There was no light. Total darkness.

  James lifted a hand to his face and couldn’t see it. Yep, pitch dark.

  Edward broke the silence first. “Uh… anyone else seeing a whole lot of nothing?”

  A tap echoed, soft, hollow, impossible to place.

  Then fabric shifted beside James, followed by a faint scrape of wood against stone. Ken, moving. Preparing something.

  A heartbeat later, runes ignited, blue-white light blooming outward in a controlled pulse. The corridor revealed itself in layers: smooth flagstones, high stone walls, dust drifting like lazy ghosts. A low chill clung to everything.

  James exhaled, tension loosening from his shoulders.

  Trish mumbled, “I’m starting to see how Edward’s gotten so far.”

  Ken didn’t answer. He never did. He just angled the staff forward, casting light deeper into the maze.

  That’s when the system prompt appeared.

  System Notice – Verdigris Echo Quest Series Available.

  Do—

  Before the sentence finished, Wait—NO!

  Quest Accepted.

  Quest 1: Safe Room

  Objective: Reach the Safe Room.

  Time Limit: 1 hour

  Rewards:

  – 100 System Reputation (Group)

  – 50 Gold (Group)

  First-Clear Bonus Detected.

  From the looks on their faces, everyone had gotten the same quest.

  Edward grinned, shaking his head. “This sounds like a maze quest. Right off the bat.”

  “Ken, can you map for us?” Edward continued.

  Ken’s hand started to reach back instinctively—then paused, fingers brushing empty air where his pack should’ve been.

  James lifted a hand. “I’ve got a mapping skill, and we don't know it's a maze yet.”

  Ken’s eyes flicked to him. Just for a second. Then he gave a small nod and lowered his arm. A crease touched the corner of his mouth before smoothing out again.

  Ja’ra moved to the front, shield raised. “Maze or not, there will likely be traps. Can your squirrel ferret them out?”

  James blinked. “She’s still a baby.”

  “Looks older to me.” Ja’ra shrugged. “Fine. Is anyone good with traps?”

  The silence stretched.

  “…No?” Ja’ra grunted. “Then I’ll take point guard.”

  He stepped forward, shield raised—

  “Wait.”

  James dropped to the flagstones, the chill stone biting through his sleeves, grit grinding into his palms. He ran his fingers along the seams, slow and deliberate.

  There, two steps ahead. A hairline dip. Almost invisible. A pressure plate.

  He glanced up. Tiny round holes dotted the wall, waiting to spit something lethal.

  James sat back on his heels. “Turns out we do have someone for traps.”

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  He shrugged.

  Edward let out a low whistle. Lae’ni’s silver brows arched. Even Ja’ra paused, tapping his shield against his boot.

  “Well then,” the dwarf said gruffly. “Lead the way, Commander.”

  It quickly became clear the traps were meant to slow, not kill. After the first two, James thought he had the pattern.

  The corridor twisted once, twice, then stopped.

  A wall of smooth stone loomed ahead.

  Edward let out a sharp laugh. “What kind of maze is this? We’ve had exactly zero choices.”

  Ja’ra grunted. “Shortest maze I’ve ever walked.”

  “Why are you asking me? Edward’s the one who called it a maze.” James responded.

  Trish folded her arms. “So what now? Maybe this will work.”

  She fired a firebolt at the roof, walls, and floor. Other than scorch marks nothing happened.

  “No, not an illusion.”

  James pressed his lips thin. The dungeon wouldn’t set a one-hour time limit just to funnel them into a brick wall. He crouched again, palms flat against the stone, and there it was. Another pressure plate, right at the base of the wall.

  No holes. No grooves. No slots for darts or blades.

  He stared at it, uneasy.

  “…There’s a trigger here.”

  Edward leaned over his shoulder. “Well? What’s it do?”

  “No idea. No kill-zones around it. No traps in sight.” James straightened, brushing dust off his palms. “Which is why it makes me nervous.”

  Lae’ni’s eyes narrowed. “Then we leave it.”

  “Then we stay here,” James shot back. “Time’s ticking. Safe room or bust.”

  They exchanged looks. The weight of the quest timer gnawed at all of them.

  James exhaled hard. “Alright. I’m pressing it. Brace yourselves.”

  He waited a breath then stomped down.

  Click.

  The stone trembled. Then dropped.

  “Aw, come on—!” Edward’s curse became a shout as the floor gave way beneath them, stone sliding into a smooth chute.

  They tumbled together, gear clattering, the chute twisting like a stone intestine.

  Then came nothing. Just air.

  They were airborne.

  After a moment they hit. Hard. The ground smacked into James like a wall. His ribs screamed, but nothing was broken. He rolled, coughing dust.

  They were in a pit.

  Not the clean kind you’d see in an Arena. This one stank. Unlike an Arena, there were no benches, no steps, and no referees, just walls slick with moss and rot. Bones littered the ground, piled like someone had been tidying corpses into neat stacks. Flesh clung to some. Half-rotted. Half-squelching.

  James pushed himself up. Around him, the others staggered to their feet, steel rasping from sheaths.

  His hand went to his crossbow. The expensive, new crossbow. The one he’d splurged on.

  The one that had snapped in half when he landed on it.

  He swore under his breath and shoved it into his inventory, hoping a smith could fix it.

  That’s when a familiar voice split the air.

  “Bwahahahaha!”

  Bob’s laugh echoed through the pit, distorted and enormous, bouncing from bone to bone until it was impossible to tell where it came from.

  “It seems,” Bob drawled, voice dripping with mockery, “that you’ve walked willingly into my world. This is your first, and possibly your last, trial. The Dead have something to tell you. Will you listen?”

  The voice tilted sharp, giddy. “Oh, and that crossbow looked expensive. Oops.”

  Ja’ra wasn’t listening. The dwarf had already chopped into a bone pile, cursing under his breath as skeletal hands rattled upward. Edward joined him with a shout, sword flashing.

  James felt it then, a cold drop in his gut.

  They had no plan.

  “Group up!” he barked. “Ken in the middle. Don’t let that light go out. Ja’ra, if we get surrounded, throw up an earth wall!”

  “No.” Ja’ra grunted, axe crunching through bone. “Don’t have that spell.”

  James’s stomach twisted. Preparation. That’s what they needed.

  But there was no time.

  The piles shuddered. Bones jerked into shape. Skeletons rose creaking, jaws clacking, eye sockets burning green.

  The flesh-piles shifted too.

  Grotesque zombies dragged themselves free, dripping rot.

  James shouted, voice steady even if he wasn’t: “Skeletons, blunt or heavy blows! Zombies, go for the brain! Don’t get bit!”

  Edward laughed, exhilarated, driving his sword clean through a zombie’s skull. “It works!”

  James exhaled, relieved. Okay. Dungeons & Dragons logic checks out.

  “Flank incoming!” Trish’s voice rang out sharp. She hurled a firebolt.

  The skeleton didn’t just stagger, it exploded into shards.

  James blinked.

  On the other side, Lae’ni whispered quick syllables. Brambles shot from the stone, weaving into a wall that blocked a second flank James hadn’t even seen.

  James drew his dagger, found a zombie, and drove the blade down through its temple. It spasmed once, then collapsed.

  Faint glows shimmered over some of the corpses. Loot. It could wait.

  Within minutes, the floor was littered with broken bones and twitching meat. The last skeleton toppled, its skull rolling free.

  Edward leaned on his blade, panting, not from exhaustion. He was practically glowing with adrenaline. “Ha! That was amazing!”

  James’s instincts screamed. Something was wrong. Too easy.

  He knew better than to say it out loud.

  Edward did. “Hey, guys… was that a little too easy?”

  The whole group groaned in unison. “No, Edward!”

  But it was too late.

  The bones shivered. Every fragment, every shard lifted into the air, rattling with shrieks of grinding marrow. They spun, fused, slammed together.

  Rotting flesh poured upward, slick and heavy, binding the joints like mortar.

  The thing that landed shook the ground.

  A monster of bone and rot, stitched into a towering frame. Blades for arms. A tail like a scythe. A skull grinning with too many teeth, eyes burning red.

  Bob’s voice boomed, gleeful.

  “Careful what you wish for Edward. But next time, let James say it. He has the Wait—NO! trait, and ohhhh, that would’ve been hilarious.”

  Edward had already stepped forward, shield braced, planting himself shoulder to shoulder with Ja’ra.

  He looked back once, grin sharp and tight.

  “What’s the plan, Commander?”