Girik, who had just turned around to go back, found himself facing the wall once more. Perplexed, he turned again, but to his astonishment, he was still facing the same wall.
Sheathing his dagger, he took a few steps forward, reached out, and touched the wall. It was solid to the touch, as a wall should be.
He turned around again, but the wall remained. Walking toward it, he touched it again. Once more, it felt solid.
"What the hell? How can there be a wall blocking both sides?"
Frustration, which he had momentarily suppressed, rose again as he turned to examine the wall. However, this time, he noticed something strange, he was no longer standing next to the wall as he had been before. Instead, he was at the exact distance he had walked to approach it earlier.
His frustration turned into pure puzzlement and bewilderment.
What was going on? How was he boxed in by walls?
Girik sheathed the kukri he was holding and stood still. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and think clearly. A wave of calmness suddenly washed over him. This was the second time he had experienced such an inexplicable sensation.
While curious about the source of this calmness, he prioritized his immediate predicament. Resolving his current situation was more urgent than questioning the cause of his serenity.
Opening his eyes, Girik walked back to the wall and touched it again, this time removing his glove to feel the surface directly. It was smooth and slightly cold to the touch, but otherwise unremarkable.
He turned and walked to the opposite wall, repeating the process. This wall, though also slightly cold, had a rougher texture. The difference was subtle, imperceptible to the eye but clear to the touch.
Next, Girik moved to the side walls with the hanging pyres. He touched them and found their surfaces were similarly rough. To confirm, he quickly went to one of the dead-end walls and discovered that its texture differed from the side walls.
While he had identified these differences, his situation remained unchanged, he was still trapped.
Girik racked his brain, trying to think of a solution, but nothing came to mind. Then, he remembered the name of the trial: "Maze of Insight."
"What if this is some kind of test?" he wondered aloud.
"If so, it must be related to insight. If the objective was to find the odd wall, I've already done that. So why hasn't the test ended? Am I missing something?"
Sitting down on the floor, Girik cleared his mind. Soon, he came up with a rather absurd plan. Though uncertain it would work, he decided it was worth a try given his current situation.
He removed the glove from his other hand, stuffing both gloves into his pocket. Then, he approached one of the side walls. Keeping his hand in contact with the smooth surface, he walked toward one of the dead-end walls.
The wall he touched felt smooth. Turning, he walked to the opposite wall, touching it as well. This time, he felt the slightly rough surface. Keeping one hand on the side wall, he closed his eyes.
Suddenly, the system's voice echoed in his mind:
[Resolved the "Dead-end of Deception."]
[+10 Perception]
As the message appeared, the dead-end wall Girik was touching vanished. Opening his eyes, he saw the familiar corridor stretching out before him.
"Damn. So, successfully solving a 'test' is rewarded with so many stat points. I can work with that."
With renewed confidence, Girik resumed walking. On one hand, he was eager to face more tests like the previous one to gain free stat increases. On the other hand, he was apprehensive. Sure, extra stats were incredible, but what if he encountered a test he couldn't complete?
Take the last test as an example. If he hadn't figured out the test's intent, which, in his understanding, was to not always trust what you see, he would never have resolved the situation.
The concept could be summed up as: "Never judge a book by its cover." Though typically used in another context, it fits this test perfectly.
Girik kept moving but didn't come across any other tests, only a few dead-ends. Whenever he backtracked, he marked the entrance to each dead-end by carving an "X" into the floor with his kukri.
But one thing that Girik observed was that despite spending hours in the maze, he didn't feel hungry, thirsty, or even tired. This was fortunate, as becoming weak from hunger or thirst in a place where he might be the only living being would have been disastrous.
*****
A sleek, black limousine came to a stop in front of a towering 60-story building in a prime location in Patliputra.
A man in his late fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair cut in a military style and a beard, sharp black eyes, and a round face, stepped out. Standing at around 1.7 meters, his slightly larger build filled the doorframe as he adjusted his crisp brown suit.
Without hesitation, he strode toward the building's entrance.
The building was heavily guarded by robust security personnel, men and women alike, wearing high-quality armour and armed with an assortment of weapons: guns, swords, and daggers. Near the entrance, guards checked the identifications of those entering, their movements were efficient and methodical.
The man bypassed the checkpoint entirely, walking straight inside. Annoyed murmurs stirred among those waiting to be searched, but they quickly fell silent as the guards let him pass without question. Their expressions shifted from irritation to subdued curiosity, a tacit acknowledgement of his authority.
He approached the elevator behind the reception desk, a private elevator accessible only to a select few, and pressed the button for the penthouse.
As the elevator ascended, his phone vibrated with a notification. Taking it out, he glanced at the screen. The message was from a private number and contained just one word: Done.
Returning the phone to his pocket, he waited for the elevator to reach the top floor.
After a brief wait, the elevator reached the top floor, and the doors slid open. The man stepped into the penthouse reception area, where a towering woman, nearly two meters tall, awaited him.
She was clad in sleek, black-and-golden metallic battle armour etched with crimson engravings. The angular pauldrons bore demonic faces with curved horns, adding an air of menace to her already intimidating stature.
The chestplate was masterfully designed, balancing maximum protection with remarkable agility, a testament to both craftsmanship and practicality. Twin longswords rested at her sides, their intricately detailed hilts seamlessly complementing the armour's design.
Her jet-black hair was braided into a tight ponytail that cascaded down to her mid-back, framing a face that was extremely beautiful, sharp and symmetrical. Her piercing green eyes gleamed with unshakable confidence, radiating authority at every glance. Her expression was calm and unreadable.
Despite the formidable armour, her athletic build was evident, muscular yet balanced, the physique of an elite warrior. Yet her figure was explosive with curves at all the right places.
The chestplate accentuated her ample chest, while her strong, sculpted back tapered into subtly slender hips, creating an effortless blend of elegance and power.
In full battle attire, she was both a vision of grace and a force of nature.
"Where's Master?" the man asked, his deep voice carrying a tone that exuded a hint of authority.
The woman bowed her head slightly. "Master is in the conference room, waiting for you, Mr. Vishwas."
Without another word, she led Vishwas toward the conference room. As they approached, faint screams echoed through the corridor. The armoured woman opened the door and stepped aside, allowing Vishwas to enter.
Vishwas walked toward a chair facing a large window that overlooked the sprawling cityscape below.
Sitting in the chair was a man seemingly in his late thirties, dressed in a black shirt and pants, his red hair slicked back. His left hand gently stroked a small, white-furred creature resting in his lap, while his right hand held a lit cigar. His crimson pupils gazed distantly out the window.
A muffled groan interrupted the silence. Vishwas noticed that the man's left foot pressed firmly against the neck of another man lying on the floor. The prone figure twitched slightly, muffled groans escaping his lips intermittently.
Without turning or removing his foot, the seated man gestured for Vishwas to approach. Acting as though nothing was amiss, Vishwas stepped forward and stood beside the chair, waiting silently for permission to speak.
Meanwhile, the armoured woman lingered at the doorway, neither stepping inside nor closing the door.
The man seated in the chair increased the pressure on the neck beneath his foot, the sickening crunch of bone audible in the otherwise quiet room. He took a long puff from his cigar, exhaling a thick plume of smoke, then spoke in a flat but commanding tone.
"Laila."
"Yes, Master," the woman replied, stepping forward.
"Get rid of this trash and make sure none of his family sees the light of tomorrow. Let the message be loud and clear: anyone who even thinks of betraying me will regret it in ways they can't begin to imagine. And for the next 20 minutes, I don't want to be disturbed. No matter what."
"Yes, Master," Laila responded. She stepped inside, grabbed the dead man by the leg, and dragged the body out of the conference room without hesitation.
The seated man turned his chair to face Vishwas, placing the cigar in the ashtray. "Speak," he commanded.
Vishwas straightened, his tone calm and composed as he began his report.
"The training incident has been wiped clean. Nothing will trace back to us, even if the strongest awakened ones investigate. Compensation has been paid to the families of those who died in the rift 'incident.'
"A few government officials raised concerns about our rising failure rates for training teams. I've spoken to Fahad, and some personnel will be replaced or removed. However, dealing with those backed by the other four guilds is trickier. For now, we've had to halt the capture of the tier 3 'Spatial Snake.' Steps have been taken to avoid a repeat of the bait-related issues from the previous incident.
"Finally, I've received word that the family head will arrive in the city within a week. The reason for the visit remains unclear. I've notified my informant within the family, but I don't expect much success in gathering information."
As Vishwas spoke, the man in the chair gazed out the window, lightly stroking the small creature's head. The creature appeared to be asleep, but as the report progressed, the man's expression shifted: neutral at first, then a slight scowl, followed by disdain, and finally intrigue.
When Vishwas finished speaking, he stood silently, awaiting the man's response.
***********
Author's Note:
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