"You're absolutely certain this is a good idea?"
Kael's voice carried the particular tone of someone who'd asked the same question three times already and kept receiving unsatisfactory answers.
We stood before the entrance to the Academy's training labyrinth—a massive stone archway carved with runes that hurt to look at directly. The entrance yawned before us like a mouth waiting to swallow the unwary. Around us, other first-year groups gathered, checking equipment, reviewing strategies, making last-minute adjustments to team compositions.
"Define 'good idea,'" I said, staring at the archway with genuine fascination.
The runes weren't just decorative. They were binding seals, reality anchors, dimensional locks—layer upon layer of magical architecture designed to contain something that really, really didn't want to be contained. Whoever had built this had been terrified of what lay beneath.
Smart.
"A good idea," Kael said with exaggerated patience, "is one that doesn't result in our deaths, dismemberment, or permanent psychological trauma."
"That's a very narrow definition of 'good.'"
"Qaftzi'el."
"Kael."
"Please take this seriously."
I turned to face our assembled group. Kael stood with his arms crossed, silver eyes reflecting genuine concern. Beside him, Lyris crackled with barely-contained lightning, her confidence radiating like heat. Mira clutched her book—I'd learned it was a spellcasting grimoire, not pleasure reading—and avoided eye contact with everyone. Brick simply existed, solid and immovable as his namesake.
"I am taking this seriously," I said. "I'm just also taking it amusingly. The two aren't mutually exclusive."
"Most people would be nervous," Lyris observed. Lightning danced between her fingers unconsciously. "This is our first real test. Our rankings depend on this."
"Are you nervous?" I asked.
"Terrified," she admitted with a sharp grin. "But I'm going to electrocute that terror into submission."
I liked Lyris. She understood that fear and action weren't opposites.
"What about you, Mira?" I asked the quiet girl.
She jumped slightly at being addressed. "I... I'm prepared. I've studied seventeen different healing configurations and twenty-three barrier formations. I have contingency protocols for most common injuries and environmental hazards. I've calculated optimal mana expenditure rates for extended operations and—"
"She's terrified too," Brick rumbled. "But she prepares instead of panics."
Mira nodded gratefully at him.
"And Brick?" I asked.
"I'm a rock. Rocks don't get nervous."
"Rocks also don't pass academy entrance exams, so clearly you're more than a rock."
He considered this. "I'm a nervous rock."
"Excellent! So we're all terrified but functional. That's the best kind of team." I clapped my hands together. "Now, let's discuss strategy."
Kael perked up. "Finally. Okay, based on historical records, the labyrinth's first three levels contain primarily Class E and D threats—minor magical beasts, basic trap configurations, environmental hazards. The challenge is navigation more than combat. I'll handle directional sensing using spatial markers. Lyris takes point for combat encounters. Brick guards our rear. Mira maintains barriers and healing readiness. Qaftzi'el—"
He paused, clearly uncertain what role I could fill.
"I'll provide moral support and comedic relief," I offered.
"That's not a combat role."
"Isn't it? Good morale is crucial for team cohesion. And laughter releases endorphins which improve pain tolerance and decision-making under stress. I'm basically a strategic asset."
Lyris snorted. "He's got you there, Kael."
"Fine," Kael sighed. "Qaftzi'el handles morale. Everyone clear on the plan?"
We nodded—some more confidently than others.
"Attention, first-years!"
The voice belonged to Instructor Thane, a scarred veteran who taught combat applications. He stood before the archway, radiating the particular energy of someone who'd survived things that should have killed him and emerged bitter about it.
"In five minutes, the labyrinth will open. You will enter in your designated groups. You have seven days to reach the central chamber, retrieve a token, and return to this entrance. The labyrinth will provide minimal sustenance—water and basic rations at checkpoint stations. Everything else, you provide yourselves."
He gestured to the archway, where the runes were beginning to glow with increasing intensity.
"The labyrinth is not static. It reconfigures itself every six hours. Paths that existed will vanish. New routes will appear. You cannot map it completely—you must adapt constantly."
Someone in another group raised their hand. "What if we get separated?"
"Then you learn to survive alone or you die. The labyrinth doesn't care about your team dynamics." Thane's expression suggested he didn't particularly care either. "Each group will enter through the same archway but will be spatially segregated into separate instances. You won't encounter other groups unless specific convergence points are reached."
"What kind of threats should we expect?" another student asked.
"Everything from minor inconveniences to things that will haunt your nightmares." Thane smiled without warmth. "The labyrinth learns. It adapts. It tests not just your strength but your psychology. Expect it to exploit your fears, your doubts, your weaknesses."
Wonderful. A sentient dungeon with psychological warfare capabilities.
I was starting to like this labyrinth.
"Any deaths?" someone asked nervously.
"The labyrinth is calibrated to avoid permanent deaths. You'll be ejected if you sustain critical injuries. However—" Thane's eyes swept across the assembled students "—ejection counts as failure. You'll receive zero contribution points and placement in remedial classes. Three failures means expulsion from the Academy."
The weight of that settled over the crowd like a shroud.
"One minute," Thane announced. "Final preparations."
Our group huddled together. Kael distributed basic supplies he'd prepared—rope, chalk for marking paths, minor healing potions, preserved rations. Lyris checked her focus crystals, tools that helped her channel lightning more efficiently. Mira whispered prayers or incantations under her breath, preparing her mental state. Brick just stood there, being incredibly present.
I did nothing, because I didn't need to prepare for something I could rewrite if necessary.
But I observed everything.
The other groups, their dynamics, their preparations. The confident ones who would probably overextend and encounter problems around level three. The terrified ones who would second-guess every decision and fail not from lack of ability but from paralysis of choice. The calculating ones who'd already identified the weakest members and were planning to abandon them if necessary.
Mortals were endlessly fascinating in their survival strategies.
"Thirty seconds!"
The archway blazed with light now, the runes singing with power. Reality itself seemed to warp around the entrance, space folding in ways that weren't entirely three-dimensional.
"Remember," Kael said quietly, "we stay together. No heroics, no splitting up, no investigating suspicious noises alone."
"That last one feels oddly specific," I observed.
"Last year, three students died investigating suspicious noises alone."
"But I thought the labyrinth prevented permanent deaths?"
"It did. They got better. But they spent six months in the medical wing having their psyches reconstructed after whatever they found ate their sanity."
"Ah. That's less fun."
"Ten seconds!"
Lyris rolled her shoulders, lightning crackling up her arms. "Ready to dance with death?"
"Death and I have an understanding," I said. "We don't bother each other."
"Must be nice."
"It has its perks."
"Five! Four! Three!"
Mira grabbed my hand suddenly, surprising both of us. Her palm was sweaty, trembling.
"Two!"
"We'll be fine," I told her, and meant it. Because with me present, "fine" was the minimum acceptable outcome.
"One!"
"Enter!"
The archway exploded with light, and we stepped forward into infinity.
The transition was instantaneous and disorienting.
One moment, we stood in the Academy's courtyard, surrounded by stone and sky and normalcy. The next, we were somewhere else entirely.
The labyrinth's first level stretched before us—a vast corridor of worked stone lit by phosphorescent moss that grew in intricate patterns along the walls. The ceiling arched high overhead, disappearing into shadows that seemed deeper than they should be. The air was cool, slightly damp, carrying scents of earth and ancient magic.
"Everyone accounted for?" Kael asked immediately.
We checked. All five present, unharmed, exactly where we should be.
"Good," Kael said. "That's checkpoint one. Brick, rear guard. Lyris, point position five meters ahead. Mira, center with me. Qaftzi'el—"
"Moral support and comedic relief, right where I'm supposed to be," I confirmed cheerfully.
We began walking.
The corridor extended straight ahead for approximately fifty meters before branching into three separate paths. The stone floor was smooth, almost too smooth, like it had been worn down by countless feet over countless years.
Or like it was trying to be inviting.
"This feels wrong," Lyris muttered, her lightning casting dancing shadows. "Too easy. Where are the monsters? The traps?"
"The labyrinth is assessing us," Kael said, maintaining focus on his spatial sensing. "First level is typically observation phase. It watches how we move, how we interact, how we think. Then it adapts."
"So we're being studied," Brick rumbled.
"Yes."
"Don't like being studied."
"Nobody does. But that's the game."
I trailed my fingers along the wall as we walked, feeling the texture of the stone, the traces of magic woven through it. The labyrinth was indeed watching—I could feel its attention, vast and alien, flowing through the walls like water through channels.
And beneath that, something else.
That presence I'd sensed last night. Deeper. Older.
Waiting.
We reached the branching paths. Three corridors, identical in appearance, extending into darkness.
"Left, center, or right?" Lyris asked.
Kael closed his eyes, his spatial affinity reaching out. "The left path curves downward eventually. Center continues level. Right path... I can't sense clearly. Something's interfering with spatial reading."
"So right path is either a trap or something important," I observed.
"That's the usual pattern, yes."
"What does your gut say?" Lyris asked Kael.
"My gut says all three paths probably lead to the same general area eventually, but each will test us differently."
"So it doesn't matter which we choose?"
"It matters. Just not in ways we can predict yet."
I stepped forward to the center path and knelt down, pressing my palm flat against the stone floor. The others watched me curiously.
"What are you doing?" Mira asked quietly.
"Asking politely," I said.
"Asking what?"
"The labyrinth. Which path would you like us to take?"
Silence.
Then Kael laughed, a short, disbelieving sound. "You're asking the labyrinth itself?"
"Why not? It's conscious. It's watching us. Maybe it has opinions."
"That's not how dungeons work."
"Are you sure?"
Before Kael could respond, the moss along the walls of the center path brightened noticeably, pulsing with bioluminescent light.
Everyone stared.
"Did... did that just happen?" Lyris asked.
"The labyrinth answered," I said, standing up and dusting off my hands. "It wants us to take the center path."
"That's impossible," Kael insisted. "Dungeons don't communicate. They're magical constructs, not entities."
"This one's chatty," I said. "Shall we?"
I started walking down the center path without waiting for consensus.
Behind me, I heard frantic whispered conversation:
"Is he insane?"
"Probably."
"Should we follow him?"
"Do we have a choice?"
"I mean, the labyrinth did seem to respond..."
"That was coincidence!"
"Was it though?"
Footsteps followed. My team, trusting me despite all evidence suggesting they shouldn't.
Mortals were wonderfully irrational sometimes.
The center path wound deeper into the labyrinth, the stone walls gradually becoming more elaborate. What had been simple worked stone became intricate carvings—geometric patterns, stylized creatures, symbols I recognized from six different magical traditions across four universe iterations.
"These carvings," Mira said, her voice gaining confidence as she discussed something academic, "they're not random. This pattern here—" she pointed to a spiral motif "—it's from pre-Cataclysm architecture. And this one matches Astral Liturgy notation. These shouldn't exist together. They're from completely different magical paradigms."
"What does that mean?" Brick asked.
"It means the labyrinth is older than the Academy," Kael said quietly. "Much older."
"The Academy is a thousand years old," Lyris pointed out.
"And this is older than that."
We walked in thoughtful silence for several minutes. The path began to slope downward, gently at first, then more noticeably.
"We're descending to level two," Kael noted. "That's faster than expected. Most groups spend hours on level one."
"Maybe because Qaftzi'el asked nicely," Lyris said, only half-joking.
"That's not—" Kael started, then stopped. "You know what, I don't care anymore. If asking the labyrinth nicely works, who am I to question it?"
The slope leveled out, and we emerged into a larger chamber.
This room was circular, approximately thirty meters in diameter, with a domed ceiling covered in more bioluminescent moss. In the center of the room stood a stone pedestal, and on that pedestal sat a wooden box.
"Trap," Brick said immediately.
"Definitely trap," Lyris agreed.
"So obvious it's almost insulting," Kael added.
I walked toward the pedestal.
"Qaftzi'el, wait—" Kael started.
But I'd already reached the pedestal, picked up the box, and opened it.
Inside were five small crystals, each glowing with soft white light.
"Huh," I said. "Communication crystals. Linked set. If we get separated, we can stay in contact."
I distributed them to the team. Everyone stared at me like I'd grown a second head.
"Where's the trap?" Lyris demanded.
"There isn't one," I said.
"But there's always a trap!"
"The labyrinth is being helpful. We asked nicely, remember?"
"That's not—you can't just—" Kael sputtered. "Dungeons don't work on politeness!"
"This one seems to appreciate good manners."
As if in response, a section of the wall slid open, revealing a passage leading deeper.
"See?" I said. "Politeness."
Nobody had a response to that.
We continued deeper, and the labyrinth continued being... cooperative. Not easy—we still had to solve puzzles and navigate complex passages—but not actively hostile.
When we encountered our first monster—a stone construct designed to test combat coordination—it fought half-heartedly, almost like it was going through the motions. Lyris destroyed it with lightning, Brick absorbed its counterattack, and Mira's barriers proved unnecessary.
"This is weird," Lyris said after the third suspiciously manageable encounter. "I heard last year's groups lost members on level two. We're breezing through."
"Maybe we're just good," Brick suggested.
"Or maybe something worse is waiting," Kael muttered.
But nothing worse came.
We reached a checkpoint station—a small alcove with water supplies and basic rations—and stopped to rest. According to Kael's time tracking, we'd been in the labyrinth for six hours and had cleared two full levels.
"At this rate, we'll reach the center chamber in two days," he calculated. "That's unprecedented."
"Should we slow down?" Mira asked.
"Why would we slow down?"
"Because this feels wrong. Too easy. Like we're being led somewhere."
Smart girl.
"We are being led somewhere," I confirmed. "The labyrinth wants us to reach the center."
"Why?" Lyris demanded.
I shrugged. "Won't know until we get there."
"That's not reassuring."
"Truth rarely is."
We rested, ate, and continued.
Level three. Level four. Each progressively more complex but never overwhelmingly difficult. The labyrinth tested us—our problem-solving, our teamwork, our ability to adapt—but it didn't try to kill us.
It was teaching us.
And beneath everything, I felt that presence growing stronger. The thing deeper than the labyrinth itself. The reason this place existed.
It was aware of me now.
Curious.
Waiting.
On the sixth day—far ahead of schedule—we stood before the entrance to the central chamber.
The door was massive, carved from a single piece of black stone that seemed to absorb light. Runes covered every surface, glowing with soft purple radiance.
"This is it," Kael said unnecessarily.
"What do we do?" Mira asked, nervousness returning to her voice.
"We open it," I said, placing my hand on the door.
The runes flared bright, and the door began to open.
"Wait, shouldn't we—" Kael started.
But I was already stepping through.
Into the heart of the labyrinth.
Into the presence that had been waiting.
Into something that would finally be interesting.