Day 1 – The Descent of Madness
It took three days.
Three long, sleepless days inside the deepest layer of the Labyrinth.
Yujiro Hanma stood with arms folded, barely speaking. Ramiris flew around him frantically, exhausted, terrified, and muttering spells while redrawing magic circles and redesigning entire sectors of the Labyrinth based on his insane demands.
"This… this isn't a dungeon anymore," she whispered to herself, hovering above a shifting blueprint. "It's a graveyard. A living, breathing nightmare…"
She gulped as she finalized the last command to the control core. With trembling hands, she floated over to Yujiro.
"It's done," she said, eyes wide and sleepless. "It's… everything you asked for. And more."
Yujiro simply smirked, finally satisfied.
This was no longer the dungeon Rimuru once proudly called the "Tempest Labyrinth."
No. This was a living hell — forged by Yujiro Hanma's unrelenting will and Ramiris' desperate fear of disappointing him.
It had become the Ultimate Training Ground.
The Labyrinth was now divided into chaotic biomes, each representing the harshest conditions known—and unknown.
Zone of the Forbidden Flesh: The monsters here could only be killed through raw strength. No magic. No skills. No auras. Strike with a fist, or perish. If you dared use a skill, they grew stronger—doubling their size, speed, and power every second.
The Everstorm Trench: Hurricane winds howled constantly. At one moment, snow fell so thick it blinded all vision, the next, sandstorms ripped away at the skin. Then rain like falling spears poured endlessly. Breathing improperly here would cause your lungs to collapse.
Each gust of wind could throw you into jagged walls, or into pits filled with monsters feeding on disoriented prey.
The Abyss of Inversion: Gravity twisted like a living serpent. One moment it crushed your spine, the next it flung you into the ceiling. Balance was your only hope. One misstep? You'd be flattened like paper or tossed into void cracks where monsters stalked the edges.
Whispershade Maze: A place where the walls never stayed still. They shifted every minute. Sometimes they opened to reveal massive fanged beasts living inside the walls. Your senses had to be sharp—feel with your skin, hear through silence, see with instinct—or die.
The Hollow Mirror Fields: A realm where fear was a weapon. Monsters here weren't physical—they attacked your soul. They smelled fear. If you hesitated for even a second, they entered your mind, forced you to relive your worst memories, your greatest failures, and used illusions to shatter your spirit. Here, even the mighty fell.
The Martial Ground: In this zone, you were stripped of all defense. Every attack you performed had to be perfect martial arts—no wild swings, no guesswork. Step wrong? You'd break your ankle. Punch wrong? Dislocate your arm. Every move had to come from discipline, not rage. The room rejected anything less than pure technique.
The Black Cradle: Magic did not exist here. Time bent unnaturally. Pain was multiplied. Every wound lingered. Every scream echoed. You would beg for death—but the zone would not let you die. It would force you to crawl until you remembered why you stood in the first place.
Outside the Labyrinth, Rimuru stood with Diablo, Benimaru, and Veldora. They'd been waiting. The morning sky above Tempest was bright, but the air near the Labyrinth was dense… like something ancient was now alive within.
Then finally, Yujiro Hanma emerged.
He stood calmly at the entrance, as if he'd just gone for a short walk.
Everyone tensed.
"I see you all are waiting," Yujiro said, his voice calm and cold. "Here's how it's going to be."
He raised a hand and pointed at the four of them.
"You will go in groups. And I will also be inside… watching. Testing. Attacking."
Everyone swallowed hard. Veldora, normally cocky, looked pale.
"The Labyrinth's time has changed," Yujiro continued. "Six months inside equals one week outside. Your training will last ten years—inside. Each group will go multiple times."
"There is a clock inside. It will show how long you've survived. And remember… you wanted strength. You wanted truth. You wanted to evolve."
Yujiro's eyes narrowed.
"Here it is. No slackers. No cowards. Or I'll punish you myself. And believe me—my punishment is worse than death."
No one dared speak. The fear was real. Sweat dripped down their temples.
Then Yujiro pointed to the first group.
"You, Slime. You, Demon. You, Red-head. You, Dragon. Step forward."
Rimuru, Diablo, Benimaru, and Veldora stepped forward in silence.
"Enter."
The four walked forward and vanished inside.
The moment they stepped through… everything changed.
It was not the Labyrinth they remembered.
It was like being pulled into a new world. A hostile, wrathful, chaotic world that wanted them dead.
Rimuru opened his eyes and found himself alone in a desert with a crimson sky. Scorching heat blasted him as a monster emerged from the sand—a hulking behemoth with fire dripping from its mouth.
He reached for magic… nothing. The magicule in the air was dead.
"No magic?" he gasped.
Then he heard Yujiro's voice echo in the air.
"You've relied too long on power that wasn't yours. Use your body. Your instincts. Or die."
Rimuru clenched his fists. "Fine. Let's see what I've got."
Benimaru's Trial – The Howling Winds
Benimaru was thrown into the Everstorm Trench. His crimson hair whipped violently as gale-force winds tore at him. A snowstorm turned into a sandstorm in seconds. He couldn't see—only feel. He tried to step forward and was hurled into a boulder.
He groaned.
"This is insane…!"
Yujiro's voice filled the sky.
"Watch your stance. You're letting the wind control your body. Own it. Adjust your weight. Lower your hips. Center."
Benimaru's eyes lit up.
"Martial stance… like Hakuro taught me…"
He adjusted. The wind pushed, but this time, he didn't fall.
Diablo's Trial – The Fear Eater
Diablo was in the Hollow Mirror Fields. Darkness all around. Whispers clawed at his mind.
"Traitor… Weakling… You were once a slave to power… You will always be a dog…"
Suddenly, he was face to face with his past self—broken, desperate, weak.
He collapsed to one knee.
"I… am not… that man anymore…"
Yujiro's voice echoed in the void.
"Then stand. And prove it. Every move. Martial arts only. No tricks."
Diablo wiped his face. "Yes, sensei."
Veldora's Trial – The Martial Ground
Veldora stood in an arena where the floor cracked with every breath. Monsters appeared—silent warriors, stone-skinned, emotionless.
He roared and charged with a swing—CRACK—his wrist nearly snapped.
"ARGH!"
Yujiro's voice. Cold. Precise.
"What did I say? No wild swings. Control your breath. Step with discipline. Punch with purpose."
Veldora gritted his teeth.
"I'm… a dragon! I don't take orders—!"
BAM.
An invisible fist slammed into his ribs. Veldora coughed blood, eyes wide.
Yujiro wasn't visible.
Only his voice.
"You do now."
Hours… Days… Weeks inside
The group was pushed beyond their limits.
Rimuru's body bled, bruised, broken—but he adapted. His body learned to move like a martial artist.
Diablo's fear turned into resolve. His punches became sharper. His movement cleaner.
Benimaru learned to dance in chaos. To bend with the storm rather than fight it.
Veldora was humbled, again and again, until even he began listening with quiet intensity.
Every day, they would hear Yujiro's voice:
"Wrong. Again."
"Good. Do it again."
"Faster."
"You're lazy. Fix it."
"That punch? Trash. Redo."
And from time to time, without warning, he would strike. A punch from nowhere. A kick from the shadows. A voice whispering one second, and then a sudden impact the next.
He was their teacher.
He was their tormentor.
He was their god in this Labyrinth.