The jungle buzzed with lazy insects and misplaced optimism.

  They stood at the riverbank again—the same endless current roaring like it had been waiting just to mock them.

  Leo gestured grandly at the chaos. “All right. Here’s the plan.”

  Bert squinted. “Please say it’s not swimming again.”

  “No,” Leo said, proudly. “We’re going to build a bridge.”

  Silence.

  Bert blinked. “A bridge?”

  “Exactly. Strong, stable, and structurally brilliant. We’ll span the entire river ourselves.”

  Bert stared at him, horrified. “That sounds like… work.”

  Harlada crossed her arms. “It’s not the worst plan we’ve had.”

  “Thank you,” Leo said.

  She added, “It’s just incredibly unrealistic.”

  The Maze pulsed.

  Assessment: Accurate.

  Bert threw up his hands. “It’ll take forever!”

  Leo nodded. “Maybe. But there’s no time limit.”

  Harlada tilted her head. “He’s right. Technically, nothing stops us from taking years to finish. We could outbuild the Maze.”

  The Maze pulsed again, audibly displeased.

  Clarification: Theoretically correct. Practically infuriating.

  Leo grinned. “See? Progress through patience.”

  “Through insanity,” Harlada muttered.

  Bert frowned. “So… we actually start piling rocks?”

  “Exactly,” Leo said. “Vines, wood, stones—whatever holds. We’ll build from what we find, we use the doors itself if we have to.”

  The Maze pulsed, reluctantly updating its log.

  New objective detected: Player-created bridge initiative. Estimated completion: 0.3 years. Approval rating: 0%.

  Harlada smirked. “Guess we’re in for the long haul.”

  Leo straightened his cloak. “Then let’s begin.”

  The Maze pulsed one last time, dripping with sarcasm.

  Fine. But don’t expect applause.

  ***

  Time passed strangely in the jungle.

  Weeks, days, hours, or possibly just a long, stubborn afternoon.

  The bridge project began.

  ***

  Leo crouched in the mud with a stick, sketching lines into the dirt. “Support beams here, anchor points there. Simple triangulation.”

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  Harlada floated above him, unimpressed. “Those look like noodles.”

  “They’re schematics,” Leo said.

  Bert leaned over his shoulder. “Where do I hit things?”

  “Nowhere,” Leo said. “You build.”

  Bert frowned. “Same motion, different purpose. Got it.”

  The Maze pulsed.

  Construction phase initiated. Projected failure: 99%.

  Three certain fingers went up to the crystal.

  ***

  Bert hauled logs like a man auditioning for a myth. He lashed them together with vines, humming victory songs in the wrong key.

  Leo hammered, tied, measured, redrew, and occasionally yelled “engineering!” when things held together for more than a minute.

  Harlada hovered along the length of the structure, inspecting every joint. “Left beam’s crooked.”

  “It’s character,” Leo snapped.

  The Maze pulsed.

  Bridge stability: Questionable but photogenic.

  Bert grinned, wiping sweat from his forehead. “This is actually working!”

  “Don’t jinx it,” Harlada said.

  ***

  After what felt like 100 years, they stood before a rough but functional bridge of vines, branches, and sheer collective stubbornness.

  It spanned the narrowest stretch of the raging river, wobbling only slightly, which for them was architectural perfection.

  Bert grinned. “We did it!”

  Harlada nodded, floating out above it, testing the air. “It’s holding. Against all logic.”

  Leo smiled, exhausted and proud. “See? Planning, teamwork, and mild insanity. That’s progress.”

  The Maze pulsed, begrudgingly.

  Structure complete. Integrity: Unclear. Pride level: Excessive.

  They stood side by side, looking across at the opposite bank, where the gem and exit door shimmered faintly through the mist.

  Harlada smirked. “Dry feet. For once.”

  Leo nodded. “Tomorrow, we cross.”

  The Maze pulsed, with what sounded suspiciously like dread.

  Attempt 3 status: Successful?

  ***

  Morning came.

  Or at least, the light got slightly less damp.

  The bridge held—a crooked, glorious monument to teamwork and mild delusion.

  Bert went first, testing each step with exaggerated care. The vines creaked, the branches swayed, but the river stayed where it belonged: below.

  Leo followed, hands out for balance, every muscle tight with focus. Harlada floated overhead, because of course she did.

  Halfway across, Bert laughed. “We’re actually doing it!”

  “Don’t say that,” Leo hissed. “The Maze hears hope.”

  The Maze pulsed.

  Hope detected. Logging for later disappointment.

  But for once, nothing collapsed.

  No gust of wind, no monster, no sudden rule change.

  They reached the far side in one piece—muddy, shaky, but triumphant.

  The gem waited on its pedestal, glowing faintly, as if sulking about their success.

  Bert reached out and touched it first. The light flared, warm and humming, like a purr that didn’t want to be friendly.

  Reward granted: Attribute Selection. Choose wisely.

  They glanced at each other.

  No words.

  Just a mutual nod of unspoken understanding.

  Bert pressed his hand to the gem. “Dexterity.”

  Leo followed. “Strength.”

  Harlada touched it last, her voice calm. “Intelligence.”

  The gem pulsed three times, once for each of them.

  Then it pulsed again—longer, drier, annoyed.

  Stat increases confirmed. Player growth detected.

  Comment: You were more entertaining when you made bad choices.

  Bert smiled. “We still do, just slower.”

  The Maze pulsed, unimpressed.

  River level complete. Sense of humor: Declining.