Though he’d hesitated, the answer had been decided from the start.
No matter how hard Hans tried to protect Alje, it was impossible to shield him perfectly.
Sooner or later, a gap in that defense would inevitably appear.
The only option was to trust Alje — and test the void left by his absence.
“Alright, watch closely.”
Even as Hans hoped the girl’s innocence — that almost foolish purity — would remain intact, he held a dagger up in front of Alje’s eyes.
Hans wasn’t the kind of man to turn away from reality for the sake of sentiment.
If he had been, he wouldn’t have survived this long.
“You hold it like this — and you stab like this.”
He demonstrated a few quick thrusts into the empty air.
Shhk.
Shhk.
His swift, precise hand movements weren’t hard for the girl’s eyes to follow.
There wasn’t even a hint of fear or hesitation in her gaze — none of the usual trepidation most newcomers showed when handling a blade.
In truth, trying to teach someone like Alje how to use a weapon might have been a pointless endeavor.
But Hans believed doing something was better than doing nothing — and so, he taught Alje the basics of dagger fighting.
“Here. Aim right here.”
“Here?”
“That’s right. The vital spots. No matter how tough they are, if you stab them here, they’ll collapse. They’ll gasp for breath and fall to their knees.”
It wasn’t even really a technique — just a single, decisive strike.
“The most important thing is not to hesitate.Anyone who lays eyes on you, Alje, won’t immediately resort to violence.Let them lower their guard. Let them get lost in their delusions.”
That was the one missing piece in Alje’s otherwise perfect arsenal.
Without even tapping into her special abilities as a saint or a magical being, Alje’s physical capabilities already surpassed Hans’, a seasoned hunter.
Considering her delicate frame and slender limbs, it was absurd.
Her youthful, harmless appearance — and the radiant beauty no one would ever expect to find in a labyrinth — would disarm even the most paranoid explorer.
And in that fleeting moment of distraction, all she’d need was a single thrust.…Of course, that was only if Alje had enough cold resolve to actually stab someone.
But looking at her face — so pure and guileless, like a puppy wagging its tail — Hans doubted she had even a shred of that resolve.
Still, he taught her everything he could, hoping for the best.
“End it in one strike. Do you understand?”
“Yep!”
Unfazed by the talk of killing, the girl listened with wide, curious eyes — as if this distilled essence of murderous technique were nothing more than a fascinating old tale.
That innocent enthusiasm left Hans feeling a little despondent… and yet, maybe it was that very unchanging nature of hers that had drawn him in from the start.
Suppressing his anxiety, Hans finally set out — leaving the girl behind, alone at home.
*
Kumo Strasse.
That was the name of the street Hans now walked — and the name of the district where his house stood, home to countless gatherers and hunters.
It was also one of the two halves that divided the city.
At the border between those halves, Hans stopped.
The gray cobblestones beneath his feet marked a line clearer than any wall, laying bare the intent of those who had built this city — a system of strict class division and discrimination.
Though no guards stood watch over this boundary, Hans halted as if there were an invisible barrier before him.
“I’ve come to see the witch Gretel… regarding the disciplinary matter.”
No answer came.
But with a hunter’s instinct, Hans sensed the watchful eyes on him disappear.
Taking that as his cue, he stepped forward — and with just a few paces, entered an entirely different world.
In Schindel Strasse, there were no beggars or vagrants.
The homes here weren’t the makeshift shacks he was used to — they were small but sturdy brick houses, well-built and solid.
The most striking difference, though, was the air.
The stink of monstrous waste was gone.
The streetlights were fitted with near-permanent luminous stones, casting a steady glow.
Scattered cobblestones reflected the light like stars, brightening the dim streets of the perpetually dark city.
The streets were sparsely populated — and every single person who passed by was unarmed.
No one wore monster-hide armor here — only simple cloth garments, easily dirtied and torn.
No one carried weapons at their waists.
The air was incomparably cleaner… but Hans felt uneasy in this unfamiliar atmosphere.
The residents of Schindel Strasse likely felt the same.
After all, Hans — clad in black leather armor and armed with a sword — stood out like a blot on a pristine white page.
“…What’s someone from Kumo Strasse doing here?”
The provocation was almost routine at this point — though, compared to Kumo Strasse, even their hostility was exceedingly polite.
Hans looked up at the man addressing him — a head taller and clearly well-trained.
Though unarmed like the others, his physique and posture marked him as a weapon in his own right.
Everything about his bearing showed he was someone who had been properly trained.…An Explorer.
Despite himself, Hans felt a pang of inferiority.
He couldn’t help but smirk bitterly.
“I have business with the witch.”
Gatherers, hunters, guides, and explorers.
Guides were doctors, poets, and scholars.
Their combat abilities might pale in comparison to gatherers’, but their knowledge and experience were invaluable — even in the deadly depths of the labyrinth.
And Explorers.
They were the ones who ventured into the uncharted frontlines of the labyrinth.
They combined the combat skills of hunters with the insight of guides — and more than that, they possessed special techniques of self-discipline and mental fortitude.
Without those skills, they’d fall victim to the labyrinth’s instability and be consumed by its madness.
In other words, the man standing before Hans now…Was one of the highest-ranking figures in this entire labyrinth, second only to the witches.
“The witch? Ah… I think I’ve heard something about that.”
Of course, even they weren’t treated as complete equals to the witches.
If hunters were treated like mere hunting dogs, then perhaps the explorers were at least prized horses — well-fed, well-groomed, and cared for by many servants.
It was only natural for a dog, always chained and forced to scavenge for scraps, to envy a horse that had its horseshoes regularly replaced and enjoyed the attention of so many caretakers.
That didn’t mean the dog would bare its fangs.
At the very least, it knew its place well enough not to get kicked.
“Well, good luck.”
The explorer’s tone was unmistakably condescending, and Hans could only grit his teeth in response, swallowing the anger that bubbled up inside him.
With a shrug, the explorer walked past.
The streets of Schindel Strasse weren’t particularly wide, so Hans had to step aside to let him through.
It happened over and over again.
Hans could bear it when the explorers — skilled warriors worthy of respect — acted that way.
But when the so-called “guides,” those bookish intellectuals, started acting superior, it was far harder to endure.
Of course, calling them “bookish” was more Hans’s personal bias than an objective truth.
After all, these guides mapped uncharted territories with their own two feet and navigated the labyrinth’s ever-shifting paths firsthand.
They were hardly the desk-bound scholars Hans liked to imagine them as.
“Damn bastards.”
After walking for quite some time, Hans finally reached his destination.
A towering spire rose in the heart of the city, so tall and massive it was visible even from Kumo Strasse.
Around the base of the tower stretched an empty, open space, completely devoid of any other buildings.
But it wasn’t truly empty.
In place of structures stood enormous, monstrous figures — the witch’s familiars.
Hans immediately spotted a Trijagger, a beast that had once chilled his blood with fear.
Alongside it were other creatures of terrifying power — Odurongs, One-Winged Angels, and Eternal Crows — monsters so strong it would take dozens of hunters just to consider trying to bring one down.
Even an explorer wouldn’t stand a chance against them alone.
It was no wonder there wasn’t a single other soul nearby.…And now, Hans had to walk right through them.
He swallowed hard.
For a seasoned hunter like him, the hardest part was controlling his survival instincts, instincts screaming at him to run as far and fast as he could.
The massive beasts paid little attention to a small, insignificant human like him.
Still, Hans moved slowly and carefully, doing his best not to draw even a flicker of their interest as he made his way through the open space.
The tower had no door.
Whether it was a statement of confidence or simply a matter of ventilation, Hans couldn’t say.
“Seventh floor.”
Each floor of the tower housed a witch.
Hans didn’t know exactly how many floors the spire had, but it had to be over twenty , and this wasn’t even the only tower in the city.
A single witch could burn down an entire village.
Two dozen witches could tip the fate of a nation.
And if their numbers ever reached the triple digits… they could end the world itself.
Ironically, that overwhelming power was being used to preserve the world instead.
Even reaching the seventh floor was no easy task.
Built with some kind of unknown sorcery, the tower’s height was staggering — and even Hans, whose body was well-trained and hardened through years of hunting, was left breathless by the time he reached his destination.
If this was meant to be a punishment, it certainly felt like one.
Panting, Hans finally reached the closed and solidly sealed door.
Unlike the tower’s entrance, this one didn’t stand wide open.
He knocked.
Knock, knock.
The response was immediate.
The door burst open — and a wave of searing heat surged out, slamming into his face.
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