The world lurched, folded, and blinked—

  And they were back in the starting room.

  Same grey-blue stone.

  Same torches.

  Same window.

  The treasure, the duck, the children’s laughter — gone.

  The loot they kept — still with them.

  The helmet on Mini-Bert’s tiny head — vanished into another reality.

  Leo rubbed his temples. “I still don’t get it. Who progressed? who was capable of that bunch”

  Bert shrugged. “Maybe it was the hooded creeps. They look efficient.”

  “They are right there” Leo pointed across the window.

  Harlada folded her arms. “It wasn’t us, that’s for sure.”

  They stepped toward the window.

  Across the central stair, in the chamber where the hungover trio had been, a brand-new group stood:

  Three versions of themselves, exactly the same height and build…

  but with enormous, glorious, floor-length beards.

  Beard-Leo stroked his massive beard with grim purpose.

  Beard-Bert’s beard trailed on the floor like a wedding train.

  Beard-Harlada’s beard was braided, jeweled, and intimidatingly majestic.

  Leo blinked. “Wow.”

  Bert put his hands on his hips. “Honestly? Beard suits Harlada the best.”

  Leo nodded. “Absolutely. That braid is phenomenal.”

  Harlada slowly turned toward them, lightning beginning to crackle across her fingertips.

  “Repeat that,” she said softly.

  Both Leo and Bert immediately looked away, pretending to study the wall.

  “Nope.”

  “Didn’t say anything.”

  “Wall is fascinating.”

  Lightning fizzled out with a sigh from her fingers.

  At the far window, the tiny dimensional trio — the “little people” as Bert had called them — appeared again.

  Mini-Harlada waved.

  Mini-Leo saluted with his ne sharp sword.

  Mini-Bert beamed proudly, wearing the Helmet of Protection so loosely it wobbled with every nod.

  Leo smiled and gave them a thumbs-up.

  Bert joined him.

  Harlada hesitated… then also gave a tiny nod.

  Mini-Bert raised both arms in triumph.

  The Maze pulsed.

  Maze Run #477985 commencing.

  Please prepare mentally, physically, and emotionally.

  (Emotional preparedness deemed unlikely.)

  Leo straightened. “All right. Same route?”

  Harlada nodded. “we got the treasure already.”

  Bert cracked his knuckles. “Let’s do this. And try not to trigger the ‘fireball’ this time”

  The doors groaned open.

  They rounded the corner.

  CLICK.

  They all froze.

  Bert whispered, “I hate myself.”

  ***

  The iron doors groaned open.

  Leo crossed his arms. “We’re not doing the fireball corridor again.”

  Harlada nodded firmly. “Agreed.”

  Bert raised a hand. “Fully agreed. I am allergic to getting set on fire.”

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  “Everyone is,” Leo muttered.

  So they turned left — the opposite direction of the fireball trap.

  The corridor here was different: narrower, quieter, darker.

  The torches flickered blue instead of yellow.

  Bert squinted at the floor, crouched down, and poked at something with the end of his sword.

  Harlada’s eyes narrowed. “Trap?”

  “Trap,” Bert confirmed with confidence.

  He produced a tiny metal pick from his boot — no one knew why he owned it — and began fiddling with an almost invisible seam in the stone tile.

  Leo watched him work. “Careful. Disarm it properly.”

  “Leo,” Bert said, puffing out his chest, “I am a professional.”

  CLICK.

  Something unlocked.

  “See?” Bert grinned. “Disarmed.”

  The wall next to him immediately began to dissolve.

  A green-burning hiss filled the corridor as stone melted like hot wax.

  A wall of acid poured out, forming a slowly advancing curtain of sizzling doom.

  Leo shouted, “BERT!”

  Bert pointed at the melting wall. “Okay, in my defense—”

  The acid wall advanced another foot.

  “No time!” Harlada yelled. “RUN!”

  They sprinted down the hallway as the acid wall crept after them at horrifying leisure.

  Everything it touched sizzled, melted, dissolved.

  The smell was indescribable.

  Leo gagged. “This is unholy. This is wrong. This should be illegal.”

  “It IS illegal!” Bert yelled back. “It violates at least nine building codes!”

  The corridor ended abruptly.

  A sealed stone door blocked their path.

  Leo slammed into it. “OPEN! OPEN!”

  Harlada braced herself, shoved with her shoulder—

  The door cracked

  then burst inward,

  flinging them all into the next chamber in a messy pile of limbs and panic.

  They scrambled upright, breathing hard.

  Behind them, the acid wall reached the doorway and began quietly devouring the threshold.

  And then they heard it—

  The unmistakable sound of weapons being unsheathed.

  Metal sliding.

  Blades scraping.

  Feet shifting.

  Leo froze.

  Harlada gripped her staff.

  Bert whispered, “We… we didn’t come the wrong way, did we?”

  A shadow moved in the room ahead.

  Then another.

  Then a third.

  The sound of steel rang through the dark.

  Someone — or something — was waiting.

  Leo swallowed. “I hate the Maze.”

  “Get in line,” Harlada muttered.

  And the shadows stepped forward.

  ***

  The three shadows stepped fully into view —

  The Hooded Trio.

  Their heavy cloaks swayed with their movements, faces hidden behind deep folds of shadow. Each of them carried two weapons: short curved blades, one in each hand.

  But they weren’t looking at Leo, Harlada, or Bert.

  They were engaged in a furious, silent melee with another group — a sixth group they hadn’t even noticed before, standing directly opposite them in the chamber.

  A group identical in size and composition to all the others…

  but with a difference so immediately striking it froze the three in place.

  Each member of this unknown fifth party also wielded two weapons.

  No shields.

  No spells.

  Just blades — doubled and deadly.

  They moved with terrifying precision, their dual weapons whirling like spinning saws.

  Steel clashed with steel in a staccato rhythm:

  clack—clack

  shff—clang

  whirr—THUNK

  No grunts.

  No cries.

  Just violence.

  Harlada stepped back instinctively. “They dual-wield.”

  Leo nodded, swallowing hard. “So do the hooded ones. That’s… new.”

  Bert shook his head. “I didn’t even know we had a fifth party.”

  Harlada shot him a flat look. “We do now.”

  Behind them, the acid wall hissed its way into the chamber entrance, cutting off any hope of retreat. The stone doorway melted into bubbling green pools.

  Leo gestured helplessly. “Okay. No going back.”

  Harlada watched the two parties clash in complete silence. “And no going forward without getting our souls cut into decorative strips.”

  Bert sighed. “So… we wait?”

  Leo nodded grimly. “We wait.”

  The three of them pressed against the far wall, trying to make themselves small — a futile attempt given the scale of the room and the scale of their fear.

  Before them, the hooded trio and the dual-blade trio fought with lethal grace, blades spinning in arcs of silver light.

  Leo whispered, “You know… this might be the first time watching other people almost die feels like strategy.”

  Harlada nodded. “Technically, it is.”

  Bert whispered, “I hate the Maze.”

  A hooded figure was disarmed, another sliced in the shoulder, one of the twin-blade fighters staggered —

  The fight raged on.

  And the three outsiders could only watch.