The General leaned back, a dry laugh escaping his lips. "It doesn't matter if they do. The stomach always wins eventually."
...
Back in the quiet luxury of the office, General Roland offered an effortless, smug grin. He didn't look up from his newspaper.
"I expect them to figure it out eventually," he mused. "Everett has the experience, even if he is young. But the labyrinth is a stubborn teacher. It will take them time to realize there was only ever one exit."
"It has been forty-eight minutes," March noted, his voice tinged with concern. "We should prepare."
The General nodded, taking one last, slow sip of his tea before setting the porcelain cup down with a definitive clink. He stood up and smoothed his uniform, leaving the room with March following close behind.
"Yes. On my mark... Start!"
One step... two...
Lucian and Everett moved in perfect, backward synchronization. They moved blindly, trusting the logic of the exploit over the evidence of their eyes.
Three... four... nine...
"Bump!"
Lucian hit something solid. It wasn't the cold, flat surface of a stone wall. It felt massive, warm, and steady—like a pillar of iron. At the same moment, Everett felt a sharp thud against his back. Something much smaller and leaner.
They both spun around instantly. The endless hallways, the branching paths, and the icy blue markers were gone. They were standing back-to-back in the very first corridor they had entered forty-eight minutes ago.
They had never left the spot where they fell.
While the two remained trapped in the dark, the city above was changing. The barrage of spells Lucian had unleashed was hitting its targets with surgical precision. One by one, thirty men fell into a deep, magical slumber that only Lucian could undo.
Thud... thud...
As the barrage hit, the Silent Zenith spell dissipated. Across the city, citizens blinked, rubbing their eyes in confusion. "Uhh… what was I doing again?"
At the southern gate, the icy igloo Lucian had summoned to seal Lavenire shattered into mist, leaving her unconscious but safe on the grass.
Meanwhile, at the Northern Gate, guards were lined up in a rigid, perfect formation. At the center stood a man in an officer's uniform nearly identical to General Roland's. As a figure emerged from the darkness outside the gate, the officer barked an order.
"I, the General of the North, greet the Herald of Gale! Welcome to the Ancient City!"
"We greet the Herald of Gale!" the guards roared in unison.
The man stepped into the light, removing his hooded cape. He looked to be in his late twenties, with tanned skin, striking green eyes, and a calm, smooth smile.
"Thank you for the greetings," he said, his voice like a gentle breeze. He shook the General's hand. "Thank you for your hard work."
"Yes," the old General replied, his voice rough with age. "My guards have worked tirelessly. We have a carriage waiting to take you to the Mayor's mansion."
The Herald smiled, but his eyes wandered toward the city streets. "Thank you, but I would like to move around the city first. I have missed my childhood home. Additionally... the wind is telling me something."
The General bowed his head. "Understood. When you are ready, the carriage will be waiting. I wish you the best as you reminisce."
The Herald patted the old man's shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips. "Are you saying I can't find my way without help?"
The General shook, caught off guard. "I apologize for my wording, Herald. We only wished to offer our best hospitality."
"I appreciate it. I'll be going now." The man turned and vanished into the city, his presence trailing a faint, swirling wind.
Back in the depths, silence grew between Lucian and Everett.
Well, this is awkward, Lucian thought, realizing he had spent the last hour "running" into his mentor's back.
Everett broke the silence by patting Lucian's head. "I'm glad you're safe," he said softly.
Lucian was flustered by the sudden affection, but a warm smile touched his face. "You too."
"Let's leave this place," Everett spoke, his tone turning serious.
"The question is... how?" Lucian asked.
"Let's try everything. Since we're currently inside an illusion, let's try to break it. Cast a spell."
Lucian nodded. He fired a light-blue blast into the hallway. It traveled until it hit its maximum range and simply fizzled out.
"Try the wall," Everett commanded.
Lucian stepped to the left and fired again. The wall didn't even scorch. It remained smooth and indifferent.
"Let me try." Everett unstrapped the massive wooden box from his back. It was carved from the Great Mountain trees and housed his weapon. He pulled away the white cloth, revealing a greatsword six feet tall and nearly three feet wide.
With a grunt of effort, Everett swung the massive blade in a vertical arc. He didn't even hit the stone, but the sheer force of the air pressure left a crack in the floor. Yet, the hallway remained.
"Both physical and magic don't work," Everett noted, wiping sweat from his brow. "It isn't a mental cage. An illusion would react to one or the other."
Lucian went into deep thought, his eyes scanning the pulsating obsidian. "I've reached a conclusion."
"Hmm?"
"The moment we entered, we thought it was a living labyrinth. Then we thought it was a mental cage. But if it were an illusion, our physical strikes would have bypassed it or broken the spell." Lucian looked Everett in the eye.
Suddenly—Thud!—Lucian punched Everett right in the chest.
Everett was taken aback, blinking in surprise, but he didn't move.
"I'm right," Lucian said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Our physical bodies are truly here. We aren't in a dream, and we aren't in a maze."
Everett's eyes widened as the logic clicked into place. "That means... we're inside an Artifact."