A Maze Not Written

The moment they crossed the threshold, all sound vanished.

The walls pulsed.

Clockwork spun without rhythm now—almost erratic.

And the first thing Rin noticed: There was no card hovering above the door.

No classification. No level. No countdown system voice.

"We're off script," she muttered.

***

Inside the maze, Matthew stepped carefully.

With every few steps, the floor hummed. If he turned around, the path was gone—tiles sliding quietly out of existence.

He left marks on the wall with his nail.

But a minute later… they were gone, as if the maze erased memory.

***

Meanwhile, Sora crouched in front of a mirror embedded in a wall.

It didn't reflect her.

Instead, it showed a different version of the corridor—one ahead of her.

A future?

Or a lie?

She stepped through it anyway.

***

Elsewhere, the child with the rabbit sat still, unmoving.

Walls shifted around him, but none touched him.

His eyes were closed.

He whispered:

"This isn't one of their games."

"She made this one."

"She's watching again."

***

Back with Matthew, he touched what looked like a door handle—

The wall swallowed his hand.

The maze had teeth.

He yanked it free—bleeding.

"Yeah," he growled, "definitely not system-built."

He looked around.

"This is personal."

***

The first reconfiguration struck like an earthquake.

All six players were thrown off their feet.

The tiles twisted violently.

One player—a pilot—fell through the floor and never screamed.

Just vanished.

Only five remained.

And the system said nothing.

Because this maze wasn't bound by the system.

It was beyond it.

***

In the final panel of the chapter, on one of the spinning walls, a phrase briefly appears before vanishing again:

"The Witch was only the beginning."

"Now you must face the Designer."