So, in the end, it was mostly a speed-really-brisk-walk rather than a speed-run, but Mary still got tired fast. Mortimer's nearly constant monologue probably didn't help.

“Next intersection, Paolo double blood spear left, Mary - wait for two seconds, and toss a fireball right. We take the middle corridor. I'll take care of the poison darts, but we must not stop walking, or we'll get hit by the hammer from behind. Mary, I told you I'd take care of the poison darts, don't try to dodge them!”

It was surprisingly hard not to flinch when a series of darts rushed straight at her face, no matter how many times Mortimer demonstrated his prowess in blocking them with his eyes. Well, it was apparently doable, as Paolo didn't even blink when two of them shattered in mid-air inches from his head, while he was busy sending some goblins to their afterlife.

Oh, right, goblins. Mary snapped back to her job and flung a fireball at enemies that were already mid-jump to her fragile, unarmoured body - the heroes didn't take the time to change into full battle gear since the boys insisted that the whole point of speed-really-brisk-walk was not to get hit at all. The thing exploded worryingly close, and a wave of heat smashed against the heroine's skin - on the one hand, that meant she was getting better at casting those, even if she still couldn't hear the moans of tortured souls on detonation. On the other - that explosion wasn't nearly far enough for Mary's comfort. If she'd been lost in thought just a tiny bit longer...

She still didn't know what exactly they were looking for - only that it'd be something for the talisman, which didn't tell the girl much. This something better be worth it, or... Well, frankly, Mary couldn't think of any reasonable 'or's. She wouldn't hurt her party members, not after what she'd done to the previous one... She shuddered at the memory and almost missed the Mortimer cry to fall to the ground before a whizzing saw flew above Mary's head. That was way, way too close.

Apparently, small humanoid lizards had something to do with antimagic protection. Mortimer proved to be an expert looter, judging by the number of flashes around the dead creatures that appeared in every pocket-like hole in the rags that goblins used for clothing. Some of them wore more proper armour, with metal plates in critical places - well, that didn't do all that much against a fireball to the face. The stench of burning flesh assaulted Mary's nostrils, and brought memories of another battle she fought back with the other party. How long ago did they fight the ponies? Days, weeks? It certainly felt like years in Mary's mind.

“Two steps to the right, four steps forward, three steps left, then two back...,” Mortimer murmured as he went through a first neatly tiled fragment of the floor. Mary would have immediately followed his steps, but Paolo pulled her back before she set her foot down.

“Wait,” the pale boy said. “Weren't you listening? This one is a bit tricky, and we need to wait for Mortimer to finish first.”

It didn't look particularly tricky to Mary - Mortimer was simply stepping in a twisting path, probably revealed by his foresight powers. Sure, if this was a film, someone would surely trip and fall on all the wrong tiles, or even better - some dishonourably looted item would fall off from the obviously untrustworthy guy's backpack and trigger some ancient yet perfectly working trap, but...

Mary jumped backwards as a giant pendulum with an axe on one end fell from the ceiling and swung towards their team leader. The boy moved away with a dance-like manoeuvre, unbothered by the blade passing close enough to leave stains of light dust on the hero's dark leather jacket. The pendulum came back all the way to the ceiling near Mary, who only then looked up to see dozens of weapons just waiting for someone to pass by without knowing the rite of safe passage.

From what they'd said, the whole 'run' would take less than an hour, but like many academic activities, it would feel like ages.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

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“Okay, this corridor seems-” Mortimer cut off, as a crossbow bolt struck him right at the left arm. He cursed and threw a fireball at an apparently random bit of wall before Mary realised what was happening.

“Mortimer! What happened?” Mary asked.

“Coin trigger,” Mortimer hissed. He through another, darker projectile at the same wall, and this time the entire block of stone exploded. Hundreds of coins poured from the newly opened room, along with bits of burning wood and metal.

Paolo was already tending to the boy's wound and, muttering through clenched teeth. He spoke too quietly, but Mary made out some “reckless”, “stubborn”, and a few less polite epithets.

“What?”

“I can't see through true randomness,” the Creep explained. “If they use a fair coin toss to trigger the trap... Don't worry, though, if it would really hurt us, I'd see the ripples further down the line.”

This triggered even more muttering about “unnecessary risks”.

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The final chamber was literally littered with bodies. Dark blood flowed away towards the walls, directed by Paolo's gestures. He resembled a mythical figure, standing with his arms raised high in the air like that - not that such gestures were necessary, powers weren't the same magic. Still, the gestures felt really natural, and it helped with concentration - or so Mary heard. She hadn't used her powers voluntarily so far... and Mortimer's eyes seemed to appear and disappear without any physical cues. Was it intentional? Or did his power simply work that way?

Mary felt wrong standing among the dead creatures without a single stain on her clothes. It seemed disrespectful to not even get dirty during the massacre.

Still, it wasn't like Mary was going to ask Paolo to splash her with the vile liquid.

“Okay, here it is,” Mortimer said, as his eyes stopped flashing all around the deceased. “It works best if you obtain it yourself - take the armour from the pocket on the goblin shaman's vest. Paolo, check the chieftain to his left. I think he has a set of bracers that may suit your needs.”

Mary forced herself to look at the fallen and slowly walked towards one with that weird staff she'd seen early on. She wanted to call it a battle, but it would be an overstatement - this was a slaughter. When the goblins realised what hit them, half of their army was already down.

Mary knelt next to the burned flesh of a formerly living creature and started going through its vest in search of the pocket. It would have helped if she would at least know... what...

Mary looked at the helmet in her hands. Then at the pocket. Then at the helmet again.

The whole rag could probably fit right in her new finding's opening, but in no way the other way around. The piece of junk was simply too big, and Mary couldn't see any hint that it could be compressed in any way.

“What's wrong?” Mortimer asked, taking a two-hand sword from one of the shaman's bodyguards. The bodyguard still held his spear and shield in his posthumously clasped hands.

“This thing, this helmet, and this pocket they can't just -,” Mary paused and took a couple of long breaths. “How could this helmet fit in this tiny pocket?”

The boys exchanged looks, and Paolo answered, “These guys were part of the common dungeon mob. They do not run on normal physics right now. See?” The boy pointedly raised the body next to him on a pillar of blood, then took out large, metal bracers from one of the tiny pockets on the creature's torn vest. He then proceeded to attach them to his armour - and they fit perfectly. “These fit just right, even if I'm twice their size. But if you try taking one of the creature's clothes, you'll either fail to remove them, or they'll somehow break during the process.”

The world started to spin around Mary's head. “But why...? How...?”

“It's magic,” Mortimer said. “These aren't exactly the real-real bodies we're robbing right now. The goblins are the academy employees, working nine-to-five under the full recovery projection spell. The loot is initially autogenerated at the moment of landing a killing blow and finalized when a hero picks it up, with stuff like sizes or party theme colour details. How did you think those things were surviving here? What would they eat?”

“I didn't know, really, I-”

“Hold up,” Paolo said. “Did you think you were killing actual sentient beings all this time? And you still went for it, just like that?”

“I... I...”

“Whatever,” Mortimer said. “Just take the rest of that armour set, and let's get out of here. We’ve got more work to do.”