One man sat in absolute silence.
Golden streaks ran through his jet-black exoskeleton, glowing faintly like molten veins beneath obsidian armor. From the center of his forehead rose a single sword-like horn, polished and radiant like red jade. Beneath it burned a pair of crimson eyes that never closed—eyes that constantly absorbed information, analyzed it, and refined it into killing intent.
He did not breathe.
He did not sleep.
He waited.
This body had been reshaped by the will and design of his master—Atem, Demon Lord of Eterna, the King of Games. Atem's cells, fused with magisteel and perfected through Solarys, Sovereign of Wisdom, had reconstructed Zegion's damaged form into something beyond flesh.
The result was an exoskeleton stronger than diamond, more flexible than living muscle—an existence approaching adamantite itself. It was armor worthy of legend.
Yet armor was not the source of his power.
Zegion's true strength lay elsewhere.
In instinct.
In hunger.
In an unrestrained desire to fight worthy prey.
And now—
That prey had arrived.
This labyrinth was his domain.
He was its absolute ruler.
The strongest guardian of Eterna's depths—
The Insect Kaiser, Zegion.
There are those who are qualified.
Zegion had felt them.
Those who reached this depth had earned the right to die with dignity. To face him directly rather than be erased without meaning. That was why he had called them—why he had drawn them into this darkness.
To test them.
To judge them.
At the end of the staircase leading to the 80th floor, there was a rest chamber. It was deliberately open, with no traps, no doors—an invitation rather than a deception.
At the far end stood a luxurious door.
Beyond it waited the master of the floor.
This was the room Major General Minits emerged into, pulled from the dark vortex that had swallowed him earlier.
The chamber was dim, calm, unsettlingly hospitable. Fruits and drinks rested on a table. Comfortable chairs lined the walls. Everything screamed confidence.
Several people were already there.
Minits gave them a brief glance, searching his memory.
They stood and saluted.
"Major General Minits! I belong to the Augmented Legion, 26th Division—"
"That's enough," Minits interrupted calmly, raising one hand. "This is not a place where low-ranking officers survive. I understand the situation."
If they were officers of rank, he would have remembered them.
The fact that he did not told him everything.
Even Over-A rank soldiers could not survive this labyrinth. Not against the insect majin he had just fought.
Only one category fit.
"Ha. As expected," one man said with a thin
smile. "I am Krishna, Seventeenth Rank of the Imperial Guardians."
"I am Bazin, Number Thirty-Five."
"Reicha, Number Ninety-Four."
Minits nodded slowly.
"So. The Emperor's personal guard. You infiltrated our forces for this operation."
"That is correct."
"I might doubt you under normal circumstances," Minits replied evenly. "But survival comes first."
Rank meant nothing here.
Only strength.
They exchanged information.
Their report was grim.
They had faced the Immortal King, ruler of the undead, with ninety-six elite soldiers—every one of them capable of independent action.
All were annihilated.
Only three survived.
"A dead dragon. A dead sword saint. And the Immortal King," Bazin said bitterly. "That we lived is a miracle."
Minits listened in silence.
He noticed the wounds on his own body reflected in their eyes—especially the massive hole in his chest.
"I will recover," Minits said calmly. "Medicine is ready. But tell me—how did you reach this room?"
They explained.
The labyrinth's structure was warped beyond all reports.
No logic. No consistency.
A trap designed to consume armies.
Minits understood immediately.
"Resurrection," he said. "You know the rumors. If humans revive endlessly here, what happens when monsters are allowed the same?"
Understanding spread across their faces.
"They wear us down," Reicha murmured. "One by one."
Minits nodded.
"That was the mistake. Sending more troops only fed the grinder."
Over five hundred thousand had entered.
Foolish.
Their focus shifted to the door.
Above it hovered a number.
200.
A countdown.
"It opens when the time hits zero," Bazin said. "We believe it's meant to wait for us."
Minits exhaled slowly.
The time coincided perfectly with his recovery.
"They want us at full strength," he said. "That alone tells us how confident they are."
Kansas had not arrived.
Minits did not delude himself.
"…Kansas has been defeated."
There would be no reinforcements.
No rescue.
Only forward.
With three minutes remaining, they stood.
The Imperial Guardians activated their pendants. Light erupted around them, forming their combat armaments in an instant.
Minits joined them.
Four of the Empire's finest.
They believed they could still win.
Then—
The counter hit zero.
The door opened.
They stepped forward without hesitation.
Beyond lay true darkness.
Reicha cast Floor Light.
The light revealed a wasteland of corpses—
imperial soldiers stacked like mountains of the dead.
Hovering above them, cross-legged, was a single figure.
Zegion.
He was not seated on the bodies.
He floated.
Mana control so precise it bordered on divinity.
A voice echoed, deep and absolute.
"I welcome you, brave ones."
The pressure alone crushed the air.
Minits felt it instantly.
Demon Lord Haki.
Overwhelming. Tyrannical. Supreme.
Only one being radiated such authority.
"…Are you," Minits asked carefully, "Demon Lord Atem?"
The reaction was immediate.
The space howled.
Rage poured outward like a storm.
"You dare," Zegion said, his voice cold with fury,
"to mistake me… for the great Demon Lord Atem-sama?"
The killing intent was suffocating.
Minits realized his error instantly.
"I am Zegion," the monster declared.
"One of the Elite Ten of Eterna's Labyrinth."
He descended slowly, eyes blazing.
"There is only one way you leave this place alive."
"Defeat me."
"Burn your lives. Struggle. Show me your worth."
There was no arrogance in his tone.
Only truth.
Minits tightened his grip.
"So be it."
He turned to the others.
"We fight with everything."
"Yes, sir."
"Understood."
"Of course."
the battle for survival began.
"…Is this real?"
Even I—Atem, Demon Lord of Eterna, King of Games—fell silent as the final images faded from the massive viewing crystal.
The labyrinth feeds had gone completely dark.
That silence meant only one thing.
Every Imperial general on every remaining floor was dead.
The war was over.
Yet the weight of what we had just witnessed pressed heavily on the chamber.
Beside me, Benimaru stared at the screen, jaw tight, fists clenched.
Finally, I spoke the truth plainly.
"That one… Zegion. He's stronger than you, isn't he?"
Benimaru's expression twisted, pride warring with reason.
"…There's a chance," he said reluctantly. "A small one."
He hesitated, then added quietly,
"But it's not zero."
I did not press him further.
Admitting such things required courage.
From behind us, a familiar amused voice echoed.
"Kufufufu… I've fought Zegion myself."
Diablo smiled, arms crossed, eyes gleaming.
"His combat instincts are monstrous. Insectoid superiors are natural predators of demons, and Zegion nullifies anything less than perfected magic. He's also Veldora-sama's disciple. Even I was almost defeated."
He waved a hand dismissively.
"Of course, it's not a loss unless I admit it's a loss."
No one laughed.
Because it wasn't funny.
Even Testarossa—who had challenged Zegion before—had never beaten him. The fact that the Three Demonesses could even fight him evenly was already abnormal.
That was the honest conclusion after seeing this battle.
Now—
It was time to review the match.
The outcome of the labyrinth war unfolded almost exactly as predicted.
The plan to lure the Empire inward succeeded flawlessly.
Kumara's vengeance was absolute.
Adalmann's and Apito's sides had suffered losses—but that was simply poor compatibility.
But there was one individual who had orchestrated everything.
Zegion.
He alone gathered the strongest survivors, healed them, and granted them time to recover.
Using Spatial Manipulation, he summoned only those he deemed worthy.
That was the terrifying part.
Zegion had been watching everything.
Meditating. Observing. Calculating.
He never interfered mid-battle.
Only after everything was decided did he move.
If he had failed, the other Elite Ten of Eterna would not have forgiven such arrogance.
Yet not a single one objected.
Because they all recognized the truth.
Zegion's strength justified everything.
Even Veldora had approved.
From Benimaru's and my perspective, a guaranteed victory would have been preferable. Healing the enemy and risking defeat was not efficient.
But in the end—
Only four enemies remained.
Complaining about that would have been beneath the dignity of a Demon Lord.
I allowed it.
Not out of indulgence—
But because I wanted to see it.
I wanted to witness Zegion's true limit.
The result was not a battle.
It was a slaughter.
The first to move was Bazin, the one who had slain the Death Dragon.
From the opening strike, he poured everything into a single blow—his sword cleaving the earth itself.
Zegion caught it.
With his left hand.
Not blocking—guiding.
The blade slid harmlessly aside, throwing Bazin off balance.
Zegion stepped in.
One step.
One punch.
His right fist—hardness equal to legendary-grade armor—crashed into Bazin's chest.
The armor shattered.
Bazin died.
Less than three seconds had passed.
The others froze.
That hesitation sealed their fate.
Reicha, the mage, didn't even scream.
Zegion split her in half instantly.
She died without pain.
Without fear.
Seeing this, Krishna, who had defeated Albert earlier, lost himself to rage.
"You bastard! Die! Monster!!"
Divine speed erupted.
Dimensional Slash—a technique that severed space itself. Without Spatial Domination, it was unavoidable. A true execution strike.
Against anyone else, it would have been decisive.
Against Zegion—
It was meaningless.
"Ridiculous."
Space warped.
A distortion field formed around Zegion.
I narrowed my eyes.
That was—
Absolute Defense.
The same principle as the broken defensive authority once manifested through my own power.
Zegion spoke calmly.
"Before this technique bestowed upon me by Atem-sama, all attacks are irrelevant."
I had never taught him that.
"…Solarys."
No answer was needed.
Solarys, Sovereign of Wisdom, had done it.
Zegion's Spatial Domination exceeded even that of a Unique Skill.
That was why he could fight Veldora head-on.
Krishna never stood a chance.
Then Minits acted.
"Krishna!" he shouted. "This thing is insane! I'll hold him—finish it with everything you have!"
Even as an enemy, I acknowledged Minits' resolve.
His Unique Skill—Oppressor—activated.
Gravity collapsed inward, compressing space itself.
Apito's sacrifice had not been in vain.
But—
It failed.
Zegion twisted space itself, redirecting gravity like a current.
That moment made something clear to me.
Zegion was no longer bound by conventional physical laws.
Then—
"Dimensional Ray."
Zegion casually opened his fingers.
Space tore apart.
Krishna attempted to counter with another dimensional cut.
He was sliced in half.
Minits tried to resist with interference waves.
It was futile.
Spatial severance could not be stopped by physical phenomena.
The expression on Minits' face—
Shock.
The shock of a man who had never lost.
He never even had time to acknowledge defeat.
Less than one minute.
That was all it took.
All challengers were dead.
I exhaled slowly.
Kumara had impressed me.
But Zegion—
Zegion was something else entirely.
He had already stepped beyond biological limits. A transcendent existence.
Stronger than a serious Hinata.
Apito—who rivaled Karion or Frey—would not last three minutes.
If Zegion fought seriously, it would not be a battle.
It would be execution.
And he was mine.
Hidden within Eterna.
A blade the world must never see.
That was fine.
Let him remain in the depths.
Yet one thought lingered.
If I continued leaving matters to Solarys, things could spiral far beyond control.
I would need answers.
Later.
For now—
The labyrinth war had ended.
And Eterna stood unchallenged.