The chamber shook with the force of the ongoing battle.

  Steel clashed against steel in a savage rhythm:

  clack—clang—shff—THUNK

  Two hooded figures spun like shadows.

  Two dual-wield warriors blocked, countered, struck.

  A blade nicked stone near Leo’s foot.

  Yet none of the fighters even glanced at them.

  Leo, Harlada, and Bert huddled behind a toppled pillar like three children hiding from a thunderstorm.

  Leo whispered, “They still haven’t noticed us. They’re… completely ignoring us.”

  Harlada risked a peek. “They are VERY busy murdering each other.”

  Bert nodded. “We should stay unnoticed. I would like to keep my arms attached to my body.”

  Another clash. A grunt. A hood fell back—revealing a face disturbingly similar to Leo's, but older, harsher, and bleeding.

  Bert swallowed. “Okay. Question. Who the hell are they? The dual-blade ones? We’ve never seen them before.”

  Leo frowned. “That’s exactly it. We HAVEN’T seen them before.”

  Harlada turned to him. “We saw five windows. Five starting rooms. We counted them.”

  “Right,” Leo said slowly. “But I don’t remember who was in the fifth.”

  Bert blinked. “Me neither.”

  Harlada narrowed her eyes. “Was it the hungover group? The albinos? The kids? The hooded ones? The… whoever?”

  Leo shook his head. “No. All those were accounted for. There was one more room. One more team. And we didn’t look. At all.”

  Another vicious clash erupted behind them — one dual-wielder flipping over a hooded fighter, landing with twin blades flashing. Still not even a glance in their direction.

  The fight was so intense it seemed to warp the air.

  Yet they were invisible to both sides.

  Harlada groaned softly. “How did we miss an entire party?”

  “Maze shock,” Leo whispered. “We were overwhelmed. Distracted. Pulled in five directions, literally.”

  Bert nodded. “And hungry.”

  Leo gave him a flat look.

  “What?” Bert whispered defensively. “I make worse decisions when I need snacks.”

  They ducked as a hooded fighter slammed into the pillar above their heads.

  Still no one turned toward them.

  Harlada took a calming breath. “We can’t afford this kind of oversight. Missing traps is bad. Missing enemies is worse. Missing an entire team?”

  She shook her head. “That’s suicide.”

  Leo nodded. “Agreed. From now on, we focus. We observe everything. Every window. Every corridor. Every movement.”

  Bert raised a hand. “Every snack stash?”

  Both Leo and Harlada answered, deadpan, “No.”

  Bert shrugged. “I tried.”

  Another swing. Another scream. Another body tumbling across the floor — none of it directed at them.

  Leo whispered, “Okay. So we keep watching. Quietly. And the moment there’s an opening—”

  “We run,” Harlada said.

  “Fast,” Bert added.

  The Maze pulsed faintly behind them.

  Improved awareness detected.

  Survival probability: debatable.

  Leo sighed. “Great. Even the Maze doesn’t believe in us.”

  A hooded figure crashed into a wall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

  Still not a single fighter turned toward the three crouching idiots.

  Harlada drew in a long breath. “Let’s wait. And stay invisible.”

  They settled lower behind the pillar, holding perfectly still while the deadly dance continued mere meters away.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  And for once, not being noticed felt like the only strategy they had.

  ***

  For a blessed few seconds, the pillar kept them hidden.

  Clashing steel masked their breaths.

  Flying sparks masked their fear.

  The six fighters—hooded and dual-wield—kept hacking each other to pieces without sparing a glance for the three cowering observers.

  Then Harlada made a mistake.

  She leaned just a little too far over the edge of the pillar.

  Just enough for one hooded fighter — Hooded Bert — to catch sight of her.

  His head snapped toward her.

  His twin daggers rose instantly.

  “Ah,” Harlada whispered. “Damn.”

  Hooded Bert lunged.

  Fast.

  Silent.

  Murder in motion.

  Harlada reacted in the same heartbeat.

  Her palm shot forward.

  “Gust of Wind!”

  A roaring blast of air hurled Hooded Bert backward like a rag doll.

  He slammed into the far wall with enough force to rattle the whole chamber.

  A nearby torch jarred loose.

  It spun in the air —

  landed on his hood —

  and ignited.

  WHOOMPH.

  Hooded Bert flailed silently, head aflame, rolling on the ground like a very confused fire log.

  Leo blinked. “Oh. That… that escalated.”

  But the damage was done.

  The other two hooded fighters snapped their attention toward them, faces still concealed in shadow but bodies very, very ready to murder.

  Both shifted stance — blades raised, weight forward — and advanced in eerie, synchronized steps.

  Bert sighed dramatically, stood up straight, and smiled.

  “Well,” he said, drawing his sword, “guess we took sides.”

  Leo groaned. “We didn’t take sides—”

  Harlada tightened her grip on her staff. “We’re about to.”

  The two hooded fighters stepped into the torchlight, blades gleaming, hoods low over their faces.

  Hooded Bert continued rolling in the background, muffled and flaming.

  The Maze pulsed.

  New combat engagement detected.

  Participants: …good luck.

  Leo muttered, “I miss the drunk versions.”

  Bert raised his sword. “Less talking. More stabbing!”

  And the three charged.

  ***

  Hooded Bert, still half-on-fire, scrambled to his feet with surprising agility.

  His daggers flashed wildly as he charged them again, hood smoking like a cursed incense stick.

  Bert raised his sword. “Okay! Flaming me is MUCH scarier!”

  Harlada spun her staff, sparks of magic building.

  Leo reached for his sling, already pulling back the strap.

  Hooded Bert lunged.

  Leo released the pebble —

  it struck Hooded Bert’s shoulder, staggering him.

  Harlada’s staff cracked across his ribs with a sharp THUD —

  sending him tipping sideways.

  Bert finished it.

  He drove his sword forward, catching Hooded Bert squarely in the chest.

  The flaming enemy froze mid-step…

  then toppled face-down with a muffled hiss, fire finally smothered against the stone.

  Silence.

  Bert panted. “Okay. That was… weirdly personal.”

  Leo nodded, catching his breath. “You killed yourself. Again.”

  “It’s starting to feel like a habit,” Harlada muttered.

  They turned toward the pillar to regroup—

  And froze.

  The other fight — the one between the dual-wielders and the remaining hooded fighters —

  was over.

  Completely over.

  The hooded versions lay scattered across the chamber.

  Crumpled.

  Still.

  And the three dual-wielders now stood alone.

  All three faces identical to Leo, Harlada, and Bert…

  but harder.

  Sharper.

  Covered in cuts and blood that wasn’t theirs.

  Each held a weapon in each hand.

  Four blades per trio.

  All pointed down at the moment—

  But all three pairs of eyes were pointed at them.

  Leo swallowed. “Oh. Oh no.”

  Harlada tightened her grip on her staff. “They took out three hooded versions by themselves.”

  Bert whispered, “We… we should not fight that.”

  One of the dual-wielders — Dual-Leo — stepped forward.

  He said nothing.

  None of them did.

  They just stared.

  Hungry.

  Calculating.

  Waiting.

  The Maze pulsed softly.

  Combat possibility elevated.

  Escape probability: zero.

  Leo whispered, “We should have stayed behind the pillar.”

  Harlada nodded. “We really should have.”

  Bert raised his sword, voice cracking, “Uh… hi?”

  Dual-Bert raised both blades