The move to the second floor was painfully slow. Every step had to be calculated, every route checked and double-checked. They couldn't afford more deaths. Not now. Not after losing three people in the last battle.
Benny was already making plans for what came next, his mind working through scenarios and strategies even as they navigated the treacherous corridors. The labyrinth's first floor was no longer safe. The rat men knew where they'd been. They'd come back with reinforcements, probably a full battalion this time instead of just a vanguard scout.
They traveled only when monster patrols were sparse. Scorpions and mutated rabbits still roamed these halls, but the timing between their movements created windows of opportunity. Small ones, but enough.
When they finally reached the second floor sanctuary, the relief was palpable. The space was smaller than the first floor refuge, more cramped, but it was safe. For now, at least. That would have to be enough.
Gustav gathered the core group once they'd secured the perimeter and done a headcount. Eighteen people. It still felt wrong. The number was too small, too fragile for what they were facing.
"We need to talk about what happens next," Gustav said, looking around at the assembled faces.
Benny spoke first. "I think our situation needs to be addressed before we make any tactical plans." He paused, looking directly at the ten survivors from the sanctuary who sat apart from the rest, their faces hollow and depressed. "If we don't handle this, what happened before will happen again. More deaths. More despair. We have to deal with this now, or it'll drag us all down."
Ripler cut in before anyone else could speak, even before Gustav could respond. His voice was harsh, cutting through the awkward silence like a blade.
"I agree with Benny. These people are becoming baggage. Dead weight we're carrying while trying to survive. They're a liability in the back of our minds every time we fight."
He was blunt, brutal even, and didn't soften his words. Meredith opened her mouth to tell him to tone it down, then closed it. She agreed with him, even if she wished he'd said it differently. But maybe the harsh truth was what the sanctuary survivors needed to hear. Coddling them hadn't worked.
Ripler didn't care about their feelings. He was busy keeping himself alive while they leached off the efforts of others.
Gustav sighed. It was uncharacteristic of him to show this kind of uncertainty, but the setback from the battle had hit him hard. "Actually, I'm at a loss right now. The casualties were a huge blow to our plans. So if anyone has ideas on how we move forward, I'm listening."
The admission of vulnerability was surprising coming from their leader, but they understood. The weight of command in a situation like this was crushing. Every decision carried life or death consequences.
Benny spoke up. "Then we all agree? We help them get back on their feet and give them a chance to decide for themselves. But if they still can't pull themselves together after that, we let them be?"
Silence followed. It was an uncomfortable proposal. Inhuman, even. But what choice did they have?
Kael nodded first. "We can't carry people who won't carry themselves. Not here."
Greaves, the old veteran, agreed. "I've seen this before in other expeditions. Sometimes people break. You can't force them to unbreak. They have to want it."
One by one, the others agreed. Some were hesitant, their morality screaming at them that this was wrong. But their survival instincts were screaming louder. This place didn't care about morality. It cared about who was strong enough, smart enough, and ruthless enough to keep breathing.
Carrying dead weight wouldn't get them anywhere. It would just create more corpses.
"Very well," Gustav said finally. "I hope this choice doesn't become our regret later. Let's begin our preparations and do what we can to convince the others to join us."
---
Over the next several days, they tried.
They spoke to the sanctuary survivors individually and as a group. They offered training, encouragement, and purpose. They shared their plans for striking back at the rat kingdom. They painted a picture of hope, of possible victory, of a way out of this hellhole.
Only a few responded.
Four of the ten showed signs of coming back to themselves. Their eyes regained focus. They started participating in group activities, picking up weapons, and asking questions about the plan.
The other six were too far gone.
Some had descended into madness, muttering to themselves and flinching at shadows. Others had simply shut down completely, staring at nothing for hours on end. One man spent entire days standing at the edge of the sanctuary, looking toward the deeper darkness of the labyrinth as if waiting for something to come to kill him.
They did what they could. They really did. But as time passed, the hard truth became unavoidable. They couldn't save people who didn't want to be saved.
So they made the hard decision. They would let them go. Let them do what was best for themselves, even if that meant taking their own lives. If anyone wanted to criticize that choice, it was no longer their concern.
This was their new reality. A reality that spoke of cruelty, injustice, and morally questionable decisions. But it was always a choice between one life or another. They chose their own. It was natural, instinctive, a genetic imperative to preserve your own life above another's.
They didn't grow idle in those days. While some of the group worked on the sanctuary survivors, the others trained relentlessly. They hunted monsters for food and materials. They sparred with each other to sharpen their combat skills. They studied the equipment they'd taken from the dead rat men, trying to understand the enemy's tactics and weaknesses.
Their gear improved dramatically. Torin worked miracles with what little he had. He'd managed to construct a makeshift forge using his fire magic, melting down the plague-infected equipment from the rat men and recasting it into clean, functional weapons. The scorpion carapaces were incorporated into armor plating, providing protection without the weight of full metal armor.
He even found a use for the scorpion venom. Carefully extracted and stored in small vials, it could be applied to blade edges. One good cut would be enough to incapacitate most enemies.
The transformation was remarkable. They looked like proper warriors now, not desperate survivors cobbling together scraps. Their weapons gleamed. Their armor fits properly. They moved with confidence instead of fear.
The four new recruits who'd joined them were a welcome addition. They came from different backgrounds, different walks of life, but they all had one thing in common. They'd seen combat before. They knew how to fight, how to survive, how to function under pressure.
Benny knew most of them from observation. He'd watched how they fought during the battle with the rat men, cataloging their strengths and weaknesses. Having them on the team felt right. They increased the group's capabilities significantly.
But the six who remained lost in their despair? They could only lament that loss. Six people who could have been assets, who could have contributed, who could have survived. Instead, they'd chosen to surrender to the darkness.
It was tragic. But tragedy was becoming commonplace in the labyrinth.
---
Now it was time.
Time to stop reacting and start acting. Time to take the fight to the enemy instead of waiting for the enemy to come to them.
Gustav called the group together one final time before the operation began.
"We're going to strike at the heart of the rat kingdom," he announced. "We've been defensive long enough. They think we're just survivors hiding in the dark. We're going to show them what happens when you corner desperate people."
Ripler grinned. This was what he'd been waiting for. Real combat. A chance to test himself against worthy opponents.
Kael's expression was cold, focused. Revenge burned in his eyes. He hadn't forgotten his fallen teammates. He hadn't forgotten Lyra. Every rat man who died would be the payment on that debt.
Benny felt something stir in his chest. Not quite excitement. Not quite fear. Something in between. A readiness for what came next.
"We didn't forget what they did to us," Gustav continued. "We didn't forget our dead. We've etched their names in our hearts, and we'll use that memory as fuel. For revenge. For survival. For victory."
The group responded with grim determination. No cheers. No bravado. Just cold acceptance of what needed to be done.
They would attack the rat kingdom. Eighteen humans against an entire civilization of monsters.
The odds were shit. But they'd survived worse odds already.
And this time, they were ready.