Three days of trying and he was closer to collecting every ring…but still a ways off.

It was the constructs. They forced him to dodge left when he wanted to go right. To climb when he wanted to descend. He had reached fourteen rings three times. Each time, he thought he might be able to finish. And, without fail, the orbs would spot him and he would get blasted.

If he only had the constructs to deal with, he might be able to do it but the statues added another dimension to the difficulty. He had to keep a running count in his head or risk getting cut in half by the bouncing beams.

Interestingly, the orbs never appeared to get hit by the statue's beams. He had seen them hit each other occasionally with little effect. At most, it knocked them off balance for a moment.

Dakota stretched his arms above his head, time for a break. Three days of steady attempts started to wear a guy down. The pain was still terrible but he was acclimatizing.

He crawled from the tunnel door and inhaled. A light breeze blew across the field, bringing the scents of the forest with it. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the goblins but he was still worried. The goblin chief was unstable…and canny. A dangerous combination.

He slithered to the edge of the pit and scanned the forest. Nothing. Rising, he wandered to the garden. It looked rough, the only portions of it that didn’t have weeds were the craters from the storm. He grabbed his hoe and dug a few out.

The hoe still astounded him. It had been a shock to pick up his weathered, dull hoe and find a gleaming, new one in his hands.

The end had transformed from a dark iron to shiny steel. It was also much beefier than before which was good in a fight but not the best for manual labour. The edge was sharp. He had nicked his fingers the first time he had examined it. The handle was also different. Instead of the brown rotting wood, it was now a light, grey material.

Dakota experimentally slammed the hoe into the ground. It was strong. He wondered if he could chop firewood with it.

One other thing. It converted back to its original state when he wasn’t holding it. As soon as his hand touched its surface, the metal and handle appeared to warp for a moment, old metal and wood flaking off and disintegrating as steel and the grey material replaced it.

“Not like anything else obeyed the laws of physics…or any other law come to think of it.”

The garden absorbed a couple of hours of work, at the end of which, he had his clean, tidy garden back. The blue flower seeds were sprouting. They had miraculously escaped destruction in the storm. He bent over the planter, sniffing the buds. It was probably just his mind but he thought they smelled like Bengal spice tea. It was odd since that was one of his favourite smells.

They were growing much slower than his other plants. Closer to the rate a normal plant would grow on earth.

He slung the hoe over his shoulder. He didn’t want to return to the training room quite yet. His eyes roved the farmstead, coming to rest on the crater to the tunnel. He was still crawling through a small hole in one corner of the door to get in and out. He trudged to the bottom and considered the problem.

Only one corner of the arch was visible. Based on the interior, the door was eight feet tall and four feet wide.

He swung the hoe, pulling a big pile of dirt away from the entrance. Excavating would be a nice change of pace for a while. He would get back to the training after he was done this.

The heavier-duty hoe proved its worth, letting him pry large chunks of dirt without worrying whether he would deform the metal or snap the handle.

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The physical work let his mind relax. He needed to beat those drones. He was getting faster but there was only so much he could learn on his own. If he could trap them somehow, or better, get them to blow themselves up he would be golden.

He combed his memories, analyzing every minute he had been in the room. Maybe the ropes hanging from the ceiling could detach? Then he could…what, lasso the floating orbs? No that wouldn’t work. If he had a net…maybe, but the room didn’t have any nets and he didn’t have any on the farmstead.

Or did he?

Dakota paused, wiping sweat from his forehead with a grimy hand. Hadn’t the goblins flung a net over him when they ambushed the farmhouse?

He strode out of the pit and toward the ambush site. Sure enough, a thickly braided net lay hidden in the tall grass. Draping the cords over his shoulder he trudged back to the tunnel.

Would the room even let him take the net inside? He still wasn’t sure whether it was actually his body in the training room or a simulacrum. He did show up with clothes on though.

He eyed the net.

“I think I’m about to start a new fashion trend.”

Dakota stood, butt-naked in front of the crystal wall. Well, not totally naked. He had wrapped the net around himself like a toga.

He’d removed his clothes in case the room only let a certain amount of fibre inside…which sounded stupid now that he thought it out but he had made the commitment to not take anything for granted.

He pressed his hand against a circle and appeared on the other side.

With the net.

Dakota unwrapped, holding the net in his right hand. Now to use this thing. He ran into the center of the room, quickly drawing all three orbs' attention. Ducking a beam, he ran toward a short tower and climbed. The orbs followed.

As they zipped around the final corner to the tower, he heaved, sending the net flying. Two things became apparent. He sucked at throwing and the orbs were more powerful than he thought they would be.

The net landed, catching one of the three orbs. The other two kept firing at Dakota, forcing him behind cover. The third orb still hovered but noticeably closer to the ground and when he dashed to the other side of the room, it lagged behind the others.

So the net was helpful but not that helpful. Another problem presented itself as he collected rings. The incineration beams cut the net. A few minutes into the session, the third orb joined its companions, having inadvertently cut itself free from the net by shooting beams at him.

All was not lost, if he could actually catch all three in the net, it might give him enough of an edge to complete the room.

He dove into a pit as a whoosh sounded at his side. Beams cut through the air above the pit. He collected the ring at the bottom of the hole and climbed out. That was number twelve. He weaved, dodging another two beams. A ring bobbed in a nook on a tower. He leapt, fingers just touching the golden circle. Thirteen.

A beam lanced through his shoulder sending him stumbling to the side. He instinctively dropped to his stomach, avoiding the follow-up blasts, and crawled to a nearby ledge.

Teeth clenched, he surveyed the room. His shoulder screamed at him. He wasn’t going to make it.

“Going to try anyway.”

He rolled, sprinting up a set of floating tiles as the statues fired their beams. Risking a glance back, he saw that none of the orbs got hit by the beams reflecting through the room. They never did.

He collected a ring at the top of the steps. Fourteen. This was where it got dicey. He slid off of the tower, cradling his injured arm. Three beams forced him into an awkward dance as he worked his way toward the other side of the room. A beam scorched his face, making him recoil. At the same time, another beam punched through his thigh, dropping him. Tears blurred his vision as the third orb stared him down.

Dakota blinked and unclenched his hands. He was drawing blood. Ring fourteen. That was the trouble ring. No matter what route he took, no matter how fast he ran. Death soon followed ring fourteen.

He placed his hand into the circle, maybe this time would be different.

He tried using the net for the rest of the day…and made some progress. He reached sixteen rings on his last attempt. The net didn’t provide as much help as he thought it would. The orbs barely slowed after being caught.

If the net were heavier…

He would deal with it tomorrow.

Dakota rested his head against his bunched-up shirt as Jesus cuddled next to him. Tomorrow…tomorrow would be the day.