Chapter 17

Mona ran his hands over his clothes, feeling the ridges of his armor. The piece of metal had helped in the earlier encounter. Initially the kobolds tried to ram in his chest, but seeing it have little effect besides rattling him, they targeted his extremities. If there was ever a full set, he could've survived the encounter, he thought.

Mona pulled out the chapter, looking at the muck beneath him.

"It would make sense."

The muck seemed to be some kind of all-consuming liquid, able to rid the world of whatever was placed within. He may have had doubts before, but dropping the chapter in the waters could rid him of this risk entirely. Even if Aleef was trusted, they'd doubt the man's words without finding anything tangible. Mona could also hide his armor back in his mental space, so the plan looked foolproof.

But just as he was about to submerge the sheets in the water, he remembered the discoloration of his bones. The eagle heads would check his body, and if they were thorough enough they could see the color of his bones standing out. It wouldn't matter if the pages were gone or not, he'd still be in hot water. He shook his head and stuffed the pages back in his tunic.

He was much more calm now. Mona didn't know how much time had passed since his death by the kobolds, but he estimated it was about noon. In this maze world, if that made sense. It was more of a guess, since there wasn't anything that changed with time in this maze. The walls were as aged as the day before, the murk still pooling back and forth. The thought of the day before reminded him of something he almost missed.

"Why...why did the kobolds have that tin?"

He focused back on that memory, remembering the kobolds tossing one another a tin of the syrup, right after talking to each other.

Two groups came. They argued with each other. They came to an agreement. The larger group one. And one of the larger group gave a tin of sugar syrup?

Confusion filled Mona's thoughts.

What could those monsters want with...Wait. Sugar syrup? Were the kobolds eating it?

He couldn't quite remember that moment, the kobold grabbing his arm blocked his view. But that was the only logical explanation.

The kobolds ate sugar syrup. They liked eating it. To the point of using it to barter.

All of the captives were carrying a tin with them. Did the Faulkners plan this?

A silent disdain filled Mona.

"They're training us like dogs, but still try to make us fail?"

Nothing about this made sense. He sighed at another thought.

I ate that tin and tossed it to the side... they must've smelled the syrup and found me.

Realizing the chance of being his own undoing, Mona facepalmed. He rubbed his forehead, feeling like an idiot, then shook his head to clear out his mind.

"Alright, I've lost one life. It's day 3 I take it, about midway. I have no food, no weapons. That bastard Aleef mentioned kobolds and orcs, so unless I got something wrong, I should have been halfway there, and ran into bad luck with that madman."

Nodding to himself, Mona moved forward. While he was letting his mind settle earlier, he cultivated his Aura. Doing so helped him feel at ease faster, and brought him back to his best condition. The Aura wisps in his chest thrummed to his heartbeat, filling each of his movements with a calm swiftness. This helped Mona minimize his presence; while his steps could still be heard, anything nearby would have to be close.

The first goblin came down much faster. Experiencing death did that to you. Mona stopped trying to avoid minor injuries, especially with these smaller mobs. Enemies like this had devoured his flesh after playing with his dying self. He didn't have as much trouble dispatching them now.

Spear in hand, he kept his pace going. Spears could reach further, allowing him to attack from hidden angles just outside the goblin's line of sight.

2, 5, 8... the goblins kept dropping. Soon enough Mona had a sword in hand, and a crossbow ready to use. Plenty of shooting sticks too. He felt a certain level of confidence now that he could at least defend himself. But just in case, he held onto the spear too; wouldn't hurt to jam an enemy from the distance. If he dropped and switched items just right, he could revolve between them in a sense.

The familiar forks came to him. The right angle turns disappeared. Mona stuck to the left side, moving forward as he did. The goblins kept falling, unaware of the shadow lurking not far away. If they were fortunate, they quickly bled to death. If not, they would find their limbs cut off, their bodies unable to move, or a deep scorch mark aimed at their chest. They screeched in pain, before falling limply.

At the fifth or sixth fork, Mona saw them again. His sworn enemy.

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Two of them were crouched over a captive's corpse. One was already eating away at the flesh of the face, the jaw bone visible to the naked eye. Blood coated the claws and fur of this kobold. The other was chuckling to itself, yanking out the tin of syrup. A sound of joy, Mona took it, came from between its fangs.

Busy with the body, the two kobolds didn't see what was sneaking up on them. Rather, they thought it was a goblin approaching, and strangely paid it no mind. That was the last thought that occupied the kobold holding the tin. A spear came flying out, jamming straight through its skull, sending it falling to the floor, gushing its yellow blood and brain matter all over the human cadaver.

The other kobold was quick-witted. It didn't freeze up seeing its partner die. It spun around, swinging its claws in an attack. A sense of surprise came as kobold claws hit against metal, sparking as it did. It glared at the intruder of its meals, gathering up energy to roar.

But just as it opened its mouth, it felt something pierce its larynx. A shooting stick, something it was familiar with, jammed into its throat, choking out the air in the beast's lungs and filling it with golden yellow blood. It gagged, mucus flying as it held its throat and tried to yank out the dowel. But just touching the dowel gave it immense pain. It flailed around at the slight touch, and tried to focus its eyes on its attacker.

Mona kneeled down near the dog-man, a chill in his eyes. His hand held the dowel and yanked it out in one go. The kobold howled in agony, but could be barely heard without its voice box.

It felt another seizure of pain as the same dowel was stabbed into its eye. Then felt it repeat with the other eye. It shuddered in place, the constant pain and misery too much for it. The blood flow reached a breaking point, and the creature died there, one paw falling to the ground. It left this maze world, matted in its own blood, eye punctured by a wooden stick.

Mona got back up, then went to the sack with perishables, trying to forage what he could. The human here was already dead, and since he couldn't recognize him the man was likely out of the trials. The other kobold didn't stir either. Could anything survive without its brain?

"1 loaf of bread, and ...."

Mona looked at the tin can. The kobold didn't yet open it, so the smell of the juice hadn't entered the air yet. He felt a sense of relief. He didn't need to learn the same lesson twice. Mona took this can and let it sink under the murk, letting the maze claim it. he tied the sack cloth to his arm, leaving behind bread crumbs and three corpses on his path.

Smeared in goblin blood and kobold guts, Mona felt dismayed he couldn't clean it off. The kobolds would probably get angry smelling the blood of their fallen comrades on him, and come straight at him.

Wait a second. An idea!

Mona took off the top layer of his clothes, and then realized the chill in this maze.

Was it this cold all along?

He hadn't realized. He pierced the clothing with his spear, then carried it on his arm. In his other arm, he held his sword, waiting for an encounter.

Sure enough, these forks are crawling with them.

Five kobolds. All huddled around a pair of human bodies. They were cackling and ravaging the bodies, having a great deal of fun as they did. That was, until a spear came flying and pierced the head of the sack carrying kobold.

In these bigger groups it seems one of them would carry a sack for the others. And this member, slightly weaker than the others, died quite easily. It fell atop one of the bodies, alarming the group of kobolds. The four stared at the spear, and sniffed the air, smelling the clothing and figuring out it had kobold blood. Furious, the four kobolds shot up, looking in the direction the spear was thrown, and ran.

Waiting in another adjoining fork, up the way, the four kobolds entered the junction Mona stood in earlier, looking at the numerous paths they travelled. They split up by the individual, entering each path they could and began searching. One let out a yelp, and the other three ran for it, seeing it dead on the ground. The three ran forwards, finding themselves at another hub, and this continued, until the last kobold was stabbed to death, its skull a gruesome mess.

*****

Mona pulled out the dowel, leaving the kobold to lie in the murk. This plan was risky, and time-consuming, but taking down five kobolds was all worth it. The spear got their attention with the clothes. The dogs would split, searching for his existence. And they would die, one at a time. To be extra certain, he ran down each of the paths, hands running on the walls, letting his sweat and "scent" linger. This way the kobolds wouldn't back out thinking they were on the wrong path.

Of course, if he ran into another pack, he'd be screwed. But he put his trust that the maze gave a bit of distance between each pack of mobs, and tried it. Better testing strategies than waiting for enemies to appear.

He did think of trying to aim with the crossbow, but by the time he reloaded the third bolt he'd be dead for sure. And improvised with this dangerous but successful idea.

It went well. In front of him stood a pile of kobold gear, and a pair of sacks. He saw the chest plate these kobolds had, but given his family armor he didn't need them. He grabbed the gauntlets and shin guards, and for once was grateful he had a somewhat thin body. They barely fit, and could count as some protection down here. He swapped his goblin sword for the kobold club, and his crossbow for the lighter standard bow. It couldn't be primed, but would allow for faster reload. And time was of the essence down here.

Mona walked forwards, using the spear of kobold blood to rile up groups as he went. They charged, but could only die for a weapon of their kin. Eventually, the clothes on the spear had taken too much damage and fell in tatters. But with the new weapons and guards he relied on the bow he received, reducing the numbers down a peg before using hit-and-run tactics with the kobolds. His newly acquired sack had 3 loaves of bread now, and two axes were tied to his waist with the cloth of those remaining. A sense of accomplishment filled him as he walked forwards.

And then he heard a scream that stood out among the others. He ducked and rolled, barely dodging the wind of a great axe.

"Raaah~~~!"

The orc spat to the side on the granite floor. The muck had disappeared, giving way to a hardier substance as footing. Before Mona stood a figure two heads taller than him. It was decked in a full set of armor, including a crude helmet. Skulls of an assortment dangled at its waist, clattering as it moved. It's red pupils focused down on Mona, a whiff of hot air seeping from its mouth. It raised its great axe, and began charging once more.

Holding up the club, Mona felt himself launched quite a bit from the impact. He fell to one knee, nearly falling over. But the orc kept coming, its trophies clattering as it came. He ran to the left, letting the orc slash at the maze wall in his stead. The blade cried as it tried to cut at the maze. The orc, unamused, turned around and faced Mona. And from nowhere, it pulled out a second great axe. It struck the blades together, a clang that signaled its approach.