Having cleared the spider chamber and given Tusk’s insistent grumbling, they stopped in a corridor between rooms and sat for a moment, unpacking the supplies and checking what food would be available.

Rations consisted of a series of bland-tasting rectangular bars that looked and tasted like protein bars. There were twenty-one of them in all, along with three water bottles and a small packet of dried fruit. It was a meager meal, and Tusk immediately complained that seven days on rations would likely kill him.

“Maybe we can supplement the rations,” Vella suggested. “Is there anything in The Knowledge about alternative food sources?”

The unnamed shook his head. “Not really. There is a chamber with oversized mushrooms that might be okay to eat, but I never tried them. To be honest, I wasn’t really thinking of food when I was testing out the Rat Run. I guess I figured that wouldn’t be a problem, and I died so quickly that I was never really that hungry.”

Tusk popped the last of his protein bar into his mouth, chewing miserably.

“Well, I say we add that to our list. We need to find something to kill and eat.”

Vella threw a thumb over her shoulder. “What about the plants we killed?”

The half-orc pretended to gag. “You mean the ones that smelled like old butt? No thanks. We need meat. Maybe, if we’re lucky, we’ll come across a chicken chamber?”

“And what about fire?” Vella asked. “Or are you planning on eating them raw and taking your chances?”

Tush shrugged. “Another day with these protein bars and I’ll be ready to eat anything.”

The unnamed finished his own bar.

“There is another option,” he suggested. “Instead of rationing the bars, we could go through them more quickly. Eat two or even three a day.”

Vella frowned. “That would leave us starving for the last few days. If you’re right about this place getting harder the closer we get to the end, that’s when we’d need the most energy.”

He shook his head, the rough idea he’d been formulating coming into sharp relief.

“Not if one of us dies fairly regularly.”

That drew puzzled looks from the others as he continued.

“Every time we get reset after we die, hunger and tiredness and everything else like that resets, right? So, if I just wait until I’m super hungry and then reset, it will be just like having a meal again. I’ve got at least four deaths to play with. I could die once a day after the first few days and still be fine to get through the maze.”

The unnamed recalled his latest numbers.

“Points aren’t going to be a problem, because of the fraternity boost I’m getting, so I can afford to reset every day or so, and that way, you guys get more food.”

Vella smiled, shaking her head.

“And what about the mirror chamber? There’s a fifty-foot drop now between that room and the one beneath. How are you planning on getting down there in one piece? And how long is it going to take you to reach us? Even if you can get through all the rooms and even if we both stay alive, by the time you reach us, you’ll be exhausted and probably ravenous too. It’s fine on day one and maybe even day two, but once we’re forty rooms deep into the maze, it’s going to be a nightmare getting back to us. That delay will also cause issues too. We won’t be able to safely continue while you’re catching up with us.”

The unnamed opened his mouth, about to argue his point, but he quickly realized that she was right. Offering to reset himself so that they could have more food to eat might have seemed heroic, but in this instance, it was also counterproductive.

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

“You’re right,” he admitted.

“We’ll just have to put up with being hungry,” Vella replied, packing the supplies back into the bag. “If we find another source of food which is safe, then fine. But otherwise, we’re just going to have to get used to being a little hungry.”

“A little?!” Tusk complained. “I’m already thinking about how hard it would be to cook you both up.”

Vella chuckled at that. “I’d like to see you try.” She turned to the unnamed.

“Wait a minute. I thought your whole deal was sorcery? Can’t you magic us up some food?”

He shook his head. “I’ve only ever done magic once, and I’ve got no idea what I actually did. I was half dead at the time and…it kind of just happened.”

“You must remember something though. That’s the whole reason you’re here at the Brawler’s Guild after all.”

A vision returned of that pivotal moment on the floor of the arena, blood dripping from his fingers into the symbol he’d marked out on the wall. He reached out, brushing stone dust over the floor in front of him and then slowly marking out the symbol from memory. As his finger described the curing lines of the rune, he once more felt an odd moment of connection with the symbol, just like he had in the Blood Pits when he’d first marked it out in the sand.

He leaned back, motioning toward the rune.

“That’s it, I think. That’s all I know.”

Vella leaned forward. “I’ve seen that before. I can’t remember where, but I’ve definitely seen it.”

“The letter phi,” the unnamed said. “It’s a little tilted, but it looks just the same. It’s from the Greek alphabet.”

Vella clicked her fingers. “That’s it! That’s where I’ve seen it before. The golden mean. I remember my math teacher going on and on about it.”

Tusk leaned over, squinting to try and get a better look at the symbol. “Looks kind of like a snail from where I’m sitting. Not a golden bean.”

“Mean!” Vella hissed. “It’s used in math and physics. I can’t remember what it represents, but I remember it coming up in a few exams back when I was younger.”

She made a show of cringing.

“I hate math.”

Tusk pointed to the symbol. “What’s it supposed to do then?”

The unnamed pointed toward the half-orc’s shield. “It’s a magic shield. A barrier that stops anything getting through. At least, it was when I cast it last time, apparently. I’d just had a Blade Dancer carve me up with her sword before I made the symbol, so it’s a little foggy in my memory.”

Tusk leaned forward, experimentally prodding a finger into the unnamed’s chest and causing the smaller man to wince.

“What the heck was that for?” the unnamed complained, rubbing his chest.

“Your shield isn’t working,” Tusk informed him.

“Yeah, I know it’s not working, you doink! You didn’t have to go jab a finger in my ribs. Last time, it kind of just happened. That’s definitely the symbol. That part I remember pretty clearly, but I think I need something else to make it work.”

Blood.

The word came to him as an invasive thought, as though someone else had implanted it in his mind. Had it really been the blood trickling down his hand that had engaged the magic? Or was it the mysterious stranger in the arena crowd, the stranger who had shown the unnamed that symbol at precisely the right time and compelled him to draw it in the sand?

It was entirely possible that the unnamed’s entire experience with sorcery had been due to someone else entirely. Perhaps the real sorcerer simply wanted to use the unnamed for some dark purpose and had stepped in at precisely the right time to show him the rune and compel him to enact the spell? But why bother with all of that if they could have just summoned a ward around his body themselves? Perhaps the whole point wasn’t for them to do the sorcery but for the unnamed to unwittingly channel some portion of magic?

“Maybe you need some kind of magic ink?” Tusk suggested. “I heard the Mancer’s Guild use that kind of stuff all the time in their spells. Ground-up bones and ghost guts or whatever. They make magic ink and then use it to make scrolls and spells and stuff.”

The unnamed shrugged. “I didn’t have any ink on me back at the Blood Pits.”

You had blood!

“Well,” Tusk said, “it might be worth figuring it out, because I’ve seen you fight, and no offence, bro, but you’re pretty bad at it.”

The unnamed grinned up at Tusk. “I gave Hob a run for his money. Knocked him down a few times and even gave him a bruise or two.”

Tusk laughed, his chest heaving up and down as the growling sound filled the corridor.

“Hob is half your size, dude. He’s got the fists of a toddler, and he hits like a geriatric.”

Vella leaned forward and traced the symbol the unnamed had marked out on the floor. The two others looked at her, watching her delicately mark out the symbol.

“I think Tusk is right.” She looked up at the unnamed. “Not about the fighting. For someone who’s only just started, you’re doing well. But I think being able to summon a magic shield could be really valuable. If you could do that, it might not matter how good you are at fighting. Big Bones and I can handle that.”

She pointed toward Tusk, and he nodded, grinning.

“Maybe there’s some magic word you’ve gotta say, like Shazam? Or you need to hold some image in your mind or whatever.”

The unnamed brushed away the symbol. “If I’m gonna figure this out, I’ll need time, and that’s not something we can really spare at the moment. If we get ahead of schedule, I’ll work on it. For now, though, I say we just keep pushing.”

He turned to Vella, then to Tusk, receiving nods from both of them. “Good. Let’s go then.”

He led them through the corridor toward the next chamber, that single word still dangling in his mind.

Blood.