“Ugh….”
As Lumel let out a groan, Aslan, who had been walking beside him, turned to look at Lumel with concern.
The emotion underlying that concern was simple. Mostly, it was awkwardness.
When Aslan looked at him sheepishly, Lumel managed a weak smile upon meeting Aslan’s gaze.
“Are you okay?”
Aslan asked. The woman tried to smile and answer that she was fine but flinched as a faint pain shot through her lower back.
A groan escaped her lips, and she tightly shut her mouth. After hesitatingly glancing at Aslan, she shook her head.
“No, actually, I’m not fine.”
It was only natural, so Aslan responded without moving a muscle, his smile turning wry.
“I’m sorry. I guess I was too rough.”
The woman’s backache and soreness in her legs weren’t injuries from battle.
Rather, one might say they were closer to the kind of pain derived from the pursuit of pleasure.
There was no glory in these wounds, yet Lumel hardly paid attention to the pain itself.
“Maybe….”
“No, no!”
An immediate denial before the sentence even finished.
Confused, Aslan looked at him, and Lumel, realizing he’d unconsciously grabbed Aslan’s hand, glanced down at it and stammered.
“N-no, I actually… enjoyed it. I felt loved by Aslan… it felt good… It was probably the happiest moment of my life in the last ten years.”
Still stammering and hesitating, though, he didn’t let go of the hand. Aslan, with their hands still clasped, stared, and Lumel looked back at Aslan with an almost feverish intensity.
“It’s just that I’m not used to it and am weak against such things. That’s all. So…”
Lumel trailing off, Aslan could guess the hidden intention behind the vague words.
Lumel was likely worried that Aslan would say they shouldn’t do it again.
Reading this emotion, Aslan hesitated.
Aslan didn’t have many options in this situation.
Once it happened, it couldn’t simply be considered over.
Yet suggesting it continue indefinitely wasn’t an option either.
On the one hand, saying it’s over after just once seemed heartless.
It made it feel like using someone and then discarding them, didn’t it?
But on the other hand, suggesting it continue seemed overly indulgent in desire, which made Aslan uncomfortable.
While lost in such thoughts, Aslan frowned, and Lumel looked at him pitifully.
Realizing this was a time to take initiative, the woman spoke.
“Could we… do it again next time?”
Not confirmation of the relationship, but confirmation of the act.
Because of this, Aslan couldn’t easily refuse or accept, and Lumel, reading Aslan’s thoughts, preemptively acted.
A spear is a long weapon; its wielder naturally gauges distance well, strikes quickly, and retreats.
Lumel thought now was the time to strike deep.
“Aslan, did you not enjoy it? I… while sharing my body with Aslan, I was incredibly happy. Too precious to pass off as just a one-time thing.”
Lumel struck deep and embraced.
Aslan, receiving the embrace and feeling the vivid touch of the firm breasts, hesitated for a moment before responding.
“I enjoyed it too. But… I wonder if I even have the decency to do so.”
“Don’t say that.”
Lumel shaking his head firmly with a resolute face. When Aslan closed her mouth, Lumel continued.
“I like Aslan, and Aslan likes me. That fact alone is enough. Even if I’m not your favorite person right now, isn’t that enough for now?”
Was it really enough?
It was an ambiguous question, but since Lumel, the party involved, said so, Aslan had nothing to reply.
“Where’s the decency between people who like each other? I just want to keep doing this with Aslan in the future.”
Recalling the act from last night, Aslan wondered if this was really okay, and Lumel, sensing this, pulled away slightly and gripped Aslan’s hand tightly.
“I’ll work hard to become someone you’ll love the most and cherish.”
“…Alright, let’s do it again next time.”
Aslan’s troubled expression.
Lumel had pushed for an answer from Aslan and ended up smiling faintly.
“Next time, I’ll try to make sure Aslan enjoys it too.”
Though the words themselves were ordinary, considering the content, it was practically dirty talk. Aslan glanced around cautiously, ensuring no one was nearby, and realized the long corridor was empty.
Moreover, the corridor beyond the corner leading to the banquet hall was also quiet.
Too silent and serene. Aslan, noticing the oppressive silence, wore a puzzled expression.
“There’s something strange here.”
“Huh? Umm, isn’t that strange? I think it’s better if Aslan enjoys it too.”
“No, not that. Listen to the sounds.”
Only then did Lumel snap out of his daydream-like state, blinking and focusing his ears.
And just like that, he tilted his head in confusion, sensing the abnormality in the excessive silence.
Indeed, as Aslan had said, something was off.
“It’s… too quiet.”
The labyrinth was eerily silent, as if the banquet itself had ended.
The silence made it feel like there wasn’t a single person around. With that realization, Aslan and Lumel headed straight toward the banquet hall.
Their hurried footsteps echoed through the eerily quiet corridor until they reached the banquet hall, which was equally desolate.
A banquet hall so desolate it seemed spotlessly clean. There were almost no servants attending, and not a single specter was present.
Considering the time Aslan and Lumel spent together, entwined and exhausted, they had been absent for merely a day and a half.
Far too short a time for the banquet to end.
Especially when considering Omul’s objectives, it was even more peculiar.
Fortunately, it wasn’t completely devoid of people.
“Hey.”
Aslan stopped a passing servant, addressing them with a voice tinged with emptiness and arrogant authority.
“Eep, y-yes! Y-yes!”
The servant reacted excessively, shoulders hunched as if expecting Aslan to rip off their head at any moment.
A natural reaction if they mistook Aslan for a specter. Unbothered, Aslan asked.
“Where are the others?”
“The others have gone… down below.”
Down below. At the mention of this, Aslan reflexively turned her head toward the staircase where Omul had first walked up.
The staircase leading into the labyrinth’s interior. By the time Aslan turned back, the servant had already disappeared.
Thus, the only option left for Aslan was one.
A glance at the underground. The staircase leading deep into the labyrinth.
Aslan, accompanied by Lumel, descended the stairs, pondering what was happening beneath this labyrinth.
“This is the labyrinth…”
Lumel, halfway down the stairs, initially showed excitement at the unfamiliar labyrinth but gradually grew serious as they went deeper.
Aslan’s expression had already soured upon descending.
The reason was simple.
From within the labyrinth, as they descended, they could increasingly feel the dense mana and divine power emanating from deeper inside.
Judging by that divine power and mana, it was evident the number of priests had significantly increased.
Even though barely a day and a half had passed.
Perhaps swift action and planning were necessary. While contemplating this, Aslan calmly descended the stairs, carefully observing the surroundings.
In the middle of descending the stairs…
Clang!
From afar, a faint metallic sound rang out.
The sound of metal clashing against metal.
Beyond that, there were sounds of flesh being torn and screams echoing.
At the source of those sounds was a passage branching off midway down the stairs.
The mana and divine power were flowing out from that passage.
Aslan and Lumel exchanged glances and entered the passage, facing a coliseum.
A typical Colosseum-style arena.
Its massive size was hard to believe it was built underground.
Impossible to construct in a mere day and a half, it must have been built before the banquet began.
This realization startled Aslan.
Lumel, too, looked perplexed at the arena.
To their knowledge, there was no arena in the labyrinth.
Recalling this fact as they approached, they noticed the arena was alive with the clang of metal.
Clang, clash, zing!
The sound of metal striking something solid, sliding off, and rebounding.
Upon entering the arena, the scene became clearer.
At the center of the arena, amidst the finely spread sand, a man was fighting, wielding a sword and shield.
At first, Aslan thought he might be a specter, but soon realized he was human.
His movements were clumsy. His experience limited.
He seemed to have some combat experience but was far from a legendary hero.
Just a decent fighter.
This man was battling a troll.
Dodging the troll’s swinging fists, panting heavily, bleeding, he somehow managed to stab or slash the troll with his sword.
The fight was brutal.
Despite his injuries, the man kept standing up to fight, eventually managing to bring the troll down.
With the troll fallen, the man collapsed onto the ground, looking utterly devastated.
As Aslan watched in horror, Lumel nudged her side.
“Aslan.”
At the subtle touch, Aslan turned her head, and Lumel nodded toward the uppermost seats of the arena.
The best vantage point in the entire arena, overlooking everything from its highest position.
There sat Omul.
Seeing Omul, Aslan finally recalled a piece of information.
The Dark City associated with Omul, the Sludge Pit.
The most famous feature of that city was its arena.
An arena rumored to have existed since before the Ancient Empire.
Aslan had seen this arena in a game before and was certain.
This Colosseum followed the same style as that arena.
Judging from this, it was likely Omul who had created the arena.
There must be a purpose beyond mere entertainment or amusement.
As Aslan approached to inquire about the purpose, Omul smiled satisfactorily, watching the arena as if showing off.
“Took you long enough to get here?”
Aslan didn’t respond directly but instead let Lumel quickly ask.
“What are you doing here?”
The cold tone of the question prompted Omul to spread his arms wide.
“You don’t see it?”
A grandiose gesture. Following the gesture, Omul explained.
“It’s an arena, of course. A place where life and death collide, leaving only the sharper and superior ones standing—a form of art.”
Omul proudly turned his head towards the arena and concluded.
“The most ostentatious and greedy form of art.”
Pure praise.
Self-indulgent praise.
At Omul’s excited tone, Aslan wore a bewildered expression, and Lumel dismissed it herself.
“We can see that much. What I’m asking is, why did you set up an arena here?”
Omul looked at Lumel at this question.
The slightly bent posture of Lumel, the hint of pain causing him to shrink his shoulders.
Signs that wouldn’t be noticeable without knowing the context, but Omul nodded slightly before answering.
“You’ll understand when you see. Just in time, too.”
Omul gestured with his chin, and Aslan and Lumel looked toward the arena.
They saw a different sight.
Before the man who had barely defeated the monster, a specter had descended.
From a distance, it was unclear, but the man bowed deeply to the specter.
Dropping his weapon and bowing his head, the specter, expressionless, drew the mace from behind.
A massive mace meant for two-handed use. Drawing it and gripping it tightly, the specter raised it high.
What would happen was obvious. It was as clear as watching something fall.
The moment Aslan flinched.
Crack!
A loud cracking sound resonated clearly even from afar.
The result of the crack was visible even before the sound reached them.
The man’s head shattered.
The shattered head flew apart, the mace dripped with blood, and the man fell.
At this, Omul chuckled.
“Explain yourself.”
Lumel, too, voiced her displeasure, lowering her tone, and Omul responded joyfully to their natural reactions.
“It’s not over yet, so remain silent and watch. You’ll miss a great spectacle.”
And true to his word, a ‘great spectacle’ appeared.
The body of the specter who had crushed the man’s head began to mutate.
Gradually transforming, the body took on an inhuman form.
Like that of a bipedal insect.
Aslan knew the name for such beings.
“Male warrior…”
At Lumel’s murmured words, Omul watched with a look of ecstasy as the specter accepted the transformation of his body.
The specter, devoid of any trace of humanity, grinned happily, and Aslan, shocked by the rapid process of becoming a priest compared to what he had seen before, looked around.
Only then did Aslan realize that not only this but many of the specters seated among the audience had already become priests.
Whether aware of Aslan’s gaze or not, Omul spoke.
Casually, cheerfully.
“This arena is a sort of testing ground. The evil deities wish to personally observe and select their priests, and the specters, our fellow countrymen, showcase their abilities to be chosen.”
The monsters and humans used in this process.
Aslan recalled the mountain path that had been eerily empty during their journey here.
It wasn’t just that there were few people.
They had been taken here.
“If you wait your turn, it will come to you. Please, be patient and wait.”
At Omul’s words, Aslan twitched the corners of her eyes and looked at the corpse whose head had been shattered.
Crack.
The familiar metallic sound rang out as Dragon King clenched his fist in anguish.
