The map is still bloodstained from the last battle, crumpled from the tight grip I've kept on it. Each floor I climb brings new dangers, and the higher I go, the deadlier the traps become. This floor is different—it's quiet, almost too quiet, as if waiting for me to make a mistake.
I follow the map closely, my eyes scanning the winding corridors for any sign of an exit. According to the crude drawings, there are multiple exits here, each marked with hastily written notes. Some are circled, others crossed out, but the pattern is clear: most of these exits are traps.
The first door I come across is wide, industrial, made of thick metal. Above it, there's a flickering green light, almost like a beacon inviting me in. But something feels wrong. My instincts scream at me to stay back, to keep my distance. I step closer, noticing a thin seam along the floor just before the door—a tripwire, hidden beneath layers of dust and grime.
I crouch down, tracing the wire with my fingers until it disappears into the wall. There's a faint click, followed by the hiss of gas. I jump back, covering my mouth and nose as a thick, green cloud pours from vents in the ceiling. The smell is acrid, burning my throat even from a distance.
It's a death trap—designed to lure escapees like me into a false sense of security. Desperation would push someone into that room, and the moment they stepped over that line, the gas would take them.
But I'm not that desperate. Not yet.
I move deeper into the floor, the map guiding me toward another exit. The corridors here are wider than the last floor, with higher ceilings and walls lined with rusted pipes. The air smells damp, a mix of metal and decay. Each step feels heavier, weighed down by the constant awareness that at any moment, I could trigger another trap.
I find another door, this one smaller, tucked into the side of a narrow hallway. It's marked on the map as a potential exit, but something about it feels wrong. There's a faint hum coming from behind the door, barely audible but persistent.
I edge closer, keeping to the shadows. My fingers brush the cold metal surface of the door, but I don't push it open. Instead, I kneel down, peering through the thin crack beneath the door. There's a glint of something metallic—wires, connected to a pressure plate just on the other side.
I shake my head, stepping back. It's another trap. The moment that door opens, the pressure plate will trigger something—probably a ceiling collapse or worse.
This floor is a maze, not just in design but in its cruelty. Each door, each exit, is a carefully crafted deception meant to destroy anyone who tries to escape.
But I'm learning. I'm getting better at seeing through their tricks.
As I continue down the corridor, something changes. The air feels different, tense. There's a flicker of movement in the shadows ahead, barely noticeable but enough to put me on edge. I slow my pace, my hand instinctively tightening around the dagger at my side.
And then I hear it—a faint click, followed by the hiss of something mechanical.
Before I can react, a net shoots out from the shadows, wrapping around me in a tangle of wires and hooks. The force of it knocks me off my feet, sending me crashing to the ground. I struggle against the net, but it's tight, constricting my movements and cutting into my skin.
From the darkness, several figures emerge. They're human—armed with rifles and strange energy weapons, their faces covered by helmets with dark visors. They move silently, efficiently, closing in on me as I thrash against the net.
One of them steps forward, raising his weapon. It's some kind of energy gun, glowing with a faint blue light. He points it at me, and I can hear the hum of it charging up, preparing to fire.
But I'm not done yet.
With a growl, I twist my body, managing to free one arm from the tangle of the net. My fingers grip the dagger, and with a swift motion, I slash at the wires. The blade slices through the net, freeing my other arm. The moment the tension breaks, I lunge forward, the dagger aimed at the soldier's throat.
The blade finds its mark, sinking deep into the soft flesh beneath his helmet. His body goes rigid, the weapon slipping from his hands as he collapses to the ground.
The other soldiers react quickly, raising their weapons and firing. Bolts of energy streak through the air, slamming into the walls around me as I roll to the side, barely avoiding the blasts. The net falls away completely, and I spring to my feet, my body moving on pure instinct.
I know I can't fight them head-on. They're better armed, better equipped. But I have the environment on my side. I've spent the last hour learning this floor, mapping out its traps in my mind.
I dart down the corridor, the soldiers hot on my heels, their weapons lighting up the darkness with flashes of blue. My heart pounds in my chest as I weave between the narrow walls, my eyes scanning for the first trap.
There.
Just ahead, a door marked as a trap—deadly gas. I sprint toward it, the soldiers gaining on me. At the last second, I dive to the side, sliding across the floor as I grab a piece of debris and hurl it at the tripwire.
The door slams open, and the green gas pours into the corridor, catching the soldiers off guard. The first two stumble, their hands going to their faces as the gas burns their lungs. One of them collapses, choking, while the others try to retreat.
But I'm not giving them a chance.
I push forward, slashing at the back of one of the soldiers with the dagger. He falls to the ground, convulsing as the gas consumes him. The remaining two manage to escape the worst of the gas, their weapons raised, but I'm already moving again.
The last two soldiers regroup, their rifles trained on me. I can see the fear in their movements now—the hesitation, the uncertainty. They're not used to fighting like this, not used to someone who knows the traps better than they do.
I lead them deeper into the floor, into one of the rooms I had marked on the map. It's a dead-end corridor, but I know what waits for them there.
Spike pits.
I dash through the doorway, barely avoiding another burst of energy fire as I round the corner. The room is wide, empty at first glance, but the floor is uneven, the tiles hiding the deadly pits beneath. I leap over the first trap, landing on solid ground just as the soldiers charge in after me.
The first soldier doesn't see the pit until it's too late. His foot lands on the wrong tile, and the floor gives way beneath him. He lets out a scream as he plummets into the spikes, his body impaled on the sharp metal points.
The second soldier skids to a stop, his eyes wide with terror as he watches his comrade fall. He turns to flee, but I'm already behind him.
I grab him by the back of his armor, pulling him toward the edge of the pit. He struggles, trying to break free, but I'm stronger. With a final shove, I send him over the edge, his scream cut short as the spikes claim him too.
The room falls silent once more, the only sound the faint hum of the traps resetting themselves. I stand at the edge of the pit, my chest heaving with exhaustion, the blood of the soldiers staining my hands.
They were human—just like the ones I've killed before. But they were part of this place. Part of the nightmare that created the fusions, the traps, the death. They were my enemies.
I wipe the blood from the dagger, my hand still trembling from the fight. The soldiers' bodies lie broken at the bottom of the pit, their armor torn, their weapons scattered.
I glance at the map again. There are still more floors to climb. More enemies to kill. But now, with the traps on my side, I feel stronger. I feel ready.
With one last look at the carnage, I turn and continue my ascent, leaving the bodies behind.