Chapter 221: Clash Of Will!

Meanwhile, As if sensing his hesitation, Vaelith’s voice echoed calmly within his mind.

[I know how to help her… without ruining things for Sophie.]

Bruce’s gaze never left the distant battlefield as he responded quietly, How?

There was a brief pause, then Vaelith spoke again, tone steady, deliberate.

[You have to feed this Labyrinth to Axiom. That will weaken the structure of the dungeon itself. The beast may still retain its undying trait, but unlike before, once Sophie shatters its necrotic core, it will no longer be able to regenerate.]

Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly.

’That explained everything.’

Without another word, he shifted his path, circling around the battlefield at high speed, careful not to disturb Sophie’s flow. The shadow wolves adjusted seamlessly, continuing to erase fodder as he moved past, their presence masking his trajectory as he headed toward the deepest point of the dungeon world.

Toward the heart.

It didn’t take long.

The terrain subtly changed the closer he got, mana thickened, the air grew heavier, and the flow beneath his feet became unnaturally rigid. At the center of a barren expanse stood it.

The Labyrinth Core.

A large, bucket-sized rune stone, brown in color, etched with ancient, interlocking patterns that pulsed faintly with dull light. It sat suspended just above the ground, anchored by invisible forces, radiating a will that pressed against Bruce’s senses the moment he drew near.

Vaelith spoke again.

[On second thought, you’ll have to claim it yourself.]

Bruce exhaled slowly.

[I don’t know if Axiom’s will alone can overpower a Labyrinth containing close to a million undying entities. It would be risky even for you, but it’s the only way to break the cycle Sophie is trapped in.]

Bruce stepped closer, eyes fixed on the core.

As he did, Vaelith continued, voice lowering.

[I’m also suspecting that these dungeons aren’t natural at all. Their appearance matches the methods of invaders. If that’s the case, then this Labyrinth may already be owned, its will bound to an external existence before being forcefully linked to this world.]

Bruce’s expression sharpened.

[Which means when you attempt to claim it, you may not only clash with the will of the Labyrinth… but also with the will of its true owner.]

The implication settled heavily in the air.

[Stand firm, Bruce. The survival of this situation rests on you.]

Bruce was silent for a moment.

Then,

He smiled.

’Don’t worry,’ he thought calmly. ’I’ve got this covered.’

There was no hesitation in him. No doubt.

He willed Red into his hand.

The blade materialized instantly, humming softly as if sensing what was about to happen. Bruce raised it, made a small, precise cut across his thumb, and let a single drop of blood fall.

It landed on the Labyrinth Core. The reaction was immediate.

Dense mana surged violently outward as the rune stone flared, its brown glow intensifying before erupting into a towering pillar of light that shot straight into the sky of the dungeon world. The ground trembled. The air screamed as violent winds spiraled outward, whipping Bruce’s hair back as the very fabric of the Labyrinth began to resist.

The core’s will surged.

The dungeon howled.

At that moment,

<Ding.>

A familiar sound echoed clearly within Bruce’s mind.

The Akashic Codex had responded.

[Your blood has been absorbed by the Labyrinth Rune Stone.]

[It has been detected that this Labyrinth has not been cleared and is already owned.]

[To proceed with claiming it, you must engage in a clash of will against both the Labyrinth itself and its current master.]

[Do you accept?]

[Y / N]

Bruce took a slow, steady breath.

The winds still roared around him, the pillar of brown light tearing into the sky, the dungeon world trembling in resistance, but none of it mattered now. His gaze was calm. Centered.

He willed Yes.

The moment he did, the world vanished.

Not collapsed or shattered. It simply ceased to exist.

His vision was swallowed whole as reality peeled away, layer after layer, until there was nothing left.

Then.

He found himself standing in a space devoid of light.

No ground. No sky. No horizon.

Just endless darkness.

And pressure.

A thick, eerie aura pressed down from every direction, cold and suffocating, carrying a singular, overwhelming intent to protect. This place was not physical. It was will made manifest. It was the consciousness of the labyrinth….

Bruce could feel it immediately.

The will of the Labyrinth.

It was vast. Ancient. Layered with the screams of hundreds of thousands of undead skeletons bound within it. Their existence fed it. Their endless deaths strengthened it. Their inability to rest reinforced its purpose.

And deeper still.

Something else. The undying curse. Zorvak’s curse.

That curse didn’t just grant the undead their endless regeneration. It bled into the Labyrinth itself, fortifying its will, thickening it into something grotesquely resilient. The dungeon refused to be erased. Refused to be devoured. Refused to end.

In a pure contest of will, Axiom alone would have been crushed.

Bruce understood that instantly. So had Vaelith. That was why it told Bruce to handle this himself. Axiom’s will can’t match the will of this world…

Bruce stood there, unmoving, as the crushing presence tried to overwhelm him, trying to drown his existence under endless pressure. Lesser wills would have shattered in seconds. Stronger ones would have broken under the sheer weight of undying obsession.

But Bruce didn’t bend.

The will of someone who had lived a thousand lives.

The will of someone who had died a thousand deaths.

The will of someone who had faced despair, loss, fear, helplessness, and stood back up every single time.

That was not something to be underestimated.

Even so, Bruce wasn’t arrogant enough to believe this would be easy.

He could feel it.

Even this might not be enough.

But that was fine.

Because if Plan A failed….

There was always Plan B.

He wouldn’t have gone through with this if he had no back up plan in mind…

Bruce remained silent in the darkness, waiting.

Waiting for the other side to arrive.

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