"Ok, Ryn," I mutter under my breath, forcing a grin that feels more like a snarl.
"So how are we gonna get ourselves out of this one?"
After a few minutes, the answer, as it turned out, was quite obvious:
Poorly. Loudly. And with an irresponsible amount of confidence. Confidence that shouldn't be there.
The two nobles step in towards me at the same time. Their attitudes were clearly different this time: no more teasing, no more mocking, no more pretending that this was a harmless little practice exercise. With every step they took, getting closer to me, their faces tightened, the look that spoiled people get when things don't clearly go their way.
The broad one casts multiple flame darts in his palm, tighter and hotter than before, as if he's putting his own pride into it.
"Ignis: Cinder Spear," he says, with pride.
The slick-haired one raises his hand and releases thin, ember-like filaments, spider-like binding threads that shimmer into existence, like a rope of fire.
"Ignis: Inferno Weave," he says quietly.
They don't even need to say it.
I can tell.
This is the part where they've stopped trying to humiliate me... and start trying to put me through the ground.
And me?
I'm nearly done.
I can't go on for much longer.
I can feel my lungs char with every inhale and exhale. My arms are so heavy and ache that I'm barely able to lift them when I cast. My Aether feels like a worn-down bucket with a crack in it; every spell I throw leaks a little more of me out.
Even then...
I still plant my feet between them and the battered carriage commoner behind me.
Because I'm already here.
And I'm already angry.
I'm already too far in to back out without having to hate myself in the process.
And also... If not now, then when?
All my life, I've had it in for these cocky nobles who think they're better than us, than me. It's time to put them in their place.
The broad one lunges in first, his spear sweeping low, trying to cut at my legs.
I try to leap backwards, but it isn't enough. The heat from the spear licks my left calf like a warning bite, the pain more evident than a flashing bright light.
"Ventus: Turbulent Break!"
I push both hands forward, and the air bursts in a blunt wave.
The shock hits him mid-step, jolting his spear arm, causing the flame spear to skid across the crystal floor, leaving a sizzling crease. He grunts and stumbles back one step.
It's not much.
But it's enough to buy me time to catch my breath.
The slick-haired noble takes the opening instantly, using his Inferno Weave threads to snap toward my wrists like munching ribbons.
"Ventus: Cutting Draft!"
I flick my hand, and the air blade slices through the threads cleanly, dispersing them into shimmering fragments.
He clicks his tongue again, clearly annoyed.
'Well... I just know that sound is going to haunt me in my sleep for the next few days.'
The broad one roars and throws his spear straight at my chest.
I twist sideways away from direct impact, only barely; the spear brushes past my ribs, close enough to make me feel the heat seep through my shirt.
My heartbeat goes stupid fast.
And the broad noble charges behind it.
I don't let him get close.
After creating a few metres of separation, I noticed something.
His flame isn't stable. It's flashy for sure, and it's definitely strong enough to take me out, but... I can see that the flame wobbles at the edges, like he's forcing the spear to form rather than controlling it. It looks like the kind of spell you learn when you're praised for output, rather than effectiveness, like his mistakes weren't corrected.
And the slick-haired one? His Inferno Weave is fast, but every time I cut it, he flinches like he wasn't expecting resistance. Like no one's ever made him work this hard.
And that's when I realised.
'These guys aren't calm because they know they can take me out any time, it's because they've never had anything not go their way before.'
'These guys have been showing off their entire life, without anyone telling them so. These guys don't know how to use magic, they just know how to make it look cool.'
These guys are frauds.
They didn't 'survive' the maze.
They rode it... on another commoner's back.
The realisation settles deep in my soul, as suddenly the two nobles' confidence looks wispy, like worn-out paint.
They both come at me again. The broad one dashing a few steps in quickly, using Cinder Spear to aim at my weak spots. The slicked-back noble is just behind him, only his path is much rounder as he tries to ensnare me using Inferno Weave. Both of them are trying to overwhelm me, trying to force a mistake out of me.
And I make them. Just not fatal ones.
I take a glancing blow to the shoulder, feeling pain spark up my arm.
I get caught by an ember-thread on my wrist before I eventually slice it.
I get forced a few steps back, my boots scraping the crystal flooring so hard that the soles of my shoes are nearly embedded in it.
Every time they push forward, I push them back with my wind.
Break to disrupt their flow. Draft to punish any overreach.
Break. Draft.
Break. Draft.
The room turns near-silent; all I can hear is the pressure radiating from the heat and the sound of my own harsh, loud breathing.
I don't even realise I'm grinning until I catch the slick-haired one staring at me like I'm an insect that refused to die.
"Why are you smiling?" He snaps.
"I'm not," I wheeze, ducking a sweeping spear of fire. "I just realised you guys aren't as strong as I thought you were."
They both snarl.
The broad one swings his spear again, this time wide and angry. I propel a Turbulent Break into his open chest.
It hits him like a shove from a 7-foot giant, causing him to stagger back and lose his footing... and falling to the floor.
'Huh.'
His eyes look as though in disbelief, and they flick, just once, towards the other commoner. Like he's checking if they 'weak one' is watching. Like he needs the reassurance that he isn't. So that he can hide the embarrassment.
The other commoner makes a broken little sound behind me, causing the broad noble's nostrils to flare in anger.
"Why are you still standing! You should be exhausted by now!" He growls at me, as if I'm violating the laws of the universe. "You're only a commoner!"
I laugh in response, short but mean. "Oh yeah? And you're supposed to be the oh-so great noble! So I guess we're both disappointed."
The slick-haired one's face twitches.
It was a tiny twitch, but I saw it.
And it wasn't anger.
It was panic pretending to be anger.
They were starting to realise.
They've never gone through hardship. Not real hardship. They've never had to fight with empty reserves, bleeding pride, with no one to save them. They've never HAD to win because they never took on a challenge with the possibility of losing.
They've only ever won because they expected it.
And now, a commoner stands before them, still breathing. Still casting, and their brains don't know how to process it.
Although... the pressure is starting to creep in for me, too.
Mental. Not physical.
I can feel my thoughts getting noisy, as self-doubt becomes an evident but predictable outcome.
'What if they land a clean hit?'
'What if I slip like an idiot and get ganged up on by them?'
'What if my Aether runs out?'
'What if I win and they come for me later anyway?'
'What if... none of this matters?
My stomach churns.
My mouth dries out.
And for the first time since I stepped into the maze, I could feel it. Real fear.
Not of the monsters.
Not of the trial.
Of losing, and being unable to protect someone I could protect… and watching him pay the price of my weakness.
The other commoner shifts weakly.
His breath rattles.
And that sound drags me back into focus like a slap.
'No. I don't get to spiral out of this fight. Focus, Ryn. You know you can win this.'
I exhale through my teeth and force my brain into one simple truth:
'All I've got to do is make them angry, make them miss, make them trip, and then cut them down.'
The broad one reforms his spear again, but it was too fast and too sloppy.
"Ignis: Cinder Spear!"
He's shouting the name of the spell like it'll improve its effectiveness.
The slick-haired one flanks behind me again, his ember-threads glittering.
"Ignis: Inferno Weave!"
They try to sync up... key word being 'try'.
Because they can't.
Because they're not a team. They're just two egos who agreed to bully someone together.
I blast Turbulent Break, aimed low at their feet. It causes both of them to stumble, but this time they recover faster and smarter. Like they've adapted. Slightly.
The slick-haired noble casts Inferno Weave, separating the threads, the filaments coming from two angles like a net split into pieces.
I manage to slice one, but the other wraps around my right forearm, hot and tight, yanking it sideways.
The pain causes my arm to jerk.
The broad one takes the opening and drives a Cinder Spear toward my chest.
I twist, but it's not enough. Heat slams into my side. It doesn't pierce; I managed to grab what would be the socket of the spear with my left arm, preventing it from going through, but it still burns. Sharp and brutal, like someone pressed hot iron against the palm of my hand.
I gasp so hard my lungs seize. Freeing myself, I stumble back, my vision stuttering.
The slick-haired one laughs, breathless with satisfaction.
"See," he says. "Was that so hard?"
But his laugh is strained.
And the broad one's hand is shaking as he reforms the spear; there is a tiny tremor, barely noticeable.
I could tell they weren't calm.
They weren't trained for this kind of resistance.
They're just rich kids who finally ran into something that doesn't bow at their feet.
The broad one steps forward... and says something stupid.
"You idiot!" He snaps at the slick-haired one. "Don't bind him like that, just let me finish it."
The slick-haired one whips his head around. "Excuse me??"
"You're getting in the way," the broad one growls. "You're making it too messy for me to finish it."
The slick-haired one's eyes narrow. "Messy? I'm the only one doing anything clean here."
The broad one laughs, ugly and mean. "Clean? You're just dancing around him when he's standing still."
The slick-haired one's voice goes sharp. "Yeah— because you can't hit a target unless it stands still."
'What am I seeing right now... are these guys bickering mid-fight?'
'I can't tell if this is beautiful or insulting.'
Their egos are so fragile that the moment they start struggling against a commoner, they blame each other for their own faults.
My lip twitches. 'If I weren't in such agonising pain, I'd probably laugh.'
The broad one steps closer to the slick-haired one, his flame spear wavering as he gestures angrily.
"I would've ended this already, but because of YOU, this is being dragged out."
The slick-haired one scoffs. "I'm dragging it out? You've thrown more flame into the floor than at him."
"Shut up."
"No, you shut up."
I could see it. Their 'teamwork' is cracking. Little missteps. Tiny selfish choices.
The broad one stops coordinating his attacks and is now lunging when he feels like it. The slick-haired one starts casting for his angles, not considering where the broad one's spear is going.
They're still attacking me.
But it starts to feel... like they're taking turns.
Not literally, but because their movements are now selfish and chaotic. It feels like I'm fighting two one-on-ones at once because they're no longer 'in sync'. I'm getting mini-gaps—moments where one is repositioning while the other commits.
And I can survive one-on-one.
There's a clear difference in approach, and the broad noble seemed like the eager one, as he lunged in alone, as if he was trying to prove a point.
I met his eagerness with a Turbulent Break straight to his upper body. The shockwave pushed him so far back that he collided with the slick-haired noble.
The slick-haired one shouts, furious. "Hey! Watch where you're—!"
The broad one snarls back, "Shut up! And get out of my way!"
He charges at me again, this time in a straight line, making him predictable. He's reckless now, angry, and desperate to win the argument with only his fist.
I sidestep at the last second and slash a low Cutting Draft at his knee, causing him to buckle for just a fraction.
But it breaks his stance.
I'm on him instantly, I take a step to the right, and bolt forward to the left, the wind already coiling in my core, every bit of remaining Aether funnelling into one idea:
'Hit him hard enough, so that he stops moving.'
I reach just beside him, and before he can react... I thrust my palm forward, aiming dead centre.
And fire.
"Ventus: Turbulent Break!"
A direct shot.
Straight to the side of the broad noble's head, slamming with a deep thump that even I could feel in my bones.
His eyes roll... and he drops like a sack of wet laundry, collapsing onto the crystal floor with a heavy smack.
And for just a second. The room goes still. The slick-haired noble freezes. His mouth opens ever-so slightly, as if his brain is still trying process the impossible.
I stand over the broad one, my chest heaving, my arms shaking, as I stare at the slick-haired one. My eyes were like those of a predator finding its prey.
He looks at his fallen partner.
Then at me.
Then back to his partner.
His face twists.
Not fear.
Rage.
But under the rage, I caught it. A flicker of disbelief.
Because if the broad one goes down, then there's no one left to hide behind.
No excuse.
Just him.
And a commoner who just proved the world doesn't care about his crest.