CHAPTER 49: INTO THE 8TH FLOOR PART II - WAVE OF ARCANE ABERRATIONS

[Wave Two Incoming...]

The air shimmered.

This time, there was no silence before the storm—just an instant lurch in the fabric of space, like the Labyrinth itself braced for what was coming next.

[Wave Two: Arcane Aberrations, Tier II—Manifested Constructs Detected.]

The six rift portals above twisted violently, coiling into tight vortexes of runes before vomiting out their next horrors.

They didn’t just fall this time.

They descended like gods of ruin.

First came the Veilsplitters—humanoid aberrants, thin as bone and three meters tall, draped in torn caster robes made of flickering arcane script. They hovered slightly off the ground, eyeless, their faces split down the middle with vertical gashes of glowing glyphlight. Each held a grimoire, but the pages turned on their own—chantless spellcasting, automated and synchronized.

Then came the Aetherhounds, rippling with translucent flesh and visible mana veins. Four-legged, serpentine jaws, and silent. They didn’t growl. Didn’t snarl. They simply watched, twitching like broken familiars, their tails humming with pre-loaded elemental bursts.

And finally—materializing dead center of the arena—the Manablade Gargant.

A fusion of sword and spell. Four arms, two holding massive blades that phased between physical and pure energy. Its body was etched with battle runes and active counterspells—designed to dismantle fighters, especially ones that relied on rhythm and chaining attacks.

"Shit," I muttered, taking a step back.

Even with my memories, this group was dangerous. Back then, this exact wave took out an entire squadron of elite Vassals in under a minute.

-

The Aetherhounds struck first.

Three of them blinked forward—short-range arcane pounce. No wind-up. No visual tells.

I barely shifted my foot to the left, pivoted, and backstepped through the center gap between the two outer hounds, letting their coordinated attack clash into each other mid-air.

"Emberfang Style."

Flames roared around my forearms as I spun and slammed an upward palm strike into one of their exposed underbellies. One, two, three—the stacks climbed with every hit, each one carving burn across its unstable core.

I ducked just as a mana-laced spear fired past me—one of the Veilsplitters had locked on.

I didn’t look.

"Erasure Pulse."

The backlash rippled again, shattering its spell mid-air, unraveling the spear before it touched ground. I charged—low and fast—slipping past its floating grimoire, and with a single knee strike to its gut, activated phase-break contact.

The Veilsplitter ignited, its form stuttering violently. I spun to its rear, flame-bladed palm driving through its spine.

6 Burn Stacks

The Manablade Gargant moved at last.

It let out a deep, low hum—a vibration, not a roar. Its twin blades spun, then locked into formation—a scissor stance.

I crouched, eyes sharp.

"This thing adapts based on attack vectors..."

It charged faster than a creature its size had any right to move.

One blade came in horizontal, the other vertical, almost simultaneously—a compression slash meant to sever and destabilize space around the impact zone.

I sidestepped the first, ducked the second—but the aftershock still hit, knocking me a few meters back.

"Tch—"

My body skidded across the stone tiles. Runes cracked beneath me, but I kept my footing, even as the ground trembled under its next approach.

"Alright. No hesitation."

I sprinted in—straight toward the incoming blade. It feinted right, trying to bait a roll.

Instead, I slid under it, palm glowing red-hot, and jabbed upward.

8... 9... 10 Burn Stacks.

The Gargant reacted—blades shifting elemental type in response to heat. They flared with ice, trying to counter the Emberfang strikes.

But the mistake was trying to use magic against me.

"Blank Protocol. Passive: Absolute Dissonance."

The blades dimmed—30% mana loss in a 5-meter radius.

And I was well within range now.

"15."

My hand burned with full intensity. One final strike to the Gargant’s core, releasing a delayed detonation that sent a firestorm plume bursting upward.

CRACKK-KHOOOOOOM!!!

The creature staggered, its rune-etched armor peeling off in molten sheets before it crumbled into the void.

[Wave Two Cleared.]

[Preparing for Wave Three...]

I wiped the blood from my chin, breathing through the pain.

The arena was starting to take me seriously now.

Good.

Because I was just getting started.

[Wave Three Incoming...]

There was no countdown this time.

The platforms dimmed—then pulsed with a deep, guttural thrum, like the heartbeat of a dying god.

The floor beneath my feet cracked slightly as dense pressure settled across the arena. My breath misted in the air—not from cold, but from mana saturation. The space was swelling, becoming thick with untamed leyflow.

"...Now we’re getting serious."

I shifted into stance—knees low, core tight, right foot angled forward.

The portals did not open all at once. They blinked.

Each with a single, precise pulse—

blink

blink

blink

Six pulses. Six separate ruptures in the sky.

And out of them came monsters that should not have existed on the third wave.

[Wave Three: Aberrant Constructs, Tier III — Riftforged Elites Detected.]

They fell like spears.

Six hulking humanoids, forged of crystallized Riftstone and wrapped in cloaks of elemental anomaly. Their heads were encased in smooth obsidian masks, featureless except for a single vertical slit—inside which a deep red light pulsed in rhythm.

These were Sentinels of the Rift Order.

"Elite constructs... already?" I muttered. "Way too soon. This should’ve been Wave Five."

’The Labyrinth was accelerating the cycle again.’

Because I wasn’t fighting like someone on Wave Three. I was tearing through like a boss raid.

"Fine."

I cracked my knuckles. "Let’s escalate together, then."

The six Sentinels raised their arms in unison. Massive halberds shimmered into existence—mana-forged weapons, each attuned to a specific elemental pattern: flame, lightning, wind, frost, shadow, and arc.

[Synchronization Detected. Group AI Formation: Enclave Shield.]

I clicked my tongue.

That meant they would move as one. If I struck one, the others would rotate, adapt, or block it out in milliseconds.

"Then I’ll break the pattern."

They charged.

The flame sentinel blinked forward, halberd swinging low in a wide cleave. Simultaneously, the frost and lightning ones dashed to flank me, their blades already mid-swing—meant to herd me into the shadow’s path, where a delayed piercing strike awaited.

But I had already moved.

"Erasure Pulse."