After congratulating both Adalmann and Albert, and finalizing the floor exchange, I prepared to dismiss them. The matter was settled—until a calm yet resonant voice cut through the air.
"This seems like an appropriate moment to interrupt, Atem-sama. I have a report," Diablo announced, stepping forward with a respectful bow.
I turned slightly, giving him my attention. "Speak."
"My servant, Razen, has contacted me via Magic Communication. He claims an urgent matter requiring your presence. An old mentor of his seeks an audience. He calls himself… Gadra."
Gadra. A name that held no meaning for me—yet.
Solarys, Sovereign of Wisdom—evaluate.
«Report. There is a high probability this individual is the author of multiple ancient grimoires and one of the most formidable mages of antiquity.»
Interesting. A scholar of legendary caliber. If Razen was famed as an archmage, then this Gadra would be a cut above even that.
Still, unexpected meetings on the eve of conflict with the Eastern Empire were not things to entertain lightly.
Shion immediately shook her head. "Atem-sama, it's too suspicious. We cannot allow any unknown mage near you during wartime."
"Indeed," Diablo added smoothly. "You need not tolerate the whims of Razen… or myself. Rejecting this audience would be both rational and efficient."
Of course that was Diablo's angle—avoid unnecessary hassle. But their caution was justified. They were my shadows, my shields. It was their duty to oppose any risk to my safety.
I was about to dismiss Gadra's request when I caught something strange:
Adalmann, fidgeting anxiously at the edge of my vision.
The undead bishop practically quivered.
I paused.
Before I could speak, he blurted out, "Atem-sama! Please—do not mind us. It's just… about this person named Gadra…"
I narrowed my gaze slightly. "What of him?"
"He… may be someone I once knew."
That stopped even Diablo.
I didn't accuse him, but the anxiety rolling off him was palpable. If he had sweat glands, he would've been drenched.
"Explain," I commanded.
Adalmann swallowed—somehow—then spoke with measured urgency.
"Atem-sama… Gadra and I were friends over a thousand years ago. I believed him long dead. But if he truly still lives… then it must be due to a secret art he developed. He was a master of mystic techniques beyond anything the world had seen."
A thousand-year-old friendship. So this was no trivial coincidence.
"And," Adalmann continued, "he was the one who used the mystic art Reincarnation to save my life. Razen… the one Diablo mentioned… he was one of Gadra's earliest disciples."
The more Adalmann revealed, the clearer the truth became.
The man requesting an audience wasn't merely an archmage.
He was the archmage—the progenitor of the Empire's modern magic theory.
A figure whose ancient influence still shaped eras.
I leaned back slightly, contemplating.
If Gadra came now, there were only two possibilities:
He wished to warn me.
He wished to challenge me.
Either way, I—Atem, King of Eterna—would meet him head-on.
"Diablo."
He bowed deeply. "I will arrange the meeting immediately. Preparations will be flawless."
Of course they would be. One word was enough. Diablo always understood.
Shion said nothing further—the hopeless secretary had no objections.
And so the matter was decided.
I would meet Gadra.
Another shadow from the ancient world had
stepped forward.
And I would judge what purpose he carried.
For the first time, Shinji and his gang experienced what could only be described as resurrection.
Their bodies were torn apart by the guardians of the 60th Floor, only to be restored moments later in the Resurrection Chamber.
The moment they returned, they were bombarded by reactions from the spectators—boos from gamblers who lost their bets, cheers from those impressed by the spectacle, and pity from the ones who thought they stood a chance.
All battles within Atem's Labyrinth of Eterna were broadcasted exclusively across the city.
Shinji's group quickly became a sensation. They could have refused to be filmed—Atem made broadcasting optional—but Shinji permitted it for two simple yet strategic reasons:
They received a cut of the profits.
Fame meant safety. Assassinating a well-known figure inside Atem's domain was practically suicide.
Besides, only boss battles were broadcasted. They wouldn't be under constant surveillance, so the money and safety far outweighed the risks.
But right now?
Those benefits meant nothing.
They had died horribly.
"That was rough… You guys looked dead the moment the boss stood up," a spectator yelled.
"No way! That sword knight—what was he? A Unique-class monster? And that skeleton on the throne… was that really a wight king!?"
"And the dragon next to it… did it actually breathe?? If that thing moved, humanity would go extinct!"
Questions were thrown at them from all directions.
The trio forced awkward smiles, bowed, and escaped the crowd before collapsing onto their beds in their rented room.
"…So? What do we do now?" Mark groaned.
"There's nothing we can do. Give me five minutes to breathe…" Shinji muttered as he stared at the ceiling.
The three sat up, exhausted beyond belief.
They had challenged the 60th floor thinking they could handle it.
They were wrong.
Completely, utterly wrong.
"Compared to that floor, the previous fifty-nine were a joke…" Xin said, rubbing his temples.
"The death lord… that thing moved like it was commanding a battalion," Mark muttered. "And those death knights around it… that's not a dungeon floor, that's a military execution."
Shinji exhaled slowly. He looked shaken—something rare for him.
"Beyond bad," Shinji muttered. "And after we barely scraped past that commander squad… We still had the boss room."
A short silence filled the room.
A silence of trauma.
"…We died in seconds."
They didn't need to describe how. They all remembered.
Albert, the Sword Knight.
A Unique-grade death swordsman who moved faster than a blink.
The Wight King on the throne.
An ancient monarch of the dead whose aura alone choked them.
And the dragon…
The death dragon that watched them without moving, yet radiated a pressure that crushed their lungs.
Xin shuddered.
"I think those three are the real secret bosses of the floor."
Shinji nodded.
"Yeah. And that wight king… seeing him in person is nothing like seeing his appraisal window on a screen. His mere presence felt like drowning in ice water."
"Imagine meeting him randomly in the labyrinth. Instant death," Mark said.
"I don't want to challenge it again," Xin admitted bluntly.
The three of them sat in silence again.
"…And the gozū monster. That thing was easily A-Rank," Shinji continued. "But compared to the Unique-grade knight? Compared to the wight king? Compared to that dragon?"
"That floor's broken. Only the first fifty were balanced. Everything after that is… intentional," Mark said with a hollow laugh.
"Which means," Shinji concluded, "there must be something hidden deeper inside this labyrinth."
He spoke the words with complete certainty.
Mark nodded slowly.
"That knight—Albert—his equipment wasn't normal. I analyzed him while you were fighting. All his gear was Unique-grade."
"No wonder my Minos Bardiche did nothing… I thought I could overpower any equipment with raw strength," Mark muttered.
"Yeah, well, this isn't a game," Xin sighed.
Their confidence evaporated. Reality hit hard.
They brewed tea and sat down, finally calm enough to think rationally.
"…Should we go again tomorrow?" Shinji asked hesitantly.
Mark stared at him as if he had lost his mind.
"Are you serious?!"
"It's impossible," Xin said flatly. "We'd die again."
Shinji shrugged. "Yeah… I figured."
Mark tapped his chin. "Atem's Hero—Masayuki—he got pretty far, didn't he?"
"He hasn't died even once, apparently," Shinji replied. "But he hasn't tackled the 60th floor yet."
"And the others?"
"Strongest groups are stuck around the 50th floor. They didn't sign the broadcast contract, so the highest public record is still Masayuki clearing the 50th floor."
They all nodded.
The cameras only appeared on floors divisible by ten.
Boss rooms were always filmed.
The rest was luck-based filming, depending on whether news crews were around.
Since Shinji's group challenged the 60th floor live, they became instant icons.
People even gambled on their performance.
"You know," Shinji said slowly, "I think Masayuki got insider info. Like, he probably knows those secret bosses are on the 60th floor."
"Then that explains why he didn't rush in," Mark added. "Two overpowered monsters and a dragon? Anyone would think twice."
"…This labyrinth is insane," Xin concluded.
"Yeah. But that only proves there is something beyond the 60th."
The three relaxed at last, the immediate panic fading.
"So… what now?"
"We can't keep spying if the whole city is watching us," Mark said.
"That's fine," Shinji replied. "Being famous here is safer."
"…We've technically done nothing but explore," Xin added.
"Then let's wait for Gadra-sama," Mark suggested. "We can't beat the dungeon alone. Maybe some training?"
Shinji gave a tired but determined smile.
"First, let's send a full report. Let Gadra-sama know this:
There is definitely something beyond that floor. The guardians are too strong."
Mark raised a finger.
"Also mention that the labyrinth is impossibly huge. My appraisal said the spatial depth is unnatural. There's no way this was man-made."
"Right… and don't forget that the monsters were too strong. Far beyond anything we've faced," Xin added.
Shinji nodded firmly.
"Got it. Then after sending the report… we rest. Maybe sightsee."
The matter decided, the trio grabbed their cloaks and stepped out into the lively night streets of Eterna…