"Make sure you’re careful when entering the Labyrinth solo," I warned, my tone darker now, more deliberate. "I have a strong feeling... the PK King is already on the move."
"PK King?" he echoed, sitting up straighter. "What the hell is that? And who?"
I glanced toward the window for a mont, as if expecting the fog of the Rift to creep through at any second. Then I turned back to him.
"PK stands for Player Killer," I said flatly. "There’s soone out there—soone I know—who isn’t interested in clearing the Rift. Not really. He hunts other Challengers. For fun. For sport."
Noel went still, the casual air between us evaporating instantly.
"Inside the Labyrinth," I continued, "there are no caras, no system broadcasts, no audience. It’s the one place where killing another Challenger leaves no trace. No proof. No justice. Just death and silence."
He swallowed hard, gears clearly turning. "So... he’s been killing people inside?"
"Not just people," I muttered. "Talents. Prodigies. Anyone who looks like they might shine. I haven’t confird it yet, but the signs are there. Too many vanishings. Too many parties wiped with no boss trigger."
Noel’s hands clenched at his sides. "You know who he is?"
I nodded slowly. "In the past... he went by many nas. But in the Rift, he was feared as the PK King. A monster in human skin. And if he’s already started his rampage again in this tiline, it ans we’re all running out of ti."
Silence settled between us for a long second before I added, "So don’t go in alone unless you have to. And if you do... don’t let your guard down for a second."
Noel nodded slowly, the weight of it settling over him.
"Got it. I’ll keep my blade close."
-
Noel looked at with a mix of curiosity and unease.
"If it ca down to it," he asked, his voice quieter now, "you and him—back then, if you two fought... who would’ve won?"
I didn’t answer right away. My eyes dropped to the floor, thoughts clawing back to those bloody monts I’d tried to forget—the countless battles, the twisted grins, the screams in the dark halls of the higher floors. mories of a predator who thrived in chaos.
After a long pause, I finally replied, my voice low and even.
"," I said. "But it wouldn’t have been easy."
Noel raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
I gave a slow nod, gaze sharpening. "I was stronger. I had more tools. More clarity. But he wasn’t alone. He had a guild. A brutal, loyal one—fighters who thrived on bloodshed just like he did. He wasn’t the kind of threat you dealt with head-on. He was the kind you prepared for like a natural disaster. When he moved, people disappeared."
Noel leaned back, exhaling. "Damn..."
"Yeah," I murmured. "Even with everything I had... it wouldn’t have been a clean fight. But this ti, it’s different. I’m not just strong—I’m prepared. And I’ve already seen how the story ends."
Noel narrowed his eyes slightly, leaning forward with elbows on his knees. "So... that ans you know his na, right?"
I shook my head slowly.
"No," I said. "I don’t know his na."
His brow furrowed. "Then how are you so sure it’s him?"
I looked at him, my voice firm.
"Because I saw his face," I said. "Up close."
Noel didn’t respond at first. He just watched , probably trying to imagine what it would take for ——to end up close enough to see the face of the most notorious killer in the Labyrinth and live to rember it.
My gaze drifted to the faint scratches on the coffee table, fingers tightening slightly.
"I rember the eyes," I added, quieter. "Empty, like he wasn’t killing to win. Just killing... because it was fun."
Noel leaned back, his expression hardening. "And now he’s back. In this tiline."
I nodded once.
"That’s why I need you to be careful. If you see anything—any signs of solo challengers going dark, people disappearing off-trace mid-run—let know. We stop this before it starts."
Noel gave a grim chuckle. "Right. Keep eyes open, trust no one. Got it."
"Good," I said, voice like steel. "This ti, we don’t let monsters walk free."
-
After all the heavy talk — tilines, deaths, killers in the dark — the silence that followed felt thick. Too much weight for a single evening.
I glanced at Noel, who sat there with a thousand-yard stare, still clearly digesting everything I’d said. His hand drumd lightly on his thigh, a nervous habit he’d had since we were kids.
I sighed and stood up, stretching out the tension in my back.
"Alright. Enough of this doomsday crap," I said with a faint smirk. "Let’s eat."
Noel blinked, then looked up. "Yeah? What’re we getting?"
I didn’t even have to think about it. "The usual. Pizza and Coke."
He grinned imdiately. "Like the old days."
"Exactly."
I grabbed my phone and placed the order — large pepperoni, half extra cheese like Noel liked it, and two cold bottles of Coke. Nothing fancy. Just sothing that reminded us we were still human, still grounded. Sothing that brought us back before the Rift tore the world open.
When the knock ca twenty minutes later, we both moved without saying a word — a practiced rhythm born from years of knowing each other.
The pizza box hit the table with a familiar, greasy thud. The scent alone washed away the tension in the room. Coke bottles hissed as we twisted the caps off and clinked them together in a quiet, unspoken toast.
"To surviving," I muttered.
"To surviving," Noel echoed, taking a long drink.
We sat on the floor like we always used to, backs against the couch, the Rift and its horrors montarily forgotten as we tore into hot slices of pizza, talking less about death and more about things that didn’t matter.
For that one small window of ti, we were just two old friends sharing a al — not Vassals, not survivors, not tacticians in a ga of gods and monsters.
Just us.
And it was enough.
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