The three doors pulsed in silence, their symbols glowing faintly in the mist.

  “Not spiders,” Harlada said immediately.

  “Not spiders,” Bert agreed, shuddering.

  Leo adjusted his notes, staring at the penguin sigil. A freezing draft wafted from the crack under the stone. His hands shook just looking at it. “And not penguins. Too cold. Fatally cold. Environmentally lethal.”

  That left two.

  The lava door simmered to their right, chains rattling faintly behind it. The skull-marked door loomed to their left, a faint chorus of moans and shuffling echoing through the cracks.

  Harlada rubbed her arms. “So… zombies or lava.”

  “Regression,” Leo muttered. “But perhaps preferable to the unknown.”

  They pushed the lava door.

  Heat blasted out. Three cages dangled over molten rock, waiting patiently.

  The crystal screen blinked:

  Attempts: 53. Welcome Back.

  All three slammed the door shut in unison.

  “Nope.”

  “Not again.”

  “Never.”

  They turned slowly toward the skull-marked door.

  Bert grinned, hefting his cleaver. “Guess it’s zombies, then.”

  Harlada sighed. “Better the dead than the frozen.”

  Leo pinched the bridge of his nose. “At least zombies are predictable.”

  Together, they pushed open the skull door. The sound of moaning swelled instantly, rising into a chorus that clawed at the edges of their sanity. The air reeked of rot.

  The crystal screen pulsed, almost smug:

  Path Chosen: Zombies. Good luck.

  The door slammed shut behind them.

  ***

  The chamber was not what any of them expected.

  Instead of a horde clawing at the walls, three zombies sat in a crude semicircle. Their gray skin sagged like old parchment, bones poking through where rot had eaten away the flesh. Yet none of them moved to attack. They simply… waited.

  One zombie lurched into the center. Its joints cracked like snapping branches as it raised its arms and began to flap them stiffly up and down. A wet groan rolled from its throat, drawn-out and pitiful. It staggered sideways, collapsed onto one knee, then froze, staring at the others as though expecting applause.

  The two seated zombies leaned forward eagerly, glowing eyes wide. One slapped its bony knee with a rotten hand. The other pointed at the performer, gurgling urgently. Both of them tried to form words, but only guttural noises spilled out—grunts, moans, gargles of frustration.

  “…What in the gods’ names are we looking at?” Harlada whispered.

  Leo narrowed his eyes. The crystal screen above flickered to life:

  Trial Activated. Win the Game to Claim the Reward.

  Round One: Ongoing for 2,043 Years.

  His jaw dropped. “They’re playing charades.”

  “Charades?” Harlada repeated. “With zombies?”

  “Undead pantomime,” Leo muttered, fascinated. “Look! The two seated ones clearly know the answer, but they cannot articulate. They can only produce throat sounds. Thus the game cannot advance.”

  Bert frowned, his cleaver already raised. “So they’ve been stuck in Round One for two thousand years? What’s stopping us from just smashing them and taking the loot?”

  Leo jabbed his quill at him. “The system, obviously. Look at the text. The only way forward is to win the game.”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  On cue, the center zombie doubled down. It flapped harder, jerking its head back like it was being throttled, letting out a gurgling squawk. Then, with great theatrical effort, it toppled face-first onto the floor and lay still.

  The two seated zombies thrashed with excitement. One pointed to its throat and moaned louder, the other slapped the ground frantically, as if screaming a word it could never say.

  Bert tilted his head. “…That’s just a bird. It’s flapping. It’s dying. Obvious.”

  The moment the word left his mouth, the two seated zombies froze. Slowly, they turned their glowing eyes toward him. Then, with startling energy, they groaned in wild excitement—clapping, pointing, bouncing in their seats like children who had just been given sweets.

  The crystal screen pulsed:

  Correct. Round One Cleared.

  The chamber rumbled. Stone cracked, and from the center rose a pedestal slick with moss. On it hovered a gem, faintly glowing with inner light.

  The performing zombie slumped to its knees, relief etched into its sagging features. The other two collapsed backward, groaning weakly, centuries of tension leaking out of their bones.

  Leo stared up at the screen, awestruck. “Two millennia… trapped because they couldn’t pronounce bird.”

  Harlada pinched her nose. “This dungeon is broken.”

  Bert puffed out his chest. “Or maybe I’m just really good at games.”

  The crystal scrolled again:

  Reward Generated. Allocate +1 Stat Point.

  The gem pulsed, waiting.

  ***

  The gem hovered above the pedestal, spinning slowly in the damp air. Its glow washed over them in steady pulses, like a heartbeat waiting for a body.

  Leo stared up at it with a rare hunger in his eyes. “This one is mine.”

  Bert scowled. “Why? I’m the strongest. Another point will make me unstoppable.”

  “You already got the first gem,” Leo said sharply. “Harlada has the second. Balance dictates the third goes to me.”

  “Balance is stupid,” Bert muttered.

  Harlada cocked her head thoughtfully. “Not necessarily. Maybe it really is enforced.” She smirked. “Only one way to find out.”

  Before Leo could protest, she nudged Bert forward. “Go on then, big guy. Take it. Let’s see what happens.”

  Bert grinned, striding up to the pedestal. He stretched out a broad hand and closed it around the gem. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. His grin widened.

  Then the crystal screen flashed blood red.

  Balance Violation Detected. Penalty Applied.

  A jolt of lightning surged down Bert’s arm. His body convulsed, smoke curling from his ears. He yelped, staggering backward into the wall.

  -1 HP.

  “AAAAAAAAA!” Bert’s howl echoed across the chamber. He slumped to the floor, twitching, steam rising off his hair.

  Harlada folded her arms, unimpressed. “Well. That answers that.”

  Leo adjusted his notes, calm as ever. “Balance confirmed. One gem each.”

  The gem floated gently from Bert’s twitching fingers and drifted into Leo’s palm instead. It dissolved on contact with a pleasant chime.

  +1 Intelligence applied to Leo Vince.

  Leo’s eyes gleamed as he scribbled immediately into the margins of his book. “At last. A correction to our statistical asymmetry.”

  Harlada rolled her eyes. “Congratulations, you’re officially nerdier.”

  Bert groaned on the floor. “I… hate… balance.”

  The crystal screen scrolled once more:

  Trial Complete. Path Forward Unlocked.

  Stone rumbled at the far side of the chamber. Mist poured from three new archways, each marked with a glowing sigil.

  The first bore jagged flames and chains, heat leaking from the cracks.

  The second displayed a stubby bird with flippers spread wide, muffled honking echoing faintly.

  The third showed a delicate web pattern, its strands twitching as if alive.

  The text burned into the air:

  Choose Wisely. The Dimension of Lava. The Dimension of Penguins. The Dimension of Spiders. Only one path advances.

  The doors pulsed, waiting.

  The three doors pulsed, each radiating its own threat.

  “Not spiders,” Harlada said firmly.

  “Not penguins,” Leo muttered. “Too cold. Uninhabitable.”

  “That leaves lava,” Bert offered.

  “No more lava,” Harlada snapped.

  “Never again,” Leo agreed.

  The silence dragged, heavy as the dungeon’s breath.

  Finally, Harlada dug into her pouch and pulled out a battered copper coin. One side was scratched with a crude X, the other left blank.

  “Fine,” she said. “Heads, penguins. Tails, spiders.”

  Bert frowned. “And lava?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Lava doesn’t get a side.”

  She balanced the coin on her thumb. The three of them leaned in, breath held.

  The coin spun into the air, glinting in the glow of the crystal screen. It clattered to the floor, bounced once, twice, spinning wildly in mad circles.

  The adventurers’ eyes followed it as it slowed.

  Then—