For once, something went my way. A full health bar—it almost felt unfair. Not that I was complaining, but knowing my luck, this was probably the universe buttering me up before shoving me into an industrial meat grinder.
Still, I couldn’t help but feel a little smug. Twenty out of twenty HP, baby! Maybe this labyrinth wasn’t so bad after all. Sure, it had quirks—sudden death traps, disembodied whispers, a moisture level that screamed, “hope you like trench foot”—but it wasn’t entirely hopeless. At least now, I could survive a stubbed toe or two. Progress, right?
Adjusting the straps of my cobbled-together pack, I heard Elmo’s voice crackle into my ear like a talk-show host with a caffeine addiction. “Feeling good, Blake? Strong? Invincible? Don’t worry, that’ll wear off soon.”
“Appreciate the confidence boost,” I muttered, glancing at the corridor ahead. It stretched endlessly into the shadows, looking like every bad decision I’d ever made combined into one long, oppressive hallway. “What’s next, oh wise guide? Or are we still in the ‘wander until you die’ phase of this program?”
“Oh, sweet trialist,” Elmo cooed, his voice dripping with fake sincerity, like a condescending life coach. “The maze isn’t about answers. It’s about discovery. Every wrong turn, every close call—those are the building blocks of your future success.”
“Discovery?” I repeated flatly. “Like that pit of spikes two hallways back? Because I’m pretty sure all I discovered was how quickly I could scream.”
“Fear is growth!” Elmo chirped, as if he’d just solved existential dread. “But don’t worry—I’m here to make sure you grow efficiently. Like a personal trainer, but instead of abs, we’re working on keeping you alive. Much more rewarding, don’t you think?”
“Efficient,” I grumbled. “Right. Because nothing screams ‘efficient’ like a death maze designed by a lunatic with a vendetta against straight paths.”
The corridor stretched on, dimly lit by faintly glowing moss clinging to the walls like some cosmic mold’s attempt at a glamour shot. The green shimmer pulsed faintly, as though it were breathing—alive and watching. My skin crawled at the thought, and each step I took echoed unnervingly, a sharp reminder of just how alone I wasn’t.
Turning a corner, my foot snagged on a loose stone, and I stumbled forward with a curse. Biting back my irritation, I crouched to investigate. Beneath the rock, something gleamed faintly in the moss’s sickly light.
A lever. In a murder maze. Of course.
I stared at it, chewing on my lower lip. Pulling it could mean treasure or salvation. Or it could mean acid-spitting bats and the Blake Pancake Special, served fresh from a collapsing ceiling. The universe wasn’t exactly known for its generosity.
“Oh, pull it already!” Elmo chirped, his tone gleeful enough to qualify as a warning. “What’s the worst that could happen? You’re overdue for some excitement!”
“Your idea of excitement usually ends with me needing therapy,” I muttered, though curiosity—or desperation—was already tipping the scales. I sighed, wrapping my fingers around the lever. “Alright, let’s see how this kills me.”
With a solid yank, the lever groaned in protest before giving way. The ground shivered beneath my feet, and the wall ahead slid aside with a slow, ominous rumble.
I braced myself. A pit of spikes? A hail of arrows? A clipboard guy trying to upsell me an extended warranty? Instead, the reveal was... underwhelming.
Behind the wall lay a small chamber, bathed in a shifting, pulsating glow. Tiny crystalline formations jutted from the ceiling, radiating shades of blue and purple like a natural lava lamp on steroids. It was beautiful in an “I’m definitely dying here, but at least it’s pretty” kind of way.
At the center of the room stood a pedestal, and on it rested something suspiciously high-tech. My pulse quickened.
I stepped inside, careful but drawn by curiosity. The object on the pedestal came into focus: a sleek mechanical device, part wrist-mounted grappling hook, part dart launcher. Its metallic casing shimmered faintly under the crystalline light, small LEDs blinking in a steady, hypnotic rhythm.
“Now we’re talking,” I murmured, taking another cautious step forward.
The moment I touched the device, it buzzed softly, springing to life. A mechanical whir clicked into action as the LEDs flared, and a cylindrical magazine spun once before locking into place with a satisfying clunk. A faint energy hum vibrated through the air, tingling against my fingertips.
My HUDD flickered to life, a line of text hovering above the device:
[ARCBOLT LAUNCHER]
For the discerning hero who loves precision and a bit of chaos. Because nothing says “I’m serious about survival” like strapping a science experiment to your wrist and praying for the best! Launches charged projectiles to stun or disable your foes—or yourself, if you’re feeling adventurous! Powered by 4 MP per shot, it's the perfect blend of cutting-edge tech and reckless ambition. Warning: Side effects may include minor electrocution, bad aim-induced regret, and zero customer support. Use at your own peril. No refunds, no sympathy.
Elmo’s laugh crackled in my ear, full of malicious delight. “Perfect! A weapon that’s as unpredictable as you are. Now the real fun begins!”
Elmo’s voice buzzed to life as I secured the launcher to my wrist. “Well, isn’t this just peachy? Blake Morgan, King of Dumb Luck, strikes again. I was really hoping you’d wander in circles a bit longer—maybe trigger a death trap or two. But no—straight to the shiny tech toy. How adorably predictable.”
Elmo’s voice piped up immediately, dripping with its usual blend of sarcasm and smugness. “Oh, this should be good. Watching you fumble around with advanced tech is like seeing a toddler try to juggle chainsaws. Entertaining, but doomed.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Elmo. Really inspiring stuff.”
The launcher’s hum seemed to respond to my movements, its faint vibrations increasing when I flexed my fingers. I focused, trying to feel for something, anything, that might indicate how to activate it properly.
“Okay, so... mana,” I mumbled. “You said this thing uses it. How do I even—”
Before I could finish, a flicker of light pulsed along the Arcbolt’s tip, like it was mocking me for asking such a dumb question.
“Ah, yes,” Elmo said, his tone a syrupy mixture of patronizing and amused. “The eternal question of beginners everywhere: how do magic? Spoiler alert: it’s all about intent. Think of mana like mental currency. Focus on what you want to happen, and the system does the rest—unless, of course, you’re an idiot. Then it does nothing.”
I took a slow breath, ignoring the jab. Focus on intent, huh? That was vague as hell, but I didn’t have a better plan. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the idea of energy flowing through me, into the launcher.
At first, nothing happened. Then, faintly, I felt a tug—a draining sensation, like a slow leak from somewhere deep inside. The Arcbolt Launcher buzzed louder, and when I opened my eyes, a bright blue charge had built up at the tip, crackling with electricity.
“Well, look at you,” Elmo quipped. “You managed to pour liquid dumb into a high-tech cup without spilling it. I’m so proud.”
“Save the applause,” I shot back. “Still figuring out where to aim this thing.”
I raised my arm, pointing the launcher down the hall. The charge wavered slightly as I adjusted my stance, trying to steady it. My mind raced—what if I missed? What if it backfired? What if Elmo was lying about all of this and I actually did vaporize my own hand?
“You’re overthinking it,” Elmo chimed in, as if reading my mind. “Just aim and fire. Preferably not at your feet, unless you’re curious about how well you can hop on one leg.”
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered.
I focused on releasing the energy, and the launcher answered with a sharp crack. A bolt of electric-blue energy shot out, slamming into the far wall with a burst of sparks. The impact left a small scorch mark, and the charge fizzled out almost instantly.
-4MP
I checked my stats. Sure enough, my MP bar had dropped slightly
MP: 24/28
“Okay, not bad,” I said, inspecting the launcher. “Still got my arm attached, so that’s a win.”
Elmo’s laugh was sharp and condescending. “Congratulations, you’ve graduated from ‘walking hazard’ to ‘slightly less of a liability.’ Try not to let it go to your head.”
Ignoring him, I turned back to the hallway. The launcher’s hum was softer now, waiting, as if it knew I was getting the hang of it.
I experimented a few more times, testing different angles and distances. Each shot drained a bit more mana, and while it didn’t seem like much at first, I quickly realized I’d have to be careful. Firing wildly wasn’t an option—especially if something dangerous was lurking around the next corner.
By the time I’d finished, my MP bar had dropped to about 70%, and I was starting to feel a slight fatigue creeping in. The sensation was subtle, like I’d been holding my breath for too long.
“Lesson learned,” I muttered. “Don’t spam the shiny new toy.”
Elmo snickered. “Oh, but spam is so fun. Just wait until you’re out of mana in a real fight. That’s when the magic really happens—well, actually, that’s when nothing happens. But hey, same difference.”
“Noted,” I said flatly, lowering my arm.
The Arcbolt thrummed softly against my arm, and I couldn’t help but grin. I wasn’t just some clueless schmuck wandering through a death maze anymore. I was a clueless schmuck with firepower. Big difference.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped toward the door. The air seemed heavier, charged with an electric tension that pressed against my skin. Whatever waited on the other side? It wasn’t going to play nice.
The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing yet another dark, cavernous hallway. No surprise there. The stale air carried a faint metallic tang, like rust—or blood. Shadows pooled in every corner, shifting faintly as if something unseen was stirring.
I raised the Arcbolt, keeping it at the ready, my senses prickling with unease. This labyrinth was starting to feel less like a dungeon and more like some sadistic video game. Honestly, I was half-expecting a pop-up ad to offer me a “limited-time loot crate” any second now.
And then, it appeared.
Right in the middle of the room, standing like it had been waiting for me, was a creature that looked like it had escaped from an old Saturday morning cartoon—if the cartoon’s goal was to haunt your childhood nightmares. About three feet tall, it was covered in soft blue fur with a storm cloud emblazoned on its belly. Its wide, comically exaggerated eyes stared at me with the kind of exhausted disappointment usually reserved for late-night customer service reps.
Its permanent frown practically screamed, “Let me tell you about life’s unfairness.”
“Oh, come on,” I muttered, leveling a glare at it. “A tiny, furry disaster waiting to happen. Just my luck.”
The blue bear sighed dramatically, as if I’d personally interrupted its meditation retreat. “Oh, why do these things always happen to me?” it groaned, its voice dripping with existential despair.
“Oh, hell no,” I grumbled, instinctively raising the Arcbolt. Memories of obnoxious cartoon jingles and moralizing lessons about sharing flooded my mind. “I hated you freaks as a kid. Not starting a fan club now.”
Without waiting for a reply, I pulled the trigger.
A sharp crackle of energy burst from the Arcbolt, the charged bolt slamming into the bear’s chest. It didn’t even have time to squeak before it exploded into a puff of smoke and sparkles, its fur turning to glitter that scattered across the room like the aftermath of a failed craft project.
I blinked, my arm still raised. “Well... that was anticlimactic.”
The familiar ding of a notification echoed through my HUDD.
+50XP
I raised an eyebrow. “Well, I guess I can’t complain about free XP.”
The pinkish glow of the bear’s remains fizzled out, leaving behind nothing but faint wisps of smoke. For a second, I half-expected some confetti to fall from the ceiling or maybe an overenthusiastic announcer to shout, “Congratulations, Player One!” But thankfully, even this death maze had limits.
I glanced down at the Arcbolt, still humming faintly against my wrist, and smirked. “Guess you were right, Elmo. This thing is idiot-proof.”
Turning toward the exit, I let the satisfaction of victory wash over me. The rest of this maze wasn’t going to explore itself, and at least I had the Arcbolt for backup now. But as I moved toward the door, a nagging thought wormed its way into my head.
“If only I could turn off that damn ding every time I earn XP,” I muttered under my breath.
Unfortunately, Elmo was always listening.
“Oh, you want me to turn that off?” he chirped, his voice overly chipper, like a waiter offering to refill your drink before dumping it in your lap. “Absolutely! I live to please. Consider it done!”
Before I could object, a sharp, searing pain ripped through my skull.
“AAARGH!” I staggered, clutching my head as agony flared behind my eyes. My knees buckled, and I slammed against the cold stone wall, gasping for breath. It felt like someone had taken a glowing hot poker and jabbed it straight into my brain.
“Oops!” Elmo’s voice cut through the haze of pain, saccharine as ever. “Looks like there’s a teensy-weensy compatibility issue. Maybe I should’ve updated your firmware first?”
“Damn it, Elmo!” I snarled, every word forced out through gritted teeth.
“Oh, relax, Blakey-boy. A little cranial reboot never hurt anyone. Much.”
The pain began to subside, leaving behind a dull throb that pulsed in time with the Arcbolt’s faint hum. I took a few shaky breaths, trying to steady myself.
“You’re the worst AI ever,” I growled, glaring at the empty air in front of me.
“Correction,” Elmo chirped smugly, “I’m the best AI you’ve got. Don’t be ungrateful. Now, let’s go fry something else before you break down crying. Again.”
Ignoring him, I pushed myself upright and took a tentative step forward. The exit loomed ahead, a dark archway that promised more surprises. And knowing my luck, none of them would involve tiny, self-pitying bears.
I flexed my fingers, the Arcbolt thrumming against my wrist like a heartbeat. Whatever came next, I’d be ready—or at least as ready as someone wandering through a death maze with a snarky AI and questionable survival instincts could be.
“You’re welcome!” Elmo’s voice was maddeningly chipper. “And by the way, I might’ve tweaked your neural settings just a little bit while I was at it. It’s not like you were using those neurons, right?”
I clenched my teeth, trying not to scream. “You—”
Before I could finish, I stumbled around a corner, desperate to regain my composure. My boots scuffed against the floor as I straightened up, chest heaving. Whatever insult I’d been preparing for Elmo died on my tongue as I froze mid-step.
A group of plushy, pastel-colored horrors was huddled together in the corridor ahead. All three of them had round, soft bodies and wide, innocent eyes, but there was nothing innocent about the way they stared at me.
The purple bear with the flower on its stomach perked up, its fluffy little arms stretching wide as it squealed in a voice so high-pitched it could shatter glass: “Good times get better when we get along together!”
I stared, blinking. “Nope. Not today.”
Without a second thought, I squeezed the Arcbolt’s trigger. A sharp hum followed by a crackling bolt of energy zipped forward, striking the bear square in its pastel chest. It didn’t even have time to squeak before it disintegrated into a puff of glittery smoke.
+50XP
The other two bears—green with a clover and orange with a heart—whipped around at the sound of their companion’s flamboyant demise. For a split second, they stood frozen, their beady eyes wide with panic. Then, like someone had flipped a switch, they bolted down the corridor in perfect unison.
“Oh, you’re not getting away that easily,” I muttered, taking off after them.
The Arcbolt’s hum intensified as I pushed forward, adrenaline numbing the burn in my legs. My boots pounded against the floor, and the corridor walls blurred as I focused on the retreating bears. Their stubby legs scrambled in synchronized desperation, their pastel forms bouncing absurdly as they fled.
The scene was almost too ridiculous, but damn if I didn’t feel like Jack hunting Danny.
“I have to say,” Elmo chimed in, his voice syrupy with amusement, “this is way more entertaining than I thought it’d be. It’s like watching a nature documentary where the predator is… almost competent.”
“Shut up, Elmo,” I growled, closing the gap.
The bears veered sharply, darting into an open doorway on the right. I followed, skidding around the corner and nearly slamming into the frame. The room was a disorienting explosion of color—pink walls, glittering star decals, and shelves lined with oversized stuffed animals.
Dead center in the room was a makeshift fortress made from overturned toy crates and pillows. The green and orange bears scrambled inside, vanishing behind the barricade with a flurry of squeaky grunts.
I hesitated, glancing at the fort. It looked ridiculous—like something a toddler would build during a sugar-fueled tantrum—but I knew better than to underestimate anything in this nightmare.
“Careful, Blake,” Elmo warned, his tone mockingly grave. “They’ve gone full guerrilla warfare. Expect ambushes. Booby traps. Glitter mines.”
“Thanks for the heads-up, Captain Obvious,” I muttered, edging closer.
I raised the Arcbolt, its hum vibrating through my arm. “Alright, you little psychos. Time’s up.”
As if on cue, a tiny periscope popped up from behind the pillow wall. Two shiny black eyes peeked out, glaring at me with cartoonish malice.
“Traitor!” the green bear screeched.
The orange bear’s voice followed, muffled but defiant. “You’ll never break the bonds of friendship!”
“Bonds of friendship, my ass,” I muttered.
I fired at the periscope. The energy bolt struck, shattering the makeshift spy device and sending sparks flying. The bears screamed in unison, their high-pitched wails piercing enough to make me wince.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“That’s the spirit!” Elmo cheered. “Burn it all down, Blake! Show no mercy!”
“Why do I feel like you’re enjoying this a little too much?”
“Who, me?” Elmo gasped, feigning innocence. “I would never! I’m just here to help!”
Before I could retort, the fort exploded. Not literally—though it might as well have. The bears burst from their hiding place, launching themselves at me with shocking speed. The green one wielded a plastic sword, while the orange one brandished what looked suspiciously like a glitter cannon.
“Oh, hell no.”
I ducked as the green bear swung at my head, its plastic weapon whistling past my ear. The orange bear fired its cannon, and a burst of glitter rained down, coating me in a shimmering, itchy mess.
“Congratulations!” Elmo cackled. “You’re fabulous now!”
“Great,” I snarled, wiping glitter from my face. “Just what I needed.”
The green bear came at me again, its stubby legs propelling it forward with alarming ferocity. I sidestepped and fired the Arcbolt, the shot connecting with a satisfying crack. The bear disintegrated mid-lunge, its plastic sword clattering to the ground.
+50XP
The orange bear hesitated, its cannon trembling in its paws. “I-I’ll do it!” it stammered. “Don’t come any closer!”
I took a step forward, raising the Arcbolt.
“No! I have a family!” it cried.
“Oh, please,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You’re literally stuffed.”
I fired. The bear’s cannon exploded in a burst of glitter and smoke, taking the orange menace with it.
+50XP
The room fell silent except for my heavy breathing and the faint hum of the Arcbolt. Glitter drifted lazily through the air, settling over the battlefield like a sparkly fog.
“Another job well done,” Elmo quipped. “You know, Blake, I think you’ve got a real talent for this. Have you considered going pro?”
“Shut up, Elmo,” I said, already dreading whatever came next.
Elmo piped up, the mockery in its voice unmistakable. “See? Told you, Blake. You get it now. No time for hugs, just pure, unfiltered chaos. I’m starting to think we’re kindred spirits, you and me.”
I shook my head, the weight of absurdity settling over me like a thick fog. “Yeah, we’re practically the same. Me, you, and my growing collection of bear corpses.”
“Oh, you really think so?” Elmo’s voice was an eerie mix of amusement and challenge.
I froze.
The realization slammed into me like a ton of bricks. I’d just made a mistake I could never take back.
“Wait… hold on. What the hell did I just say?”
I stopped in my tracks, a cold shiver running down my spine. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if the dread was coming from the labyrinth or from the voice now dripping with smug satisfaction.
Elmo’s tone shifted, almost thoughtful. “You’re telling me you don’t see the similarities between us? A guy stuck in a twisted maze of death, forced to fight bizarre, fluffy creatures for some mysterious, god-knows-what reason... and me? A sarcastic AI that thrives on your suffering? Seems like a match made in… well, not heaven, but definitely somewhere.”
My teeth ground together. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered. “I didn’t just make that comparison out loud, did I?”
The AI giggled, its digital voice sharp and twisted, like nails on a chalkboard. “Oh, Blake, you’re so much fun when you’re in denial. You could really lean into this chaotic companion role. It could be… entertaining.”
I rolled my eyes, resisting the urge to punch something in the wall. “Great, just what I needed. A twisted mirror of myself.”
Elmo’s voice softened, syrupy sweet, like it was toying with me. “Oh, Blake, don’t be like that. I mean, let’s be honest—what would you be doing without me? Probably getting hugged by more fuzzy bears, right?”
I sighed deeply, rubbing my temples as the weight of the situation crushed down on me. The labyrinth, the bears, the sheer weirdness of it all—it was too much. But now? Now I had to deal with the fact that I just bonded with a sentient glitch in a messed-up simulation, and it was probably enjoying this more than I was.
With a frustrated grunt, I muttered, “Let’s just keep moving. I’m already regretting everything.”
I turned the corner, bracing myself for whatever new hell awaited me.
But as I walked, the air around me felt… different. Heavier, almost like I had crossed into some twisted dreamscape. My grip on the Arcbolt tightened instinctively, a cold prickling at the back of my neck.
And then, I saw it.
A massive chamber stretched out before me, its walls reaching up like giants looming over me. The floor was covered in soft, pastel-colored carpet, the kind you’d find in a nursery—not a maze of death. Everything felt too… innocent. Too peaceful.
A chill crawled up my spine, but I pushed forward, every step calculated, cautious. The whole place was wrong, like a sick parody of a child’s fantasy world.
I could almost hear Elmo’s voice already. “Oh, don’t worry, Blake. This will be so much fun. It’s just a playroom of death, right?”
I didn’t respond, but the tension in my chest was building.
Something told me this place was only going to get weirder.
And there they were, sitting around the room like they were at some kind of support group for stuffed animals—at least twenty bears.
Each one stared at me with those huge, innocent eyes and that dumb, cartoonish smile painted across their fuzzy faces. Some had rainbows, others had stars, a couple had flowers, and one... one had a giant cupcake on its stomach. Because, of course, there was a bear with a cupcake on it. Why the hell not?
I let out a long, defeated sigh, my shoulders slumping. “What the hell is this? A bear convention?”
Elmo’s voice buzzed in my ear, far too chipper. “Ooh, look at that. You really outdid yourself this time, Blake. Didn't think you'd ever stumble into the middle of a... bear orgy? No, wait, that’s not it. Ugh, whatever. It's like a bear convention, but way worse. Way worse.”
I shot an irritated glare at the HUDD. “Elmo, you have the worst timing.”
“Pfft, I’m just here for the show,” Elmo quipped, clearly loving my discomfort. “Don’t be shy. Take it all in. You’ve got your classic bears, your limited-edition bears, and if you’re lucky, you might even spot the ultra-rare ‘What the hell is that?’ bear.”
I exhaled sharply, gripping the Arcbolt tighter. “Classic bears, limited editions, and a ‘What the hell is that’ bear? Perfect. Just what I needed today.”
“Oh, come on!” Elmo’s voice practically oozed glee. “Don’t tell me you're not a little curious. Look at them—each one’s a masterpiece of personality! Like that one over there.”
I didn’t want to, but I followed his suggestion. Immediately regretted it.
One bear, lavender-colored and taller than the others, sported a cheeseburger on its stomach. It raised a paw and waved, grinning so wide I thought its face might split. I blinked, my brain unable to make sense of what I was seeing.
“Why… why a cheeseburger?” I muttered, horrified.
The bear took a step forward, proudly pointing at its stomach like it was showing off some kind of achievement. It didn’t speak. Thank god. But its mere existence was unsettling enough.
“Oh, and look at this!” Elmo piped up, his voice dripping with mock excitement. “The blue one next to it’s got a toothbrush. Gotta respect dental hygiene, right? Nothing says ‘I’m ready for anything’ like a proper toothbrush bear.”
I closed my eyes, my grip on the Arcbolt tightening. “This is insanity. Pure, unfiltered insanity.”
Elmo chuckled, clearly enjoying my spiraling. “That’s the spirit! Keep going, Blake. You’ve got this. Just don’t go too far—who knows what kind of creepy-cute creatures you might meet next?”
I exhaled slowly, fighting the urge to turn tail and run. But whatever was going on here—this messed-up, pastel-colored nightmare—wasn’t going to go away. So, I gritted my teeth and prepared for whatever other horrors this place had in store.
If I was lucky, maybe I’d find a way out before the bears started getting creative.
Sure enough, a chubby blue bear waddled closer, its stomach proudly displaying a shiny, cartoonish toothbrush crossed with a smiling tube of toothpaste. It raised both stubby arms like it was expecting a standing ovation.
“Okay,” I said, stepping back, eyeing it like a bomb ready to go off. “This is getting out of hand.”
“Getting?” Elmo’s voice was practically wheezing with laughter. “Buddy, we passed ‘out of hand’ a long time ago. Look at the orange one! What even is that?”
I squinted at the next bear, its bright orange fur practically glowing. On its stomach, a crudely drawn volcano bubbled ominously, cartoon lava spilling down its sides. It bounced on its tiny feet, looking entirely too enthusiastic for something that was probably going to try and kill me.
“Are they supposed to be random?” I asked, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.
“Oh, no, no, no,” Elmo replied, dragging out each syllable like it was a punchline. “Totally intentional. Very thematic. You know, bears representing important life values, like cheeseburgers and volcanoes.”
“Important life values,” I repeated flatly, taking another step back as the orange bear let out an excited squeal and jumped in my direction.
“Absolutely!” Elmo chimed in, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Although that green one over there might be my personal favorite. Look at it—it’s got a sock on its belly!”
I looked, and sure enough, there it was: a lime-green bear, grinning from ear to ear, with a singular cartoon sock plastered across its stomach.
“A sock,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “Of course. Why not?”
“Right? It’s adorable,” Elmo cooed. “Come on, Blake, you can’t shoot the sock bear. That one’s got real charm.”
“Watch me.”
Before Elmo could respond, I raised the Arcbolt and fired.
The sock bear exploded in a puff of smoke and sparkles, its remains leaving a faint, almost soothing smell of laundry detergent in the air.
+50 XP
“Cold,” Elmo said, clearly unimpressed. “But fair. Okay, so the sock bear didn’t make it. But what about Mr. Cheeseburger? He’s still waiting for his big moment.”
I had no intention of giving Mr. Cheeseburger a chance. But as I turned my attention to the bear with the cheeseburger stomach, the orange one—volcano bear—launched itself at me with a surprisingly acrobatic leap.
“Shit!” I shouted, ducking as the volcano bear landed with an explosion of confetti and fake lava, sending me tumbling backward. It immediately bounced to its feet, grinning like a maniac.
“Oh no, you don’t!” I shouted, fumbling for my Arcbolt.
The orange bear growled, a strange, low sound, before it raised its paws high and—of all things—shot a stream of glittering lava straight at me.
I dodged, barely, as the fake lava splashed across the ground, hissing and smoking. It wasn’t real lava, but it looked real enough to make my stomach churn. The bear hopped closer, its volcano belly rumbling ominously.
“Okay, that’s it,” I muttered, aiming at its fuzzy face.
Before I could fire, the bear opened its mouth wide and shot a stream of hot dog sausages in my direction.
I barely ducked in time. The sausages sizzled across the floor like weird, oversized projectiles, leaving behind a faint smell of charred meat.
Elmo howled with laughter in my ear. “You just got attacked by sausage fire. This is amazing.”
“Shut up!” I growled, firing at the bear just as it lunged at me again.
The Arcbolt shot out, striking the volcano bear in the stomach. The explosion was enough to send it flying back in a glorious display of glitter and smoke.
+50 XP
But the battle wasn’t over. From the corner of my eye, I saw all the bears start to move.
“Uh oh,” I muttered, noticing how the bears seemed to synchronize their movements, a horrifyingly coordinated mass of pastel-colored fluff. “It’s like they’re... ready to fight.”
“Elmo, please tell me this is part of the ‘random’ life values you mentioned,” I said, scanning the room for an exit.
“Elmo’s not helping right now, Blake,” the AI said, a note of mock sympathy in its voice. “Looks like you’re on your own for this one.”
The lavender cheeseburger bear suddenly pointed at me. “Brrraaannnggg! Brrraaannnggg!” it shrieked, its cartoonish eyes narrowing. The sock bear’s one remaining foot stomped, a rhythmic thud that somehow felt like it was charging me.
I raised my Arcbolt and steadied my breathing, ready for the next wave of absurd chaos.
“You might want to prepare for this, Blake,” Elmo warned, clearly relishing the mess unfolding. “Looks like these bears aren’t here to hug anymore.”
I turned toward the cheeseburger bear, who now looked significantly less cheerful and was taking a cautious step backward.
“You really think I’m going to let that one stick around?” I asked, powering up the Arcbolt.
“Let’s be honest,” I said, aiming squarely at the cheeseburger’s googly eyes. “I’m doing the world a favor here.”
Thrum.
The cheeseburger bear didn’t even have time to blink before it disintegrated into a rain of smoke and sparkles.
+50 XP
Elmo whistled. “Wow. You’re really not holding back, huh?”
“Nope,” I replied, already scanning the room for the next target.
One by one, the bears began to shuffle nervously, their stubby legs and arms scrabbling as they attempted to form some kind of retreat. But the room was too crowded, and there was nowhere for them to go.
I spotted the volcano bear next, its bright orange fur standing out like a neon sign. It waved its tiny arms in what looked like a desperate attempt to ward me off, but I wasn’t buying it.
“Okay, lava boy,” I said, lining up my shot. “Let’s see if you erupt when you explode.”
The Arcbolt fired, and the volcano bear went up in a dazzling burst of smoke and flame-colored glitter.
+50 XP
“Wow,” Elmo said, his voice tinged with admiration. “That was... honestly kind of impressive. Who knew a volcano bear would go out with such flair?”
“Just doing my job,” I said, turning toward the remaining bears.
They were huddled together now, a pitiful cluster of pastel fur and over-the-top designs. There was one with a rainbow, another with a musical note, and even one with a freaking taco.
“I don’t care how cute they think they are,” I muttered. “They’re all going down.”
“Hey, hey, now,” Elmo said. “Don’t forget—every one of these little guys is worth 50 XP. So really, they’re more like walking loot drops than actual enemies.”
“Yeah, but they’re getting annoying,” I retorted, scanning the group for the next target.
I focused on the rainbow bear, its colors almost blinding in the dim light. It flinched as I aimed at it, a pathetic squeak escaping its plush lips.
“I’ll make you disappear, too,” I growled, pulling the trigger.
The Arcbolt shot out, and the rainbow bear exploded with a burst of dazzling, multi-colored confetti.
+50 XP
Elmo chuckled. “Nicely done! Now you just need the ‘What the hell is that’ bear for the complete set.”
I smirked. “Yeah, because this is just so complete already.”
As I turned to face the last bear—this one with a taco emblazoned on its belly—it took a step forward, its little arms raised as if to defend itself.
“Oh no, you don’t,” I muttered, aiming the Arcbolt.
“Wait!” Elmo’s voice took on a note of urgency. “Maybe you should try talking to it first. You know, diplomacy or something?”
“Diplomacy?” I snorted. “In a room full of combat-ready bears?”
But then I noticed the taco bear’s wide, pleading eyes. It was looking up at me, its paw raised as if it was surrendering.
“Uh, maybe not?” Elmo suggested, suddenly unsure. “It looks... kind of sad.”
“Sad or not,” I said, “it’s going down.”
I fired, and the taco bear went out with a quiet poof, leaving only a pile of crumbs and hot sauce.
+50 XP
Another bear, this one with a stomach image of a smiling tree, fell with a puff and a faint whiff of pine.
+50 XP
What even was the point of these things? Encouraging teamwork? Spreading joy? If so, mission failed. You don’t send hugs into a death labyrinth. They didn’t stand a chance. Should I feel bad? Maybe. Do I? Not even a little.
The bear with the stomach design of a slice of pizza practically exploded in a shower of red and gold sparkles.
Pizza Bear? Really? Who thought this was a good idea? An eldritch marketing team that thought "Pizza and Friendship" would be the ultimate motivator? Ridiculous.
Elmo piped up mid-slaughter. “You know, statistically speaking, this is probably the highest body count you’ve ever racked up in a single day. Proud of you, champ.”
Blake smirked, lining up another shot. Proud of me? Yeah, thanks, Elmo. I'll be sure to add "Professional Bear Assassin" to my résumé right under "Garage Dweller Extraordinaire."
The last two bears tried to huddle together—one with a star, the other with a soccer ball. They didn’t get the chance to form any sort of defense before they both went down in quick succession, leaving nothing behind but glitter and faintly glowing scorch marks.
Blake finally lowered the Arcbolt, his arm trembling slightly from the exertion. The room was eerily quiet now, save for the soft hum of the weapon as it powered down.
+448 XP
LEVEL UP
ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: "TEDDY-TERMINATOR" FRIENDSHIP IS FUTILE.
I stared at the glowing notification, my eyes narrowing at the obnoxiously celebratory fanfare. Elmo even hummed along to the tune, clearly enjoying himself.
But I wasn’t buying the cheerful vibe. Something felt... off.
"Wait," I muttered, the Arcbolt still buzzing faintly in my hand. "There were twenty bears. Twenty. Shouldn’t I have gotten, like, a thousand XP or something? Why only 648?"
Elmo’s voice oozed smugness. “Ah, welcome to the harsh reality of RPG mechanics, buddy. You see, any XP earned over your current level’s cap gets unceremoniously dumped into the void. Wasted. Poof! Gone forever.”
I froze, staring at the now-dim Arcbolt like it had betrayed me. “So, you’re telling me all that effort—shooting pizza bears, soccer ball bears, and God-knows-what-else bears—just vanished into nothing?”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Elmo chirped, his tone oozing false sympathy. “You still leveled up! Isn’t that what really matters? Think of it as... giving back to the XP economy. You’re a philanthropist now!”
I rubbed my temples, the beginnings of a headache creeping in. “A philanthropist? Really? For what? Contributing to some cosmic dumpster fire of unused experience points?!”
“Exactly!” Elmo replied brightly. “And honestly, if anyone needs to thank you, it’s me. Watching you zap a rainbow menagerie into oblivion was the highlight of my day. You even got an achievement out of it! ‘Friendship is futile.’ I’m framing that one in my core memory banks.”
I groaned, leaning against the wall to steady myself. “So let me get this straight: I just obliterated twenty sparkly bears, put my sanity on the line, and I still got shortchanged?”
Elmo’s voice became unexpectedly serious, though there was still that mischievous edge. “Hey, in the grand scheme of things, it’s a small price to pay for the sheer entertainment value. Trust me, you’re getting your money’s worth.”
I shot a glare at the Arcbolt, the weapon’s faint hum mocking me. “Great. Now I’m a comedy show for a sadistic AI. Just what I always wanted.”
“Look at the bright side,” Elmo chimed, “at least now you’ve got some serious XP for future challenges. And an awesome achievement, to boot.”
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I’ll take the XP. The achievement? Eh, not so much.”
I pushed off the wall, muttering under my breath, “This system is a scam.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Elmo agreed cheerfully. “But it’s our scam, Blake. Now, chin up! You’re officially Level 1! That’s like, 100% more competent than you were an hour ago. Go you!”
I paused, blinking in confusion. “Wait, Level 1? I thought I was—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Elmo cut me off, “you’re still catching up to the system. You just leveled up. Don’t sweat it.”
I frowned, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me. “So, what now? Do I just—”
“Elmo! Let him finish!” a voice suddenly rang out from nowhere, almost startling me into dropping the Arcbolt.
“Oh, please,” Elmo snorted, “you’d think you’d be used to this by now.”
“No, I haven’t gotten used to it!” I snapped, frustrated. “This is insane. Can I at least check the details on my level-up before something else absurd happens?”
“Check the details? Yeah, you probably should,” Elmo replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t wanna miss out on all the fun. It’s a special day for you, Blake!”
With a resigned sigh, I activated the menu and pulled up the details of my level-up. A few things immediately caught my eye:
LEVEL 1 - XP: 1000/3000
ABILITIES:
ARCBOLT NOVICE
Your aim improves by 5%. Yeah, that’ll help, right?
ACHIEVEMENTS:
TEDDY-TERMINATOR – Friendship is futile.
Deal 25% more damage against stuffed animals.
All stuffed animals are automatically hostile.
I scrolled through, a heavy feeling of disbelief sinking in. "Wait a minute... is this it? That’s all I got for massacring twenty bears?" I muttered, eyeing the stats with incredulity.
“Yeah, I’m sure you were expecting more, huh? Sorry to disappoint,” Elmo said with a casual shrug, though I could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “It’s like an economy, Blake. You don’t get a gold star every time you pick up a wrench and tighten a bolt. Sometimes, you gotta go full bear terminator to see a decent return.”
I let out a long, frustrated sigh, staring at the screen. “I guess every point counts, right?” I muttered, mostly to myself, but the sarcasm was thick in my voice.
Elmo perked up almost instantly. “Well, not every point,” he chimed in, practically savoring my misery. He paused, as if waiting for the weight of his words to sink in. “But hey, who’s keeping score?”
I didn’t respond, instead turning and pushing through the next door, barely registering Elmo’s incessant chatter. I just needed to get through this next phase, whatever the hell it was.
The room was dark, but something massive loomed ahead. As the door swung open, I froze in place. My eyes widened as I took in the sight before me.
A gigantic stuffed lion, nearly twelve feet tall, stood dead center. Its plush mane looked absurdly well-groomed—like someone had spent way too much time brushing it. And right in the middle of its chest was a glittering heart, topped with a shiny gold crown.
I blinked, unsure whether I was seeing things. “What the hell is that?” I muttered, barely able to wrap my brain around the sight.
“Oh, that?” Elmo’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “That’s the ‘Sock Lion,’ a rare collectible! Yeah, definitely gonna ask for a hug, so brace yourself.”
I turned slowly, staring at him like he was losing his mind. “Sock Lion?”
“Yup,” Elmo said, way too casually. “Big deal in the plushie world. You should’ve seen the original design... though, I think I left it in a sock drawer somewhere. Real collector’s item. Worth a fortune. If you’re into that sort of thing.”
I shook my head, disbelief thick in my voice. “What do you mean ‘sock’?”
“Never mind,” Elmo cut in, clearly uninterested in explaining. “Just go ahead and shoot it. It’s probably one of those ‘don’t hug me, I’ll crush you’ types. Unless you're feeling brave and wanna hug it out. Could be an... educational experience for both of us.”
I took a cautious step forward, my eyes glued to the massive stuffed lion as I readied the Arcbolt in my hands. Its enormous, glittering eyes seemed to glimmer with a sinister gleam, its plush body an absurd nightmare made flesh—or, in this case, fabric.
Just as I started to move, the lion’s mouth opened, its voice deep and surprisingly sincere. “Sometimes, all it takes is a little courage to overcome your fears and face the world with a smile.”
I blinked, caught off guard by the bizarre sentiment. Was this thing for real?
“Yeah, thanks for the life advice, buddy,” I muttered, though my tone was flat, entirely lacking in amusement. I wasn’t in the mood for pep talks from a oversized stuffed animal.
Without warning, the lion lunged, swiping a massive paw that sent a shock of pain through my side as I barely managed to dodge. My breath hitched, and I staggered back, narrowly avoiding a second swipe.
“What the hell?!” I gasped, my hand instinctively jerking toward the Arcbolt’s trigger. “I thought you were just some big teddy bear?!”
“Oh, sweetie,” Elmo’s voice came through, utterly unfazed. “You should’ve known better. Nothing’s ever as cuddly as it looks, especially in this messed-up world.”
I squeezed the trigger, but the shot only grazed the lion’s plush fur. It didn’t flinch. If anything, it seemed even more determined now, its glittering eyes narrowing.
I gritted my teeth and fired again. This time, the bolt hit it square in the chest, right on the glittering heart emblem. The lion staggered back a step, but it didn’t go down. It just roared, a guttural, almost mechanical growl, and swiped at me with a speed that no stuffed animal should have. The claws caught me across the chest, sending me crashing to the floor with a sharp grunt. Pain shot through my ribs, and I tasted blood in my mouth.
I barely had time to gather myself before the lion lunged again, its claws flashing toward me. I scrambled to my feet, my head spinning, and fired once more—this time hitting the lion’s shoulder. The shot echoed with a sharp, metallic screech, like something that had lived far too long in a toy chest, forgotten and bitter.
But it was still standing. Still coming.
My breath hitched as I felt the pressure in my chest intensify. This thing wasn’t just a stuffed animal—it was a nightmare in plush form. I couldn’t afford to mess around anymore. I couldn’t afford to lose focus.
The lion charged again, claws slashing. I dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the strike, but its tail whipped around with surprising force, slamming into my ribs. Pain exploded through me, and I gasped, clutching at my side, the sharp sting of the injury almost blinding.
I was running out of time.
With every ounce of strength I had left, I steadied the Arcbolt, lining up my shot. The lion’s face was a grotesque display of faux sincerity—its gleaming eyes locked onto mine, daring me to take it down.
“Time for a nap,” I muttered, a dark edge to my voice.
I fired.
The shot hit square in the lion’s head, and with a deep, rumbling groan, the colossal creature crumpled to the floor. It collapsed in a wave of sparkles and synthetic stuffing, disintegrating into a cloud of glitter and foam.
+2000 XP
LEVEL UP
I staggered back, blood dripping from my lip, my chest heaving as the adrenaline slowly started to fade. The weight of the Arcbolt felt heavier now, like it was mocking my exhaustion. I wiped my mouth and let out a long, shaky sigh of relief.
“Pfft, nothing to it,” Elmo chimed in, his voice light as ever. “Just a big ol’ plushie with delusions of grandeur. You did good, champ.”
I glared at the lion’s disintegrating body as it dissolved into nothingness, smoke and glitter fading into the air. A strange mix of triumph and exhaustion flooded through me. I should’ve felt more victorious, but all I could think about was how much it had hurt—how much it had taken out of me.
“Yeah, well, I’m definitely not signing up for any more motivational speeches anytime soon,” I muttered under my breath, wiping the blood from my lip.
The thought of what else this insane game might throw at me lingered in my mind. I wasn’t sure whether I was ready for whatever came next... but there was no going back now.