Chapter 29 : Kumo Strass (29)

Alje didn’t seem so much scared as puzzled, as if he couldn’t quite understand Hans’s intense reaction.

Still, being a good kid, he didn’t question it further and simply started running.

At that moment, the pursuers’ reactions split sharply.

They had been drawn here like flies to a scent from the start, but none of them had any desire to be pricked by the thorn — the skilled hunter guarding the flower.

As their once-aligned target divided, most of them, unsurprisingly, were drawn to the flower, not the thorn.

Even knowing that if they reached out recklessly, they were bound to get pricked.

But who cares?

As long as it’s not me getting pricked, that’s all that matters.

The labyrinth was a place where everyone had to fend for themselves.

Hoping for teamwork or cooperation was laughable, and any support or sacrifice for a fellow traveler would only come back later as a twisted form of gratitude — like having the knife driven in just a little more gently when they gutted you.

“Hah!”

Fighting five other armed hunters would hardly leave Hans unscathed, but only one or two ended up in his path — unavoidable, since their routes happened to overlap.

On top of that, they were so distracted they couldn’t even focus entirely on Hans.

Absurdly enough, their wariness was directed not at him but at their own comrades.

As if worried that while they were held up here, someone else might get to enjoy the prize first.

Disgusting.

Hans wouldn’t claim to be particularly noble or virtuous himself, but if this wasn’t a kind of self-loathing, what was?

“Cut it out.”

Hans muttered to himself.

The reason didn’t matter.

Wasting time searching for one was far less productive than just swinging his sword one more time.

They touched what was his.

Wasn’t that reason enough?

Clang!

Swords collided.

Of course — no matter how distracted they were, they wouldn’t go down that easily.

Hans twisted his wrist, angling his blade diagonally in a slicing motion while driving his knee upward.

Even that was blocked.

From the side, one of the attacker’s comrades passed by, aiming a quick, stabbing strike at Hans’s exposed side — a light, almost casual motion, like an afterthought.

He let them strike him willingly.

Twisting his body just enough to deflect the attack, the blow glanced off what looked like simple leather armor — but was harder than most metal.

The attacker’s blade failed to pierce Hans’s prized protection.

Once again, swords clashed.

The impact sent them bouncing apart, and Hans’s blade immediately turned toward the enemy who had closed in too carelessly.

“Ugh!”

It was more a lucky movement than a calculated strike, so it didn’t land a serious wound.

Still, the fact that Hans was holding his ground — even dominating — while facing multiple opponents at once spoke volumes about his skill.

He kept his feet moving, making his attacks unpredictable and staggered.

Like a predator carefully studying its prey, his sharp instincts picked up on his enemies’ habits, tendencies, and weaknesses.

At this rate, it wouldn’t be too difficult to bring them down.

It would take some time — but that was all.

But while Hans had managed to hold back just two of them, the rest ignored him and rushed past, sprinting toward Alje.

Hans steadied himself, forcing down the rising urgency and his quickening breath.

It’s fine.

There’s no way Alje would get caught that easily.

“Why… why is she so fast?”

Even if the girl didn’t fully grasp the seriousness of the situation, she followed his instructions without question.

In fact, her bright smile made her look almost like she was treating this as some kind of game — innocent and carefree.

But her physical ability was on a whole different level.

Unlike the fully armed men who had come prepared for the labyrinth, Alje was wearing light, almost casual clothing.

Hans had originally planned to get her at least some simple armor — but she’d found it too uncomfortable.

For an ordinary person, that would’ve been a reckless choice.

But for Alje, with her unique regenerative abilities, it wasn’t a problem.

And right now, that decision was proving to be an advantage.

The gap between them stretched impossibly fast, as if she wasn’t just running but flying.

Watching the others struggle to keep up, Hans swung his sword hard, creating some distance between him and his current opponents.

A smirk played at his lips, part bravado, part satisfaction.

“Looks like it’s just you and me now.”

A lone hunter in the labyrinth usually meant one thing — they had enough confidence to believe they didn’t need anyone else.

But his opponent was far too seasoned to fall for such cheap bravado.

The others had already disappeared, chasing after Alje — and maybe realizing their chances of getting any “fun” were slim, the hunter’s wavering gaze finally settled, calm and focused.

“The one left alone is your little princess, isn’t she? Shouldn’t you be protecting her?”

A cheap taunt — but it still got under Hans’s skin, just a little.

Hans thrust his sword forward.

It was, of course, blocked — and a sharp counterattack followed from behind.

Moving sideways in a quick, sliding step to evade the strike, he smoothly drew a dagger in the same motion.

The sudden flash of steel was almost lost in the flurry of his billowing cloak and the dust rising around them.

And for the first time, his attack landed.

“Gah!”

It had been a desperate throw, made more in hope than precision — yet it hit the jackpot.

A strike so difficult to aim even on purpose, and the dagger buried itself cleanly in the attacker’s left eye.

Turning a tiny stroke of luck into a decisive inevitability takes skill — and when it came to combat, Hans had more than enough of that.

A massive opening.

Ignoring the sting of his opponent’s blade grazing his chest, Hans surged forward, driving his sword in with a powerful, almost reckless thrust.

Schlk.

A burst of red bloomed — far more vivid and violent than anything before.

“You bastard!”

“Ha, so you do care about your comrades after all?”

The remaining attacker charged at him.

Hans had taken one down, but his sword was still buried deep in the other’s chest — too deep to pull free in time.

Forced to retreat, he left the weapon behind.

His dagger was already thrown, and while he wore gloves, trying to fight a swordsman barehanded was pure madness.

But Hans didn’t hesitate.

Without a second’s pause, he charged straight toward his opponent — trusting only in the protection wrapped tightly around him: Gretel’s love.

The enemy’s sword lashed out like a whip, slamming into him with bone-jarring force.

The blade didn’t pierce through, but the sheer power behind the strike — more beast than human — sent a brutal shock through his body.

Even so, even as his balance wavered, Hans didn’t stop.

Stumbling forward, he collided with his attacker.

It wasn’t a heavy, crushing blow — more of a light, awkward bump.

But sometimes, that was all it took to break someone’s stance.

The idiot was so focused on the fight, he hadn’t even noticed how far they’d drifted.

Taking another hit directly, Hans gritted his teeth, then slammed both hands against the attacker’s stomach — shoving with all his strength instead of striking.

Given both of them were armored, a sloppy punch would’ve done little.

This, however, was far more effective.

“Huh?”

A stunned, panicked scream.

Whether by sheer coincidence or Hans’s exact intent, the direction the man fell happened to be where the wall of the space lay.

The shimmering beyond.

That “gate” was, of course, a two-way passage.

But the station’s administrators, for the sake of convenience — and to double their fees — had set separate exits.

Naturally, they had measures in place for anyone trying to leave through the entrance they came from.

“Wait—no, no—!”

Simply put, it was a violation of the rules.

And the punishment was the same as in the city.

That is, if you were even in a state to pay the price.

After all, the rift was positioned quite high in the air — and if someone was shoved through it without even time to brace themselves.

The man’s face twisted in terror as the rift swallowed him whole.

Hans knew they’d never see that face again.

If the guy was lucky, his neck would snap or his skull would shatter the moment he hit the ground.

If he wasn’t lucky?

He’d survive — only to become either a witch’s experimental subject or a familiar’s next meal.

Hans didn’t dwell on it.

He turned away without another thought.

There wasn’t much point — sound didn’t carry from beyond the rift, and right now, there were more pressing matters at hand.

He didn’t even have time to loot the corpse of the other one lying on the ground.

“Damn shame.”

The grumbling of a practical, self-serving instinct — but his cold, calculating reason didn’t hesitate.

Hans was already on the move.

He couldn’t afford to chase after small gains and risk losing his most precious treasure.

His eyes swept swiftly across the ground.

The sound of their footsteps had already faded into the distance, but in their urgency, neither party had managed to cover their tracks.

Light, quick footprints raced ahead — unmistakably Alje’s.

Heavier, more forceful ones followed closely behind.

Hans grit his teeth and broke into a run.

It’ll be fine.

He hadn’t taken as long as he feared to deal with the two back there.

If he hurried, he could still catch up.

It wasn’t too late yet.

He kept telling himself that — but his heart pounded with an unfamiliar sense of anxiety and dread.

It was a strange feeling.

Since falling into the labyrinth, he’d rarely formed bonds strong enough to worry about anyone else’s safety.

And his one connection — his lover, Gretel — was a witch.

She’d never needed his protection.

But Alje?

“Hah… hah… hah…”

Forget stealth.

Forget conserving stamina.

Hans sprinted at full speed, heavy armor and all.

He knew what Alje was — a creature stronger than these hunters, perhaps even stronger than him.

No, undoubtedly stronger.

But her heart… that heart was still human.

Urban legends spoke of them — the mimic monsters, thieves of existence and actors without equal.

Maybe even the Alje he knew was just a performance.

That young, beautiful, innocent face.

The gentle personality.

The warmth in her eyes when she worried for him.

The fearless way she had first handed him that sword.

Even the miracles she performed like a saint.

Maybe none of it was hers.

Maybe everything he saw had been stolen, borrowed — a mask over something far more alien.

After all, Hans had already seen the true form of a mimic monster.

“So what?”

Even if it was fake — even if it was just a disguise, just a trick —To him, it was real.

Hans was like everyone else, another soul trapped in this cursed labyrinth.

After spending a lifetime under a false sky, of course he’d be drawn to the light when he finally saw it.

The others chasing her… they felt it too.

And so Hans ran.

The day the witches cast him down into the labyrinth, he’d lost everything.

He wasn’t about to lose something precious — not for the second time.