Last night, Torina called Mylora into her room alone for a detailed briefing about the labyrinth.

This world has seven Guardian Beasts and countless myths woven around them. Among them, Odin shares a mysterious covenant with the people of the Northern Realm—especially House Dewell. The labyrinth “Niflheim” draws its name from the mist-shrouded realm in Odin’s mythology.

“Sounds so cool,” Mylora murmured, eyes sparkling.

“All seven Guardian Beasts will eventually be yours,” Torina said.

“No way! Torina, you—you’re joking again.”

“Actually… it’s pretty likely.”

Guardian Beasts, summoned spirits, divine beasts—it was clearly the author’s cheat code for the MC. In the original story, you literally become the big boss of all Guardian Beasts later.

“Legend says the elves who founded their kingdom on Starfall Mountain forged their first link to rune magic using a celestial meteorite and Odin’s power. To this day, Niflheim remains the place most attuned to runes.”

“‘Resonance’?”

“Inside, you must first resonate with a rune, then engrave its essence into your soul. Runes are a special ‘language’—a way to communicate with the world to manifest phenomena. Engraving the essence is like forming your vocal cords. Only then can you wield rune magic.”

“What rune will I resonate with?”

“It’s a two-way choice. The rune must feel drawn to you, and you must choose it. For example, lightning, water, and ice runes all had affinity with me—and I didn’t dislike them—so it worked.”

“So I get to choose? And pick multiple?”

“Depends on compatibility. My trio meshes well. But rare, powerful runes may reject others entirely… Like the Stellar Rune I hope you find. Born from ancestors’ star maps meeting the cosmos’ whispers—a theoretically supreme rune.”

“Sounds amazing!”

“Naturally.”

In the original, the Stellar Rune’s effect was brutally simple: massive light beams, AoE blasts that scoured the land—pure, overwhelming explosive force.

“Remember: the Stellar Rune should be in Niflheim’s northwest. Look for a modest observatory ruin, surrounded by a few frozen-dead giant trees…”

Torina spoke while recalling the original plot. Rune locations shifted in-story; rarer ones were harder to find. She had to follow the canon route precisely.

——————

——————

Time snapped back to the present.

Molly activated Niflheim.

Annawiel never showed—likely still with family. Mylora and Patti couldn’t wait. The moment Molly gave the signal, they charged into the mist with the others.

Patti was just tagging along. No interest in rune power—she’d go through the motions and call it a day.

Mylora, however, sprinted in with full focus. A bone-deep chill seeped through her for a heartbeat. Blinking open her eyes, she stood inside the labyrinth.

Torina’s words echoed:

“Niflheim’s mist distorts space. You’ll spawn randomly—no point planning teams. First thing: confirm your bearings.”

*(Confirm bearings…)*

She pulled out Torina’s custom compass, oriented herself through the swirling fog, and dashed toward the northwest.

Niflheim felt utterly alien compared to Amana Forest.

Frozen earth and stone underfoot. Sparse, skeletal trees draped in icicles. A cold wind whispered against ears. Faint ruins flickered in the mist—crumbling stone huts, abandoned altars. Towering pillars, as tall as small buildings, bore weathered rune inscriptions and blurred murals.

Distant wolf-like howls swelled. The wind shrieked like vengeful spirits. Shadows flickered. Whispers sharpened. A phantom breath brushed her neck. Each inhale dragged damp cold deep into her lungs—a chill no gear or magic could block.

When cold, whispers, disorientation, and mana fluctuations wore a challenger down… the ambush began.

Rune Wraiths. Werewolves. Dread Wraiths. All swarmed the exhausted.

Outside the labyrinth—

“GYAAAAAAAH!!!”

A scream split the sky. A clot of mist spat out a bloodied noble girl. She collapsed, sobbing.

“Medical team.”

Molly’s voice stayed calm. Medics rushed over. Her family scrambled close.

Soon after, another scream. A wounded young adventurer tumbled out. More followed—challengers teleported out just before critical injury, unable to endure the labyrinth’s trials.

“This year’s batch isn’t impressive,” Molly murmured.

Runes are the world’s condensed whispers. In Niflheim, you endure them passively—a mental death by a thousand cuts. The longer you stay, the sharper the pain.

*(Hmph. That Mylora girl won’t last. She’ll be crying to quit soon.)*

Yet—

“Hmm. Aside from low visibility and the cold… not too bad?”

Mylora jogged lightly through the fog, completely unfazed.

The cold? Uncomfortable, but bearable. Just grit your teeth.

The whispers? White noise. The old system was way louder.

The lurking monsters? They saw her energy untouched—and left her alone.

Duh. She’s the protagonist.

After all, isn’t unshakable mental fortitude the hallmark of every web novel MC in the early game?