They spun on their heels and sprinted down the right-hand corridor. The path twisted sharply, its walls narrowing, until the glow of their torches illuminated something nestled in the far corner a wooden chest, old and dust-covered.
"It's a chest!" Emery shouted, breathless.
"Open it now!" Art barked, eyes scanning the corridor behind them.
Without missing a beat, Kret stepped forward. He drew his sword and slammed it against the metal lock. With a harsh clang, it snapped cleanly off. He shoved the lid open, the wood creaking in protest.
Inside, there was only a single, folded piece of paper.
Kret frowned. "Seriously?"
He reached in, grabbed the paper, and unfolded it. The group gathered around, the tension in the air palpable as he began to read aloud:
"In the heart of the maze, no walls truly move.
Yet when one's heart is hollow, a shadow stirs from the groove.
Born from the abyss, not seen but known,
An old friend returns when you're most alone."
Kret raised an eyebrow, his teeth flashing in a crooked grin. "What the hell is this even supposed to mean?"
"It must be some kind of puzzle…" Emery muttered, narrowing his eyes.
"I-I think... it's a riddle," Ivana stammered softly.
"Right!" Raphael snapped his fingers. "A riddle!"
"I knew it!" Han exclaimed, pointing at the parchment. "It's a riddle!"
"A riddle?" Kret repeated, furrowing his brow. "What the hell's a riddle?"
"You don't have riddles in your world?" Han asked, blinking.
Kret hesitated, glancing at the others. Shit... If I say no, I'll sound like some clueless commoner without academy training. He cleared his throat, masking the doubt behind a smug smile.
"Of course we do. I just… forgot. Haven't heard one in years. Been a while since I left the academy, you know."
Han nodded enthusiastically. "In my world, we had these guys called Chartors. Dressed like jesters, always carried cards with riddles written on them. If you answered right, you got a prize!"
"Jesters?" Art raised an eyebrow. "Probably just some kind of clown."
"Then go on, read it again," Kret said, handing Han the parchment.
Han read the lines slowly, trying to sound confident:
"In the heart of the maze, no walls truly move.
Yet when one's heart is hollow, a shadow stirs from the groove.
Born from the abyss, not seen but known,
An old friend returns when you're most alone."
He paused, tapping his chin. "Hmm... I think it's saying that when someone feels empty, like… truly hollow inside, some kind of creature comes from the abyss."
His voice wavered a little. "I'm not sure, honestly… this one's hard. I only ever won that game once…"
Han scratched the back of his head awkwardly, face flushed. Damn, that was embarrassing.
The group went quiet for a moment, the riddle lingering in the stale air like a whisper from the maze itself.
"It's alright," Kret said.
"Give me the paper and let's move." Art stepped forward, his voice sharp and steady.
Hans handed him the riddle. Art folded it neatly and slipped it inside the inner pocket of his suit. "Let's go."
They continued running through the maze, boots echoing against the cold stone floor.
"Are we even making any progress?" Emery asked between heavy breaths.
"Who knows? We haven't found a single survivor yet," Art replied, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings.
"We're going in circles," Raphael muttered. "We should at least mark where we've been."
"With what?" Art asked, glancing back.
"B-Blood...?" Ivana suggested, voice trembling.
Raphael lit up. "Wait that's actually a good idea!"
"That's dangerous," Art snapped. "We still don't know the full capabilities of that blind monster. It might have a heightened sense of smell."
Emery groaned. "What's the point of wearing these clothes anyway? We haven't changed in days…"
"That explains the smell of fish," Art replied with a smirk.
Emery blushed furiously. "W-What are you saying?! It's your fault I smell like this!"
"Shhh…" Art hushed, glancing down the corridor ahead.
"So what should we do?" Kret asked.
"I'm not sure," Art admitted. "Maybe we keep looking for chests. If we're lucky, we'll find an easier riddle."
He straightened his jacket. "Also, for the record, my suit's custom-made. Even if blood gets on it, it won't hold any scent. Unlike your clothes."
"Wow," Emery muttered with an annoyed scowl.
"Then, sir… you must be from a really advanced world?" Hans asked, his eyes shining with curiosity.
"Not really. We're just about a hundred years into the tech revolution when I left."
"Huh? Isn't a hundred years a lot?" Hans tilted his head.
"Not really," Raphael said with a shrug. "My world was still crap during my grandfather's childhood."
"Damn, that sucks…" Hans muttered. "I wouldn't know. I've only been alive for sixteen years."