I stood before the cave entrance, trying to ignore the way my stomach churned with a mix of excitement and terror. After all my grand declarations about advancing magical research, here I was, about to walk into what was essentially a death trap with legs. Multiple legs, if the reports about the Death Road Tarantulas were accurate.

"This is either going to be the greatest breakthrough in teleportation magic research," I muttered to myself, "or the most embarrassing obituary in the history of Ranoa Academy."

The thought actually made me chuckle. I could almost see the memorial plaque: 'Here lies Animus, who thought poking around in a labyrinth full of teleporting death spiders was a great idea.'

The cave mouth was deceptively ordinary - just a hole in a cliff face, like countless others dotting the desert landscape. But the moment I stepped inside, I felt it. Magic. Raw and ancient, thrumming through the air like a heartbeat. My skin prickled with it, and not just from the sudden drop in temperature.

I chanted the incantation for a simple illumination spell. The last thing I needed was to die because I'd been too careless to properly illuminate whatever was about to try eating me.

The light revealed a rocky interior draped with cobwebs that seemed to shimmer with an unnatural iridescence. I'd read about these - the work of Death Road Tarantulas.

I pulled out my journal, already scratching down observations. "Web patterns show geometric precision inconsistent with natural spider behavior. Possible magical influence? Or perhaps-"

A skittering sound echoed through the tunnel.

I froze, pen hovering above paper. "Brilliant work, Animus," I muttered. "Stand in the dark making notes while monsters sneak up on you. This is why they kicked you out of the academy."

But when I turned, torch raised high, there was nothing there. Just shadows and silence. Somehow, that was worse.

The tunnel opened into a vast chamber, and there it was - my first real teleportation circle. The runes pulsed with a soft, bluish light that made my heart race. It was beautiful. It was terrifying. It was exactly what I'd come here to study.

I approached carefully, fighting the urge to toss my belongings to the side and rush forward like an excited schoolboy.

The circle's design was far more complex than anything in my research texts. Layers upon layers of interwoven runes, each one humming with power. This wasn't just some crude transportation magic - this was art.

"Now this," I breathed, kneeling at the circle's edge, "this was worth trudging through that damned desert..."

My pen flew across the pages as I sketched the patterns, noting every curve and intersection. Some of the runes seemed strangely familiar from the studies of forbidden texts I managed to get my hands on. Others were completely foreign, their purpose a tantalizing mystery.

The skittering sound returned, seeming louder by the second.

I looked up from my journal to find myself surrounded by eight pairs of gleaming eyes. Death Road Tarantulas. Because of course they'd show up right when I was making actual progress.

"Don't suppose you'd be interested in a scholarly discussion about web geometry?" I asked, slowly rising to my feet. The largest spider's mandibles clicked in what I chose to interpret as a 'no.'

Now, I'd like to say I faced the deadly spiders with the dignified composure expected of a scholar and mage of Ranoa (formerly). Instead, I half-stumbled backward into the teleportation circle, my mind racing through calculations about whether instant spatial displacement or spider venom would be a worse way to die.

Before I could reach a conclusion, the world twisted, colors bleeding together like wet ink. For a terrifying moment, I felt my body stretch in directions that shouldn't exist. Then reality snapped back into place, and I found myself in a smaller chamber. Unfortunately, the spiders had followed me through. Because apparently, massive venomous arachnids weren't terrifying enough without adding 'can use teleportation magic' to their list of abilities.

"Right then," I muttered, gripping my staff tighter. "Time to see if those combat magic lectures I mostly slept through actually stuck."

I managed to mutter an incantation and blast the first spider that lunged at me, sending it sprawling into a wall. The sight of it twitching upside down almost made me laugh. Almost. The other eleven quickly reminded me why that would be premature.

Just as I was calculating my odds of survival (somewhere between 'absolutely none' and 'why did I think this was a good idea?'), the chamber erupted into chaos. Three figures burst through another teleportation circle, weapons already in motion.

The first thing I noticed was the ears. Elves. Then recognition hit me - the same trio I'd spotted in the Adventurers' Guild yesterday, huddled over their maps in the corner. I'd noted their presence then, unusual as it was to see elves this far from their forests. Now I was considerably more interested in their combat abilities than their travel habits.

The leader - and oh, she was definitely the leader - wielded twin blades like they were extensions of her body. Her amber eyes blazed with the kind of battle-joy that made me deeply grateful she was currently focusing it on the spiders and not me. She moved with a fluid grace that made my scholarly attempts at combat look like a drunk trying to swat flies.

"Watch your left, bookworm!" she called out, her voice rich with amusement as she casually bisected a spider that had been trying to flank me.

I would have felt offended at the nickname if I hadn't been so busy being impressed. And slightly terrified. Mostly terrified.

The second elf was smaller, and wrapped in robes indicative of a mage. Her emerald hair whipped around her face as she wove spells with a precision that made my academic heart ache with envy. Ice crystals bloomed in the air, trapping spiders mid-leap. The way she layered her spells - defensive barriers flowing seamlessly into offensive strikes - it was like watching someone write poetry with magic.

And the third... gods above and below. She barely came up to my shoulder, but she moved like a shadow given form. Her sword sang through the air, each strike finding gaps in the spiders' armor that I hadn't even realized existed. She never spoke, never smiled, just executed her lethal dance with mechanical precision.

"You going to help," the amber-eyed one called out between strikes, "or just stand there taking notes?"

I realized I had, in fact, instinctively pulled out my journal. In the middle of combat...

Some habits die harder than others, apparently.

"Right, sorry!" I shouted back, stowing the journal and raising my staff. "Just... ah... documenting your impressive technique?"

She actually laughed at that, a sound of pure delight that somehow made her even more terrifying. "At least you're honest about it!"

Working together, we made surprisingly short work of the remaining spiders. I say 'we,' though my contribution mainly consisted of not dying and occasionally landing a hit when a spider strayed too close. Still, I counted it as a win.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The bar for success tends to lower significantly when death is the alternative.

The last spider fell to one of the amber-eyed elf's blades, its legs curling inward as it collapsed. The sudden silence felt almost deafening after the chaos of battle. I could hear my own heart pounding, though whether from exertion or the lingering effects of mortal terror, I couldn't say.

"So," the warrior elf said, casually flicking ichor from her blades, "what's a bookworm like you doing in the Teleportation Labyrinth alone? Besides providing spider bait, that is."

"Research," I replied, trying to sound more dignified than someone who'd just spent the last few minutes flailing around with a staff. "Though I'll admit, the spiders weren't part of my intended curriculum..."

That earned me another laugh from her. Up close, her amber eyes held a predatory gleam that reminded me uncomfortably of the spiders we'd just finished dispatching. Her confidence wasn't just an act - it radiated from her like heat from a forge.

"Research?" The green-haired mage's voice was barely above a whisper, her earlier spell-casting confidence seemingly evaporated now that the immediate danger had passed. She clutched her staff like a lifeline, eyes darting between the spider corpses as if expecting them to spring back to life. "In the... in the labyrinth?"

"Mad, aren't ya?" The warrior grinned, clapping me on the shoulder hard enough to make me stumble. "I like it. Anyone crazy enough to walk in here alone is either incredibly stupid or incredibly interesting."

"I prefer to think of it as academically motivated," I said, rubbing my shoulder. "Though I'm beginning to see why the academy strongly advised against field research."

The silent one had been methodically checking our surroundings. She moved with the same economical grace she'd shown in combat, though now I noticed how her hand never strayed far from her sword hilt. When she rejoined us, she gave her amber-eyed companion a slight nod that seemed to carry volumes of meaning.

"I'm Animus," I offered, figuring introductions were in order. "Former researcher at Ranoa Magic Academy, current explorer of... alternative career paths."

"Sylpha," the amber-eyed warrior replied, her grin never wavering. "That's Mira, our resident magic expert when she's not trying to hide behind her own staff, and Risha, who says more with a blade than most people do with words."

Mira attempted something between a wave and a bow, nearly dropping her staff in the process. "N-nice to meet you," she stammered, her face flushing. "Your stone projectile spell earlier was quite... um... impressive? The way you modified it to spread the impact..."

I blinked in surprise. Despite her nervous demeanor, she'd caught the subtle variations in my casting. "You noticed that? Most people miss the defensive applications of offensive magic."

"Oh! Yes, the way you layered the power distribution was really clever, though perhaps if you..." She trailed off, suddenly aware everyone was staring at her. The flush deepened, and she seemed to physically shrink into her robes.

"Well," Sylpha said, looking between us with undisguised amusement, "looks like we've found another magic nerd. That makes two of you. Lucky us, right Risha?"

Risha's expression didn't change, but I swore I saw the ghost of an eye roll.

"Speaking of luck," I said, pulling out my journal again, "I don't suppose you three would be interested in a mutually beneficial arrangement? You clearly know how to handle yourselves in here, and I could provide magical analysis of the labyrinth's structure and defenses..."

"You want to team up?" Sylpha raised an eyebrow. "Just like that?"

"Well, I was going to die horribly alone, or I could die slightly less horribly with company. The choice seems rather obvious from where I'm standing."

Something shifted in Sylpha's expression at my suggestion. The battle-joy faded, replaced by a calculating look that made me distinctly uncomfortable. "Thanks for the offer," she said, her tone carefully neutral, "but we've got our own objectives here."

"Which would be?" The question slipped out before my survival instincts could stop it. Years of academic curiosity had left me with the unfortunate habit of asking questions first and considering the consequences later.

"None of your business," Risha spoke for the first time, her voice as sharp and cold as her blade.

I raised my hands in what I hoped was a peaceful gesture. "Fair enough. Though I can't help but notice you three aren't exactly typical dungeon delvers. Elves rarely venture this far from the Millis Continent without good reason."

"M-maybe we should..." Mira started, then seemed to lose her nerve when Sylpha shot her a look.

"Maybe we should what?" I prompted gently, recognizing an opening when I saw one. "Consider the practical benefits of cooperation? After all, I've been studying this labyrinth's structure extensively." A slight exaggeration, but technically not a lie.

I'd studied it.

The fact that most of that study had been theoretical until about an hour ago seemed like an unnecessary detail.

"Oh?" Sylpha's tone was skeptical, but I caught a flicker of interest in those predatory eyes. "And what exactly makes you such an expert?"

I pulled out my journal, flipping to my sketches of the teleportation circles. "See these patterns? They're not random. There's a logic to them, a structure that could help predict where they lead. Of course, testing that theory alone would be..." I glanced at the dead spiders, "...challenging."

Mira had drifted closer, her scholarly curiosity apparently overcoming her nervousness. "Those annotations... are those mana flow calculations?"

"Among other things." I let her peek at the pages. "I've been particularly interested in the correlation between rune complexity and destination distance. Theory suggests-"

"We don't have time for theories," Sylpha cut in, but there was a note of uncertainty in her voice now. She and Risha exchanged a look that seemed to carry an entire conversation.

I pressed my advantage. "Time for theories? No. Time to avoid walking blindly into deadly teleportation circles? That might be worth making."

"We're not walking blindly," Sylpha snapped. "We know exactly what we're looking for."

"Really? Because I've documented at least seven distinct types of teleportation circles in here, each with their own sub-variations. Some seem to be two-way, some one-way, and some..." I paused for effect, "...well, let's just say the remains I found suggest 'instant death' might be an optimistic description."

That got their attention. Even Risha's stoic expression flickered slightly.

"You're lying," Sylpha said, but she didn't sound entirely convinced.

I shrugged. "Test them all yourself if you prefer. I'm sure it will only take a few dozen attempts. Assuming you survive them."

"Fine," Sylpha said finally, though she looked like the word tasted bitter. "You might be... useful. But understand this - you follow our lead, and you don't ask questions about our objectives."

I raised an eyebrow. "You want me to help navigate a maze of potentially lethal teleportation circles without knowing what we're looking for? That seems counterproductive."

"You want to study the circles, we want to reach the lower levels. Feels like a fair trade to me. Not like you need to know what we're here for in order to study your precious circles." The predatory smile was back, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Unless you'd prefer to continue your solo research project with our eight-legged friends?"

I glanced at the spider corpses, then back at my journal. I wasn't really in a position to back out at this point but...their secretive behavior practically screamed 'people doing something they shouldn't.'

Then again, given my own rather questionable research interests, I wasn't exactly in a position to judge.

"You know," I said, making a show of considering it, "most people trying to hide their true objectives are usually a bit more... subtle about it."

Mira made a small choking sound. Even Risha's stoic expression flickered slightly.

Sylpha's hand twitched toward her blade. "Excuse me?"

"Three young elves, barely into adulthood by your people's standards, venturing into one of the most dangerous labyrinths on the continent? Without the backing of your elders, I'm guessing, given your reluctance to share details." I tapped my journal thoughtfully. "You're after something specific. Something valuable enough to risk your lives for, but not... official enough to seek help through proper channels."

"You're making a lot of assumptions," Sylpha said, her voice dangerously soft.

I shrugged. "Am I wrong?"

The silence stretched thin enough to snap. Mira looked like she wanted to melt into the floor. Risha's hand had settled on her sword hilt, though she seemed content to let Sylpha handle the talking.

Finally, Sylpha laughed. Not the battle-joy laugh from earlier, but something sharper, almost bitter. "You're too clever for your own good, you know that?"

"So I've been told. Usually right before something tries to kill me."

"We won't kill you," Risha said flatly. "Unless you give us reason to."

"What my socially challenged friend means," Sylpha cut in, "is that our business is our own. Help us navigate the labyrinth, study your circles, and everyone gets what they want. Simple enough?"

I pretended to think about it, though we all knew I didn't have much choice. "One condition - anything I learn about the teleportation magic, any notes I take, those belong to me. No claims on my research."

Sylpha's eyes narrowed. "Fine. But the same goes for anything else we find. No questions asked."

"Deal." I stuck out my hand. After a moment's hesitation, she shook it.

"Right then," I said, pulling out fresh pages in my journal. "I'd really like to start with mapping these circles properly. I have a theory about the rune configurations that might-"

A distant chittering echoed through the chamber.

"Theory time later," Sylpha said, drawing her blades. "Survival time now."