Walls of patina-green copper, corridors stretching into fathomless depths, invisible doorways within arm’s reach.
This was the interior of the 【Meditation Corridor】 .
Lately, the adventurers who’d been lucky enough to make it out alive had taken to calling it the “Corridor of Death” or the “Corridor of Time.” As for what it was really like—they couldn’t quite explain it themselves…
Most of their memories were hazy. The only things they could clearly recount were a string of phrases—
‘Reflect on your sins…’
‘Your childhood sweetheart is buried here, you know…’
‘Hehe~ Must be nice having a reunion dinner all by yourself…’
‘Your sins are endless, and this life will never end… Your diary sure makes for good reading…’
Harsh words splashed out without restraint. One by one, companions inexplicably dropped to their knees begging for mercy—either brain-dead, or committing suicide. Those with weaker wills were forced…
No—perhaps it was more accurate to say they willingly picked up their weapons, even almost cheerfully, and turned on each other.
Well, that is, if there wasn’t a trace of panic on their faces…
**
“【Meditation Corridor】 —so this is it?”
A red-haired man exuding authority from every pore traced his fingers along the invisible doorway, quietly observing the figure on the other side… That figure was gentle—she waved at him, as if inviting him over…
But the man stood still. He raised his left hand in a return wave, while his right hand silently reached for the sword at his waist—
Then, with a crash, the doorway shattered into pieces, collapsing limply. The figure on the other side vanished along with it.
The man let out a soft sigh, sheathed his sword, and turned back to face the corridor still lined with countless doorways. At every turn, there was yet another corridor…
“As expected of the 【Meditation Corridor】—you can’t get out unless you reach the very deepest part, can you?”
The red-haired man frowned slightly, gripped his scabbard with his left hand, and advanced step by step into the depths of the corridor.
With each step deeper, more “flesh” appeared on the ground. The reason he called them “flesh” rather than corpses or skeletons was to distinguish them. Compared to the living who came here, these “flesh” were merely puppets of the 【Corridor】, tasked with producing even more “flesh”…
That said, these “flesh” still retained the physiological functions of the living. Their bodies and mental states were still intact—they could still be brought back through special means.
The man knew this very well. All he had to do was find a way out without taking their lives.
“Being expected to deliver day in and day out—quite the burden. Winter and Benjamin are nowhere to be found either.”
The man—Lyle Ein Harut—said this with a sigh.
The Corridor was a newly released event dungeon, and its difficulty had been thoroughly experienced by players within just hours of its launch.
Although adventurers playing as characters wouldn’t be trapped forever, once the Corridor’s meditation sounds took hold, their mental strength would be forcibly depleted, leading to “death.” The revival cooldown would then be extended based on how deeply the meditation sounds had affected them.
As for NPCs who stepped inside—once controlled by the meditation sounds, the only ways to save them were to have a priest purify their minds with holy magic, or possess the impossible resurrection magic or skills.
Otherwise, they wouldn’t return until the 【Meditation Corridor】 closed down.
“Magic bind bolt! Bind bolt!”
“(War cry!)”
“(War cry!)”
There seemed to be quite a few adventurers lingering around—probably people who’d wandered in here by accident…
Better to let others scout ahead than to walk straight into death. Even if they ended up claiming the treasure, as long as you saved your own skin, that was what mattered.
‘Lord Lyle… Please reconsider. For the sake of the Lady…’ Benjamin’s voice suddenly echoed in his ears. The emotion in those words was something no one could imitate.
“Yes, I’ll think about it. But now isn’t the time.”
Lyle drew his sword and slashed away the phantoms drifting around him. Benjamin’s warning vanished in that instant.
“For the sake of my mother…” Lyle’s hand, gripping the sword, trembled slightly—as if the mention of his mother had struck a chord…
His past wasn’t exactly tragic, but it was far from smooth.
Early on, Lyle had lost his mother. His father remarried not long after, and once the new wife gave birth to a daughter, the father—already cold toward Lyle—grew even more distant… It was the butler, Grandpa, who’d come up with the idea of sending Lyle to the knight academy.
‘We can’t let the young master waste away like this. My lord, you know this well… Young Master Lyle possesses unparalleled talent and wisdom. One day, he will surely restore the glory of House Harut.’
Grandpa… you were always the same—always thinking of me. Truly, if it hadn’t been for those words of yours, I’d probably have just been a passerby living an ordinary life, inheriting the estate and struggling to carry on the family line—no, I might have been killed off one day or another.
He drove his sword into the ground, leaned against the wall, and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he looked up again, he was met with nothing but endless corridors and mist.
He waved his hand to clear it, but the illusory fog clinging to him refused to disperse.
“Using Grandpa like that… Ugh, no, my head’s getting heavier. I have to pull myself together.”
‘Make me a promise? Even if it’s not a contract…’
A boy at his wit’s end, with no way forward, was told this by a girl with strange horns atop her head.
She extended her hand toward him… And the boy, who didn’t want to live a life of mediocrity and longed to be important in others’ eyes, reached out and linked his pinky with hers—
‘Alright then—this is a promise. I’ll protect you too, so wait for me…’
Swinging his sword relentlessly, unleashing technique after technique—Lyle had completely forgotten his purpose… Skilled as he was, he was stretched too thin. Superb in combat, yet alone without allies… He realized something was wrong, but the reckless actions unfolding before his eyes were already shattering his will.
Compared to a hellish tableau, watching yourself commit atrocities with no power to stop them was far more despairing.
“…No, this is the influence of the meditation sounds… I have to hurry—huh? I… I?”
Just as he tried to resist the mental pressure, he suddenly felt the crushing force ease up. The sudden clarity left Lyle bewildered. He looked around at the silent surroundings.
No one else. No puppets either.
“Was everything just now an illusion?”
A future within reach, every second, every minute—
“Enough with the chatter. Looks like I’ve become immune to the meditation sounds’ effects. Strange, but now’s not the time to question it—time to move on.” Gazing at the figure across the way, Lyle clenched his fist… One day, I’ll find you, he said, then turned into a corner of the corridor.
**
‘Said I’d protect you…’
‘If I can’t keep my promise…’
‘How could I ever expect to rely on you…’
**
**
**
A vexing horn resounded through the corridor. The uncontrollable “flesh” seemed guided by its call, marching in unison toward a certain direction.
Among them were warriors, mages, assassins, and thieves. A man buried in debt, a swordsman on a training journey, even an old farmer woman who’d simply gone out to buy groceries for her family.
They all held weapons—their crazed expressions concealing bodies manipulated by the meditation sounds.
Their destination was a circular arena at the very center of the corridor, where a young girl silently watched the endless stream of “them” rushing in from every passage.
The girl held a horn in her hand as well—perhaps coincidence, perhaps fate. Behind her stood the only exit from the entire corridor, and beneath her feet lay countless coveted treasures.
Yet she stood in their way, her lifeless eyes telling a tale of her tragic past… Her blood-stained garments revealing a fate unknown to all… Anyone seeing her at first glance would surely think she was a madwoman—
“Magic—bind bolt.” A mage standing at the front spotted the girl and immediately raised his staff, firing a bind bolt at her. After a brief flight, it struck her dead-on… but it merely touched her forehead and dissipated into nothing.
In its place, a purple bind bolt materialized out of thin air, hurtling swiftly back at the mage. Upon brief contact, the mage’s head was blown to a gruesome mess… Sparks flickered along the ground as flames spread step by step, sealing off any retreat from the corridor.
The only way out was the exit behind the girl.
‘You—you sure know how to please me!!’
An ethereal, hollow tone, laced with fury—this seemed to be the command they followed. They raised their weapons and charged at the girl… but one by one, they collapsed from unknown causes. A few could still stand, barely, but they’d lost most of their strength.
‘Looks like someone triggered the illusion mechanisms. Was it you?!’
The girl acted as if she hadn’t heard, steadily walking toward the source of the voice.
‘Hey hey, stay away from me! This is no joke!’
The girl acted as if she hadn’t heard, drawing closer and closer to the voice.
“I’d like to make a bet with you.”
‘Ha? W-what nonsense are you talking about!’
“Ruler of the Meditation Corridor… no, you scoundrel who borrows the ruler’s name to plunder others’ souls.”
The owner of the voice seemed taken aback, but still put up a strong front.
‘Ha! I’m not?! Let me tell you—if it weren’t for the lack of believers in this corridor, I wouldn’t be in such a pathetic state!’
“Over the next few days—or perhaps the next few hours, or even less—I will make you release everyone. And I’ll do it with nothing but the power of this body.”
[Serious Mode] ▶■404■■2■▶▶■ {Collapse Mode}*
