Marek's body struck the stone floor with a heavy, wet thud.
For a moment the noise seemed unnaturally loud, bouncing along the narrow walls of the trap corridor before fading into the endless mechanical rhythm of whirring blades and snapping mechanisms.
Rolan didn't move.
His body had gone completely still, as if the world itself had paused.
His mind refused to process what his eyes were seeing, The spiral blades were still embedded in Marek's body. Three of them had punched through the man's torso from behind, their serrated edges glistening with fresh blood. One blade had driven straight through his neck. Another protruded from his side at chest, blood spread slowly beneath him.
It seeped outward across the stone like a dark stain, creeping into the grooves carved by years of dungeon wear.
A moment earlier they had been having a conversation. Marek was being responsive.
Now,
"ROLAN!"
The shout cracked through the corridor like thunder, Tarin's voice was sharp and urgent.
"Snap out of it, you Moran!"
Rolan's eyes remained fixed on Marek's corpse.
He was standing right there.
Just a heartbeat ago he was still alive, still wielding his sword while cursing the endless traps.
Now he looked less like a man and more like a grotesque display mounted to the dungeon floor. Another spiral blade spun toward Rolan's exposed side.
Tarin reacted as fast as he could, He dashed forward, boots scraping hard against the stone as he crossed the short distance in a blur. His sword snapped upward and struck the incoming blade with a sharp metallic crack.
The spinning weapon ricocheted off the wall and clattered away down the corridor.
"Knock it off!" Tarin barked.
He shoved Rolan's shoulder roughly.
"That idiot had it coming!"
Rolan blinked.
The world lurched back into motion.
The faint whistle of spinning blades cutting through the air.
The pressure of the corridor was oppressive, his fingers tightened instinctively around the hilt of his sword. He raised it just in time to intercept another incoming spiral blade.
CLANG.
The impact rattled through his arms, Rolan exhaled sharply and steadied himself. Tarin continued speaking, his voice harsh but controlled.
"Now you understand why I told you both not to feel lax earlier!"
A blade spun toward them from the far wall, Rolan pivoted and redirected it with a quick deflection, sending the weapon skidding across the floor.
"I get it, Tarin," he said through clenched teeth.
"But look at us."
He shifted his stance, breathing heavier than he wanted to admit.
"We're exhausted."
Their aura reserves had been draining for minutes now, every evasive maneuver. The trap corridor was slowly grinding them down.
Tarin snorted.
"I see that."
He swatted another blade away with practiced efficiency.
"But that doesn't mean we get to drop our guard."
One of the blade screeched toward them.
Tarin stepped sideways and smashed it out of the air.
"Now Marek died."
For a brief moment his voice lowered.
"...So what do we do now?"
Rolan hesitated.
A blade came striking towards them, he deflected it. His eyes flicked briefly toward Marek's corpse again. The sight twisted something in his stomach.
Going onward won't be the right decision.
If this corridor was only the entrance to the floor…
What waited deeper inside? Who knows what could reside at the bottom.
Rolan made the decision quickly.
"I suppose this is time we will have to withdraw."
Tarin didn't argue.
"You said it."
He deflected another incoming blade.
"I wouldn't want to die a stupid death."
The two of them began retreating. Step by careful step, they moved backward through the corridor, keeping their weapons ready as spiral blades continued launching from hidden slots in the walls.
Each deflection echoed sharply, metal striking metal.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
They walked towards the slab of rock that blocked the path towards the exist was. Once they reached it, Rolan continue moving,
"We're done with our objectives for today," he muttered.
His voice carried a mixture of frustration and fatigue.
"If you guys had gone with my suggestion of withdrawing earlier none of this would have happened."
Tarin shot him an annoyed glance.
"Quit your whining already."
Another blade spun toward his chest.
He knocked it away effortlessly.
"I get what you're trying to say."
Rolan slowed slightly as the familiar shape of the fallen slab came into view, just a little farther, His thoughts churned.
We should have left this place earlier, nothing about this dungeon floor felt normal. The trap density alone was absurd, too relentless.
Is this floor even beatable? If it wasn't…
Then there had to be something else. Some kind of trick, there could be a secret path leading to the next floor.
The guild hadn't warned them about anything like this, and it kept bothering him. Why didn't they mention this place being heavily trapped?
Rolan stepped forward and suddenly felt the stone beneath his boot shift. The ground felt loosen.
He was lost in thought.
"Wait!"
The stones began cracked.
A deep rumbling sound tore through the corridor.
The slab blocking their path lurched violently.
Then,
the ground began to give way, the massive stone slab tipped forward and dropped straight into darkness. Chunks of the corridor floor began collapsing with it.
"Move!" Rolan shouted.
He jumped backward as the stone beneath his feet fractured.
Behind him Tarin reacted instantly, the ground was collapsing toward them. Cracks raced across the floor like lightning, stone shattered and dropped into the void below. Tarin hopped backward just as another section of floor crumbled away.
"No no no no no!" he shouted.
"Not now!"
Both men turned forward.
The corridor ahead stretched out before them, behind them the collapse was accelerating. The dungeon floor was literally chasing them. Rolan and Tarin increased their pace immediately.
Broken stone crashed into darkness behind them as the collapse surged forward. Tarin's voice carried a mixture of disbelief and anger.
"Why is this happening now, of all times!"
Stone split apart behind them in a grinding cascade as the floor collapsed inward, entire slabs dropping into darkness below. The rumble chased them like a living thing, devouring the path they had just crossed.
Rolan ran.
His boots struck the stone floor in frantic rhythm, breath tearing through his chest as he forced his legs to keep moving. Every step sent pain through muscles already pushed far past their limits.
Beside him just behind Tarin ran as well.
Neither them spoke.
The sound of the collapsing corridor said everything.
Behind them, the stone floor fractured again with a thunderous crack. Another section dropped away, vanishing into the void beneath the dungeon floor.
The collapse was catching up.
"Faster!" Rolan shouted hoarsely.
His voice sounded raw in his own ears. They were already running as fast as their exhausted bodies allowed, but instinct drove them harder. Their pace became a reckless sprint as the ground disintegrated behind them.
The air whistled suddenly.
A spiral blade shot from a slot in the wall. Rolan raised his sword instinctively.
CLANG.
The impact rattled through his arms. The blade ricocheted away, skidding across the corridor before disappearing into the darkness behind them.
Another came immediately after.
CLANG.
Then another.
CLANG.
The corridor was still roaming with traps.
Their aura reserves had been draining for minutes already, each deflection consuming what little strength remained in their bodies. What had once been precise movements now felt heavy and slow.
Rolan barely managed to redirect the next blade.
The deflection went wide. The spinning weapon grazed his shoulder as it flew past, He staggered but kept running. Behind him Tarin cursed under his breath.
A blade shot toward his face, he snapped his sword upward just in time.
CLANG.
The weapon deflected off the edge of his blade, passing so close to his cheek that he felt the wind of it cut through the air.
Another blade followed almost instantly.
Tarin swung again, but his arms no longer carried the same strength they had earlier in the corridor. His strike connected but weakly, the blade didn't ricochet away. Instead it twisted off the edge of his sword and struck his side. A sharp impact punched into his ribs.
Tarin gasped.
His steps faltered for half a heartbeat as pain exploded through his torso. The spiral blade had driven into his side, punching through the armor plates protecting his ribs.
He tore it free with a grimace and threw it aside.
Blood immediately soaked into his clothing.
"Keep moving!" Rolan shouted.
Tarin didn't respond. He simply clenched his teeth and ran.
Behind them the collapse surged forward.
Another section of the corridor dropped away with a thunderous crack.
They were running out of time.
Suddenly the walls erupted.
Long metal spikes shot outward from both sides of the corridor with violent force. The sound was explosive dozens of mechanisms firing simultaneously.
Rolan caught a glimpse of them bursting out behind him.
"Spikes!" he barked.
He didn't slow neither did Tarin.
The two men pushed themselves even harder, sprinting down the corridor as the spikes continued to erupt from the walls behind them. Each burst of steel drove farther into the passage, forming deadly barriers that would have impaled them instantly if they had hesitated even a moment.
Rolan's breathing became ragged.
His chest burned.
Sweat ran down his face, stinging his eyes as exhaustion crept deeper into his muscles.
But he refused to slow.
Behind him Tarin struggled to keep pace.
One hand pressed against his wounded ribs while the other gripped his sword. Blood seeped between his fingers as he ran, each step jarring the injury in his side.
The collapsing corridor was only a few strides behind him now.
Stone shattered and dropped into the darkness as the dungeon floor literally chased them forward.
"Damn this place…" Tarin muttered through clenched teeth.
They continued.
Seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity.
Spiral blades continued launching from the walls, forcing them to swing their weapons while sprinting at full speed. Their movements were sloppy now desperate rather than precise.
Rolan deflected one blade only for another to graze his thigh.
Tarin narrowly avoided a spike that erupted inches from his leg.
The corridor showed no mercy.
It was designed to kill.
Minutes passed like this, minutes of relentless running, of traps, collapsing stone, and failing strength.
Then Rolan saw something ahead.
At first he thought it was a trick of the light.
But as he squinted through the dim glow of his fading light orb, the shape became clearer.
It was the end
At the far end of the floor was an opening, a doorway that might lead to the next floor.
Rolan's heart leapt.
Could that be what I think it is?
Hope surged through him despite the exhaustion dragging at his limbs.
If that was an exit, If that was the path forward.
Then they might actually survive this nightmare.
"End of the corridor!" he shouted hoarsely.
Behind him Tarin didn't answer, but his pace quickened.
They pushed forward, the doorway grew larger with every step.
But the dungeon had one last surprise waiting for them. As Rolan neared the end of the corridor, the walls erupted again. Wall blades launched from both sides simultaneously.
Dozens of them.
The attack was sudden and overwhelming.
Rolan reacted on instinct. With the little strength he had left, he swung his sword wildly around his body.
CLANG.
CLANG.
CLANG.
CLANG.
Four blades shattered away under his desperate defense.
The rest came through, One struck his shoulder, Another tore into his leg, Two more hit his arm.
The impacts knocked him off balance, pain flashing through his body as the weapons struck.
But he didn't stop.
The doorway was only a few strides away now.
He gathered what little strength remained in his body.
Then he jumped. His feet left the ground as he threw himself forward toward the end of the corridor. For a brief moment he was suspended in the air.
Please…
Let it be a safe ground.
He crashed through the doorway.
Rolan hit the stone floor hard and rolled across the surface, his body tumbling across dust and loose debris before finally sliding to a stop.
For a few seconds he couldn't move, his lungs burned as he sucked in air desperately. Then he realized something, the traps had stopped, no blades launched from the walls, neither did pspikes erupted.
The corridor behind the doorway was silent.
Rolan rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as he gasped for breath.
"Praise… the gods…" he wheezed.
His entire body trembled from exhaustion.
The light orb attached to his equipment flickered weakly as its energy began to fade. The dim glow barely illuminated the entrance behind him.
Slowly, painfully, Rolan turned his head.
He looked back toward the corridor.
And saw Tarin.
The man was still running, But barely.
Blood soaked his clothing as he staggered forward, one hand clutching his ribs while the other held his sword. His light orb had dimmed so much that his face was little more than a shadow in the darkness.
Behind him the collapsing floor was nearly upon him.
Stone continued to drop away into the void.
And the wall spikes were still erupting.
Rolan struggled to push himself upright.
"Come on!" he shouted.
His voice echoed weakly through the corridor.
"Keep running!"
Tarin looked up.
Through the dim glow of Rolan's light orb he could just make out the doorway ahead.
Is that… the end?
His vision blurred.
His legs felt numb.
Every step sent waves of pain through his body.
But the doorway was right there.
Just a little farther.
Rolan raised his arm and shouted again.
"You can make it!"
Tarin forced himself forward.
One step.
Then another.
The collapsing corridor was only a few strides behind him now.
He gathered the last of his strength.
Then he jumped.
His body lifted into the air as he leapt toward the doorway.
For a brief instant it looked like he might make it.
Then the walls erupted.
Blades shot outward from both sides of the corridor.
They struck him midair.
His body jerked violently as the spinning weapons pierced through him from multiple angles.
More followed immediately after.
His momentum carried him forward even as the blades pinned into his body.
Rolan tried to stand.
His legs shook violently beneath him.
He reached toward the doorway.
But he was too late.
The wall spikes surged forward at that exact moment.
They struck Tarin from both sides of the corridor, driving through his body and halting his movement entirely.
He hung there for a moment—suspended in the air by the traps that had caught him.
Then the mechanisms retracted.
The spikes withdrew.
Tarin's body dropped.
It disappeared into the collapsing void below.
The corridor fell silent again.
Rolan stared at the empty space where his companion had been.
For a long moment he said nothing.
His sword slipped from his hand and clattered against the floor.
Then his strength finally gave out.
Rolan collapsed onto the stone floor, breathing heavily.