Following the Trail (2)

The corridor hemmed in by mountains on both sides—the Valley of Death—is terribly dark, with the sky capped by a thick blanket of fog.

Sunlight is blocked by the heavy, dense fog and barely reaches the ground.

The monsters living in the valley are adept at using that darkness to hide, sensing their prey by means other than sight before attacking.

However, if I used a light—say, a torch or lantern—I would effectively be shouting my location to the flying monsters looking down at the ground from the fog above.

Well, I don't know who named it, but “Labyrinth of Death,” another name for the Valley of Death, is remarkably apt.

Unlike other dangerous regions such as Pluha Great Forest and the Man-Eating Great Marsh, where nature itself is simply a threat, the environment of the Valley of Death feels as though someone deliberately arranged it to be this way.

The dark, enclosed corridor, underground in all but location, is broad but winding, its end out of sight; it branches off and sometimes ends in dead ends, causing people to lose their way and their minds.

It is truly a place worthy of being called a labyrinth, but… had I ever encountered the word “labyrinth” anywhere other than here?

The word “labyrinth” presumably implies something made by human hands.

Since I have memories of my previous life, the word “labyrinth” feels perfectly familiar to me, and when I see a forest with complex terrain, I even admire it as a natural labyrinth...