Day 3 – Night Camp, After Lights-Out

The worst yet.

Tents were pitched in a wide circle. Campfires burned low.

Oliver was on watch with Ronald's squad when he heard muffled crying from the adventurer section.

He moved silently.

In the shadows between two wagons, a knight had a full head taller than the girl had her bent over a barrel. Skirt flipped up, panties yanked to her knees, hand clamped over her mouth while he rutted against her ass, not inside, just grinding, grunting, using her like a toy.

Two of his friends stood guard, laughing, taking turns groping her chest whenever he pulled back.

She was shaking, silent tears running down her face.

Oliver's vision went red.

He stepped forward, but a hand caught his shoulder, Ronald.

The knight captain's face was stone.

"I know," Ronald said, voice low. "I've reported it every night. Higher-ups say 'maintain morale.'"

Oliver's voice came out flat. "And if it was Elisha?"

Ronald's grip tightened until it hurt. "Then I'd kill them myself. But it isn't. And I have three hundred lives depending on me not starting a mutiny."

He looked Oliver dead in the eye.

"Pick your moment. But pick it wisely."

Oliver exhaled through his teeth, forcing the rage down.

Behind them, Isolde appeared like a ghost, eyes glowing faint violet.

"I'm done waiting," she whispered.

Ariana joined them, face pale but fists glowing soft green, ready to heal, or to harm.

Seraphine materialized last, silver hair catching firelight.

"Master. Permission to intervene?"

Oliver looked at the crying girl one more time.

"…Not lethal," he said finally. "But make it hurt."

Seraphine's eyes brightened.

"Acknowledged. Commencing disciplinary action."

Four knights were found unconscious an hour later, faces bruised, groins swollen, pants mysteriously filled with itching powder strong enough to make a troll weep.

No one saw who did it.

But the groping stopped cold after that night.

And every female adventurer in the back suddenly walked a little taller, casting grateful, knowing glances toward the front lines, where a certain masked man in black pretended not to notice.

Word spread fast in whispers:

Don't touch what the Princess's shadows are protecting.

The rest of the journey to Velanthris became very, very quiet for the gropers.

****

The massive stone silhouette finally emerged through the thinning forest, swallowing the horizon like a sleeping titan.

Velanthris.

The Arcanum Labyrinth.

Ancient towers of dark silver stone jutted skyward like broken spears, half-consumed by centuries of vines and twisted trees. Shattered archways and floating rune fragments hovered faintly in the air, pulsing with cold blue light. A pressure hung in the atmosphere — not magic, but something older, heavier… like the weight of thousands of silent forgotten voices.

The expedition halted.

For the first time in days, no one spoke.

Even the heroes, who spent the journey bragging loudly, fell silent — mouths slightly open, eyes locked on the ruin that breathed like a living creature.

Daniel stepped forward, expression sharpening. "So this… is Velanthris?"

Ronald nodded. "The entrance lies beneath the central spire. We make camp here. Knights, form perimeter!"

Orders snapped through the air — shields slammed down, tents unfolded, barriers erected. Everyone moved quickly but carefully, as though afraid the ruin would wake if they made too much noise.

Oliver stood at the edge of the clearing, cloak fluttering softly in the cold wind. Even behind his mask, his eyes widened slightly.

"This place…" he murmured. "Feels alive."

Isolde stepped beside him, arms crossed. "It's saturated with ancient mana. One wrong touch and the entire ground might open up beneath you."

Seraphine tilted her head, silver eyes glowing faintly. "Magitech signatures detected. Multiple. Caution level: maximal."

Ariana swallowed hard. "I've never felt magic this dense before…"

Behind them, the heroes gathered, tension replacing arrogance.

Jason wiped sweat from his brow. "Why do I feel like something's staring at us…?"

Amy clutched her staff. "Be careful. Nothing about this place feels normal."

William scoffed nervously. "It's just ruins. Don't act scared."

But when a low, echoing hum vibrated from deep within the labyrinth — like a heartbeat through the stone itself — William visibly jumped.

Even Oliver felt his chest tighten at the sound.

The expedition commander raised his voice. "Listen up! We enter at dawn. No one approaches the ruin without permission. Knights and mage corps, maintain barrier formations. Everyone else, rest and check gear."

Ronald approached Oliver quietly, his expression serious. "Tonight will be calm. Tomorrow… I cannot guarantee."

Oliver nodded. "Understood."

Ronald gave him a firm clap on the shoulder before walking off to oversee preparations.

Silence drifted between Oliver, Isolde, Ariana, and Seraphine as wind howled through broken arches in the distance.

Ariana hugged her arms. "We're really here."

Isolde smirked. "Scared?"

"…Terrified." Ariana admitted.

"Good," Isolde replied. "Means you're sane."

****

Night settled heavy over the camp at the edge of Velanthris.

The sky was swallowed by black clouds, the forest beyond the campfire line groaning and rustling like something alive. Torches flickered, smoke curling upward into the wind. Tents formed a tight circle, guards pacing silently.

The atmosphere was tense. Everyone felt it.

Velanthris was close.

Inside the central fire ring, groups discussed strategy. Knights reviewed formation plans while mages scribbled mana structures in glowing ink. The elite of each faction clustered together.

Daniel stood with his sword resting casually on his shoulder, speaking loudly so nearby nobles and knights could hear.

"This labyrinth is nothing compared to Eravilis. As long as we move with my strategy, we'll break through the upper floors easily."

Jason and William nodded, puffing their chests.

Daniel's gaze drifted to the side where Oliver's group sat by themselves near a smaller fire.

Isolde sharpened her blade, sparks flying with each stroke.

Ariana adjusted her staff, reviewing spells under her breath.

Seraphine sat perfectly still, expression blank, watching the fire with unnatural calm.

Daniel smiled and stepped toward them, hands in pockets.

"Lady Isolde," he called, polite and confident, "your reputation as an S-class battle mage precedes you. We'd be honored if you joined our strategy meeting tonight. Your insight into high-density mana fields could be invaluable."

"Someone of your caliber should be fighting beside us… not babysitting cannon fodder."

The murmurs around them intensified.

Isolde lifted her gaze slowly, meeting Daniel's eyes without flinching. Her voice was cool and sharp as steel.

"No thanks."

Daniel blinked. The entire circle went quiet.

Isolde continued, voice cold. "I don't take orders from people weaker than me."

Jason's jaw tightened.

William's expression soured immediately.

Daniel's smile froze.

Ariana choked on her drink.

Seraphine blinked and whispered without emotion: "Evaluation complete. Hostile intent rising."

Oliver coughed into his hand to hide a smile.

Jason stepped forward fast, hand twitching near his sword. "Watch your mouth. Daniel is the hero chosen to save this world. Show some respect—"

Isolde didn't even look at him. "Respect is earned. Not demanded."

The silence after that was suffocating.

Jason clicked his tongue and stepped back with a glare. Daniel forced a smile, but his eyes had turned icy.

"Very well. I hope your arrogance won't cost lives tomorrow," he said before turning away, Jason and William following.

As they left, Jason muttered just loud enough:

"Hmph. Let's see how long that attitude lasts inside."

William smirked darkly. "Accidents happen in dungeons."

Oliver caught every word.

Isolde did too. Her expression turned lethal.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Later that night

The camp slept under darkness. Only the patrol torches flickered slowly.

Inside Oliver's tent, he lay half-awake, staring at the canvas roof. Isolde was beside him reading, Seraphine silent at the entrance like a sentinel.

Then—

Crunch.

Light footsteps outside.

Oliver sat up instantly, hand on his sword. With a silent gesture, he motioned Seraphine to stand down and stepped outside.

And froze.

Amy stood there.

She wore nothing but a thin silk nightgown, moonlight turning the fabric nearly transparent. The cold had tightened her skin; goosebumps raced down her arms, her thighs. The gown clung to every curve—full breasts straining against the low neckline, nipples stiff and visible through the sheer cloth, the hem barely reaching mid-thigh. She hugged herself, rubbing smooth, pale arms, lips trembling from the chill.

"C… can we talk?" she asked softly, voice shaking.

Oliver hesitated, then stepped aside. "Come in."

Inside, Isolde raised one eyebrow, staring at Amy's nightwear. Her expression screamed: Really?

Oliver coughed.

"So… why are you here?"

Amy took a moment to steady herself before speaking, eyes flickering between Oliver and Isolde.

"I came to warn you."

"Warn me?" Oliver frowned. "About what?"

"About Daniel. And Jason." She exhaled shakily. "They're planning something. They're angry about what happened tonight. They think you're looking down on them, embarrassing them. They said they'll 'teach you your place' inside the labyrinth. That if you die by accident… it's no one's fault."

Oliver's fist tightened unconsciously.

Isolde's killing intent spiked so sharply the temperature dropped. Frost crackled across the tent floor.

Amy lifted both hands, panicked. "Please—don't get the wrong idea. I'm not here because I support what they're doing. I don't want anyone dying because of pride."

Oliver slowly relaxed his hand. "…I appreciate it. But why tell me this? Aren't they your teammates?"

Amy looked down, expression clouded.

"Because you… remind me of someone."

Isolde hid her snort behind her hand, trying not to laugh.

Oliver blinked. "…Someone?"

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