I produce my hook, thankful to have it. I swing it overhead and cast it past the throne.
It catches! I begin to pull, and drag myself out of the thick, sticky tar. Were it not for this tool, that would have been how I died.
I turn to face the magician. A sharp stone flies past my face, nearly grazing it. I cover my head with my arms, and several heavy blows ring metal plates. The magician is propelling ordinary stone toward me at high speed.
I open a small gap between my arms to see, and take cover behind the throne.
"You've been spoiled, assassin. The pathetic stage of magic in this day has made you overconfident. Because the ancients' techniques of defending against magic were lost, there was no longer a need for magicians to complete their studies. Every dabbler could simply excite some mana and expel it toward their target. How pitiful!
"But some of us remember the old ways. We search, we excavate, we appraise, and we preserve what others wouldn't recognize for the treasure it is. Let me show you the fruit of my years of research.
"Labyrinth!"
What follows defies description. The cavern's interior makes my eyes recoil; there is no way to judge distance beyond my immediate surroundings. At various places, there are copies of the magician, facing different directions.
A stone strikes my flank, reminding me of the danger at hand. Is this spectacle an illusion meant to lure me out of cover? Or has the cavern truly changed? My answer comes with the next projectile.