Published: February 1, 2026
Where is the safest place inside a labyrinth?
Of course, it’s somewhere monsters don’t appear—but since monsters can suddenly pop up anywhere, you can never really relax.
There is, however, one single exception. A place where no monsters spawn and no traps activate.
That’s the boss room after the boss has been defeated, deep in the very last floor.
Needing to face the greatest danger in order to obtain absolute safety is a contradiction, but it’s probably the labyrinth’s way of giving a reward for beating the boss.
Today as well, they had come to the labyrinth on a request, and then—just as calmly as if it were nothing—Gill had said, “Since we’re here anyway, might as well beat the boss too,” the kind of statement that would make most people question his sanity. And so they had come all the way down to the deepest floor.
You can never have too many materials. For Lizel, who had a knack for putting things to strange uses—turning them into cushions and whatnot—having a wide variety of materials on hand would surely come in useful.
He’d made Eleven’s equipment from Gill’s stockpile, and though he didn’t know how much was left, there was no loss in gathering more.
That was the thinking that had led him to casually agree, take down the boss, and start harvesting materials when—
Chirin.
At the sound of a tiny bell, Lizel paused in the middle of gouging out the boss’s eye.
It sounded like something rather gruesome, but today’s boss was the highest-ranked type of Gargoyle.
Its entire body was made of ore, and its eyes were rare orichalcum. There was nothing grisly about it at all—though the other two were making slightly uneasy faces at Lizel as he tugged firmly at the eyeballs.
It wasn’t the clear, ringing tone one would usually associate with a bell, but more like a half-failed chime, thin and rasping.
Lizel lifted his gaze from the boss’s remains and looked around. Seeing this, Eleven tilted his head curiously.
“What’s up, hands hurt or somethin’? That’s why I said I’d do it.”
“No, I just thought I heard something like a bell.”
At his words, the other two stopped what they were doing, frowning.
Gill stopped the task of crushing the Gargoyle’s hand under his boot to pry out the gaudy, over-decorated sword it had been holding.
Eleven pulled his hand out of the mouth full of sharp iron fangs—he’d been playing a nerve‑wracking game of sticking his hand in there—and pricked up his ears.
There was only the clatter of the boss’s body collapsing. Certainly no bell—especially not in a place where there shouldn’t be any such thing.
If the two of them, whose hearing far exceeded his own, hadn’t heard anything, then it must have been his imagination. Thinking that, Lizel tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear and went back to extracting the eyeballs.
A rasping, grinding sound like beans being shaved echoed.
The stall was unusual in that it sold coffee. Despite being a street stall, it served proper coffee, roasting and grinding beans right in front of the customers.
To provide coffee that was always freshly made, the magical tool ran constantly, and with only a brief wait customers could enjoy freshly ground coffee. As a performance, it was more than enough.
They used plenty of fresh cream and milk to make it easy for anyone to drink, so there was no particular insistence on “the original flavor of coffee” and such. Customers who wanted that kind of thing were expected to go into the main shop just behind the stall.
“Aunty, gimme this. The one I bought last time was real good—no, seriously, this place was the best. Huh, you’ll throw in a freebie? Then how ‘bout I buy one more cup and… knew it. Thanks!”
When Lizel had said his throat was dry, and that it was rare so he might as well buy a cup, Eleven had happily dashed over to the stall.
Watching him smoothly angle for a free extra with his natural glibness, Lizel couldn’t help but be impressed. Neither he nor Gill had that kind of easy charm.