The corridor widened.

  The flickering torches grew brighter.

  And then—

  There it was.

  The Door to Progression.

  Black iron.

  Runes glowing a deep red.

  The carved steps behind it spiraling upward like a promise.

  Harlada’s eyes widened.

  Leo gasped. “We made it! We actually made it!”

  Harlada broke into a run. “Go! Go now before something else shows up!”

  Leo sprinted beside her, barely keeping pace. “Yes! Progression! FINALLY!”

  But Bert didn’t move.

  He stood several steps behind them, frozen, staring back into the maze.

  Leo skidded to a stop. “Bert? Come ON!”

  Bert didn’t answer.

  He looked pale.

  Confused.

  And a little terrified.

  Harlada frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  Bert swallowed.

  Then pointed vaguely behind them.

  “Why… why are we the only ones here?”

  Leo blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean—” Bert stammered, waving his hands— “we’ve been running for ages. Fighting. Hiding. Dodging. And suddenly… no one else made it this far?”

  Harlada stopped dead.

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  Slowly, very slowly, she looked over her shoulder, back toward the corridors behind them.

  The silent corridors.

  The empty corridors.

  The corridors littered with wizard robes, gnome hats, rat corpses, and one distant schplut.

  Her eyes widened.

  “Oh,” she whispered.

  Leo’s face drained of color. “Wait—”

  Harlada took a shaky step backward.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Wait… are you saying…?”

  Bert nodded, horrified.

  “Yes.”

  Harlada stared into the Maze, voice trembling.

  “We… killed them all?”

  Leo squeaked. “Not… not intentionally!”

  Bert shrugged helplessly. “But also… kinda… yes?”

  Harlada covered her mouth.

  “Oh no,” she breathed. “We’re the only party left alive this cycle.”

  Leo’s jaw dropped. “That… that means…”

  Bert finished for him.

  “…we win by default.”

  The three stood there in stunned silence.

  The torches flickered.

  The runes on the Door to Progression pulsed gently, as if waiting.

  And Harlada finally whispered the only thing that made sense:

  “…we massacred the competition.”

  Leo winced. “That sounds bad when you say it out loud.”

  Bert nodded. “But also… true.”

  ***

  The trio stood before the Door to Progression, stunned by the realization they hadn't won so much as outlasted the competition.

  For several long, uncomfortable seconds, no one moved.

  No one spoke.

  Finally Harlada inhaled deeply, forcing composure back into her voice.

  “Okay,” she said. “Before we step onto those stairs… we rest.”

  Leo nodded immediately. “Yes. YES. That. I completely agree.”

  Bert slumped onto the floor the moment she said it. “My legs agree too.”

  They dropped their packs, backs sliding down the cold stone wall, the glow of the Progression Door bathing them in eerie red light.

  Harlada pulled out their loot pouch.

  “Let’s take stock.”

  Leo straightened. “Right. Coins first.”

  She emptied the pouch into a neat little pile.

  They counted together.

  “One…

  two…

  three…”

  “A lot,” Bert concluded.

  Harlada rolled her eyes. “We have eighty-four coins left from all loot. Plus the questionable herbs, a sharpened spoon, and some magical junk we don’t understand.”

  Leo held up the glitter pouch. “Can we sell this? Trade it? Bribe someone?”

  Bert shrugged. “It’s shiny. That usually counts for something.”

  Harlada rubbed her forehead. “We need to think about the next floor. If it’s like this one but worse… we need gear. Skills. Something.”

  Leo nodded, leaning back. “We should plan before we go through that door.”

  They sat quietly for a moment.

  Bert fiddled with his poison dagger.

  Leo scribbled nervous notes into his shaky map.

  Harlada massaged her bitten shoulder, finally healed but still sore.

  Leo cleared his throat.

  “So… what do we do?”

  Harlada frowned deeply. “We each need upgrades. Real ones. Proper equipment. The kind that could keep us alive if Level Two is… well…”

  Leo finished the sentence quietly.

  “…worse.”

  Bert looked at the stairs, anxiety rising. “What if it’s MUCH worse?”

  Harlada met his eyes.

  “It will be.”

  Leo nodded weakly. “Absolutely.”

  Bert sighed. “Great.”

  They sat in the quiet glow of the door, planning, preparing, and not quite ready to say “let’s go” yet.

  The Maze pulsed once behind them, disturbed they hadn’t already ascended.

  But the trio ignored it.

  For once, they were taking their time.

  Resting.

  Counting their coins.

  And trying — desperately — to imagine that the next level wouldn’t be a nightmare.

  They failed.

  But they tried.