began.
"Isn't it obvious?" Kumara started—
"Just kill them all," Apito cut in coldly.
Their eyes met—sparks flying.
Veldora burst out laughing.
"Kuahahaha! Relax. Everyone will get a turn. The enemy believes the labyrinth only goes down to the 60th floor. They don't even believe it has a hundred floors!"
Disbelief spread across the hall.
Idiocy of that level was unforgivable.
"We'll split them," Ramiris continued. "A thousand per floor. Divide them, scatter them, crush them."
She explained with precision:
41–50 Floors → 100,000 enemies
51–60 Floors → 100,000
61–70 Floors → 100,000
71–80 Floors → 100,000
81–90 Floors → 100,000
Dragon Kings would handle overflow.
Maximum intake: 540,000.
Minimum goal: 350,000.
Then Ramiris smiled.
"The rules have changed."
No exits.
No retreat.
No clearing without defeating Veldora.
To challenge him, one must collect ten keys—each held by the Elite Ten.
Satisfaction spread across the room.
"A fair race," Kumara said.
"To see who kills the most," Apito replied.
Albert smiled beneath his helm.
"Let's hope I find someone worthy of my blade."
Then Beretta stood.
"I relinquish my position as head of the Elite Ten. Whoever performs best shall take it."
Every eye ignited.
"Gadra-dono will serve as a provisional Elite Ten member."
Gadra accepted without hesitation.
"Then I will give everything I have."
Ramiris clapped.
"Great! Gadra-chan gets the 60th floor and full control of the Demon Colossus!"
And just like that, roles were assigned.
Before closing, Ramiris added casually—
"Oh, right. King Atem will be watching."
Silence.
Even Zegion spoke.
"…The King will observe us?"
Veldora answered solemnly.
"Atem entrusted this battlefield to you. Show him the strength of the labyrinth."
Zegion rose.
"Then I will not disappoint him."
Ramiris smiled—innocent, merciless.
Once inside the labyrinth, mercy would end.
The Imperial Army would learn the truth.
The labyrinth was not a dungeon.
It was judgment.
And this victory—
Would be dedicated to Atem, King of Games, Sovereign of Eterna.