"That thing has three qi points," Mira hissed, backing up a step, eyes locked on the hulking minotaur.
Aric's jaw tightened. "This isn't supposed to happen. Not this early."
"Three-point monsters don't show up until at least the third floor," Mira snapped, her fists trembling—not with fear, but fury. "This can't be part of the designed progression."
"Those damn Farseer, I doubt it's just our knowledge causing our changes" Aric grumbled,
They both looked toward Leo—just for a second.
Then the minotaur moved.
There was no roar, no warning.
It charged.
The cave trembled under its steps. Rocks cracked. Air split with the force of its axe swing. Mira leapt forward first, meeting brute strength with raw speed. Her fist smashed into its side—bone met flesh with a shockwave—but it was like striking a mountain.
The creature didn't even flinch.
Its axe came down, a blur of black metal. Mira barely rolled aside, dust exploding where she had stood a second earlier.
Aric was already in motion, arms weaving, water spiraling around him like a protective shell. Twin bolts launched from his hands and slammed into the minotaur's legs, staggering it just enough for Mira to land another strike—this time to its ribs. But it retaliated instantly, backhanding her across the chamber with a thunderous crash.
Leo stood frozen at the edge of the fight, spear raised, unsure.
His heart pounded. Too fast. Too strong.
He moved in once—just enough to jab at its exposed flank—but the blow barely scratched its hide. The monster ignored him. Leo darted back, gasping, his arms vibrating from the impact.
He was helping. Barely. Distracting it. Making space.
But not enough.
Then—the moment returned.
That hum. That pulse.
He saw the path.
The minotaur's back was half-turned. Its grip loose. A vein exposed just beneath the arm.
Leo stepped.
The world contracted.
His spear drew back—ready to strike.
But something held him.
Last time. You rushed it. You nearly died.
He hesitated. Pulled back.
And it saved him.
The minotaur spun—not fully, just enough. Its axe swept wide through the space he would've stepped into.
It would have cut him in half.
Leo stumbled back, breath ragged, heart hammering. He met Aric's gaze briefly—just long enough for the man to nod, barely perceptibly. Approval, maybe. Or relief.
Mira was back on her feet, blood at the corner of her mouth, darting in again with renewed aggression. Her fists danced, striking joints and tendons. Aric launched a blast of pressurized water at the creature's eyes, but even half-blinded, the beast fought like a nightmare.
Time stretched.
Leo panted, grip tightening.
And then—he felt it again.
The path.
But this time, more.
Not just one.
Tens. Hundreds. Each one branching like threads of silk in the air—possibilities, outcomes, fates.
He felt them. Saw them. Each leading to failure.
In one, he slipped.
In another, he struck too early.
In many, he died.
But among the chaos—one.
A golden thread of motion. Subtle. Almost unreal.
It didn't lead to safety.
It led to success.
His eyes sharpened. His breath slowed. His mind focused like a blade.
He moved.
No hesitation.
The space bent. Not violently—but gently. His feet found perfect purchase. His body angled just right. The minotaur swung again—Mira ducked beneath it—Aric blasted its knee.
The thread pulsed.
Leo stepped through it.
His spear struck—under the arm, past the muscle, behind the rib.
Straight into the heart.
The minotaur's body locked, rigid.
Its eyes widened.
Then it collapsed.
A voice echoed—deep, resonant.
"Trial Complete. Advancement authorized."
As the light swallowed them, Leo cast one last glance at the minotaur's fallen form.