I took aim at the Trickster with the Arcane Thread, the golden glow of the Aerlyntium a stubborn warmth in my palm. The hunt was on.

I exhaled, steadying my aim. The Goblin Trickster twirled the shimmering thread between its fingers, its beady eyes locked onto mine, a sneer carved across its face. I didn’t give it the satisfaction of hesitating.

Thwip!

The arrow streaked through the air and embedded itself in the goblin’s shoulder. It screeched, dropping the thread as it staggered back. Before it could dissolve into mist, I lunged forward, boots skidding on the crumbling platform. My fingers closed around the fallen thread, the delicate fibers pulsing faintly with magic.

Arcane Thread Acquired — 12/25 Units

Not enough, but it was a start.

I turned, eyes flicking to the next Trickster, the one juggling crystal shards like it was performing in a circus. It cackled and flipped a shard into the air, catching it deftly.

“Not today,” I muttered, drawing another arrow.

{“Hurry it up, Legolas,”} Aurentum drawled. {“They’re not going to stand there forever.”}

I loosed the arrow. The shaft punched into the goblin’s thigh. It howled, dropping the shards in surprise. I sprinted forward, my boots pounding on the unsteady stone. The platform quivered beneath me, but I didn’t stop.

I slid the last few feet, snatching up the crystal shards before they could tumble into the abyss. The sharp edges bit into my palm.

Refined Crystal Shard Acquired — 5/10 Units

Still not enough. My teeth ground together in frustration.

A shadow fell across me. I looked up just in time to see a third Trickster leaping down from above, a wicked grin splitting its face, daggers poised to gut me. Instinct took over. I rolled backward, the goblin’s blades clanging against the stone where my chest had been.

Before it could recover, I sprang up, an arrow already nocked. I aimed point-blank and fired. The goblin’s eyes bulged, and it burst into mist, leaving behind a small splinter of wood, tangled in moss.

I grabbed it, the damp texture squishing slightly in my grip.

Moss-Covered Wood Acquired — 8/15 Units

{“Well, well,”} Aurentum said, his voice somewhere between impressed and mocking. {“Looks like you’re halfway to not being a total failure.”}

“Halfway doesn’t get me out of here,” I growled, stuffing the materials into my pack. I glanced at the platforms still stretching toward the jewel-encrusted tree. The remaining Tricksters were starting to wise up, their grins faltering, their illusions flickering nervously.

The oasis groaned, another section of the floor crumbling into the void. Time was running out.

I drew a deep breath, feeling the weight of the half-full materials pressing against my back. Sweat stung my eyes, but I ignored it.

“Alright,” I muttered. “Let’s finish this.”

{“That’s the spirit,”} Aurentum said, dry as ever. {“Onward to more death-defying idiocy.”}

I couldn’t help but grin. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

I took off, bow ready, eyes locked on the remaining Tricksters.

The hunt wasn’t over yet.

The last Trickster dissolved into smoke, leaving me with half the materials I needed and a sour taste in my mouth. The Aerlyntium in my hand pulsed softly, its light flickering, waiting, reminding me how close I was to making this count. But close wasn’t enough.

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I scanned the oasis. The collapsing platforms and shimmering water were nothing but dead ends. No more Tricksters. No more easy answers.

I let out a slow breath. “This floor’s dry. There’s nothing left here.”

{“Finally figured that out, did you?”} Aurentum’s voice slithered into my mind, tinged with his usual aloof cynicism. {“It’s almost impressive how long you can wander around expecting miracles.”}

I clenched my jaw. “Do you have an actual suggestion, or are you just here to gloat?”

Aurentum’s sigh was theatrical. {“Fine. You’re not going to like this, but there’s one door left. The one over there, behind the sand dune.”}

I followed his mental nudge and spotted it—a narrow doorway almost swallowed by the drifting sands, half-hidden like it didn’t want to be found. My stomach tightened. I’d been through every other room on this cursed floor. This door wasn’t on my map.

I swallowed. “What’s behind it?”

{“Who knows?”} Aurentum replied, too casual. {“Maybe it’s a lovely spa. Maybe it’s a room full of angry death traps. Could be both! Life’s a mystery.”}

“Helpful as always,” I muttered, but my feet were already moving.

I scrambled over the shifting sand, grains trickling into my boots. The doorway loomed, the shadows within ink-black and indifferent. My fingers grazed the stone frame, cold and rough under my touch. A shiver danced down my spine.

I glanced back at the crumbling oasis. There was no going back. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

For a moment, there was nothing. No sound, no light, just the crushing weight of the unknown pressing against my ribs. My breath echoed louder than it should.

Then, with a faint snap, torches flared to life along the walls, casting a wavering orange glow. The air smelled of damp stone, old paper, and something metallic, like rusted iron.

I took a cautious step forward, my boots scraping on smooth stone.

Shelves lined the walls, their wooden frames warped with age. Rolls of fabric, glittering with faint magic, were crammed onto them haphazardly. Piles of shattered crystal lay scattered across the floor, sparkling like fragments of a fallen star. Strange, twisted branches covered in damp moss dangled from the ceiling, casting distorted shadows that danced along the walls.

My heart pounded. This wasn’t a forge, a gauntlet, or a collapsing oasis.

This was something else.

{“Well, well,”} Aurentum murmured, his voice edged with curiosity. {“Looks like you found the Storeroom of Scraps.”}

“The what?” I whispered, eyes flicking across the chaos of forgotten treasures and discarded experiments.

{“A little-known dumping ground for the goblins’ failed creations and abandoned projects,”} Aurentum explained, his tone suspiciously helpful. {“It’s like a junk drawer of magical odds and ends. Exactly the kind of place you’ll find the rest of your precious materials—if you don’t get blown up first.”}

“Comforting,” I muttered.

I took a cautious step inside. The air crackled faintly, like static before a storm. The shadows between the shelves seemed to shift, but there was no going back now.

I tightened my grip on the bow, knuckles aching from the pressure. Every step forward felt like a gamble, a breath held too long. But whatever was waiting in this shadow-choked corridor, I’d deal with it. I didn’t have a choice.

The door swung shut behind me with a dull, definitive thud. The sound reverberated through the empty space, sealing me in a forgotten dark that pressed in from all sides. The temperature dropped a notch, and I could almost feel the darkness breathing.

Then the carpets started to glow.

Threads of sickly blue light crept along the edges of the fabric, twisting into a pattern that was all too familiar. It was that stupid maze again — the one with the magical mural that had already claimed one of my lives.

A familiar voice, dripping with condescension, slithered into my mind.

{You haven’t activated the magical mural either? What did you even do on your run through this floor?}

I clenched my teeth. “Well, the last one killed me. I wasn’t about to repea—”

{Just do it, you coward.} The voice curled around the word like a sneer. {I chose you because you’re too stupid to know when to quit. I mean, you were always an outrageously brave kid on those streets, weren’t you?}

A bitter laugh scraped up my throat, but I swallowed it down. Was that supposed to be encouragement? Because it felt more like a slap to the back of the head.

Before I could retort, the air shifted. The cold became sharper, tinged with an electric hum. I looked up, heart hammering, just as a glimmering shape appeared in the darkness. It descended slowly, spinning like a forgotten leaf caught on a breeze. The glow intensified, casting fractured light across the walls, like the maze itself was watching.

The first Memory Core of the run.

It hovered before me, a delicate sphere of shifting light and shadow, pulsing with potential and dread. I reached out, fingers brushing its cool surface.