Major General Minits walked through the Labyrinth with practiced ease, dressed in his signature suit.
At first glance, it resembled a standard officer's uniform. In truth, it was anything but ordinary. Every thread had been carefully selected, mana kneaded into the fabric itself. It was a masterpiece—an artifact-class garment worth an entire colonel's annual salary. Comfort, durability, and elegance were guaranteed, crafted to satisfy even Minits' notoriously refined tastes.
Elegance defined Minits.
And because of that, he despised this operation.
War, in Minits' view, should end before it truly began. Victory without battle—crushing the enemy through absolute superiority—was the ideal. Any loss of life, especially among one's own troops, was proof of incompetence. A commander who allowed such waste deserved scrutiny.
That was why Minits had already judged this mission a failure before its conclusion.
And yet…
"…I suppose this is the sorrow of palace service," Minits muttered with a dry smile. "Being unable to say such obvious truths aloud."
He spoke freely, unconcerned with who might hear him.
Though his subordinate Kansas often drew attention with his flamboyance, Minits himself was among the bravest men in the Imperial Army. He was no sentimental idealist who would abandon a battlefield simply because it offended his sense of beauty.
Still, irritation lingered.
"To separate me—the commander—from the main force," he continued calmly. "How cruel of Demon Lord Atem. Logical, yes. But cruel. At this rate, those brave soldiers may fall to a handful of enemies."
He paused, then smirked.
"…At least Kansas-kun survived."
Despite his complaints, Minits was enjoying himself.
For the first time in his life, he had been placed in genuine danger. Born into high nobility, politically powerful, and ranked higher than even Calgurio outside the military, Minits was rarely allowed anywhere near the front lines.
Yet he remained in the army for one reason.
He loved battle.
He loved blood.
And now, free from restraint, Minits felt his cheeks loosen with anticipation.
He had been sent to the seventy-eighth floor, directly above the domain ruled by the Insect Queen. This was a test—an evaluation of his abilities.
Minits descended leisurely, swatting aside insects as if strolling through an empty field.
"Oh dear. I truly hate bugs," he sighed. "Just watching their legs writhe is enough to make me ill. I should finish this quickly."
With a single dismissive wave of his hand, a violent gust erupted. The swarm was crushed instantly, reduced to dust.
This was Minits' Unique Skill — Oppressor.
Its effect was absolute.
Psychological pressure. Physical compression. Everything within Minits' field of vision was subjected to his will. Escape was impossible. Resistance meaningless.
With enough focus, he could destroy an object with nothing more than a glance.
Minits had never lost a battle.
"How fragile," he scoffed. "Too dull. They don't even try."
Over-A-ranked insects flooded the floor. They died just as quickly.
Invincibility was not arrogance for Minits—it was experience.
Hours later, he discovered the staircase and rested as if on a leisurely expedition. From his luxury magic travel bag, he produced a freshly prepared meal, bedding, and even a charm to ward off evil spirits.
Minits slept soundly.
Without a care in the world.
The next day, he stepped onto the seventy-ninth floor.
And met his true enemy.
The Silent Killer Wasps—elite Army Wasps—swarmed him instantly.
"Hm. Still nothing worth noting," Minits said coolly.
That was when the air changed.
A presence stepped forward.
Apito.
Minits' perception was flawless. Sneak attacks were pointless. Recognizing this, Apito dismissed her subordinates and confronted him herself.
"How dare you belittle us, human!" she roared.
Minits looked down at her with mild curiosity.
"I see no difference between you and the insects beneath my feet."
He crushed the wasp corpses underfoot.
Apito's rage ignited.
"I will kill you."
"Then try."
Their clash began.
Minits activated Oppressor without hesitation.
Invisible interference waves surged forward—gravitational compression and repulsion layered with terrifying precision. He manipulated attraction and force as if molding reality itself.
Anything caught within it should have been crushed instantly.
But—
"Too slow."
Apito vanished.
Minits' attack shattered nothing but an afterimage.
She had realized it—his power was directional.
By moving faster than his line of sight could fully lock on, she escaped the zone of effect.
"Fufufu… I knew it," Apito laughed. "You can't catch me."
Her speed increased further, pushing Minits' Magic Perception to its limit.
Interesting.
Minits smiled.
"This is more like it."
He expanded his power outward, forming a dense force field around himself and stepping forward to block her path. The labyrinth corridor was narrow—Apito had nowhere to slip through.
"Tch. That's nasty."
"Exactly."
Neither yielded.
Apito's movements were sharp, honed through relentless training under Hinata. She could contend with the strongest Holy Knights—but she couldn't break through Minits' barrier.
And stopping meant death.
She made her decision.
Retreat.
There was no shame in it. Victory mattered more than pride.
Minits did not mock her escape. He followed carefully, conserving strength, calculating.
He admired her.
Unlike lesser monsters, Apito possessed resolve and aesthetics worthy of a warrior.
They reached a vast chamber.
A throne stood upon a raised platform.
"So this is your seat," Minits said calmly. "Very well. A fitting place to end this."
"I am Apito," she declared. "Queen of Insects."
"Then face me," Minits replied, smiling. "Major General Minits. Second round."
The battle escalated.
Apito rose high—too high.
"How naive," Minits said coldly.
He twisted gravity itself.
An invisible field slammed her into the ceiling.
"G—GH!"
Her wings tore. Limbs bent.
Minits approached slowly.
"I could crush you now," he said. "But you're impressive. I'll end it cleanly."
He meant it.
Mercy, in his way.
But Apito roared.
"Atem-sama is watching!"
Her broken body surged back into the air through sheer will.
"It's my duty to expose your power!"
Minits laughed.
"Then die trying."
Hours passed.
A war of endurance.
Apito tested everything—poison needles, shock blades, coordinated suicide assaults from her Army Wasps.
They all died.
Every last one.
Minits' suit was shredded. His elegance abandoned. His breathing heavy.
"You look tired," Apito said, bloodied but smiling.
"…So do you," Minits replied honestly.
Both stood at their limits.
"Next strike," Apito declared. "I will kill you."
Minits smiled wider.
"Then I promise you a painless end."
They moved.
Everything ended in an instant.
Apito predicted the interference wave and accelerated beyond sound, aiming to shatter Minits with her body.
Minits released his power.
Apito changed course—but she never truly saw it.
Minits knew.
Victory.
Apito laughed.
Minits laughed.
That was correct.
From the very beginning, Apito's final attack had been built on the premise of her own death.
"It's over, Queen Apito!" Minits declared, his voice bright with triumph.
At that exact moment, Apito opened her mandibles wide.
She felt it—the invisible surge of pressure wrapping around her entire body, crushing her from every direction. Bones screamed. Wings snapped. Her vision blurred.
And yet, she smiled.
This was the moment she had been waiting for.
"—Queen of Needles."
Apito staked her life and unleashed her ultimate weapon.
It was not born of magic alone.
It was forged from her own flesh.
A single poison needle tore free from her body, compressed with all her remaining strength. Its hardness surpassed magisteel. Its venom was lethal even to beings far above ordinary monsters.
At point-blank range, driven by everything she had left—
It would pierce anything.
Minits' oppression intensified, crushing Apito completely.
At the same time, the needle pierced through his force field.
For the first time in the battle, Minits' eyes widened.
The poison needle tore through the invisible barrier and closed in on him.
That instant—
The battle ended.
The result was mutual defeat.
Apito's body shattered under the overwhelming pressure. Her consciousness faded, satisfied yet incomplete.
She had not achieved absolute victory.
But she had done her duty.
In this labyrinth, death was not the end.
Apito's form dissolved into light, her soul retreating to await resurrection.
Minits collapsed backward.
His heart had been crushed.
Not stopped—shattered.
Yet even so, he lived.
Minits was not a man who would die from such a wound.
Time would heal him.
As the pain slowly receded, Minits exhaled and laughed softly.
"…Magnificent."
For the first time in his life, he surrendered himself to the aftermath of battle without regret.
It had been an unprecedented clash.
A truly great fight.
"If only I could taste more," Minits thought faintly.
"If only I could prove… that I am the strongest."
His instincts screamed.
This was not enough.
He wanted a stronger opponent.
Someone beyond limits.
Someone who would force him to transcend himself.
And as if answering that desire—
A voice echoed through the labyrinth.
"—That was a great battle."
The voice carried absolute confidence.
The authority of a ruler who stood above countless warriors.
"My name is Zegion," it continued calmly.
"You are qualified to fight me. If you desire it—come."
Minits' closed eyes slowly opened.
Before him, a dark vortex swirled into existence, heavy with overwhelming presence.
A battlefield invitation.
A challenge.
"…Entertain me, then," Minits whispered, smiling despite his broken body.
Without hesitation, he stood.
Pain meant nothing.
His wounds were still fresh. His heart still cracked.
But none of that mattered.
Undaunted, Major General Minits stepped forward, answering the call.
Far above, unseen yet absolute—
Demon Lord Atem of Eterna, King of Games, observed in silence.
Not with concern.
Not with mercy.
But with judgment.
The pieces were moving.
And the next duel would decide far more than pride.