The Sorcerous Dynasty of Sarion possessed its own teleportation network, a system reserved strictly for individuals of importance—high-ranking officials, trusted nobles, and those whose presence alone justified bending the usual rules. Under normal circumstances, even access to such a network required layers of approval and careful consideration.
However, the moment it became known that the one requesting its use was the so-called Great Hero Felix, as vouched for by House Ilirn, the hesitation vanished almost entirely. Titles carried weight in Sarion, and the word of a respected house carried even more. Between the two, there was little reason left to deny him.
Thus, what would have been an arduous journey from the northern reaches of the empire to its far southern edge—weeks of travel across cities, forests, and uneven terrain—was reduced to a single, seamless transition.
One moment, he stood beneath the refined arches of Sarion's northern teleportation hall, its polished floors reflecting soft magical light. The next, he emerged in the south, the air subtly warmer, the architecture shifting ever so slightly in style, signaling his passage across an entire stretch of empire in an instant.
A journey that would have taken three to five weeks—depending on how much he relied on flight and how much he traveled by road—had been reduced to a single day.
Or perhaps eleven.
After all, he had spent ten days at the Ilirn estate, and those days had passed far more quickly than he had expected.
Lia had accompanied him for most of the journey, insisting on guiding him at least as far as the last Sarion city bordering Ulgracia. She had framed it as a matter of convenience and responsibility, but Felix had long since realized she simply wished to see him off properly.
The southern city itself was quieter than Sarion's capital, though no less refined. Pale stone buildings lined the streets, their designs elegant yet understated, and the ever-present hum of magic lingered faintly in the air, woven so naturally into daily life that it almost went unnoticed.
It was there, just before his departure, that Lia stopped him.
"Sir Felix, while it has only been a few days, and it may sound too soon…" she began, her voice steady, though there was a faint hesitation beneath it. Her fingers curled slightly at her side before she extended her hand. "…But would you allow me to be your friend?"
She did not say anything more than that.
She did not need to.
For elves, such a request was not made lightly. Time, to them, was vast and unhurried. Bonds were not formed in days, nor in weeks. Even months could pass before something was acknowledged as a true friendship. And yet, despite knowing that, she asked anyway.
Felix didn't hesitate.
"Of course. Is that something you need to ask? I was already considering you as my friend."
For a brief moment, her expression softened—not dramatically, not enough for most to notice—but just enough to betray a quiet sense of relief.
She lowered her hand slowly, offering a small nod instead of words, as though choosing not to linger on the moment any longer than necessary.
Their parting was simple after that.
No grand farewell. No drawn-out exchange.
And yet, as Felix left the city behind, there was a faint weight to it.
He had genuinely enjoyed her company—her laid-back nature, the way she viewed the world without the rigid expectations he had come to associate with nobility, and the ease with which she moved through both conversation and silence.
Still, it wasn't as heavy as leaving Mjurran behind in Tempest.
That had been different.
---
By the next day, Felix had already crossed into Ulgracia.
The change was immediate.
Where Sarion had felt refined and almost dreamlike in its composure, Ulgracia was grounded—busier, louder, filled with movement and purpose. The roads were more worn, the crowds denser, and the air carried the mixed scents of trade, travel, and daily life.
It felt… alive in a different way.
His destination was clear.
The Adventurer's Guild.
The building stood prominently within the city, constructed more for function than beauty. Inside, the atmosphere was a constant blend of noise and motion—voices overlapping, chairs scraping, equipment clinking against wood and metal. Adventurers came and went in a steady stream, some returning from quests, others preparing to leave.
Felix approached the counter and presented the letter Yuuki had given him.
That alone shifted the tone of the interaction.
He was guided through a series of conversations—brief introductions, quiet exchanges, a few curious glances—before finally reaching someone who could provide the information he needed.
Raphtalia had entered the Labyrinth.
Four days ago.
And she had not come out since.
There was already tension surrounding the situation. Some nobles had proposed sending forces into the Labyrinth, unwilling to wait any longer. However, the Adventurer's Guild had delayed such actions, citing both procedure and the inherent dangers of interfering with the Labyrinth without proper preparation.
Felix listened, taking in the information without interruption.
Afterward, he handed over the letter from the Ilirn family, requesting that it be delivered to the king as they had asked of him. With that obligation fulfilled, he saw little reason to remain.
His destination lay elsewhere.
---
The Labyrinth of Ramiris.
It was not close.
In fact, it felt deliberately distant from everything else.
The further Felix traveled, the more the signs of civilization faded. Roads narrowed, then broke apart entirely, giving way to uneven terrain scattered with jagged stone and patches of unstable ground. The path that remained was little more than a suggestion, winding through slopes that grew steeper and more treacherous the further one went.
For most, it would have been a slow and exhausting journey.
Felix simply took to the air.
From above, the land stretched out in harsh, uneven patterns, broken occasionally by clusters of trees or shallow dips in the earth. And there, standing apart from it all, was the Labyrinth.
It did not tower.
It did not dominate the landscape.
And yet, it felt… present.
As though the space around it acknowledged its existence.
Descending toward its entrance, Felix landed lightly, his gaze settling on the structure before him.
There was no grand gate. No elaborate design meant to intimidate or impress.
Just an entrance.
Simple.
Quiet.
And somehow, more unsettling because of it.
Entering the gate to the Labyrinth, Felix felt the shift immediately.
It was not something visible at first—no sudden flash of light or violent distortion—but rather a subtle, creeping sensation. The air grew heavier, not in weight but in presence, as though the space itself had become aware of him the moment he stepped inside.
The world outside felt… distant.
Behind him, the entrance no longer carried the same sense of connection. It was still there, physically unchanged, yet it already felt like something separated—like a boundary had been crossed that could not simply be undone by turning around.
Ahead of him stretched a long corridor.
The walls were made of smooth stone, unnaturally uniform, each surface polished without marks of erosion or age. There were no torches, no visible source of light, and yet the corridor was illuminated in a soft, even glow that cast no shadows.
No sound echoed.
Even his own footsteps seemed… muted.
Felix took a few steps forward, his gaze moving along the corridor as his thoughts began to drift.
The Golem of Ramiris… or maybe the Demon?
He couldn't be certain.
If this timeline had remained consistent, then there should have been something guarding the Labyrinth—something tied to Ramiris directly. But with everything that had already diverged, with things like the Shadow King existing where they shouldn't, there was no telling how much had changed.
Did Rimuru already give her the Demon?
Or was that event still somewhere ahead?
His thoughts circled around the uncertainty, trying to piece together a timeline that no longer fit neatly into place.
And then—
The Voice of the World interrupted.
Felix stopped mid-step.
The corridor felt different now.
Or perhaps it always had been, and he was only noticing it now.
Before he could fully process what had just happened—
The space in front of him shifted.
Not violently.
Not suddenly.
But like a layer of reality being peeled back.
And then—
She was there.
There was no sense of arrival.
No moment where she "appeared."
She simply existed.
Golden hair flowed down her back, strands moving as though touched by a wind that did not exist within the corridor. Her wings stretched outward, vast and radiant, yet without overwhelming the space. The fabric of her dress shifted in layered shades of green, deepening as it fell, while faint glimmers of gold traced along her wrists, the bracelets moving with a quiet, deliberate rhythm.
Her presence filled the corridor.
Not with force.
But with certainty.
Like something fundamental had entered the space—something that did not need to assert dominance because it simply was.
Her eyes settled on him.
Golden.
Unblinking.
And far too aware.
"Who are you?"
Her voice was calm, yet carried a depth that did not belong to ordinary speech.
"You do not belong to this world."
A pause.
Not for effect, but for observation.
"You are not the creation of Veldanava."
Felix's mind blanked for a moment.
The words themselves were not shouted, nor did they carry hostility—but the certainty behind them left no room for denial.
How could she know…?
The thought surfaced instinctively—
And just as quickly, the answer followed.
The system had never promised concealment.
It had never said that he would remain hidden from beings like this.
Ramiris did not wait for his response.
Her gaze deepened.
It felt as though something intangible had reached into him—not physically, not even magically in the conventional sense, but something far more direct. As though she was looking past the surface, past the layers of identity, into the core of what he was.
For a brief moment, Felix felt exposed.
Stripped.
Like every secret, every fragment of his existence had been laid bare before her—
And yet…
Not entirely.
There were gaps.
Blind spots.
Places her gaze did not reach.
The system.
The essence.
Those remained untouched.