From the speeding, spiraling magical blue and violet hues into the center darkness of the portal, I heard a surging sound—like the ocean inhaling—followed by a loud pop. At the exact same time, my body decided gravity was optional, and I felt like I had just been dumped inside a shopping cart and pushed down a roller coaster by someone who hated brakes.
There was a blast of light.
Then ground.
I staggered forward, arms flailing instinctively as my feet tried to remember how walking worked. My balance wobbled like a newborn deer learning life lessons the hard way.
"Whoa," I blurted, performing what could generously be called a balancing act.
"Are you alright, master?" Kala's voice pierced through my groggy thoughts. It hovered beside me, of course—because flying eyeball creatures apparently did not believe in personal space.
"Oh—hey. Yeah," I said, finally finding my bearings and stopping the invisible tightrope routine. "I think so. Where are we?"
The sky answered before Kala did.
It was almost dusk. The light was fading fast, bleeding gold and amber across the horizon. Thick clouds parted slowly, as if pulled aside by unseen hands, and there it was—the moon.
Caved in.
Broken.
Majestic in a deeply unsettling way.
The moon looked like it had taken a bite to the face and decided to keep going anyway. Cracks webbed across its surface, and a massive hollow scarred one side, swallowing starlight. I had seen it before—in glimpses, in memories that weren't fully mine. The beholder mommy's early days. Back when the moon hung closer in the sky, already broken like this.
But now, seeing the faint outline of man-made structures embedded in the debris around the hole—metallic shapes, geometric silhouettes—it made my stomach sink.
This wasn't an accident.
And whatever story led to that… was far bigger than me.
"We are at the main entrance of the Labyrinth, master," Kala said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if casually pointing out a coffee shop.
I looked behind me.
Kala was right.
A gigantic arch loomed there, half shattered, its remains scattered across the ground like enormous Lego bricks tossed aside by an angry god. The wall of the labyrinth stretched endlessly to the left and right, disappearing into shadow and overgrowth. A massive corroded metal sign lay half-buried in rubble, only a single word still readable:
"ELCOME."
I squinted at it.
"…Welcome," I muttered.
Imagining the arch in its heyday, it must have looked like the entrance to a giant-sized theme park—colossal, extravagant, and wildly unnecessary. Towers, carvings, grotesque statues of mashed-up creatures frozen in roaring poses. A place designed not just to impress, but to intimidate.
Now, nature was reclaiming it with enthusiasm.
Overgrowth was everywhere. Trees burst through cracked stone. Vines wrapped around fallen walls like they were tucking ruins into bed. Broken fragments lay scattered underfoot, half-swallowed by moss and roots.
"Flashlight," I said softly, instinctively. "My bag…"
I patted my side.
Nothing.
My chest tightened.
"My sword?" I checked again, more frantically this time.
Also gone.
A hollow feeling settled in my gut. Losing my only belongings in an unforgiving world like this felt… personal. Like the universe was reminding me I wasn't supposed to be comfortable here.
"Oh, you mean this?" Kala said brightly.
Its body shivered.
Then it went, "Urrrgh."
And began to barf.
Like a cat.
After several deeply unsettling seconds of unsightly regurgitation, Kala spat something out from beneath its tentacles with a wet plop.
I stared.
"…Huh," I said slowly. "So you do have a mouth under there."
A revelation I did not want to process further.
I leaned closer.
"Whoa—my bag! How did you—"
"While you and mom were in a trance, I collected your stuff," Kala said proudly. Its single eye glistened with an unmistakable aura of accomplishment. "I'm handy, right?"
I grabbed my satchel—still slick with beholder saliva—with genuine joy.
"Yes, you are," I said honestly. Appreciation first, trauma later.
"I have more!" Kala giggled.
It shivered again.
More barfing followed.
Clangs and thuds hit the ground.
"My sword!" I announced, tears welling up dramatically in my eyes. Yes, it was covered in drool, but it was mine.
And beside it—
"No way."
SmileyX's flintlock pistol.
And his black gladius.
My General Awareness activated instantly.
General Awareness:
Pirate Jones' Flintlock
Definition: Famed Pirate Jones' flintlock pistol. Light and easy to use. With only one foot and one eye, he conquered the vast and untamed ocean with his trusty pistol by his side—along with his swashbuckling crew of misfits. Designed and created by an unknown gunsmith, this weapon is a collector's marvel. It may look like a normal flintlock, but think again!
Effects:
• Lightweight: Faster reload speeds
• Bullet drop and bullet drift: -25%
I lifted the flintlock into my palms.
It wasn't lying.
The thing was light. Like… absurdly light. A bar of soap, maybe?
Why was that my comparison?
"Don't drop the soap," my brain whispered helpfully, dragging up a movie reference I absolutely did not need right now.
I slid the pistol into my satchel, now hanging from my left side.
Another alert popped up.
General Awareness:
Unidentified Black Gladius
Definition: Well, it's unidentified. Use at your own risk, dummy.
"…Fair enough," I muttered.
"Can you keep this for me?" I asked Kala, holding out the gladius.
"You got it, master!" it rejoiced—and immediately chomped down on the blade while I was still holding it.
Saliva smeared across my hand.
"…Why," I said flatly.
I swatted my hand against the ground, the spit hitting dirt with a sad splat, then looked up.
Night had fully arrived.
Stars dotted the sky, sharp and cold. The broken moon loomed above, casting pale light across the land. Beyond the labyrinth stretched a vast forest.
The trees were… normal.
No glowing veins. No screaming leaves. No tentacles.
Suspiciously ordinary.
"So…" I said, thinking out loud. "Where to go from here?"
I sighed and glanced back at the labyrinth entrance.
"We can't go back in yet, master," Kala warned.
"Uh—why?"
"The labyrinth is still in a stir because of what your friends did inside. We might encounter unfriendly animals."
I turned slowly.
"What? They are not my friends. And can you stop calling me master?"
"Sure, master."
"…Sigh."
"Call me Ki—" I stopped. Kiko sounds lame. This was a new world. I deserved something cool. Mysterious.
"Call me K," I finalized.
"Gotcha, master K."
"Just K, please."
"Oh, K."
"Hey!" I smirked. "I saw what you did there."
Kala chuckled nervously.
"Mast—"
I squinted at it.
"…K. We have company," it said, voice dropping.
I turned.
"Oh, what now?"
Four small figures stood beneath a tree about twenty-five meters away. Three to four feet tall. Hard to see in the darkness, but unmistakably humanoid.
One stepped forward into the moonlight.
"Krrrrrk paaaaak," it snorted.
It was… horrifying.
Its eyes held indifference and dismissal, like we were already beneath notice. Pointy ears. A sharp nose covered in massive moles. Its lower jaw jutted forward, uneven teeth bared in an unsettling grin.
A loincloth hung loosely at its waist.
It held a crude wooden club.
Then it stood on its tiptoes and flexed.
…Intimidation, I guessed.
My General Awareness flared.
"Goblins," I said calmly, raising my knife-sword. Moonlight gleamed along its jagged edge.
More stepped forward.
One with a wooden buckler and short sword.
Another wearing a knight's helmet far too big for its head, holding a mace.
The last carried a pickaxe, dragging it eagerly across the ground.
"Kraaaaaaah!"
They charged.
And just like that, diplomacy was off the table.