“Welcome to the Seventh Trial! Those of you weak-willed enough to disdain violence can rejoice. There is no violence here.” Nem exclaimed.

  “The Trial is simple, in a way. Solve the Riddles to reach the center of the Labyrinth before a full day passes! But be warned…” Nem settled into a more subtle mockery. “A single wrong turn could be fatal~”

  [ Seventh Trial - Labyrinth ]

  ‘Reach the center of the maze.’

  “So after might, the test now is intelligence…” Gilgamesh surmised.

  [ Some gods are pleased with the nature of this Trial. ]

  Gilgamesh threw out a golem core but something restricted it from activating, so it merely fell to the ground. Gilgamesh stared for a moment, then retrieved it and continued down the path ahead.

  There was little to glean from the Labyrinth. It was a fully enclosed tunnel of rough brown stone, twenty feet wide and twenty feet tall. There were no engravings nor fixtures nor even markings to signify anything of note. All there was were solid stone walls and gently flickering torches spaced just frequently enough to illuminate the way.

  Gilgamesh walked alone for a short while, but soon he came to a junction. To the sides were two identical paths that he could not see to the ends of, and before him was a weathered painting upon a smooth stone wall.

  It depicted a man draped in a cloak that shrouded his presence, who faced the back of a monster wreathed in shadows. Gilgamesh scanned the wall and found nothing else but these two drawings. He contemplated for a moment, then walked down the path to the right which both beings faced.

  The path led him into a circular hall that held a giant statue of the painted monster that faced away from him. As soon as he entered the room fully, the statue started to slowly turn in place with the sound of stone grinding against stone.

  Gilgamesh walked around as he stayed exactly behind the statue until he reached the doorway on the other side. As he passed through, his eyes found their way up to the words carved into the stone above.

  ‘Comprehension.’

  The doorway led him into another winding tunnel just like the one he started in. Just as before, there was nothing to glean from its walls. But there was one major difference. Other people now walked along the path too.

  Gilgamesh eyed them all, but he crossed by without concern. Many returned guarded glances at both himself and each other as they did the same. Gilgamesh walked silently and soon he came to the next riddle.

  There were two different paths again, but the riddle was of a different kind. There was no painting or even words, just two mirrors. One was of himself, a bandaged leper in the loose purple robes of a priest. The other was that of a mighty king, one whose presence begot admiration and awe.

  Gilgamesh’s expression lowered just slightly into a frown. “One as I am, one as I wish to be…”

  He pondered briefly on the meaning of the mirrors, whether they showed what was needed or what would be given. He glanced around them but there was nothing else to hint at the intention.

  “One is what is needed, one is what was given… No…” Gilgamesh’s eyes steeled. “One is a lie, and the other is reality.”

  Gilgamesh walked down the path that showed him as he was and entered another hall. Dark mist swirled itself into an illusory image of himself, which smiled back and dispersed away. Gilgamesh continued on through the doorway at the end that bore the engraving of a different word.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  ‘Humility.’

  The tunnel he entered contained even more people than before. Most were commoners still, but some were obviously magi. Everyone seemed to hold some degree of caution against the others, although many bore confident and proud demeanors.

  What Gilgamesh had foreseen at the start of the Arena Trial had come to pass. The quality of heroes that survived with each Trial was quickly rising. A thought crossed Gilgamesh's mind. He began to wonder if the gap between magi and commoners would remain by the end.

  He soon arrived at the third riddle, and this one gave him pause. Before him were three thin glass flasks filled with a blood-red liquid, and carved into the wall above was a rhyme.

  ‘While one of us does nothing, two will cause you harm.

  Three will bring forth certain doom, and four will cause alarm.’

  “Am I to drink these potions?” Gilgamesh thought. “One is pointless. Two will harm me. And three is death. None of those benefits me. Four causes alarm… Alarm as in the Trial does not expect me to obtain a fourth? Is the riddle then to mix these potions to make a fourth? In that case, the method would surely matter…”

  Gilgamesh scoured the riddle again, but each potion was exactly the same. Their color, the glass vials, and even the amount within each. Everything was identical.

  “Nothing hints at the solution… The order?”

  Gilgamesh read the riddle again and numbered the potions in his mind, but no order made any sense to him.

  “...How am I to obtain a fourth? What is the trick? No, in the first place… is this even the answer? Four causes alarm. Alarm to who? To me or to what I am to face? The second part of the riddle specifies that I would be harmed, which implies the doom and the alarm would be mine as well… To feel that dread again…”

  Memories of the chilling void started to seep up from his core, but Gilgamesh suppressed it back down.

  “...One does nothing. Two causes harm. Three brings death. And Four invokes fear… How are any of these helpful to me? Is one needed to pass the Trial? But which one? There are no hints as to what I am to face? How can this riddle be solved…?”

  Gilgamesh struggled in arduous contemplation but came no closer to an answer.

  [ Some gods mock your inability. ]

  “My, my~”

  Someone suddenly spoke up from behind. Gilgamesh turned to find the same Shen prince that had mocked him back in the arena stands, as smug and sly as before.

  “It’s only the third riddle and so many of you are already stuck. That certainly doesn’t bode well, does it?”

  Hostility stained the expressions of those around at the insult, though none moved to attack. Shaoquan hummed a slight chuckle at the sight and walked up to the riddle. He inspected it for but a mere moment before his smile curved upwards just slightly, and he headed left.

  “...He solved it at a glance?” Gilgamesh simmered. He knew full well that the Shen had exceptional minds, but to be so utterly shown up this early in the Trial grated on him.

  “If there is any consolation to your plight,” Shaoquan called out as he walked. “Know that with your deaths, the world that remains will become just a little more intelligent.”

  There was hesitation among the crowd at first, then some started to walk down the same path and more followed still. Gilgamesh wondered if he should head that way as well, but hesitation held his feet. It felt too shallow a solution for the Trials.

  “If you follow him without solving your riddle, you won’t survive.” Someone else said with a tone that lacked any sense of responsibility.

  Shaoquan came to a dignified stop at the sound of the voice and turned a subtly disdainful glance back. Gilgamesh looked over as well and saw a man who appeared to be another Shen.

  Matching his easygoing demeanor was shoulder-length hair worn loose and uncombed with no crown to be seen. His attire was equally unremarkable and he gave no pretense in his posture.

  “Nothing good comes from blind ambition. We have a whole day for this. No need to be in such a rush.” He assured the crowd.

  Shaoquan said nothing in return. His disapproving gaze lingered for a moment, then he disappeared into the dark of the path.

  The other heroes lingered too. Many of those who had started to follow down the path now hesitated, but some continued on in spite of the warning. However, Gilgamesh was not among them. Hesitation had left his legs, and he now firmly remained where he was, as he watched the new Shen scion walk over to the riddle with a sigh.