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Chapter 8 - Platforms are goated?

I gasped awake, chest burning, muscles screaming, and the familiar ache of ribs reminding me that yes, I had died. Again.

The chamber looked exactly as it had before. The ledge above the pit, the dull sword, the coiled rope—everything in its place. For the first time, I didn't have to panic. Not yet.

"Another Cycle, to do" I muttered, rubbing my temples. "Congratulations, Nolan. You've officially died spectacularly… and get to do it all over again."

I peered over the ledge. Skeletons stirred below, hollow eyes glowing faintly, bones rattling. The maze knew I was awake. This time, I had a plan.

Dropping carefully onto the labyrinth floor, I rolled immediately to absorb the impact. Skeletons skittered into view. Hollow eyes glared, claws clattering. I swung the sword in wide arcs, lashing the rope behind me to trip the first few. One fell into a pit, another slammed against the wall. My movements were sharper, more calculated than last time.

The labyrinth was alive. Walls shifted, floors trembled, spikes emerged without warning. Every step was a gamble, every swing a calculated risk. I rolled, dodged, swung, and climbed. Rope lashed at legs and necks, pulling skeletons into pits or against walls. I jumped onto ledges, swung across gaps, and used narrow platforms to stay out of their reach.

I remembered the death that had brought me here—the cornering by a hundred skeletons—and I vowed not to repeat it. Patience was the key. Studying their movements, I predicted spawn points and traps. I used the walls to my advantage, forcing them to funnel into pits or traps. Every encounter taught me something new: which skeletons were aggressive, which traps were timed, how the labyrinth manipulated corridors.

Hours passed, though time felt strange. I counted mentally the amount of times I could have died—ten deaths? Fifteen? Each Cycle had refined my reflexes and strategy. Finally, I reached a ledge overlooking a large pit. The center of the labyrinth shimmered faintly in the distance, just out of reach. The skeletons below rattled impatiently, but they couldn't reach me here.

I paused, gripping the sword, coiling the rope. My arms burned, ribs ached, but I felt… alive. And for the first time, I felt a shred of control. The labyrinth had tried to crush me, to teach me the futility of fighting, but I had survived.

Looking around, I spotted a small alcove high in the wall—my new resting spot. From here, I could plan, store rocks for distraction, and survey multiple paths. My sword felt alive in my hands, and the rope wasn't just a tool—it was an extension of my strategy.

I leaned against the stone, catching my breath. The center was close. I could see faint light reflecting off distant walls, and the pulse of the labyrinth guided skeletons toward me. But for the first time, I wasn't panicking. I wasn't blindly fleeing. I was learning, adapting, surviving.

And then I heard it—a faint rattle from below. Hundreds of skeletons converging toward the center chamber. My stomach tightened, but I gripped the sword tighter and coiled the rope.

"Alright, Nolan… next step. Don't die. Just don't die," I whispered.

The walls shifted ominously around me, hinting that the real hunt was about to begin. I had survived the labyrinth and even found a new hiding spot, but the labyrinth probably new that already and was planning on making things even more difficult for me.

I crouched on the ledge above the pit, breathing hard. Every fiber of my being screamed for me to rest, but I knew better. The labyrinth wasn't done testing me yet.

Below, the skeletons skittered, rattling their bones like some horrid orchestra. I counted every movement, every shuffle, every clatter. They were smarter than before—or maybe I was just noticing patterns for the first time.

The corridor ahead looked deceptively calm, but I could see tiny grooves in the stone floor and faint scratches along the walls. Traps. I tossed a small rock down the passage. Nothing. Another. Still nothing. I held my breath, then ran, sliding under a swinging blade trap, rolling just in time to avoid a spike that shot up from the floor.

"Okay, okay," I muttered. "Slow. Calm. Not dead yet."

I swung across a narrow gap with the rope, landing on a ledge above a pit filled with spike traps. A skeleton patrolled below, swinging its bony arms in frustration at not being able to reach me. Perfect. I dropped the rope behind it, tripping it into the spikes. First kill of the Cycle.

I moved through twisting corridors, walls shifting subtly, sometimes closing in just enough to make me sweat. Every turn I took, I marked with tiny scratches, small piles of rocks, anything to remember my path. The labyrinth didn't just try to kill me—it wanted me lost, panicked, and trapped.

A sudden gust of wind slammed the corridor shut behind me. The walls shifted, narrowing the passage. Skeletons spawned ahead. My sword felt heavy in my hands, but it wasn't just weight—it was power. I slashed, rolled, blocked. Rope lashed out like a whip, pulling a skeleton into a collapsing wall. My arms burned, ribs ached, but I was alive.

I found another small alcove high up on the wall—a perfect resting spot. From here, I could plan my next move. I grabbed a few rocks for distractions, checked my sword edge, and coiled the rope tightly.

Hours—or maybe minutes—passed. Time was meaningless. The labyrinth was alive. Every corridor I cleared was shifted while I wasn't looking. Skeletons I thought I'd left behind were back, converging from angles I hadn't anticipated.

At one point, I had to swing across a chasm, landing just barely on a ledge that crumbled under my weight. I fell, grabbed the rope, swung again, narrowly avoiding another skeleton. I muttered curses at myself, at the maze, at the unfairness of it all.

But I was learning. Every movement, every strategy, every narrow escape was preparation. I experimented—pulling walls to collapse, creating barriers with debris, forcing skeletons into traps. I even discovered small niches in the ceiling where I could rest briefly, hidden, planning the next approach.

The center of the labyrinth drew closer. I could feel it—a faint shimmer, faint light reflecting off distant walls. The skeletons were relentless, patrolling, converging, trying to herd me like prey. I could see faint signs of a massive chamber ahead. The walls themselves seemed to pulse, responding to my presence.

I finally reached a corridor with three different paths converging. Each path was lined with traps: spikes, swinging blades, walls that narrowed suddenly. My stomach twisted. I took a deep breath, planning. I'd go left, using rope swings to bypass traps, then double back through the center corridor I had scouted from the ledge, forcing skeletons into a narrow channel where they couldn't surround me.

It worked—mostly. I slashed, blocked, swung, and climbed my way through, marking my route carefully. I survived, barely, but I could see the main chamber now—a massive circular room, the center of the labyrinth. Light reflected off the walls, illuminating shifting traps and skeletons that patrolled like a living army.

I leaned against a wall, exhausted, dripping sweat onto the cold stone. My sword felt lighter now, my rope perfectly coiled. I'd made it this far without dying in the Cycle. That alone felt like a victory.

And then I heard it: the unmistakable sound of bones rattling—hundreds of them—echoing from every corridor. The labyrinth had noticed. The main chamber would not let me approach freely. I gripped my sword tighter, coiled the rope, and whispered:

"Okay… next step. Don't die. Just don't die."

The walls shifted ominously. Skeletons were converging. The center chamber awaited, and I knew the next encounter would be the real test.

I gritted my teeth, swinging the sword in wide arcs. Skeletons fell, shattered, bones clattering across the stone floor. The rope whipped, tripping another dozen into a spike pit I'd spotted earlier. My arms ached instantly, ribs screamed with every move, but I didn't stop. Not yet.

"Come on, you stupid piles of bones! Is that all you've got?" I yelled, adrenaline pumping.

They didn't stop. Hundreds of skeletons converged, their hollow eyes glowing brighter, rattling as if mocking me. The labyrinth itself seemed to pulse, walls shifting to funnel me into tighter spaces. I ducked under swinging axes, rolled past collapsing floors, stabbed through the nearest skeletons, but for every one I killed, three more seemed to appear.

My mind raced. There was no winning here. Not with brute force. Not with skill alone. The sheer number of them… it was impossible.

I stumbled back, sword swinging wildly, dodging attacks from every angle. Bones cracked against walls and stone, dust filled the air. My chest heaved. Every strike was met with another skeleton snapping at me.

I froze for a second, chest heaving, sweat stinging my eyes.

"Cycle…" I whispered. The thought of dying, resetting, coming back fresh—it flashed in my mind. If I let myself die here, I'd be back at the ledge above the pit. A reset. A chance to try again.

But then I saw it—a massive platform, carved into the wall above the chaos, large enough to hold me safely. Perfect. I could climb up, catch my breath, plan my next move.

"No," I muttered to myself, gripping the sword tighter. "I'm not giving them the satisfaction. Not yet. I'll survive… I'll fight smart, not stupid."

I lashed the rope at a skeleton trying to climb up, swung onto a nearby ledge, and used momentum to launch myself toward the platform. Skeletons swarmed below, snapping and rattling, but none could reach me now. I landed heavily, knees buckling, chest heaving, but safe.

I looked down at the mass of skeletons, still converging, still alive. The labyrinth was angry. The pulse of the walls beneath them vibrated almost like a heartbeat, urging them forward. I gritted my teeth.

"This isn't over," I muttered. "But at least… I'm alive. For now."

I sank to the stone platform, coiling the rope neatly, checking my dull sword. The ledge was high, stable, and wide—enough space to rest, plan, and prepare. The skeletons below couldn't reach me. Not yet.

And for the first time in a long while, I let myself breathe.

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