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#2. Dungeon Master

The explorers had yet to pave every tunnel in existence. It was almost impossible to transform the underground world, which was as complex as a spider’s web, into a territory suitable for humans. Under-beasts frequently appeared even in well-paved tunnels filled with lightbulbs.

Kim Jin-Woo was currently walking through one of those so-called ‘unpaved’ tunnels. It was difficult to even take a step forward in the pitch-black underground tunnel, but his movements carried no hesitation whatsoever. After all, the world he had lived in for most of his life was closer to the darkness than to light.

Shuffle, shuffle!

Only footsteps could be heard in the quiet tunnel.

Occasionally, he looked back at Jang Yoon-Joo, who was trailing behind. Was she feeling guilty about the deaths of her companions? She remained quiet even after her tears had stopped. She held the camera in her hands as tightly as she could as she felt her way through the dark, step by step.

“Let’s take a break,” Kim Jin-Woo said.

At some point, the whereabouts of the monsters had become a mystery. It was strange, as they usually never gave up on their prey, but the situation was to his benefit nonetheless.

He found a recessed crevice in the long underground tunnel and pushed Jang Yoon-Joo in. He then squeezed himself into it as well.

An unknown amount of time passed.

Time moved at a snail’s pace in the underground world. Kim Jin-Woo hadn’t known the concept of time in his childhood. But now that he was used to the 24-hour day and night cycle on the surface above, he felt oddly disturbed.

Still, his expression remained surprisingly calm and collected. He didn’t show the tiniest bit of anxiety, as if he had forgotten about the existence of the monsters chasing after them.

After all, consuming food too hastily could result in food poisoning.

The underground world was harsh for both Kim Jin-Woo and the under-beasts. Any injury during a hunt could get an under-beast eaten by one of its own kind. But even though the monsters were that barbaric, even in the worst-case scenario, it wouldn’t be difficult for Kim Jin-Woo to escape if he were to fight for his life.

Kim-Jin Woo looked at combat as their last resort. He was sick and tired of fighting like a beast just to survive. And if he fought, he would be unable to conserve his energy enough to ensure Jang Yoon-Joo’s safety. She absolutely had to survive for the sake of his pay.

They were stuck in the crevice for half a day, but there was no sign of monsters approaching them whatsoever.

Kim Jin-Woo was right. Something had changed within the five years since he had last stepped into the labyrinths. In fact, an ongoing change could be happening at this very moment.

The manager of the Labyrinth Management Office had told him that this task was safe and easy. He wouldn’t have said such nonsense if monsters from the fifth floor regularly frequented the first floor.

Maybe they were just unlucky. It was ironic that Kim Jin-Woo had gotten swept into this situation with such timing. He could lament his misfortune and get angry, but it would be useless. Instead, he began to move again.

He headed towards the direction where the faint energy flowing through the underground world—the source of the disturbing feeling in the air—was thinnest. Without a light to guide them in the dark, that was their only way out of the underground world.

“Huh?” As Kim Jin-Woo wandered in the dark, a sudden flash of light from behind his back startled him. He immediately strained his eyes to see the flashing camera in Jang Yoon-Joo’s hand as she followed him limply like a zombie. Worried that an under-beast would be attracted to the light, he grabbed her by the wrist.

“Ahhh!” Jang Yoon-Joo let out a suppressed cry and flailed her arms around.

Kim Jin-Woo roughly snatched the camera away from her. He was just about to push the power button on the side of the camera when he suddenly noticed that something was off. He replayed the video.

The infrared mode had presumably been turned on when the footage was filmed. The camera screen was filled with green light. Nothing peculiar had been captured in the swaying passageway, except for occasional glimpses of his back.

Kim Jin-Woo was about to switch off the camera when he suddenly froze. He discovered a strange emblem drawn on the wall of the underground tunnel. It was a depiction of a snake with a geometric triangular head. If he had seen this outside the tunnel, he would have thought it was a tattoo belonging to a braggart. He felt his heart sink.

It was a dungeon emblem. A labyrinth’s symbol. It could only mean one thing: He had unknowingly entered a labyrinth.

Beep, beep, beep.

The battery in the camera began to die. Beeps resounded as it switched off. After the screen went black, he continued staring blankly at it and scowled. “Damn it!”

People often thought the underground world was simply one gigantic labyrinth. However, the underground world was strictly different from a labyrinth. If the underground world was just a simple collection of dark tunnels, a labyrinth was literally a maze. It was full of fatal traps and vicious monsters. Moreover, one would lose all sense of direction and time in such a strange world.

Kim Jin-Woo, who had been born and raised in a labyrinth, knew just how dangerous they were. He had unknowingly stepped into such a dangerous place.

However, the labyrinth remained tranquil despite his worries. There were no monsters scurrying around in the passageways, and no thorny traps that could prick one’s feet.

Was it because this was only a labyrinth on the first floor? That was highly unlikely. After all, despite its low level, this place had once been ruled by a master. It wouldn’t normally be so quiet like this.

Tap, tap.

Kim Jin-Woo anxiously tapped the ground with the tip of his foot, lost deeply in thought. Dungeon babies were only considered powerful against the under-beasts when compared to the average explorer. But even they would have a hard time fighting the under-creatures, who were the true monsters of the labyrinths.

“Damn it.” He swore in frustration. Of all things, he just had to stumble upon a labyrinth. He prayed that this labyrinth was an abandoned one.

Perhaps his prayers worked, as he didn’t encounter any under-creatures or traps even after walking for a long while. He was now certain that this was an abandoned labyrinth. Otherwise, it would never leave intruders like themselves unscathed.

“This could’ve ended worse…” Kim Jin-Woo relaxed slightly. That was likely why his sharp senses dulled.

The moment he let down his guard, Kim Jin-Woo felt the floor collapse as he found his body floating in the air.

***

Feeling nauseated, Kim Jin-Woo moaned and blinked several times. He slowly regained his senses thanks to the cold floor. He sprung to his feet when he remembered what had happened.

“Urgh…!” His mouth gaped open due to the sudden onset of pain. The burning sensation from his arm indicated he had probably hurt it from the fall. He sat down as quickly as he had gotten up and grasped his swollen wrist. Fortunately, only his left arm was injured.

Kim Jin-Woo clenched his teeth in pain and looked up to the ceiling he had fallen from. He was fortunate to have survived such a long fall with only a broken arm.

While waiting for the pain to subside, he caught his breath and looked around him. He sat alone in a vacant space of at most ten square meters. Jang Yoon-Joo, whom he had been embracing tightly during the fall, was nowhere to be seen.

“Ms. Yoon-Joo!” Kim Jin-Woo shouted, but all he could hear was his voice echoing through the narrow space.

He frowned when he couldn’t find Jang Yoon-Joo anywhere. For some reason, he was more concerned about his payment than his survival, even at this moment. However, even the desire to receive payment soon vanished from his mind, presumably due to the shock to his head after the fall. He sat there and stared blankly for a long time.

Kim Jin-Woo eventually recovered and found himself in a strange place. The floor was covered with well-polished stone, of a type he had never seen in any labyrinth before. The surrounding walls were also covered in unknown patterns.

Furthermore, there was an elaborate vintage altar in the middle of the chamber that seemed out of place in the labyrinth. In the middle of the altar, a narrow stone rose up to chest height. Its top was flat, and seemed ideal for placing something on it.

Kim Jin-Woo, as if bewitched, stepped onto the altar even as he frowned in pain. He then faced the stone table at the center of the altar.

On a closer look, he realized the same dungeon emblem he had seen in the camera footage was also engraved on the stone table. It was a snake that appeared to raise its head and flicker its tongue. It was so well-drawn that the snake seemed to be alive as it glared at him.

Hiss, hiss!

Kim Jin-Woo flinched when he heard a gust of wind that resembled a snake’s hiss. He knew he could be seeing things, but the snake’s tongue seemed to have moved on its own.

Hiss!

He thought he had seen it incorrectly at first, but the snake’s pupils had begun to roll and stare at him. He immediately understood the situation he was in despite his confused state of mind.

“Ack!”

Kim Jin-Woo’s reaction was quicker than his thoughts thanks to his reflexes, which he had trained over countless life and death situations.

He grabbed his flailing hand and flung his body backward the moment the black snake pattern wriggled to life.

But it was too late. The snake leaped out of the table like a hologram and bit his broken arm. His mouth opened wide as an intense searing pain inundated his body.

At that moment, a strange voice echoed in his mind.

<The liberator of 18,230 snakes shall inherit the dark underground world and sit on the throne of the nagas.>