Chapter 7: Double Doors

Bert leaned against the bars, eyes glinting with a dangerous kind of optimism. “Alright. New plan. We lure the spiders or the penguins into the lava. Simple.”

Harlada blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Think about it!” Bert said, gesturing wildly as if the brilliance of his scheme spoke for itself. “Lava kills everything. We don’t even have to fight. We just open a door, make a little noise, lead them in, and boom—problem solved.”

Leo’s quill froze above his notebook. He blinked once. Twice. “…That is logistically unsound.”

“Unsound?” Bert barked a laugh. “It’s perfect!”

“Firstly,” Leo began, slipping into lecture mode, “lava flows are inconsistent. Entities rarely advance in straight lines. Herding creatures of disparate biology across unstable terrain—”

“English, professor,” Harlada interrupted, rolling her eyes.

Leo sighed. “It will never work.”

Bert leaned closer until their noses nearly touched. “Say that again.”

Leo hesitated. His quill trembled. “It… may work under certain, highly improbable circumstances.”

“Good answer,” Bert said, slapping him on the back so hard his notes went flying into the lava below.

Harlada crossed her arms, unconvinced. “So, what—you’re suggesting we open the spider door or the penguin door? And Luring them into the lava”

Bert grinned like a maniac. “Exactly.”

The lava hissed beneath them, as though it couldn’t wait to see how wrong this was about to go.

***

They stood before the doors once more, mist curling around their ankles.

“Okay,” Harlada said, rubbing her temples. “Let’s be clear. We open one door. One. Not both. Which one did we agree on?”

“Spiders,” Bert said immediately.

“Penguins,” Leo countered, adjusting his glasses.

Harlada froze. “…You can’t both be right.”

Bert jabbed a thumb at his chest. “I said spiders. I remember saying spiders. The plan was spiders.”

Leo sniffed. “Incorrect. I distinctly recall penguins. My notes—” He flipped through half-burnt pages, revealing a crude doodle of a penguin wearing spectacles. “See? Empirical proof.”

Harlada groaned. “This is unbelievable. Fine, we vote. All in favor of spiders?”

Bert’s hand shot up.

“Penguins?” Leo raised his quill like a flag.

Harlada looked between them, her hand twitching indecisively. “Ugh, I can’t—”

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Bert grinned. “Majority wins.”

Leo frowned. “It’s a tie.”

“Exactly. Majority.” Bert slammed his palm against the spider door.

At the exact same moment, Harlada snapped, “Fine, penguins!” and shoved the penguin door.

Both doors groaned open together.

A burst of icy wind exploded from one side. A wave of chittering screeches erupted from the other. The two chambers bled into each other, webs whipping across the frozen tundra as penguins waddled in formation against invading spiders.

The first clash was immediate and horrifying. A giant arachnid snatched up a penguin in its fangs—only for five more penguins to pile on, honking furiously, battering it with flippers. Another spider leapt across the ice, skidding helplessly before sliding straight into the sea. Penguins marched after it, honking in triumph, only to tumble in after their prey.

“Uh,” Harlada said faintly, “did we just… start a war?”

Bert’s grin faltered. “This wasn’t… exactly the plan.”

Leo scribbled furiously, even as chaos spread across the frozen battlefield. “Note: cross-dimensional leakage results in ecosystem collapse. Highly unstable.”

The ground cracked. Ice split under the weight of battle. Spiders and penguins alike screeched, slipped, and plunged into the black water. Venom hissed across the surface, freezing into strange, brittle shards.

Harlada tugged at Bert’s sleeve. “Time to go.”

“For once,” Leo muttered, “I agree.”

Together, they fled back through the lava door, slamming it shut as the sound of battle faded behind them.

Bert stopped to late accidentally shoved everyone in the lava.

The crystal screen pulsed smugly:

Attempts: 58. Everyone Died. Reward Generated.

***

For a long time, none of them spoke. The cages swayed gently above the lava, heat licking at their boots.

Finally, Harlada broke the silence. “So… do we just pretend that never happened?”

“Yes,” Leo said at once, furiously scribbling in the margin of his notes.

“No,” Bert argued, folding his arms. “We had a plan. It was a good plan. It just… escalated.”

The lava bubbled as if laughing at him.

Minutes ticked by. The crystal screen remained smugly blank, pulsing every so often as if enjoying the wait.

At last, Harlada leaned forward. “Fine. We check it out. But if anything is still alive in there, I’m shoving Bert in first.”

They approached the doors cautiously. The air was colder than before, and sticky threads still clung to the stone. With a groan, both doors creaked open once more.

Silence.

The tundra beyond was a battlefield of ice and webbing. Penguins lay frozen mid-charge, spiders half-encased in brittle shards, all locked together in a macabre tableau. The water was dark and still, jagged cracks stretching far into the distance.

And there—on two separate pedestals—glowed gems.

One rested in the center of a collapsed web, pulsing with a faint crimson light. The other hovered above a cracked iceberg, shining pale blue. Both were darker, richer than the usual gems—less like gentle boosts, more like something hungry.

Harlada’s breath caught. “Those… aren’t the same color.”

Leo adjusted his notes, eyes glittering. “Indeed. Possibly specialized. Elemental alignment, perhaps.”

Bert licked his lips. “Possibly mine.”

The crystal screen blinked smugly:

Hidden Reward Generated. Two Stat Gems Acquired. Unstable.

The three of them stared, each one thinking the same thing but refusing to say it.

For the first time in a long while, the dungeon was quiet. Too quiet.