Subra moved swiftly through the camp's edge, his every step muffled against the night's cool silence. The flicker of the firelight behind him cast faint, dancing shadows that he used to stay hidden. He adjusted the strap of his newly crafted shield, a brutal amalgamation of wood and monster flesh—its grotesque padding an effective shock absorber. Three spears tipped with the jagged teeth of hybrid creatures hung from his back. These teeth had proven their worth earlier that day when, during a raid, the monster-wolves' fangs had easily punctured Kim's armor—armor the group thought won't break as easily as it happened. Their sharpness and unmatched strength made them the perfect choice for Subra's weapons, ensuring that even the toughest defenses would not stand a chance. His notebook and pen were secured tightly in his pack, tools of observation and strategy as vital as any weapon.
At the northernmost entrance of the maze, Subra halted. He turned briefly, his eyes scanning the distant glow of the campfire. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the faint rustle of the maze's chilling breeze. "But I have my reasons. I can only hope that you understand." Clenching his fists, he stepped into the maze, its yawning corridors swallowing him whole.
Subra gathered rations, scavenged materials, and carefully stashed them into the rollout foldable bag he had prepared for this exact purpose. Each find—whether from a fallen monster or the remnants of an abandoned camp—added to his growing cache. As he worked, his thoughts wandered to his party. What would they say if they discovered his secret mission?
"They followed him—precisely as he predicted. Subra had chosen each one carefully, matching their strengths and weaknesses like pieces of a puzzle. But here he was, scavenging for his own survival, leaving behind the system he had built. Trust was a dangerous gamble, and solidarity was a luxury he couldn't afford—not yet."
"Arthur would probably explode," Subra muttered, smirking faintly. He could almost hear the indignant roar: "You think you're better than us? Smarter than me? What were you even thinking, leaving without saying anything?" Predictable, Subra thought. Arthur's pride was as strong as his maze-solving instincts—a reason Subra had picked him. But pride also clouded judgment, making Arthur vulnerable. Subra couldn't rely on him, not entirely, not yet.
"Shlok," Subra continued, letting out a quiet sigh, "he'd stay calm at first. But he wouldn't stop asking questions." His tone shifted as he mimicked Shlok's sharp, probing voice: "What were you hoping to achieve alone? Do you even care what happens to us?" Subra could see it so clearly—Shlok's analytical mind picking apart every step of his plan, not out of malice but from a need to understand. That was worse, in some ways. Arthur's anger could be deflected; Shlok's quiet disappointment would linger. Shlok's steady resolve was the glue that held the group together; undermining it felt like snapping the last thread of trust between them. He'd question me because that's who he is, the strategist, the glue binding this group. I chose him for that reason. "But trust?" Subra shook his head. "I can't gamble on quiet disappointment, not when the stakes are this high."
He stopped his work briefly, his pen hovering over the notebook as another face came to mind. "Alisa," he murmured, a heaviness settling in his chest. He pictured her wide, empathetic eyes, her soft voice layered with hurt. "You don't trust us, do you?" she would say softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper but cutting all the same. She wouldn't yell or demand answers like the others, but her quiet sadness would cut deeper than any argument. The sadness in her eyes would be unbearable. Alisa's empathy had been a calculated asset; her ability to mediate conflicts was unmatched. But that same empathy cut deep when turned inward. Subra knew how valuable she was to the team—but trust? Trust wasn't something he could grant after just a day.
Kim's reaction, though, would be the hardest to face. Subra could picture the bodybuilder's booming laugh as he tried to mask the hurt. "He'd probably turn it into a joke at first," Subra said, his voice tinged with humour. "What, you think the Iron Titan can't handle a scavenger hunt? You think I'm some liability? Come on, man!" But the laughter would fade, and in its place would be an unspoken pain. Kim's loyalty was a shield as impenetrable as his hulking frame, and Subra had smashed it to pieces. Kim wouldn't cry or rage; he'd simply grow quieter, retreating behind a wall Subra had built with his own actions.
Subra exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the cold night air. "It's only been a day," he muttered, resuming his work. "A day of necessity, not closeness. Synchrony isn't the same as trust. I know them, maybe better than they know themselves—but that doesn't mean I can rely on them. Not yet." He scraped at a monster's thick hide, the tough material promising potential as armor. ".I know that they will be sad, but what else can I do? I can't rely on anyone else to see this through. Not entirely."
In just a day, they'd moved as though they'd fought together for years—not because of familiarity, but out of sheer necessity. Life in the maze demanded synchronization; hesitation meant death. Subra had chosen them precisely for this potential, and the maze had brought it to the surface faster than he anticipated. It wasn't trust—it was survival, honed by the brutal crucible of combat."
As he worked, a flicker of doubt crept into his mind. What if I'm wrong? What if they'd actually understand? What if trusting them could make this easier?
The thought hung there, tantalizing yet dangerous. He paused, his hands hovering over the notebook. It felt so tempting to believe, but Subra knew better. "If I trust them," he murmured, "I'll start relying on them." His voice grew harder with each word. "And if I rely on them, I'll lose my edge."
He had spent years building himself up, piece by piece, learning to depend on no one but himself. Vulnerability had always been his downfall—his past mistakes had taught him that much. To trust his team fully would mean exposing his weaknesses, and that was a luxury he couldn't afford in this unforgiving world.
His hand tightened around the monster claw he was inspecting, his grip firm. "And what if I fail?" Subra muttered under his breath. The thought clawed at him, relentless. If he shared his plans and they fell apart, he wouldn't just be failing himself—he'd be failing them. Every choice he made now carried the weight of their survival. If he trusted them and it backfired, the blame would fall squarely on his shoulders.
"I can't let that happen," Subra said quietly. His words were firm, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. "I need to be sure. I need to be certain. And that means doing this on my own."
With that, he pushed the doubt away, his mind snapping back to the task at hand. There was no room for error. Not now. Not ever.
——————————————————————————————————————————
Subra occasionally descended from the maze walls, deliberately seeking out monsters to hone his combat skills. Each fight was brutal and raw, a test of his endurance and precision. Though his Wind Blade spell remained a potent tool, Subra used it sparingly, relying instead on the sharp teeth-tipped spears he had crafted. These teeth, harvested from the powerful jaws of monster wolves, were a revelation. Earlier raids had shown how easily they tore through even Kim's reinforced armor, a feat that no ordinary weapon could achieve. Their lethal sharpness and unyielding strength made them his weapon of choice.
During his exploration of the maze's northern reaches, Subra uncovered caches of supplies hidden amidst the desolation. Among the spoils were three weeks' worth of untouched and undamaged rations, scattered weapons, and fragments of armor that could replace the worn sections of his own. He meticulously scavenged raw materials from every corner, collecting cloth stripped from abandoned bags, the sinewy flesh of fallen monsters, and their sturdy bones and teeth. Every find was cataloged in his mind, not as mere survival tools but as building blocks for the innovations he planned. Subra worked tirelessly, driven by the belief that every piece, no matter how small, might one day tip the balance between life and death.
Standing atop a high wall, Subra looked down at the desolate expanse below. His gaze lingered on the pack of monster wolves prowling the labyrinth's floor, their black fur streaked with blood from battles past. They moved with predatory grace, their sharp eyes scanning the darkness for prey. A chill ran through him, but it was nothing compared to the terror he had felt just the day before.
The memory of that fight burned in his mind. Those same wolves had cornered him, their relentless ferocity almost overwhelming him. Every move he made had felt sluggish, every strike inadequate. His weapons barely held up under their assault, and it was sheer luck and desperation that allowed him to escape with his life. His body had ached for hours afterward, his mind wracked with doubts about his survival in this labyrinth. But something had changed.
Subra's hand brushed against the dagger at his belt, its blade a trophy forged from the very teeth of those wolves. He wasn't the same person he was yesterday. Every hour, every moment spent fighting, scavenging, and surviving had honed him. His fear, once a paralyzing weight, now felt distant. It had been replaced by something sharper, more primal—a resolve that bordered on instinct.
Am I becoming someone else? Or has this always been inside me? The thought flickered through his mind but was quickly brushed aside. He had no time for self-reflection now.
With a steadying breath, he dropped his bag, filled with the raw materials he had painstakingly gathered, atop the wall. "All right, here we go," he murmured, gripping the dagger tightly. The blade, crafted from a monster wolf's tooth, gleamed faintly in the dim light. He leapt from the 10-meter height, the descent a calculated risk. Sparks flew as the blade gouged into the wall, slowing his fall with a shrill screech that echoed through the maze.
The wolves below snapped to attention, their growls rumbling like distant thunder. Their black fur bristled as they charged toward him the moment he landed, their rage palpable.
Focus. Don't think—just move, Subra told himself, adrenaline sharpening his senses. His eyes locked onto the glowing eyes of the first wolf as it emerged from the shadows, its growl low and menacing. He could feel the others closing in, their presence thick in the air, a suffocating pressure that sent chills down his spine.
He tightened his grip on the dagger, the faint trembling of his hands betraying the calm facade he tried to maintain. Four against one. Great odds, he thought bitterly.
The wolves circled him now, their predatory movements synchronized, as if they could sense his every thought. The leader of the pack—a beast nearly twice the size of the others—bared its teeth and crouched low, ready to strike. Subra's heart pounded in his chest, the sound deafening in the silence of the maze.
"Come on then," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the growing hum of tension in the air.
And then, with a sudden, explosive motion, the first wolf lunged.
Subra's world narrowed to the gleam of its teeth, the flash of its claws. There was no time to think, no time to hesitate. He moved, the fight beginning with a blur of desperation and instinct—
-To Be Continued-