211: Leaving the 9th Floor

Leaving the 9th Floor

The challengers followed Aito who dug new paths, easily destroying the stone walls that looked like feeble cardboard in front of his ax. 

They had noticed the new weapon, more precisely they remembered the humongous orc who had wielded it on the 6th floor. No one asked him about it, since the whys and hows were pretty obvious. 

Moreover, traveling through the labyrinth wasn't supposed to be a walk in the park, but a dangerous endeavor.

Turned out, with the black challenger at their side, the labyrinth actually became something akin to a tourist attraction. 

Sensing the presence of souls 200 meters around him thanks to his Domain reaching level 4, Aito would swat berserkers like flies by hurling his ax at them even before challengers could realize they were there.

If groups of berserkers somehow managed to get through his Domain undetected, they stood no chance against the team, despite two challengers being completely useless amongst them. 

Having gotten stronger thanks to the achievement they had gained from surviving the 6th floor's event and clearing the quest from the High Floors granting them, unlike the others, 1 stat and 1 skill point, the challengers were bound to become more powerful. 

High Floors and Top Floors were harder than the previous floors to clear—under normal circumstances—so the rewards could only be better.

Certainly, upon clearing the 9th floor, each challenger would be granted stat and skill points.

After a little while, the scenery changed from a gloomy maze to a gloomy swiss cheese maze. The challengers stumbled upon Aito's past rampage on those poor walls, victims of his furious madness stemming from this place messing with his head. 

Mostly pissing him off, actually.

The maze didn't appear like one any longer. With myriads of new paths created and illusions lifted, the 9th floor looked much like a war zone, with lots of debris lying around in piles as well as berserker corpses devoid of soul cores.

George, princess carrying Lucius, looked in awe at Aito's work. Despite being paralyzed from head to the toe, the warrior mage in his hands moved his eyes right and left with an increasing realization. 

'Maybe I should have been a little more respectful toward that man and his teammates,' Lucius thought. He knew by now why the baldie had been so afraid of the man he called the black challenger, not that killing the Goliath hadn't left this impression on him. 

But this… all this was on a different scale.

Along the way, Sam woke up multiple times, only for someone to put him back to sleep. Tired of having him moving around upon opening his eyes, Ogoro wrapped the baldie in steel wires, preventing the broken man from being a pain in the ass. 

Sheyla stayed as far from Aito as possible, keeping to the back of their formation, stealing a few glances at him. Once he tried to talk to her. She avoided him by responding coldly, colder than the 8th floor's freezing temperature. 

Aito couldn't make heads or tails of what was happening to her. With other more urgent matters at hand, he decided to take care of that later. He didn't want to leave this as-is, since she was an important person to him.

Elizabeth, who had made a full recovery, appeared calm and probably the most composed of all the challengers around, always keeping an eye on her husband carried by George with all the care such a giant man could provide. 

Finally, after an estimated five hours, the challengers reached the center of the labyrinth. Relief washed over them at the sight of an ethereal portal standing still in a four corners room that had been hidden by an illusionary wall. 

If it hadn't been for Aito, they would have never found that place. 

Ignoring what was beyond that portal, and with around three days left before the end of the Tower trial, they planned on camping there for the next two hours in order to replenish their strengths in almost complete silence. 

"Release me!" Sam yelled, gesticulating in his cocoon of steel like a maggot, albeit one with many bruises on his face.

"Should I do it this time again?" George asked.

Aito shook his head. "No, I'll go. You've already done enough. And since we have the time, I'll try to talk some sense into that idiot." 

"Black Challenger!" Sam said at the view of his past worst enemy. "Why would you force my hand into coming with you? Is it to make fun of me? To take revenge? Haven't you had enough of humiliating me?"

SLAP!

Tired of his senseless yapping, Aito slapped the man hard. Sam was a peak level 2 challenger, so he wouldn't be hurt too badly. 

"Shut up, bald fool," Aito replied in a threatening voice. Intimidated, Sam lowered his tone and looked down. "Get your shit together or I'm gonna slap you till you fall unconscious and your cheeks double volumes. Do you really wish to die that badly?" 

Aito had difficulty controlling his hatred towards the man. Since he had not forgiven him, that was probably the most diplomatic he could be with the baldie at the moment.

"I…," Sam pondered the answer for a short while, "Under the orders of someone else, I have committed abominable crimes worthy of punishment, thinking it was for a just cause. I've been betrayed by someone I trusted like a brother. I have... no reason to live anymore. No purpose. Nothing." 

What was that baldie talking about? To Aito's knowledge, Sam had a goal until recently. 

"The fuck you're saying? Didn't you want to find your daughter?" he clicked his tongue, trying to control his annoyance. 

"Lucilia…," the baldie trembled, his eyes drowning in tears. "My little girl…" 

The sight of Sam crying defenselessly heat up Aito's icy heart… a tiny bit, akin to a droplet trickling down an iceberg.

"Don't you want to find Lucilia?" He asked. 

"I do." 

"Then get your shit—" Aito started. 

"But she is…," Sam interrupted him, only to pause. He closed his eyes, swallowed his saliva to voice out painful but probably true words. "She is already dead. Even if… even if she had been revived… how could an eight-year-old girl survive the trials?" 

Aito sighed. Realistically speaking, there was near to no chance such a young child could survive the horrors of the trials. It should be impossible in the first place but… 

"Baldie," he said in a solemn tone. "Honestly, I think you are right. I can't deny that the odds of her survival are slimmer than the hair on your head." 

Sam teared up even more at that cruel sentence, both aimed at him and his daughter.

"However, in the face of an unknown destiny, if one has the bravery to stand their ground then, even the impossible, at times, becomes possible," Aito said, taking inspiration from one of the four virtues Valinar praised. "How do you think I survived the black trial, your sect's pestering, the 4th floor's goblins, the 5th floor's Lunar Eclipse, the 6th floor's giant orc, and the High Floors' Flood event? Do you think it's only because of power? Strength alone doesn't dictate everything. Just look at yourself." 

He called for his ax, which jumped into his hand and placed the blade closer to the baldie. Its magnificent sharp edge mirrored Sam's reflection.

"You who became stronger than most challengers should have died in this labyrinth. Why? It's because you gave up. Something your daughter, unlike her father, might have done differently." 

Soulcleaver passed above Sam's head as Aito got to his feet, the labyrinth's blue torches shimmering on its cold edge.

"And even if Lucilia is no more, at least honor her memory. Make her proud so that, wherever she is, your daughter can brag about her father being a foolish but brave man. As of now, you are a failure of a father."

Sam suddenly stopped crying, feeling those words somehow resounding with him in a weird way. Not because they seemed profound or some kind of bull crap like that. They actually hurt, digging right through his heart, tearing apart his confused thoughts to scream how much of a failure he was.

He understood them. 

As a father cherishing his daughter beyond anyone else, he was willing to do anything for her. Should she be alive or dead, he would never want to shame her memories and become someone she wouldn't be proud of.

Just like now.

"So the choice is yours, Sam," Aito declared, calling him by his name for the first time. "Will you accept your failures and take the first step towards becoming someone better, someone Lucilia could be proud of? Or will take your last step and die a coward?" 

Having said everything he had and could say, Aito turned back, preparing to take a quick power nap before they would leave in two hours. 

"Why…," Sam said with puffed eyes, showing no more tears. "Why are you helping me?"

[Why indeed?] Valinar asked shamelessly, as if she wasn't partly responsible for this.

Aito stopped in his tracks to ponder an answer. He wanted to say because a goddess forced his hands but… that didn't feel right somehow. Was it because he saw himself in Sam? Because he knew what it was to be a broken man? 

No. That was only a part of the answer. He couldn't figure out the whole truth. Aito could sense it, feel it as if it was at the tip of his fingers, and yet remained unreachable. 

"Why indeed?" Was all he said before walking away.

[You copycat.] The goddess commented. 

'Shut up and let me rest. It's partly your fault I have to deal with this.' Aito replied, nestling himself into a corner, closing his eyes, cutting his vision to shut Valinar off.

[*Sigh* he is not ready for this, yet.]1

During the next two hours, Sam remained silent without needing another beating. After reaching their peak state, the seven survivors of the Labyrinth of Madness entered the portal, leaving all this craziness behind them, but... they met someone probably crazier than crazy upon their arrival in a wide space. 

"Hello there, black challenger! Been a while!" Roan exclaimed with a beaming smile.

*****

Lore:

"Hahaha! I'm finally back in the story, bitches! Let's go! *Cough*, I mean... the Woodcutter hadn't expected my presence on the 10th floor. But that's not the only thing he had not foreseen. For the last floor hid more than meets the eyes." 

Extract from, "Yggdrasil Chronicles, The Woodcutter of Iris," by Roan the Merchant.

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