At the entrance of the Labyrinth of Eterna, Imperial soldiers were swallowed one after another.
They advanced in flawless formation—rows straight, movements sharp, discipline absolute. Each soldier wore a reinforced safety belt, the lines connecting them so that every man stood exactly three meters apart, front and back. It was a system designed to defeat confusion itself.
Separate from them was a combat-response unit, unbound by lifelines. These soldiers moved freely, weapons ready, gripping the guide-lines whenever combat was not required. If danger appeared, they would cut in instantly.
From the outside, the labyrinth looked helpless before such numbers.
Calgurio watched with satisfaction.
This is how a real army moves.
The maze meant nothing in the face of preparation and scale. No one would get lost. No one would panic. Everything was calculated.
Stroking his thick beard, Calgurio, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Armored Corps, allowed himself a thin smile.
This labyrinth is child's play. The only real concern is the monsters inside.
The problem was not their strength alone—it was time. Prolonged combat would slow the operation. According to intelligence, the lowest floor was the 60th, though even that was uncertain. Rumors spoke of a hundred floors, but Calgurio dismissed them as exaggerations—fear tactics, nothing more.
Deeper floors meant richer rewards.
Artifacts.
Pure magic crystals.
Weapons of unprecedented refinement.
Tempting—but dangerous. Stronger monsters guarded those depths.
Still, Calgurio was confident.
Once we identify their patterns, we'll slaughter them efficiently.
The army moved like a machine.
Spirit magicians scanned routes ahead.
Special operations teams dismantled traps.
Combat units eradicated monsters.
Processing teams dismantled corpses and
extracted magic crystals.
Everything flowed forward.
Loot traveled backward along the linked lines, passed hand to hand, exiting the gate to be transported directly to the operations center.
Information flowed the same way. If anything happened, reports would reach Calgurio immediately.
At first—
Everything worked.
Then, after exactly 1,000 soldiers entered, contact was lost.
"Sir… what should we do?"
The ropes had been cut cleanly.
Not torn.
Not burned.
Severed—as if space itself had been sliced.
The labyrinth was known to change structure—but only once every twenty-four hours.
Calgurio frowned… then relaxed.
"Continue."
As more soldiers entered, it became clear.
Every 1,000 men, the labyrinth shifted.
Calgurio's eyes narrowed.
"…I see. They're welcoming us."
The staff officer blinked.
"Sir?"
"It's obvious. They don't want overcrowding. That staircase doesn't lead to the next level—it leads to an entirely different floor."
"That's impossible—!"
Calgurio snorted.
"The enemy is Atem, King of Games, ruler of Eterna. If he couldn't manipulate his own domain, he'd have been destroyed long ago."
He was right.
Based on intercepted conversations before contact vanished, nothing seemed wrong inside. No alarms. No distress.
"And note this," Calgurio continued coldly. "We lost exactly one thousand men each time."
The officer swallowed.
"…Understood, sir."
Treasure was still coming out.
Magisteel weapons.
High-grade armor.
Magic crystals of exceptional purity.
If the invasion stopped now, 2,000 men would be stranded inside. Worse—halting meant surrendering initiative.
Calgurio made his choice.
"This is intimidation. Atem is trying to buy time—hoping for reinforcements from Dwargon."
"That's absurd! Dwargon has already—"
"Exactly. Stopping now only helps the enemy."
The order stood.
The invasion continued.
In that moment, the Imperial Army's fate was sealed.
A full day passed.
Day and night, the army pushed forward.
350,000 soldiers entered the labyrinth.
Every thousand men were redirected. Floors changed. Routes twisted.
Only fragments emerged—severed limbs, broken equipment, strange artifacts. The quality of loot increased sharply. There were no low-grade items anymore.
One weapon drew particular attention—a slotted blade, unfamiliar in design.
A new enemy weapon…
Calgurio smirked.
They're desperate. Leaving such things behind means they don't have time to retrieve them.
He mocked King Atem in silence.
A labyrinth meant to lure outsiders… yet you can't control it under pressure. Foolish.
The command center rested in shifts.
Then unease crept in.
"So far, 350,000 have entered… correct?"
"Yes. Half the army."
Moments later, reports arrived—advance troops had been "found."
Relief swept the command center.
Morale surged.
The invasion accelerated.
Half the army had now been swallowed.
Yet doubts surfaced.
"This labyrinth is too big…"
"I thought lower floors were smaller…"
"We should've conquered it by now…"
Worse—no one had exited.
"To leave, they must clear the labyrinth?"
"Yes. They must defeat the King of the Labyrinth… and collect ten keys from elite guardians."
Calgurio's jaw tightened.
The King… Atem.
That was acceptable. That was the goal.
But—
No contact.
No reports.
No survivors returning.
"Can 350,000 defeat Atem?"
The staff hesitated—then nodded eagerly.
"With Veldora absent, yes!"
"We have many Over-A rank champions!"
Victory was proclaimed loudly.
But Calgurio felt it.
A chill.
"Attempt contact again. All methods."
Magic communication.
Telepathy networks.
Signal magic.
All failed.
The room fell quiet.
Then—
"Resume the invasion."
Two more days passed.
Numbers dwindled.
Day one: 350,000
Day two: 150,000
Day three: 30,000
Only 170,000 remained outside.
The gate stood open—unchanged, silent, mocking.
No treasure now.
No messages.
Only disappearance.
For the first time—
Calgurio doubted.
Have I… made a catastrophic error?
The gate loomed before him.
No longer a prize.
No longer a challenge.
But a mouth.
And it was still hungry.
The fate of those who entered it—
Calgurio would soon learn.
Whether he wished to or not.
The Imperial soldiers who entered the Labyrinth of Eterna learned quickly that fate inside was not equal.
For those transferred to Floors 41 through 48, fortune still smiled.
The monsters were strong—but no more than B-rank or lower. Against the Empire's reinforced troops, they posed little threat. Combat was clean. Losses were minimal. Progress was swift.
The Imperial Army proved its worth.
Every soldier was at least C-plus rank, trained to a professional standard, many far above that. There was no panic. No disorder. They advanced in disciplined formations, battle teams guarding the flanks while surveyors and spirit users secured the passages.
Strongholds were established at every junction. Within a single day, both the upward and downward staircases were located.
Their objective was clear.
Ignore the treasure.
Ignore the upper floors.
Push downward and slay the King.
The sealed "Resting Place" chambers near the staircases were inspected. Their doors did not open. They could not be destroyed.
As expected.
The officers judged it correctly—this labyrinth was not meant to be broken. It was meant to be challenged.
Reports were sent upward: The invasion is
proceeding smoothly.
Morale was high.
By the end of the second day, Floors 41 and 42 were secured. By the third, they had reached Floor 48.
An astonishing pace.
But that illusion shattered the moment they stepped lower.
Labyrinth of Eterna: Floors 49–50
Hell began quietly.
A scream.
Then another.
Something wrapped around a soldier's neck.
Legs sank into the floor—melting.
Hands vanished into walls that had become living matter.
Slimes.
Slimes poured from ceilings, walls, and floors.
Weapons corroded. Armor dissolved. Strength drained away.
These were no ordinary slimes. They were massive, tireless, resistant to both magic and steel. They multiplied endlessly and felt no pain.
Reinforcements arrived every few hours, preventing total collapse—but progress slowed to a crawl.
Then came Floor 50.
A dark, narrow cavern. The wounded lay piled together, moaning.
And from the depths came a sound.
A massive Tempest Serpent surged forward.
Its scales rejected bullets and magic alike. Its poison breath reached seven meters, killing before blades could touch flesh. Even when slain, it revived after three hours.
Worse still—there were many.
At least ten.
No safe zones. No rest. No escape.
Only through overwhelming firepower—magic cannons fired repeatedly—did the Imperial Army finally force a path through.
Midnight of the third day.
They secured the floor.
And descended again.
Labyrinth of Eterna: Floors 51–60
The fifty-first floor looked… civilized.
Wide passages. Clear construction. Signs of prior conquest.
But it was deception.
Traps filled the corridors—chemical weapons the Empire itself had once developed and outlawed. Colorless gases burned lungs and eyes. Neurotoxins flooded chambers. Acid rained from above.
Golems roamed endlessly—self-repairing, relentless, tireless.
Then came the report from Floor 60.
A humanoid weapon.
A giant golem of magisteel, wrapped in layered barriers. Immune to blades, bullets, and magic cannons alike.
And from within it—
A voice.
The voice of Gadra.
The reports sounded insane. But they were true.
The Empire could not advance.
Still, retreat was never an option.
Labyrinth of Eterna: Floors 61–70
The dead awaited them.
Undead spirits swarmed the corridors. At first, they were manageable.
Then came Floor 70.
A withered land. A dead city. A massive gate of bone.
When it opened, despair followed.
"Welcome to my kingdom of death."
Adalmann, the Immortal King, stepped forth.
A death dragon descended. Death knights followed. An army that did not tire. Did not fear. Did not die.
Holy magic—once the Empire's answer—was rendered useless.
Adalmann's authority rewrote the rules.
"Extra Skill: Holy–Demonic Reversal."
Hope died with that command.
Seventy thousand Imperial soldiers charged.
They were annihilated.
The survivors fled upward, sanity shattered, victory forgotten.
Labyrinth of Eterna: Floors 71–79
Insects.
Endless swarms.
At first, the soldiers adapted. They built strongholds, rotated shifts, harvested high-grade magic crystals. Greed returned. Smiles followed.
Then—
Heads fell without warning.
A beautiful voice echoed through the floor.
"Now die."
Apito, the Insect Queen, had begun her hunt.
Her Army Wasps moved faster than sound. Invisible. Unavoidable. One thousand killers descended.
In minutes, the entire floor was silent.
Labyrinth of Eterna: Floors 81–90
This was no longer conquest.
It was execution.
Each floor was a nightmare crafted with intent.
Byakuren, the white monkey, ruled storms and sound.
Gett, the moon rabbit, crushed armies with gravity.
Kokuso, the black rat, spread incurable plague.
Raikou, the thunder tiger, unified beasts under his roar.
Yoda, the winged serpent, stole oxygen itself.
Mink, the sleeping sheep, killed without blood.
Enchou, the flame bird, reduced soldiers to
ash.
Igami, the mirror dog, reflected death endlessly.
They fought.
They resisted.
They screamed.
And they died.
Only then did the truth emerge.
These were not independent monsters.
They were Kumara's tails.
Her playthings.
Her fragments.
The true ruler of the depths was Nine-Headed Kumara, Guardian of the 90th Floor.
And above her—
Watching.
Judging.
Silent and absolute.
Was Atem, King of Games, Sovereign of Eterna.
This labyrinth was not a defense.
It was a trial.
And the Empire had failed.
Final Result
530,000 Imperial soldiers entered the Labyrinth of Eterna.
None returned.
The Labyrinth had accepted them all.
And the King had passed judgment.