I didn’t sleep that night.
The dim glow of my screen flickered over the dark walls of my apartnt as I scrolled endlessly through the Astral Community. Threads. Rumors. Deleted posts. Dead links. Whispers.
All of them orbiting a single userna.
CrownThorns.
The so-called PK King.
I rembered the na. The dread. The screams. The blood.
He was one of the few who thrived in the lawless chaos of the early labyrinth floors. Not because he was strong—but because he was a monster in a place without rules. Where no eyes watched. Where no footage remained. Where killing another Challenger ca without consequence.
The posts didn’t say much. The Astral Community barely acknowledged him now. But I knew that was going to change.
Because it had already happened. In the tiline I left behind.
"CrownThorns doesn’t want loot. Doesn’t want EXP. He just wants to see the light leave your eyes."
That post stuck with .
And I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Because I rembered the light leaving Noel’s eyes.
He had survived the Fifth. The Seventh. The Tenth. But CrownThorns got to him eventually.
And I wasn’t there. But I’m here now.
And that bastard dies before he rises.
-
The blinds leaked faint sunlight into my room. Morning had co while I wasn’t looking.
A knock ca. Sharp. Rhythmic.
I stood because I knew that knock. And when I opened the door, Noel stood there in his combat jacket, sword slung over his back, an eager grin stretched across his face.
"You ready?" he asked, voice brimming with energy. "Ti to give the Fifth Floor hell, right?"
I gave a small nod and stepped back into my apartnt, grabbing my coat, and mask.
"Just like I said," I murmured. "We’re going in together."
Noel followed in for a mont, glancing around before letting out a short laugh.
"Man... this is kinda surreal," he said. "You and . Actually fighting together. First ti in this tiline."
’Yeah. In the last one, we barely had the chance. He fought alone more tis than he should’ve.Because I wasn’t there when it mattered. But this ti? Different story. Different ending.’
"You nervous?" I asked.
He snorted. "Pfft. Nah. I’ve got the Rift Reaper watching my back. That’s gotta count for sothing."
I glanced at him.
"I’m not here to carry you," I said.
He nodded. "I know. You’re here to make sure I survive."
’Smart.’
I looked down at my gloves, tightening the straps around my fingers. The tension in my gut hadn’t left. My mind was still on CrownThorns. Still on the mory of that bastard’s face.
Still on the way he smiled when he killed Noel.
-
We didn’t speak much on the way there.
Just the sound of boots hitting concrete. The distant hum of early traffic. Wind brushing the coastline.
The Toril Coastal Highway glead under the morning sun, but our path took us off the paved road—down the jagged trail that led to the Rift’s edge.
And there it was.
The Crimson Rift.
A yawning wound in reality, stretching from earth to sky—bleeding a faint red mist that pulsed like a heartbeat. Tendrils of darkness coiled outward from its center, whispering promises of power and death.
A few early Challengers stood nearby, gathering courage. So sat in silence. Others prayed.
We walked past them.
When we reached the designated platform, I turned to Noel.
"Last chance to back out."
He scoffed. "Hell no."
His knuckles popped as he flexed his hands. I noticed the tension in his shoulders—but also the grin on his face. He was nervous, sure. But excited.
And maybe a little too trusting.
I took one last look at the Rift before us.
[ You are entering the Crimson Rift – Fifth Floor ]
[ Syncing Clearance Record... ]
[ Floor Previously Cleared – Co-op Enabled ]
My vision twisted.
My breath caught in my throat.
The familiar sense of falling—not through space, but through reality—gripped my body. For a split second, the world beca blood and noise.
Then silence.
And mist.
-
Stone cracked beneath our boots as the world slamd back into place around us, cruel and imdiate.
His breath hitched beside . "What the hell is this...?"
We stood in the middle of a cathedral — or what was left of one.
A massive arena, fashioned from bone and rusted gold, stretched out beneath a broken sky. Towers leaned like drunk giants. Pews lay scattered like debris after an explosion. Every arch was bent, split, or collapsed entirely, hanging precariously above us like they might fall with a whisper.
The light that filtered in wasn’t sunlight. It was sothing older. Sicker. Drenched in the hues of faded stained glass that floated midair — fragnts of saints and sinners spinning silently, suspended above the floor like mories that refused to fall.
Above it all lood a collapsed altar, with thrones of ribcage and twisted tal, half-buried in dust and shadow.
And on the floor...
The shadows moved.
Not as tricks of the eye — no, they dragged against the stone like they were tethered to sothing beneath. Behind our feet, they slithered just a breath too slow, like they weren’t ours. Like they were pretending to be.
Noel turned slowly, his voice small. "It’s like... it’s like sothing holy died here."
"It did," I replied.
[You have entered the 5th Floor of the Labyrinth.]
[ Quest Type: Extermination ]
[ Requirent: 1 or more Participants]
[ Objective: Eliminate the Boss - The Lich of the Fifth Vein ]
[You cannot exit this floor until the objective is complete.]
-
This was it. The domain of the Lich of the Fifth Vein.
Noel let out a shaky breath beside .
"...This is insane," he muttered.
I didn’t answer. Because the air was already changing.
A hum started deep beneath the stone, a low vibration that scratched at the soul. Dust floated upward around us, as if gravity had begun to fray. And then — from the hollow altar at the far end of the cathedral — sothing stirred.
A skeletal hand, long and regal, pushed free from beneath layers of tattered voidsilk.
Then, the Lich rose.
Slow. Deliberate. Effortless.
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