Orion was almost certain that this body wasn't truly his and that he was already living a second life.
Over the past few hours, he had passed through different rooms, corridors and pools filled with water and he had noticed that after each death, his body suited him a little better.
Bit by bit, things were falling into place. It wasn't his height increasing or his limbs changing shape. His outward appearance hadn't changed much. But dying smoothed something internal, reshaping him into a state that felt more natural to inhabit.
Eventually, he reached a point where breathing felt easier and running no longer required constant thought. This body belonged to him now.
At that moment, he was moving through a room where winged creatures with bodies of magma had built a nest in the center. These creatures weren't like normal birds. Aside from the wings they used to fly, they slept lying flat against the ground.
When Orion slipped past this dangerous flock with light steps, he felt his body recover once again. The moment the haze at the edges of his vision cleared, he heard monstrous screeches behind him. "Damn it. Half a minute is way too short."
When the bird-like mammalian creatures pounced on him and tore him apart, his pupils, one drifting to the right and the other to the left, stayed still for a few seconds.
He was dead.
Seconds passed and his body began to recover in a way that felt almost magical. Muscles and bones he hadn't even been sure he possessed before knitting themselves back together felt strangely unsettling.
"At least I don't feel it. If I felt pain during the recovery too, that's when I'd actually lose my mind." The one thing he knew for certain was that dying wasn't as terrifying as he once thought. During his last few deaths, he had paid close attention and noticed that his brain shut off pain shortly after taking fatal damage.
The moment the winged creatures managed to kill him, they lost interest and began acting as if he was never there. Orion lay on the ground as this happened. About ten seconds later, his pupils started moving again.
By the time he pushed himself up and began walking, twenty seconds had passed. Within roughly a minute, he went from completely torn apart to fully restored. If his body wasn't shattered, the recovery took ten seconds, leaving him with fifty seconds to do whatever he wanted.
Now he had half a minute to move out of the range where these creatures could sense him. But once he started running, it only took seconds to leave the room.
After exiting, he entered a long corridor sealed off by a massive wall. He knew this place. "So no matter where I go, the paths always lead me back to this central corridor." At first, he thought this was some kind of maze. Maybe it was, for others. But after hours of exploring without fear of death or monsters, he realized it wasn't all that complex.
The young warriors he had left behind probably didn't realize that this place was simpler than the puzzles in a newspaper.
Orion almost smiled, but his facial muscles didn't move. "The recovery process probably leaves the smaller outer muscles for last."
Sometimes he muttered to himself, sometimes he held conversations in his own head.
Just as he was about to say something out loud again, he realized he could hear voices. Without knowing when it happened, he had reached a place where the sounds of battle carried through during his recovery cycle.
After passing another corridor on the left and drawing closer to the central area, he figured out where the sound was coming from.
"Portal Room." He said it out loud, but inside his head, a few choice curses followed, accompanied by a mental "damn dragon."
Before he could make any sort of plan, he saw something that made his heart race. One of the young warriors swung a massive club and brought it down on the head of the Orc nearly two and a half meters tall. To Orion's surprise, the Orc flew backward.
"Is that magic, or physical enhancement?" Many of the questions swirling in his head probably had answers tied to the people who had entered this dungeon alongside him.
Instead of approaching them to ask, he decided to watch for a while. None of the people who had entered a dungeon this large looked older than twenty.
"There's something going on here."
..
POV: Seraphine V. DuMont
Portal Room Entrance
The portal chamber felt different from the rest of the Maze.
Corridors gave people excuses to run from monsters. Corners to hide behind. Narrow lanes to pretend skill mattered more than numbers. This hellspawn room offered none of that.
It was wide, carved like an arena, with the arch set into the far wall as if the stone had grown around it. The light inside the opening pulsed at a steady rhythm. Each pulse sent a faint tremor and a thin mist through the floor, spreading into ankles and knees.
Seraphine adjusted her stance until the vibration stopped throwing off her balance. The pulse affected the entire floor at random, so getting used to it was impossible.
One foot slid half a step, heel planted, weight even. She lifted her chin and watched the front.
"Left side, stick closer!" she barked, eyes staying forward.
She wasted no time checking faces. Her soldiers' defensive line answered immediately. Shields overlapped. Bodies pressed together. A gap that had been forming vanished before it turned into a problem. That was enough.
Her rapier's handle was slick. Blood had reached the grip, soaked into the leather and dried. It caused irritation and a rash-like itch beneath her fingers. She felt the tacky drag whenever she adjusted her hold. Wiping it would've helped, but there was no time. If she loosened her grip for even a breath, someone paid for it.
Something slammed into the shields with a heavy, ugly impact. An Orc, unusually large. Probably an elite, maybe a chief.
"We need help with the big one!" a young candidate shouted. But Seraphine could see their condition better than they could. They weren't desperate enough yet.
The creature was impressive in size, but it lacked a cunning mind. Even its weapon grip was crude and awkward. Still, the clumsy movements of this primitive, savage beast carried tremendous weight.
Under its heavy attacks, a shield-bearing candidate's arms trembled. Fear made his knees forget their purpose. A scream rose, half a name, half a plea, then ended with a hard sound as a body hit stone.
Seraphine kept her gaze forward. Yes, a candidate died just like that.
But the death of someone who would have survived by trusting their shield meant nothing to her.She had told everyone what to do dozens of times.
From this point on, everything depended on whether people did their part. If they wanted to pass this exam ground and enroll in the Academy, success was the only path. "What do they expect from me? I'm just another candidate like them."
A black girl from a prestigious and powerful southern family, not quite on Seraphine's level, lifted a massive club and swung with all her strength. The Orc shattered and flew away.
"Nice one, Elara!"
"Figures, she's a Sinclair! She is carrying a quarter-ton club."
Seraphine ignored the excitement, just as she had before she did for the dying candidate. Her focus stayed on the overall battle line. Individual moments never held her attention for long.
Looking back or talking cost timing. Timing held the wall together. Once timing slipped, people stopped moving as one and started reacting as individuals.
Individuals died fast in places like this. Even she could die if these idiots didn't stop wasting time.
"Take your place Sinclair and don't move on your own unless I say so!" Yelling at the girl who killed the Orc felt like a waste of time.
Her mana sharpened her sight, a faint blue glow deep inside. She watched spacing more than blood.
She watched eyes of the monsters that started searching for an escape instead of targets. She noticed the small signs first, because disasters always began small.
The portal kept pulsing. The floor kept trembling. The air stayed warm and metallic, like wet copper tools left too long in the sun.
Seraphine wasn't focused on the portal itself, but on the entrance to the Portal Room. Then the latest tremor pushed far more creatures through than she expected, and her eyes slipped involuntarily toward the massive portal across the chamber.
In front of it, on a circular stone plate, rested the figure of a dragon.
A pale dragon statue, smaller than anyone expected, placed low like bait. People had talked about it constantly before this Hell-Maze began.
It was the goal, the key to riches, and the only finish line of this madness.
The Academy had placed a prize in front of the damn portal and dared them to earn it.
Touch it, and the exam ends.