[Oliver’s PoV]

  “Through it!”

  Oliver didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Mordred by the arm and pulled him forward, the chain between them snapping tight as they dove through the hole he had blasted in the wall.

  The two tumbled onto the other side, stumbling as they hit the ground. The corridor they had entered was just like the one they had been in before.

  Yet, this time without enemies in sight. No slimes, no humanoid horrors.

  Except for the creature behind them.

  “Don’t stop,” Mordred said, his tone low but urgent.

  “Which way?” Oliver demanded, scanning the corridor. The passage was split into two identical directions.

  Mordred hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes darting between the paths. Then something shifted in his expression, a spark of realization.

  “This way.”

  He raised both hands, palms forward, facing the wall ahead.

  [Shadow Shot]

  The words left his lips like a trigger.

  The faint shadows in the corridor, the ones cast by their bodies, the chain, even the dim light flickering along the walls, moved.

  They flowed toward Mordred, twisting and spiraling, drawn into his palms. The air around him darkened, the light bending as the shadows condensed into a single, dense sphere of black Energy.

  It hovered between his hands, then began to spin.

  Faster.

  Faster.

  A faint distortion formed around it, the edges of space bending inward. The orb became a miniature singularity, a swirling vortex surrounded by a thin, glowing accretion disk. A micro black hole barely the size of a fist, but radiating enough energy to make the air hum with power.

  “Move!” Mordred shouted.

  He thrust his hands forward.

  The sphere shot out like a bullet.

  It tore through the air in a perfect line, leaving a faint ripple of distortion in its wake. When it hit the wall, there was no explosion. It left just a clean, precise hole.

  But it didn’t stop there.

  The sphere kept going.

  It passed through the wall, then the next, and the next. Each one punctured with surgical precision. The sound was like a drumbeat of collapsing matter, a rhythmic thud-thud-thud as the projectile continued its path through the labyrinth.

  And with every wall it pierced, it pulled.

  The micro black hole’s gravitational field dragged the surrounding material inward, tearing at the structure. The once-smooth walls buckled and warped, fragments of white stone and metal twisting toward the holes as if the labyrinth itself were being devoured.

  By the time the sphere dissipated, the corridor behind it was unrecognizable.

  Dozens of walls had been ripped apart, their remains scattered across the floor. A long, jagged tunnel stretched out before them, the path clear but unstable, the air shimmering with residual distortion.

  “Follow me.”

  Mordred gestured sharply, stepping over the first collapsed wall.

  Oliver didn’t need another signal. He was right behind him. The corridor ahead was littered with fragments of white stone, the once-perfect walls now jagged and uneven from the Shadow Shot that had torn through them.

  “The shot should’ve gone all the way through,” Mordred said, his voice steady despite the fatigue creeping into it. “If we follow the path, we’ll reach the outer edge. Then we start looping left. In theory, six sides, one for each outer wall. We clear them one by one.”

  Oliver nodded. “And if we don’t find any exits along the sides…”

  “Then there’s only one place left.” Mordred’s red eyes flicked toward him.

  “The center.”

  “Exactly.”

  However, it wasn’t a subtle plan, far from it. Every explosion, every blast of shadow that tore through the labyrinth only drew more attention to their position. But subtlety wasn’t an option anymore.

  They moved quickly, stepping through the ragged openings Mordred’s attacks had carved.

  “There.” Mordred pointed ahead, his voice strained. “That’s the outer wall.”

  Oliver glanced at it; it was unmistakable. The material was dark and dense, made of some black stone.

  “Now we move that way,” Mordred said, raising his hands.

  [Shadow Shot]

  The shadows obeyed instantly. Mordred thrust his arms forward, and the sphere shot down the walls, creating a new path.

  They pressed on.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  But the deeper they carved into the labyrinth, the worse the problem behind them became.

  It started as a sound. Then came the vibrations, the subtle tremors in the floor as something heavy moved in the distance. The creatures were following.

  Oliver looked back. Dozens of dark figures moved through the haze. They were slow, but relentless, their tendrils scraping along the walls, leaving trails of black residue.

  “They’re approaching,” Oliver muttered.

  “They’re following the noise,” Mordred mentioned. His breathing had grown heavier, each word punctuated by effort.

  After some time, they reached the first outer wall again.

  “We’re back where we started,” Mordred said, his voice tight.

  Oliver glanced around. The path ahead looked familiar. They had looped back to the beginning.

  “Then the center,” Oliver said, pointing toward the opposite direction from the outer walls.

  Mordred nodded once, though his breathing was ragged. His shoulders rose and fell with every inhale, the strain of repeated Shadow Shots taking its toll. The black Energy that had once flowed smoothly now sputtered, leaving faint trails of smoke in the air.

  “Just… one more.”

  Mordred steadied himself, taking a deep breath. The shadows around him stirred again, crawling along the floor and walls, drawn to his hands.

  Oliver could feel the pressure in the air. The corridor itself groaned, the walls bending inward as if resisting the force.

  “Mordred—”

  “I’ve got it.”

  [Shadow Shot].

  Once again, the black sphere tore through the air, streaking across the corridor like a bullet made of darkness. It cut through everything in its path, walls, debris, and even the twisted forms of the creatures that dared to crawl too close. The impact was devastating, dragging chunks of the labyrinth’s structure inward.

  But the monsters weren’t dying.

  Even as they were caught in the pull, their bodies twisted and reformed, the blue-black ooze pulling them back together, regenerating what the shadows had torn apart.

  “There’s something there!” Mordred shouted, his voice strained but less frustrated than before.

  Oliver squinted through the haze. For a moment, he couldn’t tell what Mordred was pointing at, but then the smoke began to clear.

  A room emerged from the rubble.

  It was circular, seamless. Two doors stood on either side of the chamber, their surfaces unmarked and perfectly smooth. Yet with a new acquired hole on its walls, a wound left by Mordred’s last attack.

  But it wasn’t the structure that caught Oliver’s attention.

  It was the center.

  There, rising slightly from the floor, was a rectangular podium, no higher than a few centimeters. A shallow groove encircled it, perfectly symmetrical, forming a thin line.

  The podium was covered in inscriptions, hundreds of them. Intricate lines and symbols spiraled across its surface. The writing shimmered faintly, but the language was unfamiliar to Oliver.

  Mordred crouched beside it, his red eyes scanning the markings. “You understand any of this?” Oliver asked, curious.

  “Not a single word,” Mordred replied flatly, standing again. He hesitated for only a moment before stepping onto the podium.

  Nothing happened.

  He stood there for several seconds, shifting his weight as if expecting something to react. But the platform remained still.

  Oliver turned his gaze toward the corridor. The sound of the approaching creatures was unmistakable. Their shadows stretched long against the walls, growing closer with every second.

  “Any other ideas?” Oliver pressed.

  “Give me a second,” Mordred muttered, his patience thinning. He looked back at the podium. “Maybe it needs… you. Try stepping on it.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Could be a teleporter. Or a control node. Something. Just do it!” Mordred snapped, grabbing the chain that still bound them together and pulling hard.

  Oliver stumbled forward, nearly losing his balance as he was dragged onto the podium. The moment his boots touched the surface, the air shifted.

  The platform sank only a few centimeters into the floor, but that was enough.

  A golden light began to pulse across its surface, flowing like liquid through the inscriptions. The symbols came alive, glowing brighter with each passing second. The thin line encircling the platform flared next, spilling light outward in a slowly filling the circular groove.

  “A loading bar?” Mordred muttered, half incredulous, half amused.

  Oliver’s jaw tightened. “How long?”

  “A few minutes, maybe two. Three tops,” Mordred said after a quick glance at the glowing ring.

  Oliver swore under his breath. “We don’t have that much.”

  The first of the creatures had already reached the doorway.

  Their silhouettes filled the entrance, a writhing mass of limbs and tendrils, their bodies dripping with black, viscous ooze that hissed when it hit the glowing floor. The air filled with the sharp, metallic stench of decay and acid.

  Oliver’s arms ignited, golden flames roaring to life around his arms.

  Mordred stepped up beside him, then turned, positioning himself so that their backs pressed together. His voice was calm, but the tension in it was unmistakable.

  “You take your side. I’ll take mine.”

  Oliver didn’t look back. “Your side has fewer enemies.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t have your fancy fire trick,” Mordred shot back.

  Oliver didn’t answer. He didn’t have time.

  The first wave hit.

  The creatures didn’t hesitate. They lunged, firing volleys of black sludge that arced through the air like molten projectiles. There was no room to dodge. The shots splattered across the walls, the floor, and their uniform.

  Oliver raised his arms, unleashing a burst of flame to intercept the barrage. The air sizzled as the fire met the ooze, evaporating much of it mid-flight, but not all. A dozen splashes still hit him, sticking to his arms and legs.

  The slime burned. It tightened around his limbs, pulling, trying to drag him down.

  He gritted his teeth, forcing more Energy into his flames. The golden fire flared, devouring the ooze clinging to him, but it came at a cost. His body screamed in protest, overloading with excess Energy.

  And still, the wave didn’t stop.

  More creatures poured into the room, their distorted voices echoing off the walls. Some fired globs of slime; others formed spikes from their own bodies and hurled them like spears. The entire chamber became a storm of acid and shadow.

  “How long?!” Oliver shouted, not daring to turn around.

  “A minute!” Mordred’s reply came through gritted teeth.

  Oliver’s mind began counting the seconds.

  'Sixty. Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight—'

  The numbers blurred in his head as the battle raged on. The heat from his flames was suffocating, the air thick with smoke and the stench of burning flesh, his and theirs.

  Another volley hit him, this one heavier. The impact drove him back a step. His skin burned. His muscles screamed.

  'Thirty'.

  He barely heard Mordred over the roar of the flames and the shrieks of the creatures.

  The chain between them jerked once, hard. Oliver didn’t know if Mordred was still standing or being dragged down.

  'Fifteen'.

  The ooze was everywhere now. It coated his legs, his shoulders, his chest. The creatures were close enough for him to smell them.

  'Ten.'

  A tendril wrapped around his arm, pulling tight. He swung, fire trailing from his fist, but the flames did nothing. The ooze didn’t burn anymore; it just sizzled, resisting the heat.

  'Five.'

  More tendrils wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides. The acid bit into his flesh. His vision blurred.

  'One.'

  The last thing he saw was the platform, its golden light now blazing so bright it hurt to look at.

  'Zero.'

  https://discord.gg/dnPYbzN974.

  https://www.patreon.com/c/GCLopes.