Harlada pressed it lightly.
A soft shing echoed.
A shimmering panel unfolded in midair — a holographic shop menu displaying weapons, items, armor, and gear the Maze was very proud of pricing absurdly.
Bert gasped. “A SHOP!”
Leo blinked. “Oh great. A store run by capitalism. In a death labyrinth.”
Harlada leaned in. “Let’s see what we can afford.”
The list scrolled:
- Sword — 50 coins
? Sword (slightly shinier) — 80 coins
? Sword (inlaid fake gold) — 95 coins
? Sword (lion pommel) — 100 coins
? Sword (identical but the name is in bold) — 120 coins
? Actual magical gear — 500+ coins
Bert’s eyes widened at the lion-pommel variant.
It was glorious.
The lion head gleamed.
Its mane curled majestically.
The entire thing radiated a powerful aura of:
Expensive-but-useless.
Leo frowned. “Bert… don’t.”
Bert whispered reverently, “It… it has a lion… pommel.”
Harlada took a deep breath. “Bert. Listen to me carefully. These swords all do the exact same amount of damage. There is NO difference except style.”
Bert nodded quickly. “Yes.”
“And we need the coins for actual upgrades,” Leo added. “Like armor. Or potions. Or something that won’t get us killed immediately.”
“Yes,” Bert repeated.
Harlada pointed at him. “So don’t buy the lion pommel sword.”
Bert nodded again.
“Absolutely. Of course. I would never—”
CHING!
A notification flashed:
Purchase complete!
Remaining coins: 0.
Leo froze.
Harlada froze.
Bert held up the lion-pommel sword, beaming.
“GUYS LOOK! LOOK AT IT! IT’S SO COOL!”
Leo whispered, “No… no no no no…”
Harlada squeezed her eyes shut.
“You spent… ALL our coins.”
Bert nodded proudly. “Yes.”
“On a sword…”
“Yes.”
“That does NOTHING different than the sword you already had.”
“Yes.”
“And it cost EVERYTHING.”
“Yes!”
Leo’s face turned a shade of despair previously undiscovered.
“Bert… WHY?!”
Bert held the sword sideways so the lion pommel caught the light dramatically.
“BECAUSE—”
He spun in place.
“LOOK AT IT!”
Harlada stared at him, mouth open.
Leo buried his face in his hands.
“We’re going to die,” he whispered.
Bert grinned. “But stylishly.”
And Harlada let out a long, exhausted exhale.
“…Are you sure you still have those herbs?”
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***
The three stood in tense, irritated silence.
Bert lovingly polished the lion pommel.
Leo stared at the ceiling like he was praying for divine intervention.
Harlada debated whether “accidental” murder counted as self-defense.
To break the tension, Bert perked up and grabbed the glitter pouch he’d looted from the gnomes.
“Hey! Let’s see what THIS is! Maybe it’s valuable!”
Harlada didn’t even look at him.
“Bert. Please. Don’t open—”
But the pouch was already open.
A soft fwip of fine, sparkling powder puffed into the air.
It shimmered.
It sparkled.
It tickled.
Bert scrunched his nose.
“Uh-oh.”
Leo’s eyes widened. “Bert, don’t—you’re gonna—”
“AH-—CHOOOO!”
Bert unleashed the sneeze of the century.
The glitter detonated outward like a magical explosion of sparkles and bad decisions.
A cloud of shimmering dust washed over all three of them.
Leo blinked.
Harlada blinked.
Bert blinked.
Then all three collapsed stiffly onto the ground.
Their limbs refused to move.
Their fingers curled into claws.
Even their facial expressions froze mid-emotion.
Harlada’s eyes were wide with furious betrayal.
Leo looked like a man who had given up all hope.
Bert looked… proud? Of his sneeze? Hard to tell. Paralysis made interpretation unclear.
Leo tried to speak and managed only:
“hhnnnn…”
Harlada tried to roll her eyes and produced a faint:
“grRRrr…”
Bert tried to say “my bad,” but only managed a muffled:
“mffb.”
The glitter sparkled merrily over their now-paralyzed bodies.
And then—
soft footsteps echoed in the corridor.
Slow.
Confident.
Smirking.
A voice drifted out of the shadows:
“Heheheheheee… oh, THIS is too perfect.”
Leo’s heart sank.
Harlada’s blood boiled.
Bert’s expression froze in terror.
The evil, familiar laugh came again—sharp, delighted, unbearably smug.
The Gnomes were gone.
The Wizards defeated.
The Rat People dead.
Bearded Leo lost.
Which left only one possible culprit.
From the darkness, a figure approached, giggling viciously.
“Did you REALLY think I was gone?”
***
Footsteps clicked closer.
Small footsteps.
Uneven ones.
A shadow stretched across the corridor floor — tiny, round, and very, very smug.
Then he emerged from the darkness:
The gnome Harlada had kicked.
The one who’d flown down the corridor.
The one who’d schplutted against an unseen wall.
The sole surviving gnome.
He limped dramatically, dragging one leg behind him like a wounded villain in a low-budget play.
His hat was crumpled.
His beard was crooked.
One of his eyes twitched with pure malice.
And he was giggling like an unhinged pixie.
“Heheheheheee…”
Leo tried to shout OH COME ON, but only managed:
“Hhkkk—nnnn!”
Harlada growled inside her frozen jaw. “RrRRrrr.”
Bert whimpered. “mmf.”
The gnome stopped in front of them, hands on his hips.
“Well, well, WELL,” he cackled. “LOOK what blew back into my corridor!”
He pointed at Harlada.
“You kicked me.”
He pointed at Leo.
“You ignored me.”
He leaned down toward Bert.
“And YOU…”
he whispered darkly,
“…have SNACKS.”
Bert’s pupils dilated in horror.
The gnome reached into Bert’s pack and pulled out the entire snack pouch.
He sniffed it.
He giggled.
Then, with the slow, deliberate evil of a cartoon villain savoring his moment, he licked every piece of food inside.
Every.
Single.
One.
One lick per snack.
Long, tactical licks.
“hehehehehehehEEEEE”
Bert screamed internally.
“HNNNHHHNNNOOOOO!”
The gnome tossed the soggy snack pouch aside and sauntered over to Leo.
“Shoes untied~?” he cooed.
Leo tried to protest.
“hhhhhhh—”
The gnome bent down, tied Leo’s shoelaces together into an impossibly complex sailor knot, then stood up and clapped delightedly.
“Heheheheheheee! FALLING HAZARD!”
Harlada’s eye twitched dangerously.
The gnome turned to the group, spread his tiny arms wide, and let out a triumphant:
“MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
It filled the chamber.
Echoed off every wall.
Drowned the corridors in pure, unfiltered pettiness.
He hopped back a step and bowed.
“Revenge,” he whispered, savoring it.
“Is. Delicious.”
The trio lay helpless, glitter-stuck, shoes tied, snacks licked, dignity shattered.
And the evil, limping gnome laughed on.