Boreas could barely open his eyes, his mind still in a daze. Even with his eyes open, his mind was foggy as if he were still dreaming, and his mind was simply not working right.

“Mm…”

Was this the consequence of leaving the 10th Floor? With a heavy head and a weak body, Boreas barely managed to stand up.

“Anyone there?” His parched throat finally let out a coarse sound, but there was no reply to be heard. Frowning, he stood straight and took in a deep breath.

With it, his mind finally seemed to have cleared a bit and he muttered, “This feels terrible. I need to quickly finish up the job here and head back.”

As he rubbed his throat to soothe its pain, he suddenly froze. He finally realized how quiet the entire labyrinth was. Feeling a sense of dread that he hadn’t even experienced on the battlefield, he loudly called for his lieutenant, but to no avail.

Flap flap!

Instead of a reply, all he could hear was the flapping of wings.

“Gaaargh…”

Between the flaps, he could hear groans. His mind jumped awake. Realizing it too late, he finally picked up the piercing stench of blood as his face froze up.

It was as if Death itself had descended on the entire labyrinth, and a chill rose as if a cold hand were passing through his spine.

“Fuck…” With the true identity of the ominous feeling finally being revealed, Boreas started to reach out his hands to trace the source of it all.

But his hands only felt the coldness of the stone walls, and the two scimitars that were always...