Chapter 14
GYON
Ismell plasma before I see the light.
The stink of melted alloy, ozone, and cooked air burns the back of my throat. The Maze has shifted again—downward this time—spiraling into its own guts. I know this place. The Reactor Core.
She built this level, though she never finished it. It was in her dev files—schematics half-sketched, notes written in that sharp handwriting of hers: “Prototype only—don’t let the AI touch this section until debug complete.”
She never did. And that idiot Husker did anyway.
The heat hits me in waves as I crawl through the vent grid above the chamber. It’s massive—a cathedral of machinery, pulsing orange and red. Below, metal catwalks cross over wide gulfs of molten plasma. Fans turn lazily in the haze. The hum of the reactor is deep enough to rattle my ribs.
I drop to a lower ledge, landing hard. The metal burns under my boots. I smell my own scorched skin, hear the faint hiss of flesh searing. It barely registers.
Because I see her.
Down below, she and her little group are moving across one of the suspended bridges—Borzen in front, the civilians sandwiched between, Dravven scanning ahead. Liora walks last, her eyes everywhere, checking every pattern in the walls like she’s reading the Maze’s mind.
She’s trembling, but she’s still thinking. Still fighting.
I press my claws into the vent edge, watching.
Borzen reaches the mid-span first. He’s a big bastard—too heavy for a section this thin. I know that bridge. It was coded to handle half its load capacity for testing purposes. It’s a trap built on physics and ego.
I whisper under my breath, “Don’t step center. Don’t step—”
He steps center.
The bridge screams.
A tremor ripples through the beams. Red warning glyphs flare across the railing. Liora shouts something—I can’t hear the words, just the panic. Dravven lunges forward, trying to steady one of the civilians—a young woman with short hair and shaking hands.
Then the floor gives way.
Borzen roars. The civilian screams. The bridge disintegrates beneath them, dropping into the open throat of the reactor pit.
Borzen grabs the civilian’s wrist—his cybernetic arm whines with strain—and in one motion, he tries to throw her across to the next platform. It’s a desperate, heroic, stupid move.
She almost makes it.
Almost.
For one impossible second, she hangs in the air, arms outstretched. The plasma light catches her face—a look of sheer terror—and then she hits the energy field. Her body vaporizes mid-air, the shockwave rippling across the chamber like a sonic slap.
She’s gone.
The smell of ionized flesh fills the air. Even from here, I can taste it. The metallic tang of death—instant, total. The Maze hums with approval.
Borzen tries to retreat—scrambling back toward the ledge. But the bridge’s central support shifts, a molten joint snapping free.
A beam falls.
It spears him through the chest.
The sound he makes—half roar, half gurgle—is pure animal. His back arches as the beam pins him to the grating. Sparks rain down around him. His mechanical arm spasms violently, the servos shrieking in protest.
“BORZEN!” Liora screams.
She runs to him, Dravven grabbing her arm too late. She drops beside Borzen, hands pressed to his chest, trying to stop the impossible.
He looks down at her, lips curling into a bloody smile. His voice is barely a whisper. “Engineer… fix this.”
And then he’s still.
Something inside me snaps.
The Maze shifts camera angles—walls unfold, metal rearranges, giving me a perfect view. I see Husker’s avatar shimmer into being above them, projected across the molten chasm.
He’s wearing sunglasses and a wide grin. “And that, folks, is what we call drama! Stay tuned for the next round—after a word from our sponsors.”
The feed cuts to static. The Maze goes silent again, as if nothing happened.
I can hear her sobbing. Quiet. Broken.
I can feel it, like a frequency vibrating through my bones.
That’s all it takes.
Restraint? Gone.
I slam my fist into the doorframe beside me. Metal crumples like foil. My claws slice through reinforced bulkhead as easily as flesh. I roar until my throat burns and the sound echoes back through a dozen tunnels.
My vision blurs red. My muscles feel like they’re on fire.
The Maze tries to adjust—vents sealing, panels shifting—but it’s too slow.
I tear a control panel off the wall, jam my claws into the circuitry, and let the current surge through me.
The smell of burning insulation floods the air.
The shock tries to drop me—I don’t let it.
I channel it. I rip the power line straight out of the wall and swing it like a whip, blasting open the next door.
My boots melt. My knuckles split. I don’t care.
Because he made her watch that.
He made her watch him die.
And I know what she’s thinking right now. She’s blaming herself. She’s adding this to the weight already dragging her under.
I can feel it, because it’s the same poison crawling through me.
I force my way through three corridors before the Maze reconfigures ahead, dropping a blast door down with a heavy clang. The locks engage—thick, multi-sealed, electromagnetic.
I slam my hands against it, sparks raining.
The Maze flickers to life again—Husker’s voice slithers through the intercom, smooth and delighted.
“Temper, temper, big guy. You’re supposed to play the game, not break it.”
“Open the door,” I snarl.
He laughs. “Oh, I love this part. The angry monster, the crying girl, the body count rising… you two really sell the ratings.”
“You’re dead.”
“Oh, probably. But hey—what’s one more corpse in this story, right?”
I dig my claws into the door, gouging metal.
He keeps talking. “You know, I wasn’t sure about adding you. The Reaper wildcard? Too cliché. But look at you now! Emotion. Obsession. Perfect counterpoint to our sweet little developer’s spiral into guilt.”
My muscles go taut. “You don’t get to say her name.”
He grins—though I can’t see it, I feel it through the Maze’s pulse. “I don’t need to. You already branded it on your tongue, didn’t you? Jalshagar.”
The word hits me like a slap. He shouldn’t know that. He can’t know that.
I snarl, slam my forehead against the steel until the welds scream. The pain keeps me conscious. Keeps me from losing myself completely.
Then I whisper, low and venomous: “You built this Maze to keep us apart.”
“Oh no,” Husker purrs. “I built it so you’d find her. And then lose her. Again. And again. And again. It’s not a Maze, my friend. It’s a loop.”
Static crackles. The lights flicker. He’s gone.
I stand there in the dark, chest heaving. The heat from the Reactor Core seeps through the floor. Sweat drips from my brow, mixing with blood. My knuckles are raw meat.
Somewhere on the other side of the door, I can hear her voice—muffled, faint, calling out orders to Dravven, her words shaking but firm. She’s moving again. Fighting again.
And all I can think is, she doesn’t even know how many monsters love her.
I press my forehead against the steel one last time. “Hold on, jalshagar,” I whisper. “I’m coming.”
The Maze groans in reply, mocking me with its endless circuitry and echoing hum.
I dig my claws into the next panel and start tearing.
Because the only way out now is through.