Ryn's POV
The second I step through Gate Seven, I regret making every joke I've ever said about "trying not to die."
"Ugh. I hate this place."
'This isn't a dislike. No. It's not even a "oh, this place is intimidating" kind of vibe. This is a full-on, heartfelt, soul-deep hatred.'
"Maaaan fu— no Ryn. Happy thoughts, think of happy thoughts."
The world in the maze doesn't change, compared to reality. It just snaps itself into a different set of rules.
The air's tighter, colder, like breathing through a wet cloth. The walls are crystal and rune-light and smug, and the corridor ahead looks like it was designed by someone who DEFINITELY got bullied as a kid and decided to take it out on future students.
I feel a cool breeze on the back of my neck, causing me to turn around instinctively.
Of course, the gate is sealed.
"Brilliant," I mutter. "Love that for me."
I stare at the shimmering barrier behind me, as if it might feel guilty and reopen. It doesn't. It just hums like it's laughing.
The corridor ahead is crystal and rune-light, walls translucent in layers. I catch a flash of shadow beyond one panel, maybe another corridor, maybe a monster, maybe some poor idiot screaming, then the sigils rotate and the view blurs into nothing.
Alright then.
Three hours.
Find the exit.
Try my best not to "die."
And hopefully not to piss myself when something with too many teeth leaps out of the wall.
I start walking, boots clicking on glass. Every footstep echoes, and the echo is the worst part. It makes me feel like I'm announcing my position to the entire maze, like:
HELLO, I AM A SOFT COMMONER, AND I WOULD LIKE TO BE EATEN TODAY.
The first junction appears quickly, with three paths branching, each marked by a shifting symbol that looks like a spiral eating its own tail. I stare at them like they're going to grow words and help me suddenly.
They don't.
"Alright," I whisper. "Left is… left. Right is… right. And the middle is where I'm probably gonna get murdered. So obviously I'm taking the middle route."
"Ah, screw it. What's the worst that could happen?" I pick the middle.
'If this maze is designed by sadists, the middle path is most likely the one that punishes cautious people. And I'm tired of being cautious. Caution is what kept me small back home. Caution is what keeps people like me stuck in the mud.'
Not today.
Not anymore.
I walk forward, along the middle path.
The corridor curves downward, the air growing cooler. My boots click softly, and every step echoes in a way that makes me feel too loud. Too present.
In the Basin, you can always hear life around you: birds, wind, people, and the distant sound of tools.
Here, the silence is deliberate.
I hate it.
"Man, I wish I had my own companion that I could talk to and help me manoeuvre around this maze..."
"Yeah, right, I wish. As if that could ever happen. All I've got is some anxiety, and now, a mild hatred for architecture."
Then I hear it.
A scrape echoing ahead. It isn't loud or dramatic. It sounds like claws scratching against crystal.
My whole spine tightens.
"Yep," I mutter. "That sounds exactly like the source of my problems getting some legs."
I lift my hand and pull Aether into my core, feeling for the only thing that's ever been reliable in my life.
Air.
The wind answers instantly, it's sharp and restless, like it's always been waiting for me to stop hesitating.
I don't have a bucket of spells to use like the heirs, and I certainly don't have some fancy bloodline technique passed down to me on some embroidered pillows.
I've got two spells.
Two.
One that cuts and one that breaks.
The monster rounds the bend.
A wolf-shape made of hard light and shadow, eyes glowing blue, mouth full of rotating shard-teeth like someone decided normal teeth weren't unsettling enough.
It charges at me.
'Of course, it does. Why wouldn't it? It couldn't have just stopped, asked me how my day went and then go on about its life, all normal.'
I thrust my palm forward.
"Ventus: Cutting Draft!"
The air snaps into a razor-thin blade, nearly invisible except for the way it distorts the corridor's light. It slices forward and clips the wolf's shoulder.
A second later, something yelps.
Not a real yelp, but more like a glitching, distorted sound that makes my teeth itch.
A wolf-shape of hard light stumbles into view, one side flickering where Cutting Draft cuts through its matrix. Its eyes glow a harsh blue. It lowers its head and charges.
"Oh, come on!" I hiss.
I step sideways, letting it commit, then throw another Cutting Draft at its legs.
"Ventus: Cutting Draft!"
The blade hits its front limb. The leg flickers, destabilises, and the wolf still reaches me, jaws snapping.
I barely throw myself backwards, landing hard on my ass as teeth bite air inches from my face.
My heart tries to leave my body.
"You're kidding," I gasp.
I scramble up, and the wolf pivots, too fast, claws scraping crystal.
It's not dead. Not even close.
"Alright, fine! You want ugly? I'll give you ugly!"
I slam both of my hands forward.
"Ventus: Turbulent Break!"
The air in front of me detonates into chaos. Pressure collapses and explodes in the same moment, like a fist made of wind punching the corridor. The wolf hits the blast head-on and its whole body stutters, matrix shuddering like a lantern in a storm.
That's my opening.
And I don't waste it.
"Ventus: Cutting Draft!"
The blade goes straight through its chest.
The wolf convulses, flickers violently, and then collapses into sparks that dissolve into the floor.
Silence returns.
I stand there panting, staring at the empty space where the wolf previously was.
Then I laugh once, breathless and slightly hysterical.
"Great," I whisper. "So the first monster I encountered tried to eat my face. Wonderful start. Ten out of ten, would recommend. The Academy's really selling their prestigious experience."
My sleeve is scuffed, my hands are shaking, and I'm already sweating.
"Kael is probably doing this like it's a math problem."
"Kael is probably walking through the maze, going hmm, yes, interesting construct, I shall optimise my ability to kill this beast."
I can picture it so clearly, I almost feel better.
Almost.
Then the thought slips in, uninvited:
What if he's not okay?
What if he ran into something stronger than he expected?
What if his "logical" way of fighting gets him killed because logic doesn't matter when a monster is trying to bite your throat off?
My stomach tightens.
I force the thought down.
Kael is… Kael.
He doesn't panic. He doesn't fold. He looks at fear like it's an equation and refuses to let it be bigger than him.
Still.
I can't stop worrying.
"Don't die, Kael," I mutter under my breath, then immediately scowl at myself. "Not because I care or anything. Just because if you die, I'm probably going to have to explain to the dorm master why my roommate got eaten, and that sounds like a lot of paperwork."
I learned fast that the maze hates predictable patterns.
Every time I pick a route that feels "safe," the walls shift behind me and the corridor bends into something worse. Every time I hesitate, a distant growl echoes, as if the maze is laughing. Every time I try to rest, the air changes, and I know something is coming.
So I run. I'm not sprinting, I'm making sure to pace myself. But I'm moving constantly, letting my momentum become a shield against this maze's antics.
I turn a corner, and the corridor opens into a wider chamber with four exits. The ceiling is too high. The floor is etched with runes in a pattern that looks like a giant seal.
'A big room. Great.'
I take two cautious steps, only to be confronted by a shadow dropping from the ceiling.
I throw myself to the side by instinct.
Something slams into the floor where I was standing. The impact causes cracks in the crystal flooring.
A hulkling shape rises.
It's... not a wolf, but something else entirely. It's part beetle and part bull. What seems to be armour plates are layered glass, and its two horns extend forward like small spears. Its eyes are burning blue.
I stare at it for a moment, and my brain offers one coherent thought.
'Ahh hell nahhh. Absolutely not.'
It charges towards me.
Because of course it does.
I thrust my palms out in retaliation.
"Ventus: Turbulent Break!"
The concussion blast hits its chest, and the monster's armour ripples, it flickers, and then it keeps heading towards me like I threw a pillow at it.
"Oh, that's a fantastic sight, now isn't it?" I gasp.
I dodge left, barely avoiding the horn that would've gutted me. The wind from its charge slaps my face. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my teeth.
'Ok, let's switch things up. Time to go for its weak points.'
I focus on the joints, the point where the armour just about meets the limb. The only part where the matrix has to flex its full Aether capacity.
"Ventus: Cutting Draft!"
The air blade slices into the joints of its front two legs. The legs flicker, destabilising it. The beast stumbles, not by much, but it's enough to cause its second step to land awkwardly.
It swings its head, horn ripping toward me.
I duck and feel the horn pass over my hair. The top of my scalp tingles.
"Yeah, no, not letting that happen again," I hiss.
I scramble backwards, palms up, and throw another Cutting Draft at the same joint.
"Ventus: Cutting Draft!"
This time, the flicker spreads wider.
I'm sweating. My lungs burn.
I can't outlast it.
I have to end it.
'I don't have enough Aether to play surgeon forever. I've got to finish this, and fast.'
So I do something reckless.
I step in close, close enough that the heatless pressure around its body makes my skin prickle... and then I slam both of my hands forward right under its head.
"Ventus: Turbulent Break!"
The blast detonates upward.
The monster's skull snaps back as if an invisible force had punched it. Its eyes flare, and its entire body glitches, its armour plates misaligning as the matrix loses cohesion.
Before it can recover, I drive a Cutting Draft straight into its chest.
"Ventus: Cutting Draft!"
The beetle-bull hybrid shatters into blue sparks, like glass hit with a hammer.
I stumble backwards, nearly falling, breathing like I just ran up a mountain.
I stare at the empty space where it just was. Then I raise a shaky hand... and flip the air off.
"Yeah," I pant. "Just walk that one off, buddy."
My hands are shaking worse now. My Aether reserve feels thinner. My sleeves are scuffed. My pride is somehow both bruised and inflated.
Kael would call my fighting style "inefficient."
Kael can kiss my—
No.
Not now.
For now, I keep moving.
In the maze, time becomes a mess, a blur.
Corridors loop. Walls move.
More monsters show up whenever I feel even the slightest bit comfortable, like the maze gets personally offended by my optimism.
There are swarms of small monsters that stab like needles, lizard-things that crawl along walls, and creepy-looking shadow cats that leap towards you and bite.
'The cats specifically. They were fighting dirty, those disgusting beasts.'
I cut. I break. I cut again. I break. Again.
None of the fights feels easy.
Every fight was messy.
Every win was ugly.
Every win costs breath, sweat, and maybe a little dignity.
But I didn't die.
After enough fights, I start to feel the rhythm of my spells. Cutting Draft isn't just a blade; it's a line of pressure that can be angled and curved slightly if I focus hard enough. Turbulent Break isn't just a blast; it can be shaped into a short-range burst to disrupt movement or a wider shock to clear space.
I start using the two spells like parts of a single technique.
Break to disrupt.
Draft to kill.
Break. Draft.
Break. Draft.
It starts to feel... almost good.
Not safe, and definitely not easy.
But good in the way surviving something hard feels good. Rewarding, actually.
I pause in a narrow corridor to catch my breath and press my back against the wall. The crystal is cold through my shirt.
"Okay," I whisper. "Okay, Ryn, you can do this. I can do this."
Then I add, because I'm me, "If Kael does get out before me, and I see his calm little face, I'm punching him in the balls."
I picture him right now, probably strolling through his maze like it's a guided tour, stopping to stare at runes and do that annoying calm face, like he's not even sweating.
I hate how easy he makes everything look.
Then my mind does the thing I hate even more.
It pictures him getting cornered.
Getting hurt.
I feel my stomach twist again. "Don't do anything stupid, Kael. Don't give me a reason to... worry."
The word feels wrong in my mouth.
I'm not someone who worries about people.
People don't last long enough for that.
But Kael's different.
He listens. He doesn't look at me like I'm dirt. He doesn't talk down to me, as if I'm lucky to be breathing the same air as him. He just... accepts me. He treats me like a person.
Which is stupid, because that should be normal.
But it isn't.
Not here.
Not in Elyndra.
Not for us.
I push off the wall and keep moving before the thought can settle too deeply.
The exit marker appears like a blessing from the Gods themselves.
"Finally! I finally see the exit!"
A corridor opens into a long straight path, and at the end I see it: a door made of solid crystal, etched with an inverted labyrinth symbol.
My chest tightens.
Relief hits so hard it's almost painful.
"Oh, thank the Gods," I whisper, and then immediately add, "Not that I believe in the gods. But if any are listening, you owe me one after this horrid experience."
I start walking quickly. Then slow. Because I remember that the maze never gives you anything for free.
And just as I reach halfway, something drops from the ceiling.
'This is the second time today something dropped from the ceiling. What is up with the monsters in this maze and ceilings for god sake?
I throw myself sideways, rolling hard. A clawed thing slams into the floor, skidding. It's smaller than the beetle-bull, but faster, leaner and sharper, like it's specifically built for ambush.
It pivots toward me instantly.
I don't hesitate.
"Ventus: Turbulent Break!"
The blast hits it mid-lunge, throwing it backwards into the wall. It flickers.
Before it can recover—
"Ventus: Cutting Draft!"
The blade slices clean through its core.
It dissolves.
Silence again.
I stand, panting, then glare down the corridor like I expect the maze itself to step out and fight me.
"Is that all?" I shout. "Because I'm busy! I have an important appointment with the exit!"
No response.
'That's rude.'
I approach the door slowly, cautiously. The runes glow brighter as I near, their symbols flaring. The door slides sideways without a sound.
Beyond it is...
Not the outside world.
'Of course it isn't'
'It's another freaking chamber.'
My shoulders slump. "You've got to be kidding me."
I step through anyway, because what else can I do? Turn around and die out of spite?
The chamber is wide and dim, the floor etched with dense runes. In the centre is a tall crystal obelisk pulsing with soft light. Around it are scattered fragments of dissolved constructs, blue sparks still fading.
'Someone's been here.'
My skin tightens.
I look around, and my eyes catch movement in the far corner, two figures, standing close together.
Nobles.
Robes trimmed. Posture relaxed. The way they stand says they've never had to earn space, because space moves for them automatically.
And between them—
A third figure, backed against the wall.
A commoner.
I recognise him instantly.
'It's the kid from the carriage.'
The one who said that commoners don't stand a chance in the Academy. The one that I, Ryn, told to shut up because he sounded pathetic.
He doesn't look pathetic now.
He looks terrified.
His robe is torn. His hands are raised defensively, shaking. His eyes are wide like he's trying not to cry.
One noble is laughing.
The other is idly spinning a small ball of flame in his palm like it's a toy.
Something hot and nasty crawls up my throat.
My fists clench.
My vision goes red.
And not metaphorically.
It's like the world narrows into a single straight line. It's them, him, and the distance between us.
I don't think.
I don't calculate, as Kael would.
I just moved.
And before I can stop myself, my voice rips out, it's loud, raw, and furious.
"HEY! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU BASTARDS DOING?!"