On the ninth day—by her estimation—Sera made a mistake.
She misjudged distance. Teleported too close. A creature's claw caught her side before she could reposition. Pain flared white-hot.
She escaped, barely, and collapsed against the wall of a narrow alcove.
Mana: 3.
That was dangerous. Critically so.
She forced herself to breathe slowly. Panic accelerated exhaustion. Exhaustion led to death.
She waited.
When mana regenerated to double digits, she tested something new.
Instead of teleporting forward, she shifted laterally. Not distance—orientation. She appeared at the same depth, but offset by angle.
The cost was lower.
She repeated it. Adjusted timing. Reduced waste.
For the first time since entering the labyrinth, she smiled.
Limits were not walls.
They were problems.