Chapter of Slavery: Prologue

He exhaled, his breath coming out in a white puff and dissipating. They had only descended one level, but the temperature in the ancient labyrinth had dropped dramatically.

The light of his torch flickered in the wind, the fire struggling to stay ablaze. He could see the labyrinth’s cold interior within the pocket of light it provided, but everything beyond its range was only complete darkness. The scenery remained unchanged no matter how much he walked, and he began to feel as if he hadn’t moved forward at all.

Suddenly, it felt as though he was the only one there.

His companions were silently walking beside him, but he couldn’t feel their warmth or sense their presence at all. He squeezed himself, pushing back the inexplicable forlornness that threatened to overwhelm him.

“So this is the second floor, huh? Sheesh, talk about a depressing place,” he said out loud in an attempt to brush off the loneliness.

What could have been lurking along this dark path? There was a constant feeling that someone was watching, along with a looming sense of dread. No matter where he went, how far he walked, or whether he was sleeping or awake, they were always there. He felt as if he had become a child afraid of the dark again and wished he could turn back and leave this place. He wanted to relax in front of a fireplace with a strong drink and sleep until the morning. These thoughts had been whirling around in his head.

Due to his fear, the man failed to realize a simple detail. His companions should have been following right behind him, so why were they completely silent?

The pace of his walk gradually slowed. His heart drummed in his chest, his breathing growing shallow. And yet, he struggled to turn around, and his feet eventually stopped walking completely.

Was something waiting just behind him? He felt as if something was watching but couldn’t bring himself to turn around. He couldn’t take another step forward, as his companions became more distant, and the area grew quieter still.

No, he couldn’t turn around.

The big finger extending silently toward him was so pale it was nearly translucent, and he would have surely screamed if he had looked. A light veil fluttered around the being, but it made no noise and couldn’t be sensed. Its enshrouded body was clear, as if it was made completely of ice.

The finger loomed toward the man from behind... It seemed the floor master intended to take his soul back to its nest.

Just then, the light of the torch that had been flickering in the wind finally went out. The area went pitch black, and only nervous, repeated breathing could be heard. Unable to turn to face the presence of death creeping up from behind, he let out a final sigh, and the silence fell completely.

The raid on the second floor was proceeding with great difficulty. The floor master, Shirley, had been appearing out of nowhere to impede their progress.

Still, with Gaston’s leadership, Team Ruby had successfully defeated Shirley once, but then came a report that the floor master had appeared in a completely different area at the same time. Since then, the raid parties hadn’t been able to find an effective method to take on that floor, and they had been continuing a fight with no foreseeable end.

In the depths of the dark labyrinth...

The floor master drifted around like mist, phasing through the stone floors and rooms.

Its presence was as cold as ice, and one’s soul would surely be ripped out of their body with just a touch of its finger.

The raid team’s countermeasure for an encounter with the floor master was for soldiers to hide behind a wall and cover their eyes and mouths, curling up tight and not making a sound. Therefore, raids on the second floor were soundless, voiceless, and filled with a frigid atmosphere.

A secret grave had appeared at the floor master’s destination.

The sight seemed unfit for such a horrifying monster. Shirley softly stroked a chair with flowers carved into it, and just for that moment, the creature’s ethereal form took a solid shape. Its side profile could be seen clearly for that brief moment, then changed into icy, inorganic bones.

As the floor master watched, a stone coffin slowly opened with a grinding noise. There seemed to be humidity in this room only, as the coffin was caked with moss, and there was a moldy scent in the air. Gnarled fingers peeked out from the opening, followed by a terrifying face with missing lips. The monster absorbed the freshly harvested soul, and skin began coating its bones with a crackling sound.

Some time later, the raid parties would be naming this terrible creature... Reaper.