I woke gasping, chest aching as though I'd been flattened by a boulder. My torch flickered weakly in my hand. Familiar stone walls loomed above me, twisted and dark, yet somehow… different. I blinked, trying to focus.
"Okay… I died. Fantastic. First death, first lesson," I muttered, massaging my ribs. "Now… figure out how not to die again. Because apparently that's the plan here. Survive. Or don't."
I pressed myself against a wall, moving cautiously, listening. The skeletons weren't here yet. Either the maze was giving me a head start, or it was enjoying watching me figure things out. Probably both.
My eyes caught movement above. A section of wall seemed… off. Slightly ajar. I reached up, probing the edge, and it shifted easily. A hidden room? Seriously? Some idiot architect spent centuries carving a killer labyrinth but left a convenient hidey-hole?
I squeezed inside. The space was small but… perfect. A flat stone floor, enough room to stretch out, and walls high enough to feel secure. A faint draft carried fresh air, and even better, it was slightly warmer. I exhaled, finally letting my shoulders relax.
"Okay," I muttered, pacing slowly, "secret hidey-hole. Not too shabby, labyrinth. You're terrifying, but at least you're thoughtful."
And then my eyes fell on the sword.
It leaned against the far wall, simple but better than mine — a dull, heavy blade, balanced and solid. Not shiny, not fancy, but practical. I grabbed it, swung it experimentally. It felt natural, like it had been waiting for me.
Next, I spotted a coil of rope tucked into a corner. Thick, flexible, tight. Perfect for climbing… or whipping skeletons' skulls when they got too close. I untangled it, testing the tension. Satisfying.
"Alright," I muttered, sitting against the wall, sword across my lap, rope at my side. "Not a mansion, but it's mine for now. Safe. Temporary. And probably the only place in this nightmare where I don't immediately want to scream or cry."
I spent the next few minutes mapping the walls of my hideout, memorizing the cracks and nooks. From here, I could observe small shifts in the maze above. Patterns. Weak spots. Paths that opened and closed at certain intervals. Skeleton patrols. Traps. Everything.
"This is perfect," I muttered, planning out loud. "If I can just figure out the timing… the jumps… the angles… maybe I don't die as much next time. Maybe I… actually survive a cycle or two."
I even managed to prop up my torch in a niche, casting light over the tiny corner of my new "base." Sitting down, sword in hand, rope coiled neatly beside me, I finally allowed myself a small laugh.
"Look at me… Nolan, master of survival, hiding in a wall in a literal killer maze. Someone write a book. Bestseller material."
And yet, even as I rested, plotting my next move, my mind raced. I had one death, one lesson learned, but the labyrinth would not make the next cycle easy. Each misstep would still bring pain, injury… possibly death.
But at least now, I had a place to plan. A place to think. A sword that wouldn't bend or break, a rope to climb or defend myself, and the faint hope that, if I played my cards right, I might survive the next encounter.
I leaned back, letting myself breathe, letting my mind plan the paths, the timing, the traps, the skeletons. Sleep came slowly, but it was deeper than any sleep I'd had in the labyrinth before. Tomorrow, I would try again. And I would survive. Somehow.
Settling into the small chamber in the wall, I took a few deep breaths and tried to calm the storm in my head. My ribs still ached from the last encounter, but adrenaline lingered, keeping me alert. I tapped the dull sword against the floor experimentally. The sound echoed softly, but the weight felt perfect in my hand — heavier than my old weapon, balanced, like it was made for the swings I'd inevitably need to survive.
"Alright, genius," I muttered, "time to figure out just how dangerous this thing can get."
I practiced a few swings. Not at anything alive, because that would've been a terrible idea, but at the edges of the stone wall, the carvings themselves. Sparks didn't fly — thank god — but I got a feel for the weight, the balance, and how far I could swing without losing control. Every angle I practiced would count. If a skeleton came at me unexpectedly, I needed every fraction of a second to respond.
Then I uncoiled the rope. It felt supple, surprisingly strong, and I tested a few knots. Maybe I could use it to swing across gaps, trip a skeleton, or lash at an incoming enemy. My mind started racing, building scenarios in my head. "If I'm being chased, swing from one wall to the other, pull something down to crush them… or maybe just wrap it around a skeleton's neck. I'm not going to think about how that sounds, that's survival."
I moved closer to the wall above my hideout, noticing a small ledge just out of reach. I tied the rope into a makeshift harness and hoisted myself up, testing the stability of the ceiling. It held. Good. Strong enough to support me when climbing, swinging, or even escaping traps that might suddenly shift beneath me.
Satisfied, I backed down and sat on the floor. My torchlight flickered across the chamber, highlighting faint cracks and corners where skeletons might be able to climb or attack from above. If I could remember these points, I might be able to manipulate the labyrinth to my advantage. Small observations now could save my life later.
I picked up a small rock from the floor and threw it against the wall, testing the acoustics. It bounced and rolled in a predictable pattern. That meant… maybe I could lure skeletons into certain corridors by making noise strategically. Timing would be everything.
Hours passed, though I couldn't tell exactly how long. I mapped the chamber in my head repeatedly, testing the sword, the rope, and even small jumps to see if I could reach minor ledges for quick escapes. I made mental notes of where skeletons could appear, how the walls shifted in response to movement, and which corridors seemed less likely to collapse.
I even experimented with hiding. Small alcoves, niches in the wall, cracks where I could fit partially… it wouldn't save me from every skeleton, but it might buy me a few seconds if I timed it right.
And yet… even in the relative safety of the chamber, fear gnawed at the edges of my mind. This labyrinth wasn't just alive; it was sentient. It could adjust. It could trap me. Every plan I made could be undone in a heartbeat.
"Okay," I muttered, rubbing my temples, "you survived one death. You rested. You have a sword. You have rope. You've done recon. Now all you need to do is… not die next time. Simple enough, right?"
I laughed nervously. "Yeah, keep saying that to yourself. Maybe it'll come true eventually."
Before I finally allowed myself to rest properly, I experimented one last time. I swung the sword at a corner, mimicking the motion of a skeleton attack. Then I tested the rope, practicing tying, untying, and lashing. I visualized skeleton movements, imagining every twist and turn of the maze. Every combination of actions I could take. Every escape route I could exploit.
The chamber had become my sanctuary, my laboratory, my classroom. I didn't just survive here; I prepared. I learned. I adapted. For the first time, I felt a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could make it further in the labyrinth before the inevitable darkness came for me again.
Finally, I laid down, sword across my chest, rope coiled neatly beside me. My torch flickered, casting dancing shadows across the walls. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to sleep, to rest, to plan for tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I would try again. Tomorrow, I would push further. And tomorrow… I would survive a little longer.