Chương 24: Chapter 23: Collapse Segment - Deadly Reflexes

The metal door barely finished slamming shut before the tunnel shuddered. Not once. Not cleanly. A long, uneven ripple passed through the walls, ceiling, and floor—like the entire Gauntlet had just woken from a century of forced sleep and was testing whether its bones still remembered how to hurt people. Dust rained from above in gray sheets. Burnt ozone stung the air.

Somewhere inside the walls, ancient sensors clicked awake one after another, releasing a dry metallic smell like old machines grinding their teeth in the dark. Flakes of rust drifted down and settled across Z-69's shoulders. Lumina's tail shot straight up. Every strand of blue fur stood on end. I really hate this place. Z-69 did not answer. He stood still. One second. Two. His boots remained planted on the trembling floor while his senses spread outward through the tunnel. Vibration underfoot. Pressure in the air.

Heat behind the walls. A faint electromagnetic pulse crawling through dead circuits. A narrow vent on the right suddenly exhaled hot wind, lifting several strands of his pale hair. That was enough. The system was active. And it did not welcome them. Then came the sound. Tick. Tick. Tick. Dry. Tiny. Almost harmless. Almost. Like the countdown of a bomb holding its breath. Ten swallowed hard. Even in the dim emergency lights, Z-69 saw the boy's throat move.

"That sound…" Ten whispered.

"That's not normal."

"Nothing in this tunnel is normal." The answer came flat and immediate. Before either of them could say more— CRASH. The floor exploded three meters ahead. A whole metal panel tore free and vanished into darkness, taking steel fragments and support rods with it. They crashed downward, echoing deeper and deeper, like machines being fed into an endless grinder. Ten's eyes widened.

"RIGHT!" Z-69 moved before the last syllable finished leaving the boy's mouth. He caught Ten by the arm and pulled him sideways. A colossal steel beam dropped from the ceiling in the exact spot they had occupied a heartbeat earlier. BOOM. It punched into the ground like a spear thrown by a giant. The impact shook the tunnel. Dust burst outward. The floor lurched beneath them. Loose bolts bounced once, twice, then rolled into the newly opened pit and disappeared. Z-69 turned his head toward Ten.

The boy was pale, breathing hard, still staring at the embedded beam as if his own voice had scared him.

"You foresaw that?"

"I…" Ten's eyes flickered toward him.

"I don't know." His hands were shaking.

"I just felt it." There was no pride in the answer. Only confusion. Fear. And the sick look of someone realizing his instincts were whispering things they had no right to know. Z-69 gave a single nod.

"Good." Just one word. That was all. But it hit Ten harder than a full speech ever could. His back straightened a little. His legs still shook. But less now. Fear remained. It simply had something standing beside it. Ahead, the corridor no longer looked like a corridor. It looked like the skeleton of a broken bridge. A chain of metal floor plates stretched into the darkness, each section connected by warped hinges and old support rods. Some trembled on their own. Others were blackened by ancient burns.

A few hung at crooked angles, as if they had already tried to give up and been forced to remain useful. Z-69 stepped onto the first plate. It groaned beneath his weight. Not like steel. Like something dying. RUN! Lumina's voice exploded through both their minds. Z-69 did not hesitate. He scooped Ten up with one arm and launched forward. The first plate split apart the instant his foot left it. Metal tore behind them in a shriek of snapping welds and breaking bolts.

The sound chased them down the tunnel like broken glass grinding under a god's heel. Ten grabbed onto Z-69's neck with both hands.

"There!" he shouted.

"Don't go through the middle!" Z-69 shifted in mid-step and landed on the far-left edge of the next plate. A fraction of a second later, the center caved in completely, dropping into blackness as if some unseen hand had yanked it straight downward. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Ten's breathing turned sharp and ragged.

"I told you," he panted.

"I don't know how, but something keeps pushing into my head. Like… danger crawling under my skin."

"Instinctive premonition?"

"No." Ten swallowed.

"Worse." Z-69 glanced at him. Ten's voice lowered.

"It feels like someone is standing behind me. Pointing at the danger. Forcing me to notice." Lumina made a disgusted noise. That is unbelievably creepy.

"But useful," Z-69 said. That shut them both up for half a second. Then the next obstacle emerged from the dark. An old suspension bridge. Its chains were rusted and thick as forearms. The platform sagged visibly in the middle, one side hanging lower than the other over an abyss so black it seemed to swallow even the emergency lights. Heat rolled up from below in slow waves. Scorched iron. Stale dust. Old death. Z-69 stepped onto it. The entire structure groaned like an animal waking in pain. Ten looked down.

Immediately regretted it.

"Why is there always a bottomless pit?" Z-69 kept walking.

"Because engineers lack imagination." Or because everyone in this city has unresolved vertical trauma. John would have liked that one. Z-69 almost answered. Then the bridge attacked. Halfway across, one of the floor planks snapped upward. Not down. Up. Like a metal fang trying to bite through his leg. Don't let it bite you! Lumina's warning came sharp and immediate. Z-69 did not dodge. The Heaven-Sundering Short Blade came out in one smooth motion, as naturally as breath. Violet lightning ran along its edge.

The dark bridge flashed white-purple for an instant. Then— SHHHK. A razor arc of light cleaved through the exposed hinge beneath the snapping plank. BOOM. Sparks burst outward. Heat surged through the bridge. The broken section slammed down and jammed itself into place, no longer able to spring back. Ten stared. His wide eyes reflected the fading violet glow still crawling along the blade.

"…Beautiful," he breathed. Z-69 glanced at him.

"It is only a blade."

"No," Ten said quietly.

"The way you use it." Lumina let out a tired mental sigh. Oh great. Another fanboy. They crossed the rest of the bridge and entered a cylindrical passage beyond it. The moment they stepped inside, the air changed. The dread here was thicker. Not a feeling. A pressure. Like floodwater slowly rising around the throat. Ten abruptly tightened his grip on Z-69's sleeve.

"Don't stop here," he whispered.

"The ceiling… it's moving." Z-69 lifted his gaze. He saw it at the same moment the trap activated. The entire ceiling dropped. Not debris. Not fragments. The whole thing. A reinforced steel sheet the size of a room came crashing down with enough force to flatten bone, metal, and memory alike.

"MOVE!" Z-69 shot left. The left wall collapsed. He twisted right. The right side split open beneath his step. Then Lumina's voice cut through again, sharp enough to tear thought in half. UP! CLIMB! Z-69 planted one foot against the wall, kicked off hard, and hurled both himself and Ten upward into a narrow gap between two exposed steel beams. The ceiling slammed down beneath them. WHAM. The impact detonated through the tunnel. The shockwave lifted Z-69 for a fraction of a second even inside the gap.

Dust burst upward in a choking cloud. Ten gave a broken gasp and pressed himself flat against the beam, white-faced and trembling so hard his whole body vibrated.

"S-so close…" he stammered.

"We almost got crushed." Z-69 reached over and brushed dust from the boy's hair with calm, almost absent precision.

"I maintained distance." Ten turned to stare at him like he had lost his mind.

"No, you didn't! Two centimeters is not distance!"

"In the end, you lived."

"That is not the point!" But the fact that Ten could still complain meant he was not broken yet. Z-69 counted that as sufficient. They moved on. Past the crushed section. Past another tunnel bend slick with old condensation. Past the charred remains of traps that had already claimed other contestants. A broken boot lay beside the wall. Still attached to a foot. No body. Ten looked at it for half a second, then looked away. Z-69 did not. He noted the angle of the severed ankle. Clean cut. Fast trap.

From the left wall. He stepped over a faint seam in the floor. A blade shot out behind his heel a moment later. Ten flinched. Z-69 kept walking.

"You saw that too?" Ten asked.

"No."

"Then how—""The boot." Ten stared at the severed foot. Then at the wall blade retracting into the darkness. His face turned paler.

"Oh." Z-69 said, "Clues remain after most people die." Ten swallowed.

"That is a horrible lesson."

"It is also a useful one." Lumina's tail flicked against Z-69's neck. Your teaching style needs work.

"It works." It traumatizes.

"Both can be true." Ten looked like he wanted to argue. Then a bolt shot from the ceiling, struck the floor where his foot nearly landed, and exploded in a shower of sparks. He stopped arguing. At last, they reached an intersection where two teams were usually meant to converge. Another team was already there. Or what remained of one. Three members instead of four. They leaned against the far wall in exhaustion, covered in sweat, grime, and blood. One had a split lip. Another clutched his side.

The one in front raised a hand as Z-69 approached.

"Don't come closer." His voice was firm. Too firm. And trembling underneath.

"It collapsed ahead. We're stuck. Turn back." Ten frowned immediately.

"Don't trust them." Lumina's tail puffed up. I smell something nasty. Z-69 observed in silence. The front man's left eye twitched when he lied. His right knee was bent. Not from injury. Readiness. His breathing changed every time he repeated the word stuck. His weight rested subtly on the back foot of someone about to lunge.

"You are lying." The man's face changed instantly. Mask off. Knife out.

"He's weak! Take him down and exchange his corpse for points—!" Z-69 did not bother drawing his blade. He did not shift stance. Did not step. He simply punched. One clean motion. The man hit the floor so hard he went limp before the knife finished skidding away. The other two lost their nerve at once. They fled without looking back, scrambling through the corridor like animals that had mistaken a sleeping predator for prey. Ten stared at the unconscious attacker.

"…They really were going to kill you."

"I know."

"How?"

"The way he stood was wrong." Ten blinked.

"Wrong stance?"

"Someone preparing to attack almost always places more weight on the dominant leg. Usually the right." Z-69 looked at the fallen man.

"Learn that." Ten looked down at the unconscious attacker. Then back at Z-69.

"…Can you teach me?" Z-69 studied him for one second.

"If you survive this, I will consider it." Lumina nearly choked. Are you seriously recruiting disciples in the middle of a death tunnel? Z-69 ignored her. He stepped forward. Then Ten grabbed his sleeve again.

"Wait." Z-69 stopped. Ten looked down.

"You're standing on something." A metal tile. Engraved with the number: 02 Lumina's eyes went wide. OH SHIT. DELAYED TRAP. Click. A tiny sound. Then the floor detonated upward. Z-69 lifted Ten instantly and spun backward. A steel piston burst out of the ground hard enough to rip through anyone standing there, blasting upward with a howl of torn pressure and shredded bolts. It missed them by less than a blink. The piston slammed into the ceiling. Then retracted. Slowly. Like a tongue sliding back into a mouth.

Ten clung to Z-69's shoulder, shaking violently now. But he stayed silent. No screaming. No collapse. No panic spiral. Only fear held under brutal control. Z-69 noted that. And, to his own faint surprise, respected it.

"You are adapting," he said. Ten gave him a weak, disbelieving look.

"I am barely surviving."

"That is the first form of adaptation." Ten opened his mouth. Closed it. Then nodded once. The Gauntlet rumbled again. Segment One was not done with them. The next corridor curved downward, narrow and dark, its walls lined with old mechanical arms folded into the metal like dead insects. Every arm had a different tool attached. Saw. Drill. Clamp. Needle. Welder. A few twitched as they passed. Ten's face tightened.

"These move."

"Yes."

"I mean they are going to move at us."

"Likely." I vote we do not walk through the murder-arm hallway. Z-69 scanned the ceiling. The walls. The floor. No alternative passage.

"We walk." Of course we do. He entered first. The first ten meters stayed silent. Then one arm snapped outward. A rotary saw screamed toward his throat. Z-69 leaned back just enough for the blade to shave a few strands of pale hair from his neck. He cut upward with the Heaven-Sundering Short Blade and severed the arm at its joint. Another came from below. Ten shouted, "Left!" Z-69 shifted left. Then right. Because he understood what Ten meant. The visible danger was left. The real kill path came from the right.

A needle arm stabbed out from the wall where his ribs had been. He caught it between two fingers and crushed it. Ten stared.

"You understood that?"

"You looked at the wrong trap."

"That was an accident."

"It was still information." More arms unfolded. Five. Ten. Fifteen. The corridor became a frenzy of rusted motion. Z-69 moved through it with brutal economy. One slash to disable a saw. A kick to bend a clamp into another arm's path. A shoulder turn to let a drill scrape past his coat. A violet spark to overload a welder before it could fire. Ten stayed close. Too close for comfort. But he did not freeze. When Z-69 moved, Ten moved. When Lumina warned, Ten obeyed without asking why.

When a clamp nearly caught his ankle, he dropped flat before it closed and rolled under Z-69's next swing. Not skilled. Not graceful. But alive. They reached the end with torn fabric, scorched air, and six broken arms still twitching behind them. Ten collapsed against the wall, gasping.

"I think my soul left my body three traps ago." Z-69 looked at him.

"Retrieve it later." He is joking, Lumina said, sounding faintly horrified. I think he just made a joke. Z-69 did not confirm or deny. At the end of the corridor waited a round steel door. Old. Rust-streaked. Ancient enough to look dead. Yet something about it still felt awake. Z-69 pushed it open. White light burst through the widening gap in hundreds of thin lines, as if the room beyond were full of glowing needles aimed straight at them. The brightness struck like blade-rain.

Ten threw up one arm to shield his eyes. Lumina's fur bristled from nose to tail. Z-69 stared forward. The room beyond was a maze. Laser beams crossed one another at impossible angles, slicing through the air in an overlapping web of pale white lines and sharp reflections. Some moved slowly. Some vibrated. Some blinked and reappeared half a meter away. Some were so thin they looked less like light and more like cuts already made in reality.

The whole chamber resembled the blueprint of a lunatic who had confused geometry with murder. Then a speaker hidden in the wall crackled to life.

"Segment Two: Light-Sensor System." A pause.

"Precision threshold: 0. 02 seconds." Another pause.

"One wrong step…" The speaker hissed. Then finished with obscene cheer.

"…means death." Ten inhaled sharply. His legs were shaking again.

"I…" He forced the words out.

"I'm scared." Z-69 placed one hand on his shoulder. A small gesture. Steady. Certain.

"I am here." Ten closed his eyes for half a second. Then opened them again and nodded.

"Then I'll survive." The door behind them slammed shut. The sound rang through the chamber like a verdict. Z-69 stepped forward. The purple sheen of the Heaven-Sundering Short Blade slid across the trembling laser lines, splitting their white glow with cold violet reflections. And the Gauntlet's second trial began.