Other Bert stood in front of the gold door, his black armor dull in the light, twin daggers already sheathed. He hadn’t died once. Not here, not anywhere.
For the first time since they’d met him, he hesitated. Just a fraction. A ripple in the shadows.
Then he turned to face them.
“If you ever make it into the Maze,” he said, voice flat as stone, “don’t hesitate. Kill. They’ll look like you. Talk like you. Act like you. But they’re not you. Every last one of them wants the same thing you do — to get out.”
The three of them fell silent. Even Bert stopped fidgeting with his sword.
Other Bert pulled something from his belt — a plain silver ring, scratched and unremarkable except for the faint rune etched along the inside. He tossed it once, caught it, then held it out.
“For luck,” he muttered. His eyes flicked to Bert. “And because you’ll need it more than I will.”
Their Bert stared, then reached out slowly. The ring was heavier than it looked, humming faintly against his palm.
Other Bert gave the faintest nod. “Good luck, idiots.”
Then he turned, pressed a hand to the blazing gold sigil, and stepped through.
The door swallowed him whole. For a moment, the chamber was quiet but for the crystal’s faint pulse — almost disappointed.
The three of them stood staring at the empty doorway.
And then the bronze door pulsed smugly, text scrolling across the ceiling:
Progression Available: Bronze Only. Enjoy.
***
They sat cross-legged in front of the progression doors, coins and dust scattered between them like the ruins of every mistake they’d ever made. The crystal pulsed lazily overhead, not even bothering to taunt.
For once, nobody rushed.
Leo cleared his throat, notebook already open. “Before we step through, I propose… a meeting. Agenda: how we will conduct ourselves in the next dungeon.”
Bert stretched, sword across his knees, the silver ring glinting faintly on his thumb. “Conduct ourselves? Easy. Smash fast, smash hard.”
Harlada groaned. “That’s not a strategy, that’s brain damage.”
Leo scribbled a heading in his notes: Rules for Survival. He raised one finger. “One: no shouting the first thing that comes to mind. Silence may be statistically advantageous.”
“Two,” Harlada cut in, “don’t forget to loot. Ever.”
“Three,” Leo said, ignoring her tone, “perception first. Look before we leap.”
“Four,” Harlada added. “If Bert sneezes again, I’m freezing his nose shut.”
“Hey!” Bert protested.
They all looked at him.
Bert shifted uncomfortably. “…Fine. Four: I won’t sneeze.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“…Anything else?” Harlada asked.
Leo tapped his quill against the page. “If Other Bert was correct, then inside the Maze itself, every encounter may… reflect us. Our choices. Our flaws.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Harlada muttered, “Great. More penguins.”
Bert cracked a grin. “More me. Can’t wait.”
The crystal pulsed overhead, smug text scrolling lazily:
Consensus Meeting Concluded. Rules Noted (and probably ignored). Progression Pending.
The bronze door shimmered, waiting.
***
Before the bronze door could swallow them, a pedestal slid out of the floor with a metallic ding! A shimmering menu unfolded in the air, lines of glowing text scrolling by.
The crystal pulsed smugly:
Dungeon Shop Available. Coins: 35.
They leaned closer.
“Armor sets, weapons, trinkets,” Leo muttered, scanning the menu. “Stat modifiers, limited stock.”
Bert’s eyes widened. “Oooh. Shiny.”
Harlada smirked. “Finally, something useful.”
The list shimmered:
- Leather Armor – 20 coins.
- Wizard’s Hat – 10 coins. +1 INT.
- Basic Spear – 15 coins. STR requirement: 12.
- Traveler’s Sling – 5 coins. Comes with infinite pebbles.
Bert grumbled, patting his squeaky full plate. “Guess it’s time.” He slammed it down on the pedestal. The armor dissolved into sparks, replaced with a small pouch of coins. His new leather armor shimmered into being, slick and flexible. He rolled his shoulders, surprised. “Huh. Quiet. Don’t hate it.”
Harlada plucked the wizard’s hat from the list. It appeared in her hands, crooked brim and all. She jammed it on her head, sparks flickering across her fingers. “Finally. A proper mage look.” She gave a smug little grin. “And smarter, too.”
Leo eyed the spear. It shimmered into existence, long and gleaming. He hefted it—wobbled—nearly toppled. The tip buried itself in the sand with a thunk, dragging him forward.
“…Statistically overestimated my strength,” he muttered, sweating.
Harlada snorted. “Understatement of the year.”
Red-faced, Leo shoved the spear back onto the pedestal. A pouch appeared in return, smaller this time. He quickly tapped another option. A sling appeared in his hand, light and unassuming. A small pouch of pebbles jingled at his belt.
He twirled it experimentally. “Perfect. Minimal weight. Maximum efficiency.”
“Maximum pebbles,” Bert corrected, grinning.
The crystal pulsed overhead:
Purchases Completed. Inventory Updated. Attempts Pending.
They stood there a moment longer, adjusting straps, checking hats, twirling weapons.
Then all three looked back at the bronze door.
It shimmered, waiting.
***
They lined up in front of the bronze door, freshly kitted out in leather, hats, and slings, each doing their own version of warmup stretches.
Bert rolled his shoulders, muscles straining against the leather. “Quiet armor. Stronger me. This is it.”
Harlada adjusted her wizard’s hat with a smirk. “Smarter already. Smarter than the dungeon.”
Leo twirled his sling, muttering equations under his breath. “Minimal effort, maximal impact. Statistically flawless.”
They looked at one another. For once, not bickering.
“Go for gold,” Bert said, fist raised.
“Go for gold,” Harlada echoed, sparks flicking.
“Go for gold,” Leo whispered, clutching his sling tight.
They repeated it again, louder this time, voices building into a rhythm. A mantra. A promise.
“GO FOR GOLD. GO FOR GOLD. GO FOR—”
Bert inhaled, lungful of air, stepped forward—and slammed his head straight into the bronze door.
CLONK!
He dropped like a sack of potatoes, eyes rolling, sword clattering.
“Bert!” Harlada gasped, lunging forward.
Leo reached too late, tripped over Bert’s arm, and tumbled face-first. Harlada stumbled over both of them, hat flying from her head.
The door creaked open under their combined weight. The three of them collapsed through in a heap, flailing and shouting as the bronze light swallowed them whole.
The crystal pulsed overhead, smug text trailing after them:
Progression Confirmed. Entrance Style: Embarrassing.
And with that, Level 4 ended.