They were cautious, more than ever.
Clymman, who had been confidently leading the Cohort at a quick pace, now moved far slower, making sure to carefully check their surroundings with every step he took.
Despite how careful he had become, there were still slips in his analysis. At times, he himself triggered traps that almost cost him his life.
If not for Bentley, who stepped in with his battle axe, blocking the crude spears and darts that shot toward him, he would have been dead.
Every time this happened, Clymman would be visibly shaken, refusing to move forward for a short while as he steadied his nerves.
'The average lives of each of the Snake Group should be five to ten, all but Bentley who should possess a total of fifteen lives. Their tension is justified,' Oliver thought, walking slowly and quite confidently at the back of the group.
Oliver was not interested in being scared or cautious about the traps in this section of the Ruins. From all he recalled, these were simply the earlier stages of the ruin.
A ruin carved by the slaves of a scornful being centuries within the Game—a burial ground for that Being and the great demon that had plagued Alkarya for decades.
It was a common story to those interested enough in the history of the Game sections to visit the library on occasion.
That information Oliver kept close to heart.
The white-haired girl, who had been a bit ahead of Oliver, slowed down to match his pace. When she came beside him, she spoke.
"Isn't it too dark for you to see?" she asked, waving her glowing rock—a common utility most Players carried for moments like this...
Well, not all players.
Oliver stared at the faintly glowing stone in her hand with an empty gaze. "Dark, you say? This is the level of deprived light you weaklings call darkness."
"From where I come from, this place would be considered rather bright than dull."
The white-haired girl paused for a moment, stunned by the statement made by the delusional Lord Crow. Then she hurried forward, the realization that she was being left behind snapping her back to urgency.
To most, Oliver's words would sound like ridicule, a bluff, nothing more. But the white-haired girl had grown among strong men and seen weak ones. From Oliver's eyes and how he carried himself in the dark, it did not feel like a lie.
This man was somehow able to see in the dark.
'How is that even possible?' Her curiosity deepened, her gaze now lingering on Oliver more than on the path beneath her feet.
This was no different from the Goblin Cave for Oliver, and it was not even a part of his ability set, but rather a passive advantage from being adept with Ki.
The group kept their pace, moving through the continuous tunnels of the Ruins. Most times they moved at random, taking whichever direction Bentley ordered. The place was like a labyrinth stretching endlessly—left turns, right turns, and countless paths forward.
At one point, they even debated whether they were moving in circles and began marking the walls of the paths they followed.
It was useless.
There was something special about the Ruins of Ahpeh...
'This place never misses when it comes to driving men mad.'
Then, just when all hope began to dwindle, the group turned into something strange.
A pathway larger than any they had passed through before. It felt different… off… awfully wrong.
The moment they stepped into the mouth of this tunnel, Bentley and Clymman felt their skin crawl, their instincts rejecting whatever unseen corruption lingered within it.
Clymman hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to turn around and flee.
However… this was a tight spot.
Flee? Flee where, exactly?
There was nowhere to run but deeper into an endless maze with no certain escape. He wasn't even sure he remembered the path back to the entrance anymore.
There was no option but forward.
The same went for Bentley, who gave a firm nod as Clymman shot him a worried glance.
The two led the way into the strange pathway. Bishop followed next, bow in hand, an arrow already nocked, his expression tight with unease.
Then came Yuki, Oliver, and the white-haired woman moving right behind them.
'Now it begins.'
Bang!
A loud explosion rang out, followed by a violent tremor that shook the entire tunnel.
"What the hell?!" Bentley yelled as his body was thrown hard against the wall.
Clymman was slammed to the ground by the force, and the same fate met the others. Even Oliver was hurled sideways, though he managed to break his fall with a short burst of skill, reducing most of the impact.
"GAAH!" Yuki gasped as she crashed headfirst into the wall, the impact sickening enough that something might have cracked.
But the danger was not over.
The tremors ceased—and from above, a thick obsidian wall came crashing down toward them.
"Fuck!" the white-haired girl gasped, rolling out of its path just in time, barely escaping as the massive slab descended.
The five-foot-thick wall slammed into the ground with brutal force, sending another shockwave through the passage.
"What the hell was that?" Bentley muttered as he rose to his feet, rubbing his head carefully to avoid worsening the impact.
"I have no idea," Bishop groaned, no better off than the others.
Bentley nodded, then turned toward the fallen wall.
It had split the path.
No… worse than that.
This cruel ruin had separated him from his team.
Bentley stared at the jagged obsidian mass. It would be foolish to think he could break through it. This was the work of the maze itself.
Cough! Cough! Cough!
"Sir… Guild Leader Bentley…"
Bentley's eyes trembled in their sockets. His fingers twitched as his gaze slowly dropped toward the voice he knew all too well.
What he saw…
…was something he had never imagined witnessing.
His stomach churned violently, and it took everything in him not to collapse and empty it onto the ground.
Clymman lay on the floor, his body twitching uncontrollably as blood pooled thickly beneath him. Half of his body remained on Bentley's side of the passage…
The other half…
…was beneath the wall.
Crushed.
Flattened into a mangled ruin of flesh and powdered bone.
Bishop opened his mouth—
—and vomited.
"Gaaah!" He doubled over, forcing his eyes away from the horrific sight.
Ripped, bulging intestines… blood still spurting in weak pulses… the suffocating stench of iron and ruin…
Clymman was no longer a man.
Just a broken corpse.
The scene was nothing short of disturbingly graphic.
With dread flooding his eyes, Bishop slowly turned toward Bentley. His lips trembled uncontrollably as he spoke.
"We… we… we have to pull him out… right?"