The numbers were devastating. Of the 100 that had entered this sanctuary. Now there were only eighteen left.
Different emotions rippled through the group. The survivors of the failed expedition wore bleak, uncertain faces. Those who had already lost hope when the entrance was sealed had now lost everything. They'd been abandoned here to die, and there was no escape coming.
Yet some still believed. Benny carried a goal that kept him moving forward. Gustav and the remaining six who'd fought beside Benny held onto his vision. Those who'd sheltered in the sanctuary were hit hardest. The ten survivors had already been broken before the battle. Now their fragile hope had shattered.
Suicide. That word had become a constant companion. A whisper in the darkness. A temptation on the edge of every bad moment. They'd been betrayed, left here by the very people who they had considered comrades. Those traitorous snakes had sealed them in deliberately, thoroughly, to erase the evidence of their treachery.
So the ten suffered in ways the others couldn't fully understand, but they too could see themselves in a similar situation, if not for their new found hope.
Benny's group moved among them, hands on shoulders, words of encouragement. They offered something to hold onto. A reason to keep living. The possibility that they might actually conquer this labyrinth. It wasn't proven. It wasn't certain. But it was something.
They also offered their discovery. When only five had believed, Lyra among them, the hope had seemed possible. Now they wanted the remaining ten to see what they'd seen. To understand that survival was possible.
Gustav called the group together. His voice carried the weight of command, but also something else. A desperation hidden beneath the confidence.
"We buried three of our people, our friends, and our comrades today," he began. "Three more lying in the cold stone of this labyrinth. If we surrender to despair, we dishonor them. We abandon them. But worse, we guarantee our own graves."
"I know what you've heard. Another space. Another dimension. A world of our own where these rat men come from. Civilization. Organization. Military strength. I know it sounds insane. It probably is insane.
"But Benny found it. We've seen it. And here's the truth that no one wants to admit. The labyrinths we knew before? They were never conquered. They just spawned monsters endlessly. Endlessly. We hypothesized that if we could reach the source, if we could find where these creatures originate and destroy it, we might actually conquer this place."
"We will be the first ones to do this. We will survive. And we will escape."
Gustav's words were as much for himself as for the group. A ritual of belief. Words to hold onto until they became true or until he died.
Around him, a few faces shifted. A small light returned to their dying eyes that had been empty, devoid of light just like the darkness of they labyrinth. Not all of them. Some still looked toward the blades at their sides, seeing an easier path out.
---
Benny didn't register the deaths emotionally. Or rather, he couldn't afford to.
He wasn't indifferent. The empathy was still there, buried beneath layers of necessity. But emotions were a luxury. They had eighteen people to feed (including himself), to protect, and to coordinate. Three fewer mouths to feed now, but also three fewer weapons, three fewer pairs of hands.
The dead were asleep. They'd already escaped the suffering. Benny envied them sometimes, then felt ashamed for the envy.
He considered them lucky. They wouldn't have to face what came next. They wouldn't have to keep struggling in this fucked up place. They wouldn't have to live with the knowledge of what they'd done, the choices they'd made, the compromises they'd accepted to survive.
Benny had changed in ways he didn't fully understand. The coward who'd abandoned his companions had become something harder. Something more practical. He was a hypocrite now, he realized. He acted confident while feeling terrified. He made decisions about life and death while barely holding his own life together.
The labyrinth had done this to him. More than the mysterious powers it had given him, more than the physical transformation, it had rewired something fundamental in his mind.
The cracks were forming. He could feel them.
---
Ripler and the others had finished burying the dead. They weren't friends, not really. Useful acquaintances trapped in a shared nightmare. That's what they were to Ripler. Nothing more.
Benny was already at work, sharpening tools and weapons. They'd gathered all the equipment and supplies from the dead rat men. Disgusting, filthy gear stained with plague and rust. But it could be repurposed. Torin would need time to adjust, to learn how to work with rat-man metallurgy without proper forges or tools.
For now, they could at least scavenge.
The light that had kindled in some eyes during Gustav's speech held. Not all of them. Most of the sanctuary survivors were still numb, still considering whether living was worth the effort.
But there was movement. Purpose returning.
"We need to move to the second floor," Gustav said to the core group. "The rat men will send a larger force when this one doesn't return. We need to be gone before then."
It was logic, cold and clear. The vanguard had failed. The rat kingdom would investigate. They would send reinforcements. Staying here meant death.
"We'll come back to the first floor once we've regrouped," Gustav continued. "But not yet. Not while they're still looking for answers."
The plan was solid. Move, regroup, prepare, then return to push back the rat invasion.
They had eighteen people now. Eighteen people against an enemy kingdom with hundreds.
It wasn't enough. But it was what they had.
And for now, that would have to be enough.