They hadn’t even chosen a door when the Maze pulsed again—bright, smug, and uninvited.
Level Up Confirmed: Secondary Adjustment Active.
Blue light washed over the camp, humming like a self-satisfied choir. HUDs flickered alive in front of their faces.
+7 HP — Leo
+5 HP — Harlada
+5 HP — Bert
Bert blinked. “Did we just heal from emotional damage too?”
No.
Leo squinted at his display. “There’s more—new abilities unlocked.”
Bert leaned closer, hopeful. “Please be fireballs. Or laser vision.”
The Maze pulsed.
Allocating… Allocating… Please lower expectations.
A soft ding.
Bert: Skill Unlocked — Evasion.
(Automatically stumble away from danger in confusing directions.)
*Harlada: Spellbook Slot Unlocked — 1 (You did not previously know you had a book.)
Leo: Trait Unlocked — Ambidextrous.
(Capable of failing with both hands equally.)
Silence.
Bert tilted his head. “Wait… what’s the difference between Evasion and Dodge? I already have Dodge.”
The Maze pulsed.
Dodge is intentional. Evasion is accidental.
“So I’m better at not meaning to survive?”
Correct.
Harlada frowned at her HUD. “Hold on. Spellbook slot? I have a book?”
Yes. You’ve been ignoring it since Tutorial Two.
She opened the shimmering icon, and a transparent grimoire unfolded in front of her. “Huh. That would’ve been nice to know before the cat level.”
Leo glanced between his hands, flexing them uncertainly. “Ambidextrous… which means…”
He raised both. “Wait. Was I right-handed or left-handed before?”
Bert shrugged. “You seemed confused either way.”
Accurate assessment.
Harlada snapped the book shut with a sigh. “Wonderful. We’re evolving into slightly more functional idiots.”
Leo straightened, trying to regain dignity. “Progress is progress.”
The Maze pulsed.
Optimism detected. Duration: Temporary.
Bert grinned. “So… which door do we ruin first?”
Leo pointed his newly ambidextrous finger guns at the three carvings. “Let’s find out.”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Proceed when ready. Probability of regret: High.
***
They gathered again before the three doors. Morning humidity pressed in like an unwelcome hug. The air buzzed with the collective sound of unresolved destiny.
Leo’s HUD still floated beside him, faintly glowing. He scrolled through it with a frown. “Wait a second… we didn’t choose those skills. The manual clearly says you can allocate points manually.”
Bert peered over his shoulder. “Maybe you missed the dropdown menu?”
“I did not miss the dropdown menu,” Leo snapped. “There was no dropdown menu!”
The Maze pulsed.
Clarification: There was a dropdown menu. You lacked the required attributes to use it.
Leo blinked. “What? Why?”
Low ability scores. System auto-assigned available upgrades.
Be grateful. You almost qualified for ‘Clumsy’ instead.
Bert looked mildly offended. “So the Maze just decides what fits our vibe?”
Precisely. Personality-driven optimization.
Harlada smirked. “Well, that explains everything.”
Leo scrolled angrily. “I could’ve had something—anything—better than ‘Ambidextrous!’”
Stat check: No, you couldn’t.
Harlada leaned against her floating spellbook, smirking. “Maybe I was right. If we did a few extra tutorials, our ability scores would go up. More tutorials, better skills.”
Leo turned to her slowly. “You’re suggesting we die on purpose again?”
“I’m suggesting efficiency,” she said. “If the system rewards repetition, we exploit repetition. That’s basic meta-strategy.”
Bert nodded eagerly. “Like grinding slime monsters before the real story starts!”
Leo threw his hands up. “We’re not grinding slime monsters! We’re barely surviving breakfast!”
The Maze pulsed.
Team morale check: Failing gracefully.
Harlada shrugged. “Suit yourself. But next time we respawn, I’m taking Spell Focus and leaving you two with Ambidextrous 2.0.”
Bert grinned. “Mine’ll probably be Evasion+, where I dodge before noticing danger.”
Leo glared at both of them. “We are not dying for stats!”
The Maze pulsed, dryly amused.
Statement recorded for irony tracking.
***
Decision time.
They stood once more before the three doors — Bug, Squiggle, and Teeth — like contestants in a very damp game show.
Leo crossed his arms. “All right. Let’s apply reason.”
“That’s new,” Harlada murmured.
He ignored her. “The bug one probably means insects. Insects mean swarms. Swarms mean screaming. We can eliminate that.”
“Agreed,” she said. “I prefer my nightmares singular, not communal.”
Bert pointed to the third door — the one carved with fangs. “That one’s clearly danger. Look at it. It’s literally chewing the air.”
“Teeth are universal for ‘nope,’” Leo said. “Which leaves… squiggle.”
They all stared at the wavy carving.
“Could be a river,” Bert said hopefully.
“Could be acid,” Harlada offered.
“Could be art,” Leo said.
The Maze pulsed.
Hint: Interpretive. Proceed boldly or don’t proceed at all.
Leo nodded to himself. “See? Definitely the river. It’s got puzzle energy.”
Harlada narrowed her eyes. “You’re basing that on what, exactly?”
“Every game ever made,” Leo said confidently. “Water levels are never about fighting. They’re about tedious platforming and patience. I can handle tedious.”
The Maze pulsed.
Verification: True.
Bert brightened. “Then we’re agreed! We do the squiggle door.”
Harlada sighed, floating back slightly. “Fine. But if it’s acid, I’m haunting both of you.”
Leo raised the fly swatter like a ceremonial key. “All right, team. River level. Easy puzzles. Minimal death.”
The Maze pulsed, faintly amused.
Logging prediction for future irony. Door unlocked. Proceed.
The stone shifted open with a grinding sigh, releasing a rush of cool, damp air that smelled faintly of regret and old water.
Bert grinned. “See? Smells like success.”
“Or mildew,” Harlada muttered.
Leo stepped through first, resolute. “Either way—forward!”
The Maze pulsed once more, softly:
Welcome to Level: The River Test. Try not to drown immediately.
