LRAB Chapter 1
Chapter 1
[translator - night]
[proofreader - gun]
chapter 1
thud!!
a chilling sound of flesh being pierced rang out as something dark and unknown lodged itself into my body.
it was a familiar defeat.
not that i ever thought i’d win.
this was already the umpteenth time i’d challenged this gatekeeper-like monster.
dozens, no, hundreds of attempts had gone by.
no matter how much i pondered, i couldn’t come up with a way to deal with it in my current state.
how did i end up in this situation?
even as death crept closer, blurring my vision, i felt no regret.
in this cursed place, even dying is impossible.
[you died]
[your soul and body have been restored.]
[remember: in this place, you can never die.]
[in this place, you cannot go mad.]
the familiar text floating in the air greeted me once again, pulling me back to consciousness.
the last two lines were what turned this into a hellish, unending loop.
i had no idea how much time had passed since i’d come here.
there were no tools of civilization like clocks in this world.
was there sunrise?
did night ever fall?
not a chance.
the sky was perpetually red, with nothing but a crimson, eye-like moon hanging above.
it was a world that seemed as though it had been destroyed.
[time does not flow in this place.]
that’s right.
with no day or night, even the biological rhythm of my body was absent.
this was a world where time itself had stopped.
[to complete the hall of swords, your blade must reach the ultimate level.]
that cursed phrase was the reason why i endlessly fought the monsters summoned one after another.
the three core rules of this place kept me from dying, from going mad.
they ensured i would neither starve to death nor fall asleep.
in other words, this wasn’t reality.
then where was this?
[welcome, visitor. in the labyrinth of dreams, labyrinthos, you can attain anything you desire through your own efforts.]
it was a prison.
a wretched dreamscape of a prison.
* * *
the beginning
when i first found myself trapped here, i thought, as always, that it was just a dream.
in my previous life, i often dreamed vivid and realistic dreams.
even after being reborn as the eldest son of cascadia, a frontier noble family of the lazarus continent, that habit didn’t change.
after a hard day’s work, i would fall into sleep and have these peculiar dreams, waking up with my fatigue gone.
so, i enjoyed dreaming.
dreaming meant waking up refreshed, free from exhaustion.
anyway, this all started when i fell asleep at my desk after a long day investigating the family’s business ventures.
when i opened my eyes, i was already in this strange place.
falling asleep tired, only to wake up in such a bizarre location?
soon, i noticed strange illustrations floating before my eyes.
“what’s this now? another unique dream?”
curious, i scanned the images.
a sword, a fist, a skull—icons resembling game symbols from my past life.
their shapes were easy to recognize at a glance.
i pressed the sword icon out of curiosity, and a golden light enveloped it, making it glow.
as if possessed, i then began pressing all the icons, one by one.
i couldn’t stop until i saw them all light up.
only after that did i feel satisfied, laughing to myself.
if i were to watch that scene now, detached and from afar, i’d probably scream and try to stop myself.
“stop! don’t do it! don’t press that!”
but back then, i had no idea what i was doing.
whether it was a glitch or intentional, i’ll never know.
only after touching every icon did a set of text appear, opening the gates of hell for me.
[welcome, visitor. this is the dream city, labyrinthos.]
[exclusive achievement courses have been prepared for you as the sole visitor.]
age: 17
gender: male
ability: sword expert
it was simple and concise, but precisely because of its simplicity, it was easy to grasp.
it proved that i wasn’t imagining things—it was real.
“ha... sword master? mind master? grand master? how many lifetimes will it take to reach those levels?”
i mean, what even is the peak?
* * *
talking to myself became second nature in no time.
i started because i was gripped by the irrational fear that i might forget how to speak if i didn’t.
in reality, that wasn’t going to happen.
strangely enough, my memory in this place was perfectly intact.
memories of my past life, memories before i was trapped in this wretched space.
that’s why my goal—to return home—remained firmly rooted in me.
so forgetting how to speak?
no chance.
still, i kept talking to myself.
if nothing else, my vocal muscles might atrophy.
[congratulations. you have slain the ravenous, shapeless entity.]
[summoning your next opponent: the mad swordsman, phantom sword.]
before long, a shadowy figure appeared before me, drawing a thin, long blade.
the cursed text introduced it as phantom sword.
a bastard who wields a blade like a ghost.
by now, i had already faced it dozens of times.
killing the first monster leads to the second.
this pattern continues stage by stage, but when you die at stage 10, you don’t just start over at stage 10.
you have to begin again—from stage 1.
that’s why this place is an infinite hell.
anyway, this opponent—the phantom sword—was the first true wall i encountered after gaining the ability to sense aura.
since that moment when i was forced to submit to reality, i had to turn the barely practiced sword techniques i knew into practical skills, refining and mastering them.
after countless deaths—tens, hundreds, thousands, maybe even tens of thousands of times—i finally started to get the hang of it.
in lazarus, the continent where i hail from, swordsmen are divided into stages of skill.
the first stage is for those who have just taken up the sword, progressing to swordsman as they gain experience.
the next is the aura user stage, where one learns to manipulate aura to enhance their physical capabilities.
then comes the expert stage, where one not only masters aura but can also imbue it into their sword to release powerful energy attacks.
most people end their lives within these three stages.
even reaching the expert level requires talent.
though there are numerous distinctions within each stage, the critical point is that a stage beyond these exists.
a transcendent existence—a true superhuman—a sword master who wields sword force and surpasses the limits of physical capability.
beyond that are rumored ranks like mind master and grand master, but they are so rare they’re considered mere legends.
anything beyond that is completely unknown.
not that someone like me, who started without even knowing how to hold a sword, could distinguish such things.
even mind masters are nearly mythical figures.
it took me tens, maybe hundreds of times the effort to reach stages that others achieve in a year.
through sheer effort and endless suffering, i climbed higher.
the first rule of this place:
you cannot die.
knowing that fact, i treated my body like an experiment.
i tried every possible method to sense aura, resorting to all kinds of ridiculous and dangerous tactics.
failure meant death!
but in truth, there were no penalties.
even if i died, the progress i made wouldn’t vanish.
after experiencing countless deaths, i gradually became stronger, bit by bit, through persistent effort.
and so, an unimaginable amount of time passed.
or rather, it felt that way.
with no master to guide me, i had to figure everything out on my own.
i had to ponder, analyze, and overcome every challenge entirely by myself.
sometimes, i even used memories of novels or movies from my past life to gain an edge.
there’s much to say about those processes.
humans experience countless trial-and-error moments.
what if the aura i’m building now turns out to be like a poorly constructed building?
could i tear it down without hesitation?
in the real world, living beings have finite lifespans.
sacrificing everything to start over would be unimaginable.
[translator - night]
[proofreader - gun]
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