I gripped the steering wheel tighter as the ToroMax rumbled to life beneath me, the ground vibrating with its raw power. The reinforced frame and oversized tires screamed menace, while the sparking shock claw at the front flexed slightly, as if eager for a fight.

Elmo chimed in with a dramatic gasp. “You know, Blake, it’s not just a lawnmower anymore. It’s a statement. I am God here!”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Let’s see how divine it feels once we hit some rough terrain.”

The mower rolled forward smoothly, its bulk eating up the uneven ground as if it wasn’t even there. The engine’s growl turned into a feral roar as I eased into the throttle, steering toward a patch of rubble near the labyrinth’s edge.

Elmo piped up again, his voice oozing sarcasm. “You might be piloting a metal monstrosity, but don’t let it go to your head. Remember, all the power in the world means nothing if you can’t drive straight.”

“Good thing I’ve got the precision of a god, right?” I shot back, grinning.

“Pfft. Yeah, okay. Just try not to run us into a wall, Zeus,” he quipped. “Or worse—your own ego.”

Rolling my eyes, I nudged the mower toward a massive slab of stone blocking the pathway ahead. It was the perfect test for the front-mounted shock claw.

“Alright, time to see what this thing can do.”

I activated the claw with a flip of the switch. It shot forward with a violent clang, the prongs digging into the stone like a predator’s talons. Sparks flew as the claw discharged a surge of electricity, sending cracks racing across the rock. A heartbeat later, the entire slab shattered into rubble.

“Yes!” I pumped a fist in victory. “Shock claw, officially badass.”

“Ten out of ten for dramatic effect,” Elmo said. “But you should have shouted something cool, like, Witness me! Missed opportunity there, pal.”

“Next time,” I promised, steering over the rubble. It didn’t even slow down, the tires crunching through the debris like it was sand.

As we moved deeper into the labyrinth, I set my sights on the arcbolt launcher. Lining up with a crumbling section of wall ahead, I armed the system. The charging hum sent a shiver up my spine, and with a pull of the trigger, a bolt of lightning streaked out, slamming into the stone. The explosion left a smoking crater behind.

“Not bad,” I muttered, pleased. “This thing’s got some serious punch.”

Elmo clapped—or at least made the sound of clapping. “A+ for destruction, but where’s the flair? You’re like a guy who brings sparklers to a fireworks show. We need style, Blake!”

“And what, pray tell, would you suggest?” I asked, humoring him.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Elmo said, his tone dripping with mock thoughtfulness. “Maybe slap on some racing stripes, add a disco ball, or—wait for it—a seat warmer! Because nothing says ‘apocalypse-ready’ like a toasty tush.”

“Noted,” I deadpanned, steering into another open pathway. “But I think I’ll stick to things that don’t make me look like I’m entering a demolition derby rave.”

“You’re no fun,” Elmo sighed. “Fine, we’ll keep it gritty. But just remember: chaos is great. Controlled chaos? Even better.”

I smirked as the ToroMax picked up speed, the engine’s roar echoing through the dark maze. “Controlled chaos is my middle name.”

“Actually, your middle name is probably something lame, like Eugene,” Elmo shot back. “But hey, you’re rocking the chaos part. Let’s see if this beast is as tough as it looks. Onward, lawn warrior!”

With a laugh, I pushed the ToroMax harder, its tires chewing up the dirt as it tore deeper into the labyrinth. It wasn’t just a lawnmower anymore—it was my ticket to survival, chaos, and maybe a little glory.

The ToroMax roared as I gunned the throttle, its massive tires tearing through the labyrinth’s cracked, overgrown pathways. I was just starting to enjoy the smooth ride when a guttural screech echoed ahead. My grip on the wheel tightened.

“Trouble at two o’clock,” Elmo chirped. “And by trouble, I mean a welcoming committee of adorably homicidal lawn ornaments.”

A pack of squat, wiry creatures skittered into view. Their greenish skin glistened with a slick sheen, and jagged teeth gleamed as they snarled. I concentrated and used scan.

Lawn Gremlin (Subterranean Menace, Yardus Infestus)

Level: 13

The not-so-fun surprise your overgrown lawn hides. These pint-sized nightmares are equal parts mischief and murder, with claws sharp enough to shred steel and attitudes to match. They operate in packs, because misery loves company. Best dealt with at a distance—or by using heavy-duty equipment.

Warning: Killing one may provoke the others into a collective rage. Or they might just laugh at you—hard to say which.

“Well, that’s... thorough,” I said, grimacing.

Elmo snorted. “Thorough? That’s like reading a bad Yelp review about a chain restaurant you’re stuck eating at. But hey, at least we know fire and electricity work. Too bad you don’t have either in abundance!”

“Thanks for the reminder,” I shot back, tightening my grip on the wheel as the gremlins began their charge. “Guess I’ll have to improvise.”

“Improvisation is key, my friend,” Elmo said. “Just remember, if this goes badly, I’m blaming you for not investing in a flamethrower when you had the chance.”

The gremlins screeched again, their claws scraping against the cracked ground as they barreled toward me.

“Flamethrower,” I muttered, shaking my head as I revved the ToroMax’s engine. “Let’s see how they like a high-speed landscaping lesson.”

With a roar, the ToroMax surged forward, ready to turn the pack into mulch.

The lawn gremlins didn’t attack right away. Instead, they stopped in their tracks, their jagged-toothed mouths curling into sneers. One pointed a clawed finger at me and let out a rasping laugh that sounded like a rusted hinge. The others joined in, their chittering laughter rising like a cacophony of mocking amusement.

“Well, isn’t this a turn of events,” Elmo quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “They’re literally laughing at you, Blake. Not with you. At you. Feels personal, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, well,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes at the pack, “we’ll see who’s laughing in a minute.”

I revved the ToroMax’s engine for effect, the guttural roar echoing through the labyrinth and making a few of the gremlins hesitate. Their mockery faltered, but only briefly. One particularly bold gremlin smacked the ground with its claws, barking out a challenge that only reignited their laughter.

“That one,” I said, locking onto the bold gremlin. “He’s first.”

With a flick of the joystick, I aimed the ToroMax’s front-mounted shock claw, its hydraulics hissing as the massive appendage extended. The gremlins didn’t even flinch until the claw snapped out like a steel viper, grabbing three of them in one swift motion.

The trio of gremlins squirmed and screeched, their claws scraping uselessly at the reinforced metal. Before they could wiggle free, I hit the surge trigger. Electricity crackled through the claw, sending a blinding jolt into the trapped creatures. Their shrieks cut off abruptly as their limp forms dangled from the claw.

“Three down,” I said, letting the claw crush them for good measure before dumping their bodies onto the ground.

+738XP

+712XP

+724XP

“Three down,” I said, feeling the rush of adrenaline.

“Well, congratulations,” Elmo chimed. “You’ve officially pissed them off. Oh, this is gonna be good.”

The rest of the pack erupted into furious snarls, their earlier amusement replaced by a frenzied bloodlust.

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“Bring it on!” I yelled, slamming the throttle.

The death machine surged forward, its spinning blades chewing through the gremlins like a scythe through tall grass. Their screams mixed with the deafening roar of the engine as green gore splattered across the reinforced steel plating. I maneuvered through the chaos, dodging their frantic lunges while leaving a trail of destruction behind.

+732XP

+698XP

One particularly reckless gremlin leapt at the shock claw, only to be swatted aside like a fly. Another disappeared beneath the massive treads with a sickening crunch.

+712XP

“They’re dropping like flies!” I shouted, steering into another cluster.

+734XP

“Flies, grass clippings, whatever!” Elmo laughed. “This is better than pay-per-view!”

But then I noticed the mower’s power meter. The Arcbolt generator was guzzling MP faster than I’d anticipated, each surge and weapon activation eating into my reserves.

“Elmo,” I called out, checking the dashboard, “how’s the MP holding up?”

“Oh, you’re almost out,” Elmo replied cheerfully. “Maybe you shouldn’t have gone all ‘final boss’ on the lawn gnomes.”

“Not helpful!” I snapped as another gremlin lunged. The blades caught it mid-air, slicing it clean in half, but the engine stuttered.

+706XP

+244XP

LEVEL UP!

+0XP

+0XP

And then it happened. The generator sputtered, and the shock claw froze mid-swipe. My dashboard flashed red as the ToroMax slowed to its base functionality.

“That’s really bad,” I muttered, glancing at the last remaining gremlin. It was massive, twice the size of the others, its glowing red eyes locked onto me with murderous intent.

“Really bad!” Elmo echoed. “What’s Plan B?”

“Plan B,” I said, reaching for the catapult controls, “is Grinder.”

The gremlin charged just as I yanked the release lever. The rear-mounted catapult snapped into action, launching Grinder 2.0 into the air like a small, furry missile.

Grinder let out a mechanical growl mid-flight, his claws glinting as he landed squarely on the gremlin’s head. The creature screeched in surprise, swiping frantically as Grinder dug in. Sparks flew as his reinforced claws tore into the gremlin’s hide, raking across its face and neck with brutal efficiency.

“Go, Grinder!” I cheered.

Grinder latched onto the gremlin’s head with mechanical precision, his claws digging deep into its mottled green flesh. Sparks flew as he tore through scales and sinew, shredding the beast’s defenses as it howled in agony. The gremlin swung wildly, its claws raking at Grinder, but the little bear’s reinforced chassis held firm, his compact frame built to take punishment and deal it in equal measure.

“Oh, Grinder!” Elmo’s voice dripped with glee. “Look at him go. He's really clawing his way to the top! Talk about a bear with grip issues! Wait, is this a wrestling match or foreplay?”

I groaned. “Elmo, could you not?”

“Not what? Cheer on your fuzzy buddy? You’re just jealous Grinder’s getting all the action. And by action, I mean face-hugging carnage. It’s beautiful!”

The gremlin stumbled, clawing at its own head in a desperate attempt to dislodge Grinder. The bear shifted positions, his claws locking onto the creature’s elongated ears as he swung around like an unholy pendulum, slashing at its throat.

Elmo cackled. “Oh, I see what you’re doing, Grinder! Working the sensitive spots first. That’s a classic dominate and devastate maneuver. If this was a rom-com, I’d call it Fifty Shades of Grime.”

“Stop!” I barked, my face flushing despite myself.

Grinder roared again, his growl rising in pitch as he plunged his claws deep into the gremlin’s neck. Green ichor spurted out, splattering across the ground and Grinder’s mechanical fur. The creature’s movements slowed, its swings weakening as the life drained from its twitching body.

+0XP

“YES! Get it, Grinder!” Elmo shouted, his voice rising to a fever pitch. “I love it when the little guy goes for the jugular! That’s commitment, Blake. You could learn a thing or two.”

“Grinder’s a murder bot,” I snapped, “not a life coach!”

“Aw, did the big bad gremlin get stuffed?” Elmo quipped. “Grinder’s out here turning enemies into throw pillows! What a stud.”

I wiped a hand down my face. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Oh, I know,” Elmo said smugly. “But let’s not pretend you’re not impressed. Grinder’s like a one-bear apocalypse. Did you see that finishing move? The way he clung to its ear? It was almost romantic.”

I shot him a glare. “Elmo...”

“What? Don’t look at me like that! I’m just saying, if Grinder ever opens a dating profile, his bio better say, ‘Loves long walks on enemy corpses and midnight ear biting.’”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped me, even as I tried to focus on the task at hand. Grinder trotted back to the mower, his fur soaked with ichor and his glowing red eyes gleaming with a smug satisfaction that matched Elmo’s tone.

“Well, that was sufficiently brutal,” I said, patting the bear on the head as he climbed back into the catapult. “Good job, Grinder.”

“Good job?” Elmo parroted. “Try heroic masterpiece! That gremlin didn’t stand a chance. Grinder deserves a parade. Maybe a medal. No, wait—a crown! He’s King of the Kill Zone!”

I sighed, turning toward the path ahead. “Let’s keep moving before more gremlins show up, okay?”

“Fine, fine,” Elmo replied, still chuckling. “But don’t blame me when Grinder gets fan mail from his adoring fans. We should really start selling merch. ‘Team Grinder: Cute but Deadly.’”

I ignored him, focusing on the road ahead, but I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. For all his nonsense, Elmo had a way of making even the darkest moments a little less heavy. And with the labyrinth stretching out before us, I had a feeling I’d need every bit of that levity to survive what was coming next.

I pressed the throttle down a little harder, the ToroMax purring beneath me as it surged forward, the crunch of gravel and the screech of metal the only sounds that filled the air. The path ahead twisted like a maze, more jagged and treacherous than I’d anticipated. It felt like I was racing through a forgotten industrial wasteland—everything looked vaguely familiar, yet off. The landscape had a sinister feel to it, the overgrown grass whispering in the wind like it was alive, and the crumbling walls and broken asphalt seemed to stretch on endlessly.

“Where the hell are we, Elmo?” I asked, glancing around at the warped terrain. “This doesn’t feel right.”

“Oh, we’re definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto,” Elmo chirped from his seat in the dashboard, always ready with a snide comment. “Well, more like a twisted version of your neighborhood, but you know—same difference.”

My gut clenched. I had a sinking feeling he was right.

The faint outline of houses peeked out from behind the overgrown trees, their structures decayed and twisted. It looked like my old neighborhood, the one I’d grown up in. The one I’d spent years in, trying to get my life together, before all of this... before whatever strange force had ripped me out of reality. The lawnmower modifications. The labyrinth. The grotesque creatures.

I slowed, the roar of its engine now muffled by the eerie silence around me. “This is... this is messed up. It can’t be. This isn’t—”

“Oh, it’s totally that neighborhood,” Elmo cut me off. “Betcha didn’t expect to have your past come back to haunt you like this, huh? It’s like a bad dream you never wake up from... except, you’re not really dreaming. You’re just stuck in my nightmare. I mean, it’s basically a bonus level. And you didn’t even ask for it!”

The trees on the horizon began to clear, revealing a street sign that nearly made my blood run cold. Maple Drive. I hadn’t seen it in years. And yet, there it was, standing as a stark reminder of all the crap I’d tried to leave behind. My old house. My old life. It was all right in front of me.

A bitter laugh bubbled up from my chest, but I quickly forced it down. The ToroMax bounced over the cracked road as I made my way toward what I now realized was a perfect replica of my old neighborhood—only far worse.

“What the hell is going on, Elmo? Why am I back here?” I said through gritted teeth.

Elmo, unfazed by the tension, replied with a smirk. “A little slice of nostalgia, huh? I’m not really sure, but you’re in the middle of my labyrinth. If you think I’m gonna hold your hand through this, you’re in the wrong game, buddy.”

I could feel the system buzzing in my head again. Something was shifting. I was back in a place I thought I’d escaped from, a place where my life had been a series of failures, failed relationships, and regrets. I couldn't shake the feeling that this labyrinth was built not just to test me physically, but emotionally as well.

Suddenly, the quiet was broken by a faint sound. At first, it was so soft I wasn’t sure I heard it. A voice? I leaned forward, scanning the area.

“Blake…”

My heart skipped. It was the sound of someone calling my name. A voice I knew all too well.

“Elmo, did you hear that?” I asked, feeling my pulse quicken.

“Oh yeah, I heard it,” Elmo replied, the sarcasm dripping from his voice. “What’s next? Your mom coming out with lemonade? It’s just another part of the game. Don’t get all sentimental on me now.”

I ignored Elmo’s tone and slowed the ToroMax, my gaze darting to the shadows of the street ahead. The voice came again, clear this time, echoing in the still air.

“Blake...”

I slammed on the brakes, the ToroMax skidding to a halt. My knuckles whitened on the wheel. “This isn’t happening. This isn’t real.”

But deep down, I knew it was. Somehow, some twisted part of the labyrinth had pulled me into a mockery of my own past, taunting me with the familiar echoes of my old life.

I could see it now—standing near the entrance of what used to be my house, a figure in the shadows. It wasn’t just the house that had changed; it was everything. The entire street had morphed into a nightmarish version of itself. The houses were broken down, windows shattered, and the once-pristine lawns now overrun by weeds and thorns. The figure calling to me looked familiar—too familiar—but I couldn’t place it.

“Elmo, I’m going to check it out,” I muttered. “Stay sharp. Something’s not right.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?” Elmo shot back, but there was a hint of concern in his voice. “Don’t get all weepy on me, Blake. I don’t think the game’s trying to throw you a pity party.”

I climbed off the mower, the cold air sending a shiver through me. The gravel crunched beneath my boots as I slowly approached the figure, my hand hovering near the weapon controls on the mower just in case things went south.

The figure stepped forward into the dim light. It was a woman, her face shadowed by the overgrown trees that had encroached upon the street. Her eyes locked onto mine, and my heart stopped.

It was Rachel.

The one who had pushed me away. The one I thought had forgotten me.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. “Elmo, what the hell is going on?” I whispered, my eyes locked on her, unable to look away. “Why is she here?”

But Elmo didn’t respond.

Rachel took a hesitant step toward me, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her voice was soft, almost like a dream. “Blake... is that really you?”

I felt a chill run down my spine. She sounded surprised, almost... confused. “How—how are you here?” I stammered, my mind racing.

Rachel looked around, taking in her surroundings as if trying to make sense of it all. “I don’t know... One moment I was just... living my life. And now I’m here, in... wherever this is. I don’t understand. I thought... I thought you were gone.”

I stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. This wasn’t just some hallucination or trick of the system. Rachel was here—not as a projection, but as someone pulled into the same nightmare I was trapped in.

“You’re here, too?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

Her eyes locked onto mine, filled with confusion and something else—something I couldn’t quite place. “I didn’t think... I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

I swallowed hard, the tension in the air thick. “Apparently, neither did I.”

A silence stretched between us, and in that moment, I wasn’t sure if this was some cruel twist of fate or the start of something far worse.