I grin back, exhilarated, adrenaline rushing through every vein. “Told you—debug mode.”
Borzen claps my shoulder hard enough to nearly dislocate it. “Remind me never to underestimate you again.”
“Damn right,” I mutter, standing. “Everyone through. Now.”
We hurry forward. For the first time in days—maybe weeks—the Maze doesn’t resist. The hum fades. The air smells cleaner. For a heartbeat, I let myself believe we’ve won something.
The room on the other side is plain. Metallic. Unadorned. The silence feels almost wrong.
Borzen takes point. Dravven covers the rear. I take the middle, guiding the civvies through. The light is soft, neutral white, no flicker, no distortion. Real light.
“Is it over?” Shira whispers.
“Not yet,” I say. “But it’s progress.”
Callan laughs—small, nervous. “Progress feels weird.”
Then he steps forward, brushing his hand against the smooth wall like he’s touching safety itself.
He turns to say something.
And disappears.
No scream. No warning. One second he’s there; the next, he’s gone—disintegrated mid-breath, his glasses clattering to the floor.
I freeze.
Borzen spins, weapon drawn. “What the?—”
Dravven stares, horror flickering behind his bravado. “He just?—”
The wall glows faintly where he stood. Then the Maze Master’s face stretches across it—Dirk’s stupid animated grin, exaggerated like a clown on stimulants.
“Oops!” His voice is syrupy sweet. “This level hasanti-cheatmeasures. Naughty girl.”
The others stare at me.
Borzen’s hand tightens on his weapon. Dravven’s mouth opens, then shuts. Shira lets out a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh.
And me?
I start laughing.
At first, it’s small. Just a snort. Then it’s louder. Then it’s unstoppable. Hysterical. Ugly. My chest shakes with it. My vision blurs. The sound bounces off the walls, echoing until it sounds like the Maze itself is laughing with me.
Dirk’s avatar smirks wider. “Someone’s cracking under pressure.”
I can’t stop laughing. My knees give out. I drop to the floor, clutching my stomach. Tears mix with grime on my face. I can’t tell if I’m laughing or sobbing anymore.
Borzen crouches next to me, rough hand on my shoulder. “Engineer. Breathe.”
“I—can’t—” I gasp out, choking. “Anti-cheat—oh god—hecodedin anti-cheat?—”
Dravven’s voice is gentler than I expect. “It’s not funny, Liora.”
“Itis,” I wheeze. “I built this. I made the skeleton of this whole nightmare. Every trap, every door, every sound cue. It’s all mine. And he took it, polished it, made it murder.”
The laughter dies in my throat, leaving just tears. “I built a game. And now it’s a grave.”
