System: Daily login!!, jackpot on the first day!!!

After conquering the First Layer of Hell, Narakus - The Hunting Ground of Regret, where blood ran like rivers and the skies wept crimson under the rule of Gusion, the Bloodhound, Taufik and his party descended deeper.

Now, they enter the Second Circle, Zaqqumire: The Garden of Lies, a realm twisted by deception and illusion, ruled by an old 'friend': Orobas, the All-Seeing Deceiver.

Unlike the battlefield of Narakus, Zaqqumire was not forged from rage or suffering.

It was a place of subtle madness.

A dark, endless forest of whispering trees, where the wind carried secrets that never wanted to be known.

The trees groaned with ancient voices, their branches weaving together into towering walls of foliage.

Light filtered through in patches, never enough to see clearly, but just enough to keep you walking forward.

This was no ordinary forest.

This was a labyrinth with no end.

Paths twisted and turned, split and merged again.

Stone paths became dirt trails, which led to rope bridges suspended in mist.

Every step forward was a step deeper into doubt.

There were a thousand paths.

And every path was the right one.

But even the right path does not always lead to the truth.

Because in Zaqqumire, truth is not a destination, it's a lie wearing the mask of enlightenment.

Perfection here is a trick, an illusion spun from desire and pride.

A flawless lie still remains a lie.

There is no "correct" path in this realm.

There is no solution.

Because this labyrinth was never meant to be solved.

And if every path is right, then none of them lead to what is real.

This is Orobas's dominion.

A place where reality folds over itself.

Where certainty rots and truth becomes a weapon.

--------

After the brutal hunt through Narakus, where regret bled into the soil and Gusion's chains dragged through endless crimson mud, the silence of Zaqqumire was... wrong.

No screams. No blood.

Just the rustle of leaves, as if the trees themselves whispered in a language older than memory.

Taufik stepped into the forest.

The air clung to his lungs, sweet... sickeningly so.

It reeked of overripe Zaqqum fruit, a perfume that laced every breath with something fermented, something false.

It was the scent of forgotten promises and half-remembered dreams, sweet enough to smother grief, thick enough to drown reason.

Kl'lara halted mid-step.

Her ears twitched. Her eyes narrowed.

"This place… It's alive," she murmured, voice barely audible.

The spirit's form shimmered faintly, resisting the atmosphere.

Beside her, Basukhi's muscles coiled. He sniffed the air, then let out a low growl, deep, warning, primal. Even he, the ancient beast, hesitated.

Even Lembuswana, The Beast, the beginning of the end, was restless.

Ahead, the forest shimmered like a mirage.

Trees with porcelain bark and leaves of murmuring glass bowed gracefully.

Their limbs curled and parted, opening dozens of paths.

Each one was perfect.

Each one was beautiful.

Each one... right.

And therein lay the trap.

Taufik frowned. Darkness, his Concept, pulled away from the Domain like water off oiled glass.

It wasn't resisted by strength, it was rejected by something deeper: ambiguity.

This place didn't fight him.

It unmade certainty.

The ground beneath his feet might be real, or it might be just what he expected it to be. Expectation became fact here. Perception overwrote reality.

They took one path.

Then another.

And another.

And another.

Each time, the group reemerged in a space eerily familiar.

Too familiar.

Sometimes they passed copies of themselves walking the opposite way, silent, unaware.

Sometimes they heard arguments they'd never had, saw memories they never lived, and felt regret for choices they'd never made.

Kl'lara's eyes burned red once.

She cut down a tree that whispered in her mother's voice.

The sap bled gold.

She was a spirit. She'd never had a mother.

But for a moment... she remembered one.

A life that wasn't hers.

A life that could have been.

They kept walking.

Time unraveled. Hours or years passed, it no longer mattered.

Then, finally... a clearing.

At its center: a long, elegant table, set for a feast.

Piled fruits and glistening meats. Wine-filled goblets. Candlelight that flickered in impossible colors.

At the head of the table sat Orobas, the All-Seeing Deceiver.

He wore a porcelain mask that shifted with every blink, smiling, weeping, blank, screaming.

His long, skeletal fingers steepled in front of him, tapping the air in a rhythm that seemed to echo in the forest around them.

"My dear... Author," he said, voice warm, almost affectionate. "It's been too long~"

Taufik didn't draw his katana.

Not yet.

"You liked the maze?" Orobas continued, gesturing to the table. "Oh, but this isn't a maze. It's a mirror. Each path you walked didn't show where you're going... it showed who you think you are"

He tapped his mask. It shifted into Taufik's face.

"But how can you move forward," he whispered gently, "if you don't know which self is truly yours?"

Kl'lara stepped forward to confront him, but the seat beneath her vanished.

Basukhi lunged with a roar.

Orobas didn't move. He was already behind them, sipping from a goblet filled with black ink.

Taufik sighed.

"You're not going to fight me, are you?"

Orobas chuckled. "Fight? No. That's far too... crude. I don't need to raise a finger. You'll walk yourself into the wrong truth all on your own"

He spun slowly, arms wide, like a showman on stage.

"Did I say we'd meet again when truth forgets its name? But what is truth? Wait... did you even meet the real me?" He leaned in, his shifting mask inches from Taufik's face. "Do you even know the real you?"

Then he vanished.

The feast rotted in a heartbeat. The ground cracked. The forest shuddered and peeled open, revealing hundreds of new paths.

Each one glittering.

Each one... calling.

Kl'lara's voice was tight. "What do we do, my lord?" Thе full sеriеs is hоstеd оn Мy Virtuаl Librаry Еmpirе, knоwn аs МV7LЕМРYR.

Taufik stared at the chaos, at the maze of mirrors and lies and longing. Then he sat.

Right there, on the cracked earth.

"...We stop walking"

Kl'lara blinked. "…What?"

"We stop seeking the answer he wants us to find. This place doesn't respond to truth," He looked up. "It responds to desire"

He closed his eyes.

The air around him grew still.

Darkness flowed, not to smother the garden, but to refuse it.

To deny its power by offering nothing.

No choice. No desire. No illusion.

One by one, the false paths flickered.

The trees screamed.

The illusions crumbled.

Until only one thing remained:

A single, narrow staircase of black stone, winding downward, hidden beneath the weight of non-choice.

The exit.

But before they could descend, Orobas appeared, in a new shape, a new voice, a new identity.

His voice, soft as wind through rustling leaves, whispered one last time:

"Very clever, O Author… But tell me, are you sure that was your choice?"

Taufik narrowed his eyes.

"I already broke through your Domain once. I can do it again, whenever I want." He stepped forward. Shadows coiled behind him, alive and ready. "I can kill you. Right here. Right now"

Orobas chuckled, whimsical and detached.

"Scary~" He raised a hand lazily.

In it: a double-edged blade, silver-black, forged from twilight and void, etched with runes that pulsed like a heartbeat.

"But do you know what's far more terrifying than death?"

Taufik said nothing, eyes locked on the weapon.

Orobas's smile sharpened.

"The truth you refuse to see," A pause. "Like when the ally by your side... turns out to be your enemy"

The runes flared with violent light.

"... Kill him"

"?!!"

*SWOOSH!*

A flash of silver sliced the air.

The cold, curved edge of a scythe whistled past Taufik's neck.

He twisted, barely dodging the fatal strike.

Before his feet could find ground. A colossal shadow lunged from behind.

Lembuswana.

Jaws wide open, fangs like spears, ready to devour.

Taufik grunted, arms thrown up to meet the beast's maw.

Darkness wrapped his limbs like chains, locking against the monster's bite.

Teeth scraped inches from his face.

And then-

A blast of radiant energy struck from the side.

Basukhi, hovering mid-air, his once serene eyes now cold, unrecognizable.

"Kill…" He whispered, releasing a beam of compressed elemental force.

Taufik flung up his free hand, manifesting a dome of obsidian energy just in time.

*BOOOOM!!!*

The explosion thundered like collapsing stars.

Shockwaves shattered trees.

The sky cracked like glass.

The battlefield lit in blue-white fire.

Debris rained. The world trembled.

And when the smoke began to clear.

A lone figure stood amidst the scorched earth.

Clothes tattered. Blood was trailing down his lip.

Taufik.

His shield shattered. His aura is flickering.

But his eyes.... His eyes still burned with the defiance of a man who refused to break.

"…So this is your game, Orobas," he muttered, standing tall.

From behind the fading smoke, they emerged: Lembuswana. Basukhi. Kl'lara. Like a from a past he didn't even know he had.

A past steeped in betrayal.

A past that felt orchestrated.

A truth that felt too real.

The truth. The one that cut deepest.

Orobas's voice echoed once more, amused, cruel, inevitable:

"Truth, O dear Author… is the sharpest weapon of all"

And as the echoes faded.

They all stood before him.

Monsters.

Forgotten gods.

Friends-turned-foes.

And Taufik stood alone.

Against everything.

With nothing but his will… and the weight of his name.

To defy them all.

....

...

..

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