In a panic, Christopher ran back, desperately striking the ghouls closest to Jules.

On the boy’s body, dozens of terrors dug greedily, trying to bury into his flesh.

Christopher cursed and knelt, doing his best to swat away the stubborn terrors, but in vain. No matter how many he killed, mercilessly crushing them with his hands, more and more appeared.

Jules’ clothes now dripped crimson, and a thick scent of blood permeated the air.

He looked around, full of despair and regret, hoping whoever had thrown that humongous spear was here to help.

“Diorem!” A deep, manly voice echoed softly inside the chamber.

As if answering the man’s command, the eerie white thread tangled around the ghouls suddenly split into ten more strands, each twisting through the air. The strands then descended upon the ghouls, further trapping and entangling them.

The ghouls struggled against the tightening threads powerlessly, forcing themselves towards Jules with such force that the threads opened wounds on their skin.

What is this? Christopher asked himself in amazement. At least twenty ghouls subdued so easily it almost appeared like child’s play.

The same voice sounded again, this time weak and stressed, shouting a hasty command.

Something that could only be described as a small, rusty metal ball appeared from the chamber entrance, crashing against the nearest ghoul with impressive force while simultaneously crushing hundreds of five-fingered terrors.

From inside the metal sphere, an aged, high-pitched voice shouted. “Quick, put them down! Salvio won’t be able to contain them much longer.”

Looking closer, he realized the sphere wasn’t perfect. Under it, there were two little armored stubs that popped out every now and then as if to propel the ball forward, gaining speed, before retracting again.

On the midsection of the sphere, between the top and bottom metal plates, two blades spun rapidly in opposite directions, easily cutting through the ghouls.

Christopher hesitated. He wanted to help take down those ghouls, but now that their future didn’t look so dire, he didn’t dare to abandon Jules’ body.

He ignored his savior’s instructions and directed his attention back to Jules, doing his best to get rid of the terrors that swarmed his body. Behind his back, he could hear the metal sphere moving back and forth, killing the ghouls as fast as possible.

When only three ghouls were left, the white thread finally lost its strength, allowing them to escape. The steel ball seemed to power up momentarily before relentlessly crashing into two of them and smashing them into a pulp.

The last one ran towards Jules like a hungry beast did towards food, but Christopher was forced to intervene. A long, wooden javelin flew from the darkness, piercing through its head. The ghoul was dead before it touched the ground.

“Useless fuck,” complained a man from the end of the chamber. “Is this your first time?”

“Calm down, Salvio,” spoke the aged, raspy voice from inside the metal sphere. “Can’t you see he was protecting his teammate?”

Behind him, Christopher heard something crack, and a moment later, a light twice as powerful as his own light crystal illuminated the chamber, causing the terrors still clinging to Jules to flee into the shadows.

Christopher raised his head and saw two peculiar figures approaching.

Leading was a rusty metal ball, barely five feet tall. It rolled across the floor, and every now and then, two stubby legs would peek out from under it, pushing it forward. At its center were two large, rusty blades, still dripping with blood, and right above them were two small holes from which an aged pair of brown eyes peeked.

Following closely behind was an abomination of a man–his light brown hair and pale skin being the only remnants of normality within him.

His body appeared as if it had been split into two. His left half was sickly thin, with an arm as skinny as a twig, its wrinkled, yellowish skin stretched tightly over brittle bones. A deep, dark bag hung beneath his eye, accentuating his sick, exhausted look.

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His right side, however, was a stark contrast–a grotesque display of power. From his thick neck to his bulging traps and massive arm, his skin stretched tightly over thick, snake-like veins that pulsated endlessly.

The man’s bicep alone was nearly as large as Christopher’s torso, and the left side of his back was so grotesquely overdeveloped that he couldn’t walk straight, forced to hunch as he lumbered forward.

The build was disgustingly unbalanced as if two different bodies had been fused into one, and if not for the similar fierce light in both of his eyes, Christopher would have believed it to be so.

He clutched a small green lantern in his frail left hand, the source of the bright radiance that filled the cavern.

“The hell is up with these terrors today?” Asked the voice inside the steel ball. “It’s rare to see them so worked up. It’s almost like a maze surge is about to happen.”

“Got a tongue?” Asked the other man with a snarky voice before squatting down, covering his head with his hands.

Now that Christopher could take a better look, he realized the man was covered in sweat and shivering intensely. Whatever he had done seemed to have taken a heavy toll on him.

“Nice gloves,” joked the steel ball before presenting himself. “I’m Brune. It's a pleasure to meet you. And that’s Salvio. He is a harpoonist, if you couldn’t tell.”

The man’s tone was light, almost playful.

“I’m Christopher,” he replied with a dry voice. “T-Thank you.”

“Don’t bother,” Brune replied before gesturing towards Salvio with his head. “And don't worry about him. He is an idiot but a well-intentioned one. If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t have managed to kill those ghouls in time to save you.”

Christopher nodded and turned his attention to Jules, rapidly removing whatever terror still clung to it despite the light.

The boy’s condition was even worse than before. His face alone was so damaged that Christopher wasn’t even sure if Crimson Proof could heal them at all.

He ignited his blood and used Crimson Proof; however, before it made much of a difference, his vision darkened, and he almost lost his conscience.

“Are you ok?” Brune asked, an aged hand peeking from the metal sphere and lightly hitting his face. “Was that Crimson Proof you were trying to use?”

Christopher nodded affirmatively.

“You must be an Ariadne’s Chosen then,” he continued. “Don’t try to overwork yourself. You’re all dried up. You’ll die if you keep insisting.”

Christopher thanked his words, for the first time noticing the man spoke with an awkward Australian accent.

“They did quite a number on you,” Brune said. “Is your friend still alive?”

“Yes… I hope so.” Christopher replied.

“He seems to be so,” Brune said. “Quite some bad luck you guys had here. Ending up on a nursery during a maze surge.”

“Classic Fabled trap,” Salvio said mockingly, earning an advertising gaze from Brune.

“Are you not a Fabled?” Christopher asked. He should know that was not a polite question, but he was so tired he forgot.

“We are Fabled but far from rookies,” Salvio said arrogantly. He had an annoying voice that Christopher didn’t really like.

“We’re rankers,” Brune tried to explain, pointing at a cross-like red ribbon on the side of the spherical armor. Christopher’s eyes quickly checked Salvio and found a similar ribbon hanging from his muscular right chest.

“Red ones,” Salvio added with pride, earning another adverting gaze from Salvio.

“Thank you for the help. You’ve saved us,” Christopher thanked sincerely.

He bit his lip with guilt. Just a moment ago, he had condemned Jules to a horrifying death, and now he was pretending to care about his well-being.

“Is this your first time on the 3rd?” Brune asked.

“No,” Christopher lied. “But we got lost… somehow.”

“It happens. Sometimes, even we get in trouble,” Brune tried to comfort him. “Even rankers can meet their demise here if they lower their guard,” he said, glancing at Salvio.

“But you really had bad luck,” he continued. “You’ve landed right on a nursery, the worst place to be. No one comes to these parts unless the maze throws them in here.”

Those last words were spoken slowly, and Christopher could almost imagine an inquisitive eyebrow rising beneath the metal sphere.

“You are here,” Christopher’s words left his lips before he could stop them.

“Yeah, we’re after someone,” Brune explained. “We’re collectors. Body collectors. A legacy disappeared on this floor, and we’ve been sent to find his body.”

“Probably gone by now,” Salvio said, still rubbing his temples. “These Mormen are voracious.”

“Can you walk?” Brune asked. “I can carry your friend. We should leave out of here soon. There are some terrors around the nurseries that not even we can take care of easily.”

Christopher nodded, doing his best to stand up. If, after that display of power, even Salvio and Brune were afraid of something, he would do as they said and leave.

Salvio stood and approached the enormous golden spear, still stuck on the floor, and removed it from the rock without much difficulty. Without even a flick of a finger, the enormous weapon disappeared.

At the same time, the giant metal ball that had been speaking to Christopher suddenly vanished, and in its place, a small, hunched geezer appeared.