San also laughed. His laughter was mixed with a scornful chuckle. The two leaned back against their seat’s backrest and looked up at the ceiling without saying another word.

The ceiling made of white ice was reflecting the flickering lights of the bonfire, making the interior seem soft and bright. It seemed like they had returned to the pit when they were first summoned into this world.

‘Ninth Stage… Seven skills…’

Biyeon closed her eyes. Another wall, another barrier. She had now become numb to the struggle. Her body was constantly begging her to give it some rest.

If they broke through a wall, they’d be confronted by another stronger and taller wall. It was a constant succession of walls. This world was like a giant onion. There were constant expectations for results…

“Have you heard of a person named Camus?” Biyeon asked. Her unfocused gaze was still directed towards the round, white ceiling.

“The novelist you talked about earlier?”

“In his novel ‘The Myth of Sisyphus’, he stated that there was only one question that mattered most in life.”

“What did he say?” 

“Suicide.” 

“Crazy bastard…”

“He said suicide is the true moment when one determines...