The Throne Room

Duncan stopped in his tracks.

His cloudy eyes stared straight ahead.

The passage ended here. A huge stone door, covered with ancient carvings, stood silently in the rock wall. The cracks in the door were tight, and not a single ray of light could penetrate it.

There was complete silence behind the door.

"This should be it," Duncan said, his voice low in the empty passageway. "The final barrier. Beyond this door lies the deepest part of the maze."

Lichta walked to the door, placed her palm on the cold stone surface, and carefully sensed it.

"No magical trap fluctuations. The structure is quite ordinary, just thick." He withdrew his hand and looked at Duncan. "Shall we open it?"

Duncan nodded.

He walked to the door, and the tip of his staff glowed faintly. Magic seeped into the complex mechanism inside the stone door.

A few seconds later, a soft "click" came from inside the door.

The heavy stone door began to slowly slide inward, emitting a low, teeth-grinding scraping sound. The crack in the door widened, revealing an even deeper darkness behind it.

Everyone gripped their staffs tightly, holding their breath.

The door was fully open.

The scene behind the door unfolded before my eyes.

A very spacious square hall. The dome is high and far, hidden in the darkness. The floor is a smooth white stone slab.

In the center of the hall is a low stone platform.

On the platform, there was an antique-style throne.

A person sat on the throne.

With two sharp, curved horns on its head, it is a typical feature of the Demons. It wears magnificent black armor with an ancient style and a dark luster that seems to absorb all the light around it.

He sat on the throne, leaning back slightly, one hand casually resting on the armrest, the other hanging at his side. The visor of his helmet was lowered, obscuring his face, as if he were dozing.

But the immense, almost overflowing magic, like an invisible tide, silently filled the entire hall from its center.

Lichta's pupils contracted slightly.

"Hey..." he said in a low voice, his eyes serious, "Duncan. Why didn't I sense any magic in him before he opened the door?"

His gaze was fixed on the figure on the throne.

"And what is this? Judging by the color, it's clearly a copy. But are there really any candidates like this? That's a bit of a joke."

He turned to look at Duncan, his voice filled with disbelief.

"Or is it that... the owner of this labyrinth can replicate people from any era that it has ever encountered before?"

Duncan did not answer immediately.

His gaze was also fixed firmly on the figure on the throne.

There was no murderous intent.

There was no hostility.

There wasn't even a hint of "being alive".

But almost everyone present could "sense"—beneath that quietly seated armor lay an immense, unfathomable magic. Like a dormant volcano, calm, yet capable of instilling an instinctive tremor.

That magic wasn't actively emitted; it simply existed naturally, like breathing.

So vast that its very existence is enough to make the air thick and heavy.

"..."

Duncan remained silent for a few seconds.

Then, he slowly and very slightly took half a step back.

"Walk."

His voice was low, but carried an undeniable determination.

Lichta, Laufen, Methode, Länge, Edel, Dunster, all maintaining their posture facing the hall, slowly retreated step by step.

Their footsteps were light and slow, as if afraid of disturbing something.

The figure on the throne remained motionless, as if it were truly just a statue, or perhaps dozing off.

The group slowly withdrew from the hall and stood outside the door again.

The heavy stone door was closed again, and before it closed, the figure remained seated, unchanged.

Duncan finally let out a slow sigh of relief, but his brows furrowed even more deeply.

"Without a doubt," he began, his voice regaining its composure but carrying an unprecedented heaviness, "This door has no power to block magic. I carefully examined it with magic before opening it."

"Therefore, there are only two possibilities."

"First, that thing was just 'created' the instant before we opened the door. That's why we couldn't sense it before."

"Two..."

He paused for a moment before continuing.

"That thing is deliberately emitting magic to get rid of us."

Laufen blinked, glanced at Duncan, then at the blurry figure inside the door.

"What do you mean?" she asked softly. "Grandpa, do you recognize that thing?"

Duncan fell silent again.

"... If I could," Duncan finally spoke, his voice carrying a rare, almost sighing, complex emotion, "I really don't want to know him."

He looked up and gazed into the room.

"If that thing takes us seriously and fights us..."

He paused, speaking each word slowly and clearly.

"The bottle we have now cannot save our lives."

Everyone will die.

Lichta's lips twitched, but she didn't say anything.

"However," Duncan changed the subject, his tone softening slightly, "I don't think this is part of the exam. First-Class Mage or something, having to fight something like this..."

He shook his head.

"It was definitely a bit of a joke."

Lichta crossed her arms and looked at him.

So what should we do?

Duncan pondered for a moment.

"Wait," he said, "Until the others catch up. Frieren and the others, along with the other teams that were operating independently, will eventually converge in this direction."

He looked at the crowd.

"Also, since we have some time now, let's talk about the magic we're good at. Not just the types, but also the types of opponents we're best at dealing with, and... the situations we're worst at handling."

He paused, his tone serious.

"Speak out. That way, if we need to deal with each other's clones later, we'll be prepared and know how to cooperate or how to escape."

After a while.

From the other end of the passage came the sound of light footsteps.

More than one place.

The group immediately turned around warily, their staffs slightly raised.

The footsteps drew closer, coming from two different forks in the road, and eventually converged.

On one side were Frieren, Fern, Kanne, Rabiñe, Wirbel, Scharf, Ehre, and Sense silently following behind.

On the other side were Ubel and Lanto. Ubel wore his usual faint smile, while Lanto adjusted his glasses, his expression calm.

The two teams arrived almost simultaneously, seeing Duncan's team standing outside the gate, and also the open hall with its eerie interior.

A brief exchange of glances.

Frieren green eyes calmly.

"So," her voice was flat, as if confirming something perfectly ordinary, "It happened?"

Duncan looked at her and slowly nodded.

"Yes."

He said in a deep voice.

"It has appeared."