As he continued the chase, the footprints split into multiple paths.
Hans hesitated for a moment, bewildered.
Why would they scatter after coming this far?
Looking closely at the ground, he noticed that among the tangled footprints, there were traces that didn’t belong to humans.
The hesitation didn’t last long.
After all, there was only one set of footprints he needed to follow.
Amid the chaotic tracks, he picked out the lightest and most delicate ones and took off running.
The footprints that bounced along as if their owner were on a leisurely stroll—despite everyone else being locked in a desperate race.
And yet, not once had that figure lost the lead.
Rustle.
The area near the boundary of space had been neatly “incinerated” by the witches as a precaution, but a little further out, the labyrinth’s natural environment unfolded.
The most common terrain was, of course, forests like the one he was in now.
Pale green leaves, roots twisting up from the ground like an old crone’s hair.
The trees that managed to grow in the labyrinth’s harsher-than-a-desert climate were short in stature but thick enough to withstand even the claws of a large monster.
The path that had once stretched out in a straight line was now forced to twist and turn in a zigzag.
The ground was so uneven, with dead roots jutting out, that even a seasoned hunter would inevitably have their steps slowed.
But one set of footprints maintained its speed, undeterred by the rough terrain.
Naturally, the distance between them grew wider.
And soon, Hans came across a sign even more direct than footprints.
Swish.
The rustling of the grass — and a dagger flying in from his blind spot.
It was the same trick he had used earlier, but today, fortune was smiling on Hans, not his pursuers.
The carefully concealed, well-aimed ambush missed entirely, not even grazing his hair.
Without hesitation, Hans slashed through the grass with his sword and came to a halt.
“Ugh… damn it…”
“Well, well.”
The poor aim of the dagger thrower made sense now.
The attacker — no, the straggler — hiding in the brush was clearly not in good shape.
The wounds covering the attacker’s body weren’t made by human swords — they were the marks of a monster’s fangs and claws.
Hans had been too distracted to notice earlier, but if he’d paid just a little more attention, the thick scent of blood in the air would have given it away.
In the labyrinth, the roles of hunter and prey could switch in an instant.
And that didn’t apply only to humans — it was just as true for monsters.
Even an experienced explorer fighting giant beasts in the labyrinth’s deepest reaches could meet their end from a tiny creature burrowing into their brain.
Hans himself had nearly been killed by nothing more than a pack of Three-Eyed Hounds not long ago.
This time was no different.
The ever-present nuisance of the labyrinth had struck again.
Three-Eyed Hounds — pack hunters that usually roamed alone.
“Bark! Bark, bark!”
Hans frowned as he heard distant barking, faint but growing closer.
Even without seeing them, their presence was clear.
They were weak, but crafty.
Their individual strength was laughable, but with their three eyes, their vision was exceptional.
True to their canine nature, their sense of smell was just as sharp — and, worst of all, they had an uncanny ability to track the scent of their own kind’s blood.
Kill one, and two more appear.
Kill two, and five show up.
Kill five, and you’ll soon face ten… It wasn’t out of vengeance.
After all, these creatures wouldn’t dare approach a large monster, no matter how many of their kind had died.
But humans were different.
Humans didn’t have the thick hides that no fangs could pierce, nor the deadly claws that could shred a pack with a single swipe.
Grrrr.
As the growls drew closer, Hans tightened his grip on his sword.
Human-made weapons and armor — imitations of the claws and hides of beasts — were just as fragile as their wielders.
The bushes rustled.
The stench of the beasts grew stronger.
Hans sharpened his senses and crouched low, muscles in his thighs tensing like a coiled spring.
And the moment a black muzzle pushed out from the underbrush — Hans shot forward like an arrow.
“Yelp?”
The sword stayed in his hand, unused — he hadn’t needed it.
Instead, Hans twisted his body mid-sprint and lashed out with a powerful spinning kick.
After all, Three-Eyed Hounds were only dangerous when they hunted in packs — not when they were alone.
Hans had the kind of strength that could send a calf-sized beast flying with a single kick.
With a pitiful yelp, the Three-Eyed Hound was hurled away, crashing somewhere out of sight.
Hans didn’t stop to finish it off — he was already moving again.
He was too winded from the earlier sprint, and with the constant risk of more monsters appearing, he slowed his pace to a fast walk.
The hound didn’t follow.
Hans had kicked it in the direction of the bloodied, fallen straggler — and the creature, still uninjured and now given a taste of pain, naturally turned its attention to the easier, closer prey.
“Aaaagh!”
A scream tore through the air behind him, but Hans didn’t look back.
If more monsters had shown up, maybe that was for the best.
At least Alje wouldn’t hesitate even against beasts.
But even as the footprints scattered and tangled around him, one set remained steady — still following Alje’s trail without wavering.
The fresh, still-wet drops of blood splattered around only added to Hans’s unease.
It probably wasn’t Alje’s blood — more likely that of other hunters, mauled by monsters — but still.
Hans was exhausted now, his breath heavy, sweat sticking his clothes uncomfortably to his skin beneath his armor.
But even so —At last, he caught up.
Hans called out, his voice urgent, as he spotted a familiar head sticking up from beyond the underbrush.
“Alje!”
*
“Yup! I’m right here, mister!”
“……”
The clear, cheerful voice that answered was so light and carefree that Hans nearly stumbled, his exhaustion and worry crashing against the unexpected relief.
He staggered forward, his legs threatening to give out.
Despite the rough pursuit, the girl looked far too unscathed — so much so that Hans almost felt a little resentful after all the panic he’d gone through.
Turning toward him, the girl flashed an awkward, sheepish grin.
“You told me to run as far away as I could… but I didn’t think I needed to. See? I’m fine!”
“As long as you’re safe, I guess that’s all that matters… but what the hell happened?”
Muttering under his breath, Hans kept moving toward her.
The scene beyond her shoulder finally came into view — a sight Hans had grown sick of seeing in the labyrinth, though this time, something about it felt disturbingly out of place.
A man lay collapsed in a pool of blood.
Around him, several Three-Eyed Hounds circled restlessly.
And standing there, scratching her head with an awkward smile, was the girl.…That one additional element threw everything into complete disarray.
Even without Alje in the picture, the scene didn’t make sense.
Wild monsters — not familiars, not trained beasts — just standing there with prey right in front of them?
Staying still, not attacking?
“Ugh… ugh…” the wounded man groaned weakly.
“Oh, you know,” Alje began, as if explaining something completely ordinary, “I was just running, and these puppies started following me.”
Hans stared at the massive creatures — their unnaturally large, hulking bodies, the strange facial structure dominated by three enormous blinking eyes clustered where a snout should be, and the bristling, rough fur.
Even without knowing they were monsters, their appearance alone was enough to inspire disgust and fear.
But Alje was talking about them like they were a bunch of adorable puppies.
“…And?”
Hans asked, his voice tight.
“Well, when they tried to bite me, I just said, ‘No! Bad dog!’ ”.
“……”
Of course, if monsters were the kind of creatures that could be tamed with words or strength, there would’ve been no need to isolate them within a labyrinth in the first place.
“I wanted to heal that mister too, but he told me not to… So I didn’t! I did good, right?”
Her eyes sparkled, clearly seeking praise.
With a sigh, Hans reached out and ruffled her slightly sweat-dampened hair.
Even as he did, though, a terrible thought crept into his mind.
There was only one explanation for why the Three-Eyed Hounds were behaving so calmly.
They must’ve sensed — in the way their kind instinctively could — that Alje was a high-ranking monster.
“You did well,” he said, keeping his voice light.
“Even if you’d healed him, it would’ve just been a waste of effort.”
“Huh?”
Hans spoke with a casual tone, but his words were cold.
“You’d have to kill him. If he found out you’re a saint.”
And as that unsettling thought settled in his mind, another followed:What did it matter whether someone was a monster or not?
When even human hearts could be so cruel and ugly.
Hans didn’t miss the faint twitch of movement from the supposedly unconscious man’s chest.
“One way or another, he would’ve ended up dead anyway.”
Maybe the reason Hans had accepted Alje, even knowing she was a monster, was because his long years in the labyrinth had blurred the line between humans and monsters in his mind.
Outside the labyrinth, seeing a monster was an incredibly rare event.
But inside?
You couldn’t take two steps without running into one.
In fact, it was harder not to see those grotesque faces day after day.
So if the monsters outside were an unknown terror, shrouded in mystery… the ones inside the labyrinth were—“So if I kill you, you’ll understand, right? And if you don’t… what exactly are you gonna do about it?”
Not some extraordinary nightmare.
Not an unstoppable horror.
Just one of the countless hardships you learned to endure while trying to survive.
Like poverty.
Like hunger.
Like loneliness and disease.
And like the man in front of him — the one who had attacked him and was now moments away from dying.