Chapter 8: Labyrinth (2)

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

Bittu suddenly woke up, screaming at the top of his lungs, clawing at his hands, his chest, his face. The globules of molten slag, sticky and searing, latching to his skin like leeches still remained vivid in his mind as they fused with his flesh, melting muscle. The pain… told his soul.

The room was dark, suffocatingly so. Bittu's scream echoed off the walls before dissolving into silence, leaving only the sound of his ragged breathing. His heart thundered in his chest, each beat a hammer striking an anvil. He clawed at his arms, his face, searching for burns that weren't there—molten slag that had vanished like smoke.

But it wasn't real. None of it was.

Or was it?

Bittu froze, his hands trembling as they hovered over his skin. The pain lingered, phantom-like, etched into his nerves as if the labyrinth itself had branded him. Slowly, he turned his head to see two shadows beside him, two familiar shadows.

Bittu: "What—"

Alaric: "You were hit with an illusion. Whatever you saw and happened was not real. It was your mind playing tricks because you showed weakness."

Bittu: "wh—"

Leonardo: "As much as I would like to deny that. That is correct."

Bittu: "..."

"Where are the others?"

Leonardo: "Do you think they would wait for the death of someone they don't even know."

Bittu: "Then, Why did you wait? Do you guys know? Or any of us know each other."

Alaric: "We don't. But like you said before, us meeting with billions of people in this place might not be a coincidence."

Leonardo: "...."

His eyes flashed with an unusual light when he heard Alaric but he did not say much since, him staying behind might be because of that reason but definitely not entirely upon it.

Bittu: "...."

Alaric: "If your questions are done. We gotta move. I don't like the feeling here."

.....

The maze seemed to breathe around them, walls shifting imperceptibly in the gloom. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and something metallic—blood, perhaps, or the tang of old magic. Bittu trailed a hand along the cold, slimy surface of the corridor, his breath still uneven. Every shadow flickered like the remnants of his nightmare, and he jerked his arm back when a cluster of bioluminescent fungi pulsed faintly under his touch.

Alaric led the way, his strides deliberate, sword hilt gripped tight in one hand. He hadn't sheathed it since they'd entered the labyrinth. Leonardo lingered a step behind, his sharp eyes darting between the walls and the ceiling, as if deciphering a code only he could see.

Leonardo: "The walls… they're narrowing."

His voice was low, almost drowned by the oppressive silence. Bittu glanced up. The jagged stones above them seemed to lean closer, teeth bared.

Alaric: "Then walk faster."

But even he hesitated when the path ahead splintered into three identical tunnels. The air hummed—a low, dissonant frequency that vibrated in Bittu's bones.

Bittu: "Which way?"

He hated how small his voice sounded.

Leonardo crouched, studying the floor. A trail of dark liquid oozed from the middle passage, thick and syrupy. Bittu's stomach lurched. It wasn't water.

Leonardo: "Left. The others went right."

Alaric: "How do you know?"

Leonardo didn't answer. Instead, he traced a finger over a symbol carved into the wall—a serpent swallowing its own tail. The mark glowed faintly under his touch.

Bittu: "That's… not a good sign."

Alaric: "Neither is standing here jawing."

But he hesitated, glaring at the symbol. "You're certain?"

Leonardo stood, dusting his hands. "No. But the blood isn't."

Bittu's throat tightened. "Whose blood?"

No one answered.

They pressed into the left tunnel, the walls closing in until their shoulders brushed the stone. Bittu's pulse roared in his ears, drowning out even the hum. Then—

A sound.

A wet, slithering noise, like flesh dragging over rock.

Alaric: "Move."

Too late.

The floor erupted.

A tendril of black, glistening muscle shot upward, wrapping around Leonardo's ankle. He gasped, stumbling as the thing yanked him downward. Bittu lunged, catching Leonardo's wrist just as Alaric's sword cleaved through the tendril with a sickening crunch. The severed limb thrashed, spraying acrid fluid that hissed where it hit the walls.

Leonardo: "Let go of me!"

Bittu froze. Leonardo wasn't looking at him—he was staring at the darkness ahead, where more tendrils writhed, emerging from the shadows like veins.

Alaric: "Bittu. Now."

Bittu hauled Leonardo backward as Alaric hacked at the encroaching mass. The corridor behind them collapsed in a shower of stone and screaming flesh.

Leonardo: "That way's blocked. We go forward."

Bittu: "Forward? That's forward?!"

Alaric: "Unless you'd rather wait for the floor to eat you."

Leonardo's eyes met Bittu's, sharp and unreadable. "He's right. The labyrinth… it's testing us."

Bittu: "Testing what?!"

Leonardo: "Whether we're worth keeping."

The words hung in the air, colder than the stone. Somewhere, deep in the maze, something howled.

The passage ahead sloped downward, the air growing hotter, heavier. Bittu wiped sweat from his brow, his mind racing. Testing us. Keeping us. He glanced at Leonardo's back, at the way the man moved as if he knew the labyrinth's rhythm.

Bittu: "You've been here before."

It wasn't a question.

Leonardo paused. "No. But I've… dreamed of it."

Alaric snorted. "Spare us your riddles."

Leonardo: "You feel it too, don't you? The maze—it's alive. It watches. It remembers."

A cold sweat prickled Bittu's neck. The walls pulsed faintly, like the veins of some colossal beast.

Alaric: "Then let's hope it likes what it sees."

They turned a corner—and stopped.

The corridor opened into a vast chamber, its ceiling lost in shadow. At its center stood a pedestal, and atop it, a blade forged of light.

Bittu: "Is that…?"

Leonardo: "A trap. Obviously."

But Alaric was already moving toward it, sword raised.

Alaric: "Stay here if you're scared."

Leonardo: (softly) "He's not the one who should be scared."

As Alaric reached the pedestal, the ground trembled. From the darkness above, a figure dropped—hooded, faceless, wielding a scythe that blotted out the light.

Bittu: "Alaric, look out!"

But the figure moved faster, its blade descending in a silver arc.

And the labyrinth itself screamed at least that was what Bittu thought and to an extent Leonardo thought was about to happen.

...…

The blade of light burned like a star, its edges fraying into the darkness. A trap. Of course it was a trap. But traps had triggers, and triggers had weaknesses. My boots hit the stone floor, steady, deliberate. The weight of my sword grounded me—familiar, right. I'd held it before. Not just in battles, but in moments like this, where the air itself seemed to hold its breath.

Move. Take it. Now.

The thought wasn't mine. Or maybe it was. Muscle memory surged, my body adapting toward the pedestal before my mind registered the threat. Leonardo's warning echoed, but I'd already dismissed it. Fear was a luxury. Fear got you killed.

Then—the tremor.

Too slow.

The figure dropped from the ceiling like a shadow given form, its scythe humming with a malice that prickled my skin. Bittu's shout was distant, muffled, as if I'd sunk underwater. Time stretched. The scythe's arc was a crescent moon, cold and final.

Not today.

My sword met the scythe's shaft a hair's breadth from my shoulder. Metal screamed. The figure's grip faltered—there. A twist of the wrist, a step inward, and the blade slid through flesh and bone as easily as slicing fruit. The hand fell, still clutching the scythe.

But the body kept moving.

A flicker of surprise—it's not human —before instinct took over again. Duck, spin, cut. The head rolled, black fluid spraying. It hit the ground with a wet thud.

Silence.

My chest heaved. The sword felt light in my hand, as if it had always been there. But my mind… my mind was a storm.

What the hell was that?

The precision—the certainty —of the moves… it wasn't me. Or was it? Memories flickered at the edges—training yards, a voice barking orders, the smell of blood and sweat. No. Not memories. Dreams.

The labyrinth's scream came then, a sound that vibrated in my teeth, in my bones. Bittu and Leonardo stood frozen, their faces pale. Good. Let them fear. Fear kept them sharp.

But the blood pooling around the figure's corpse… it wasn't spreading. It coiled, thick and deliberate, into a symbol on the floor—a serpent swallowing its tail. The same mark Leonardo had touched earlier.

Coincidence?

No. Nothing here was coincidence.

I sheathed my sword, ignoring the tremor in my hands. The blade of light still glowed, untouched. A prize. A test. Either way, we didn't have time to waste.

"Take it," I barked, nodding at the pedestal. "Or run. Either way, decide fast."

Leonardo's eyes narrowed. He'd seen the mark. He knew.

The labyrinth wasn't done with us.

And neither was I.

...…

Both Bittu and Leonardo surprised as at the last moment, just before the blade could land on his shoulder, with a clean shot, with extremely precise and calculated movement, Alaric cut the hand of the figure.

The surprise turned to shock when he cut the head of the figure in cold blood, with an even greater ease than before. But, in their shock they failed to see that, Alaric himself was in pure shock with the utmost calculated and experienced move he made.