Chapter 72: Endless Path
Alex seized the central corridor and surged toward whatever lurked in the maze’s heart, his boots hammering against obsidian walls with relentless precision. The confrontation with Haley had scoured him clean not healed exactly, but sharpened. His mind sliced through problems now with surgical clarity, each thought snapping into the next with clockwork efficiency.
The corridor knifed ahead in a perfect line, bathed by the steady flame he commanded in his right palm. Fire obeyed his will with liquid grace, hurling dancing shadows across polished stone. After his psychological overhaul, even his abilities pulsed with renewed purpose.
But as minutes bled into what felt like an hour, dread crystallized in his chest. The corridor remained maddeningly unchanged no branching arteries, no architectural variations, no landmarks to gauge his progress. Just endless obsidian stone swallowing the darkness ahead.
Alex froze, scrutinizing the walls with mounting alarm. The flame in his palm revealed identical construction in every direction: the same width, the same height, the same cryptic sigils etched into stone. He’d been carving through what should have been a straight line for over an hour, yet nothing had shifted.
’What the hell is this, another mental assault?’ he muttered, his voice devoured by the crushing silence.
The possibility injected ice through his enhanced perception. If the maze was warping spatial relationships the way it had twisted his memories, then simple navigation became meaningless. He could march forever in what appeared to be a straight line while actually spiraling in circles, or treading the same ground repeatedly without realizing it.
Alex pivoted, studying the path he’d carved. The corridor behind him mirrored the path ahead same obsidian construction, same subtle variations in the stonework, same oppressive uniformity that murdered distance judgment. If he was snared in some kind of spatial loop, then traditional escape methods were worthless.
His mind began dissecting alternatives. The maze had demonstrated reality manipulation capabilities during his encounter with Haley, but those had been psychological constructs rather than actual spatial distortion. This felt different more fundamental, like the laws of physics themselves were being rewritten to serve the maze’s purposes.
Glancing toward the depths of the middle passage he’d originally chosen, Alex confirmed that nothing was emerging from that direction at least not yet. The branching corridors he’d passed remained visible, offering alternative routes that might not be subject to whatever spatial manipulation infected this central path.
But retreating tasted like surrender, and his newly optimized thinking rejected defeat without exhausting other options first. If this was another test, then the solution lay in understanding the rules governing the distortion rather than avoiding it entirely.
Unconvinced that simple persistence would overcome whatever force commanded this space, Alex lunged forward with deliberate purpose, his flame blazing brighter as he plunged deeper into the endless tunnel. The increased illumination revealed more details about the corridor’s construction, but also confirmed his growing suspicions about its impossible nature.
He prowled along a long stretch of tunnels illuminated by the fire he’d summoned, studying every surface for clues about the spatial manipulation. The obsidian walls were carved with intricate patterns that seemed to writhe when he wasn’t looking directly at them, creating a subtle disorientation that made distance judgment even more difficult.
After what felt like another hour of steady progress, Alex looked down at his feet and released a heavy sigh.
’That does not bode well.’
Not in the sense that there was immediate danger ahead, but rather because he could no longer pierce the gloom that strangled the tunnel beyond his flame’s reach. Even his Adept Eyes skill, enhanced by his recent level advancement, couldn’t penetrate the darkness that seemed to actively resist illumination.
The realization was deeply unsettling. His enhanced perception had proven reliable in every situation he’d faced, from the corpse strewn battlefield to the arena’s deadly trials. Now it was useless, reduced to normal human limitations despite his advancement to Level 3.
Walking deeper into the tunnel, Alex instantly felt tense and vulnerable. Not only was his sight limited to the small circle of illumination his fire provided, but the spatial distortion meant he couldn’t trust his sense of direction or distance. Every step forward could theoretically be taking him backward, sideways, or nowhere at all.
The tunnel yawned wide enough for two carriages to pass each other without brushing sides, and utterly empty. Nothing but impenetrable darkness filled its silent expanse. His footsteps echoed strangely, reflecting from the cold stone walls in patterns that suggested the acoustic properties were as distorted as the visual ones.
The tunnel simply stretched forward, seemingly endlessly, and completely empty of threats or landmarks. After a while, Alex managed to shake off his immediate discomfort and adjust to having his perception severely crippled, as well as he could manage given the circumstances.
It was still deeply disturbing, though. Every survival instinct he’d developed during his time in this nightmare dimension screamed warnings about blind spots and unknown threats. Operating without reliable sight or distance measurement violated every tactical principle he’d learned.****
Half an hour passed without his encountering any threats, changes in architecture, or signs that he was making actual progress. The monotonous uniformity of the corridor began to take on a hypnotic quality that made him question whether he was even moving at all.
His stamina meant physical fatigue wasn’t a concern, but mental strain was accumulating from the constant vigilance required when operating with compromised senses. The spatial distortion created a low-level anxiety that gnawed at his operational efficiency, undermining the psychological clarity he’d achieved during his confrontation with Haley.
Alex paused to assess his situation with analytical precision. Based on his steady walking pace and the time elapsed, he estimated he’d covered at least six kilometers of ground. In a normal tunnel system, that distance should have brought him to some kind of destination, junction, or at minimum a change in the corridor’s characteristics.
’I should have walked three kilometers at minimum. Maybe more,’ he said aloud, his voice echoing strangely in the darkness. The sound seemed to stretch and distort before fading, suggesting the acoustic properties were as unreliable as everything else in this place.
The mathematical impossibility of the situation crystallized in his mind with cold certainty. No tunnel system, regardless of its construction or purpose, could maintain perfect uniformity across six kilometers of length. Even accounting for the maze’s reality manipulation capabilities, the energy requirements for sustaining such extensive spatial distortion should be enormous.
Alex raised his flame higher, pushing more essence into the illumination despite the potential drain on his reserves. The brighter light revealed more details about the corridor’s construction, but also confirmed what his analytical mind had already concluded: every visible surface was identical to what he’d observed at the beginning of his journey.
The obsidian walls bore the same subtle patterns, the same carved sigils, the same slight imperfections that he’d memorized during his first hour of walking. Either the maze was creating perfect duplicates of the corridor’s features with impossible precision, or he wasn’t actually moving through space at all.
The implications sent ice through his veins. If the maze could manipulate spatial relationships on this scale, then every assumption he’d made about navigation, escape routes, and tactical positioning was meaningless. He could be walking in place while the maze created the illusion of progress, or moving in directions that had no relationship to his intended path.
His newly optimized thinking processes kicked into overdrive, analyzing possibilities with mechanical efficiency. The maze had demonstrated psychological manipulation during his encounter with Haley, but this level of spatial distortion suggested capabilities that transcended mere illusion. This was reality manipulation on a scale that defied physics as he understood it.
Alex stopped walking entirely, allowing his flame to illuminate the corridor around him while he processed the tactical implications of his situation. If traditional navigation was impossible, then he needed to find alternative methods for determining his actual position and progress.
His essence reserves remained stable despite maintaining the illumination, suggesting the spatial distortion wasn’t actively draining his power. The maze’s reality manipulation seemed focused on perception and movement rather than direct interference with his abilities.
That observation sparked a new approach to his predicament. If the maze was manipulating space but not essence, then perhaps he could use his fire abilities in ways that would reveal the true nature of his surroundings. Not for illumination, but for spatial analysis.
Alex began channeling fire into precise geometric patterns, creating markers that would reveal whether the corridor was actually uniform or simply appearing that way. He burned distinctive symbols into the obsidian walls at regular intervals, each one unique and positioned at specific heights and angles.
As he continued forward, maintaining his methodical pace while creating new markers, the truth of his situation became undeniably clear. Every symbol he’d burned into the walls appeared exactly where he’d placed it, at the correct intervals, showing no signs of duplication or distortion.
But after another hour of walking, he encountered the first symbol he’d created.
The marker appeared exactly as he’d burned it into the obsidian surface, in the precise location where he’d begun this experiment. Either the maze was creating perfect duplicates of his fire-burned symbols, or he’d somehow returned to his starting position despite walking in a straight line for hours.
Alex studied the symbol with analytical detachment, his enhanced perception confirming every detail of its construction. The burn patterns, the depth of the scarring in the stone, the subtle variations in the flame-mark’s edges everything matched what he’d created at the beginning of his systematic approach.
There was only one possible answer. This tunnel... something was very, very wrong with it.