By the ruined altar, a touching reunion awaited them, one so saccharine it made Lena’s teeth ache from a sugar overdose. Lyra, now free of her shackles (the script had evidently triggered), was hanging off her "prince’s" neck. Vlad, still pale and twitchy after his BDSM session with the Inquisitor, was tentatively stroking her furry ears, trying his best not to look at his rescuers—especially Irina in her scandalous dress.
"Oh, my Vlad! I knew it! I believed!" Lyra wailed, her tail swishing from side to side like a metronome.
"My lunar wolf… Ahem… Yes, it was… harrowing," the vampire said, pressing a hand theatrically to his forehead. "Valerika… she was a monster. But my love for you helped me endure every torment!"
"Give over," Nate snorted loudly, reloading her pistols just to steady her nerves. "From where I was standing, you were whining like a kicked puppy and promising to go vegan."
Vlad choked and turned red, which was physiologically peculiar for a vampire.
"That was a tactical manoeuvre! I was lulling her into a false sense of security!"
"Don’t listen to them, beloved! They’re just jealous of our eternal love!" Lyra turned to the girls, shifting to a business-like tone (as much as an NPC could manage), and declared: "Brave warriors! You have completed the quest. The Moon-Shadow Clan and the Blood Rose Clan are in your eternal debt. Accept this reward."
She handed Lena a small object. It wasn't a sword, a magical ring, or a pouch of gold. It was a car key. A fob with the logo of a popular Japanese crossover brand, from which a small plush coffin dangled.
[Quest Item Received: Vlad’s Car Keys] [Description: Vlad parked in the VIP car park before he was nicked. He says the tank is full to the brim.]
"A car?" Lena stared at the key as if it were the Holy Grail. "A real, actual car?"
"Yes," Vlad nodded, straightening his torn shirt collar. "My 'Twilight Cruiser.' It’s in the northern car park. Just beyond the Twilight Gates."
Lena’s heart skipped a beat. A car park. That meant the street. Fresh air, the sky, and quite possibly, the absence of the System. An exit.
"Lasses," she turned to her friends, clutching the key. "We’re leaving. Right now."
Irina let out a sob of relief, pressing her hands to her chest. Even the cynical Nate allowed herself a wide, genuine smile that had nothing to do with clout or loot.
"Well, what are we waiting for then?" Nate nodded toward the massive wrought-iron gates at the end of the hall—the ones locked by the magical barrier. "We’ve got the car keys and the door key. Let’s bugger off."
They bid farewell to the pair (Nate’s parting advice was for Vlad to buy some decent trousers and for Lyra to wash her tail) and approached the gates. The barrier was still shimmering purple.
"Right then, Valerika, don’t let me down," Lena said, pulling out the massive, skull-adorned 'Key to the Twilight Gates' that had dropped from the boss.
She slotted it into the keyhole. It fit perfectly. A turn. A loud, heavy clunk. The magical barrier flickered and dissolved. The gates, weighing what felt like a ton, began to groan open. The girls froze, expecting to see tarmac, white lines, and rows of cars. Expecting to see the night or day of the real world.
The gates swung fully open.
"What the… bloody hell?" Nate exhaled, her voice trembling.
Beyond the gates, there was no car park. There was only light. Bright, piercing, cold white light, magnified a thousand times by a myriad of reflections. They stood on the threshold of a vast hall where the floor, walls, and ceiling were made entirely of mirrors. Enormous, seamless mirrored panels arranged at impossible angles. It wasn't just a labyrinth; it was a kaleidoscope in which reality shattered into a million shards.
[Warning! You are entering the zone: 'The Hall of Shifting Reflections'.]
[Location Type: Spatial Puzzle / Psychological Trap. Objective: Find the true exit.]
"Is this a joke?" Irina bordered on hysterics. "Where’s the car park? Vlad said…"
"Vlad is a dim-witted NPC," Lena cut her off grimly, feeling her hope being replaced by a heavy, sticky dread.
The symbiote inside her shifted restlessly. It loathed this place. Too much light, too many reflections. It couldn't distinguish between an enemy and an illusion.
"I’m not going in there," Nate backed away. "My visor… it’s going mental. It’s tagging a million targets and not one of them is real."
"We haven't got a choice," Lena stepped forward, and hundreds of her reflections in orange latex stepped with her. "The gates are closing behind us. Listen."
Sure enough, the heavy leaves had begun to slowly swing shut. The way back was barred.
"Stay together," Lena commanded, trying to keep her voice steady. "We haven't got any rope, so hold hands. Irina in the middle, us on the flanks. Look only at your feet, at the seams of the mirrors. Don’t look at the reflections. They… they lie."
They huddled together like frightened children. Irina gripped Lena’s hand so hard her knuckles went white. Nate took Irina’s other hand, her palm cold and clammy. They entered the labyrinth.
It felt like a descent into madness. One step, and you see an infinite corridor before you. Another, and you walk face-first into your own reflection. Turns that weren't there, dead ends that looked like passages. Their reflections took on lives of their own. Sometimes they lagged behind. Sometimes they smirked while the girls remained solemn. Sometimes, deep within the mirrors, shadows flickered that didn't exist in reality.
[System: To complete this zone, you must activate three Triangulation Beacons simultaneously.]
"Beacons?" Irina asked in a trembling voice. "What does that mean?"
"It means we’re going to have to split up," Lena realised, a chill of terror gripping her heart. "We have to find three points and stand on them at the same time to open the exit."
"No! No way!" Nate yanked her hand away. "I’m not staying here alone!"
"If we don’t split up, we’ll starve to death in here staring at our own mugs," Lena said harshly. "That’s exactly what the System wants. For us to panic."
At that moment, the floor beneath their feet shuddered. The mirrored panels began to move. The walls started to shift, reconfiguring the labyrinth on the fly.
"Hold on!" Lena screamed, but it was too late.
The section of the floor Irina was standing on tilted sharply downward like a ramp. Irina shrieked, her hand slipping from Lena and Nate’s fingers. She tumbled down into the shimmering abyss of reflections.
"Irina!" Lena lunged after her, but a new mirrored wall slammed up in front of her face with a crash, cutting off the path.
In the reflection, she saw her own face, twisted in horror.
“Eli! Where are you?!” Nate’s voice drifted in from somewhere to the left, muffled, as if coming from underwater.
“Nate! Stay where you are! I’m coming—”
But the labyrinth shifted again. Lena felt the floor rotating beneath her. She was spun around, completely disoriented. When the movement stopped, she was alone in a narrow mirrored corridor. Silence. A ringing, absolute silence, broken only by the sound of her own breathing. They had been separated.
Irina slid down the mirrored ramp and landed softly on the floor of a small, circular room. No exits were visible. Only mirrors. Walls, floor, ceiling—everything merged into a single reflective surface.
“Eli? Nate?” she called out. Her voice bounced off the walls in a repeated, mocking echo: “Nate-nate-nate…”
No one answered. She was alone. Absolutely alone in a shimmering trap. The fear she had suppressed all this time, hiding behind Lena’s back and Nate’s bravado, washed over her in an icy wave. Without them, she was nobody. Just a terrified girl in an indecently revealing dress with a useless stick in her hands.
Light Magic didn't work here. She tried to create a ‘Beacon,’ but the small orb of light, reflected thousands of times, blinded her and instantly went out, as if the labyrinth had swallowed the energy.
“Mummy…” Irina whispered, sinking to the floor. The slit in her dress rode up, but she didn't care. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop the shaking.
She looked into the mirrored wall in front of her. At first, she saw her own reflection. Piteous, hunched, with a tear-stained face. A Priestess of Light who had lost her way. But then the reflection began to change. The surface rippled like water, and the image shifted.
It was a kitchen. Her own kitchen in a small flat on the edge of town. An old fridge covered in holiday magnets, floral curtains, worn linoleum. A woman sat at the table. Her mum. She was sitting hunched over. Before her stood a cold cup of tea and a photograph. A photo of Irina—the real one, in her prom dress, smiling and happy.
Mum wasn't crying. She just stared at the photo with the hollow, dead gaze of someone whose soul had been ripped out. There was far more grey in her hair than Irina remembered. Her face was haggard, with dark shadows under her eyes.
“No…” Irina crawled toward the mirror, reaching out. “Mummy… don't… I’m here, I’m alive!”
A telephone rang in the kitchen. The sharp, jarring sound seemed to burst eardrums even here, in another dimension. Mum picked up the receiver slowly, as if in a dream.
“Hello?” her voice was dull, lifeless. “Yes… I understand. No, no news. The police say there’s little chance… Yes, it’s been three days now. I… I’m preparing for the worst.”
The receiver slipped from her hand and hit the table with a thud. Mum covered her face with her hands, her shoulders beginning to shake silently.
“MUM!” Irina screamed, pounding her fists against the mirror. The glass remained cold and hard. “Mum, hear me! I’m not dead! It’s all a game, a stupid game! I’m coming back!”
The reflection didn't react. She saw her mother's grief, felt it in every cell of her body. This was more painful than zombie acid, more painful than the Inquisitor’s whip. Real pain, not game pain. The mirrors around her began to broadcast the scene from different angles. Thousands of mothers crying in thousands of kitchens.
“It's your fault,” a voice whispered. Not a system voice, but a quiet, insidious one, coming from the mirrors themselves. “You went to that stupid festival. You dressed up in these rags. You wanted to play? Here is your game. The price of your game is her life.”
“No, no, no…” Irina thrashed on the floor, clutching her ears. “That's not true! I didn't want this!”
“You're selfish, Ryu Kiko,” the voice continued. “You abandoned her. You traded real life for a fake light and a slutty dress. Look at yourself. A Priestess? You’re just an empty shell in a costume.”
She looked at the reflection in the floor. The white dress with the slits, the open back, the plunging neckline. What had seemed necessary for magic in the heat of battle now looked vulgar and dirty.
“I… I'm not like that…” she whispered.
“You are,” the mirrors replied. “You always wanted to be like this. The System simply showed your true nature. You are not worthy of the Light. You are worthy only of this endless reflection of your own insignificance.”
Mum in the mirror raised her head and looked directly at Irina. There was no recognition in her eyes, only infinite sorrow and a silent reproach. Irina broke. She lay on the cold mirrored floor, curled in a foetal position. The staff rolled away from her weak hand. The golden glow around her, maintained by the modifier, flickered and died. She was no longer a Priestess. Just Ira, the girl who had killed her mother with her own recklessness. Darkness and despair, reflected a million times, swallowed her up.
Lena was running. She didn't know where, just forward, trying to find some point of reference in this madness.
“Irina! Nate!” she called, but the labyrinth was silent.
The symbiote inside was raging. It couldn't protect her from something that had no physical form. It demanded an enemy to tear apart, but received only endless reflections of its host in a stupid, half-naked costume. Around the next corner, she literally crashed into someone.
“Bloody hell! Watch where you're going!” — a familiar, screechy voice.
“Nate?” Lena recoiled, ready for a fight, but the real Nate stood before her, not a reflection.
The pirate looked rough. Her visor was pushed up onto her forehead, her mascara was running again, turning her face into a killer panda mask. She was breathing heavily, like a hunted animal.
“Where's Irka?” Nate asked, looking around wildly. “I heard her scream. And then… then the walls shifted.”
“I don't know,” Lena gritted her teeth. “We've been separated. It's part of the mechanics. We need to find those bloody beacons.”
“I’m not going anywhere!” Nate pressed her back against a mirrored wall, aiming her pistols down the corridor. “It's a trap. Traps everywhere. I saw… I saw something in the mirror.”
“What did you see?” Lena approached and grabbed her shoulder, shaking her. “Get a grip, ‘Queen’! We can't hang about here!”
“Get off me!” Nate threw off her hand. Her eyes were swimming with panic mixed with aggression. “You! This is all your fault! Always playing the commander! ‘Let's go into the dungeon’, ‘let's split up’… If it weren't for you, I’d be sitting in the Safe Zone right now waiting for evacuation!”
Lena felt rage boiling inside. The symbiote gleefully latched onto the emotion.
“My fault?!” Lena hissed, her right hand automatically beginning to blacken, transforming into a blade. “Was I the one carrying you? Was I the one saving your arse from the slime? If it weren't for me and Irka, you’d have been loot for other players ages ago!”
“Saving me?” Nate laughed bitterly. “You were just using me for DPS! You needed my damage! You’re just like all of them! All you ‘proper’ cosplayers!”
“At least we're cosplayers, not webcam models in cheap wigs!” — Lena hadn't expected to say that herself.
These words had been building up for a long time, all the contempt the ‘true community’ felt for the likes of Nate.
“You disgrace everything we do! You sell yourself for likes and donations from wankers! You even managed to turn this place into a porn show with your ‘stabilisers’ in your knickers!”
The words hung in the air, heavy and toxic, reflected a million times by the mirrors. Nate froze. Her face went white under the layer of smeared makeup. She slowly lowered her pistols. Lena expected a scream in return, hysterics, a shot. But Nate spoke quietly, and the voice was more terrifying than any scream. It was empty.
“Disgrace?” she repeated. “You think I enjoy this? You think I spent my childhood dreaming of flashing my bits on camera for a crowd of anonymous perverts?”
She raised her head and looked Lena straight in the eye. There was no more feigned arrogance in her gaze. Only exhaustion and old, deep-seated pain.
“Do you know how much my costume cost? The real one, the one the spider ate? A thousand bucks. And rent? And food? And the loans I took out to buy streaming gear?”
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Nate stepped toward Lena, jabbing a finger into her chest.
“It's easy for you to talk, Vector. You probably live with your parents or have a proper job. You can afford to spend two months crafting a single costume for the sake of art. But me? I'm on my own. I've got nobody. If I don't make money on a stream today, I won't have anything to eat tomorrow.”
She ripped the tricorne from her head and hurled it to the floor.
“Yes, I sell an image. Yes, I trade on sexuality. Because it's the only thing I've got, and the only thing this bloody world is willing to pay for! I use them, those drooling idiots, to survive. I control the process. It's my channel, my rules, my body!”
Her voice broke into a scream, tears streaming down her cheeks again, mixing with the mascara.
“And you… you stand here in your ‘ventilated’ little suit, which, by the way, looks no better than my bikini, and you dare to judge me? You think you're better than me because you're ‘true’? We're both in the same shite, Lena. We’re both meat for the System. Only I admit it, and you're busy playing the hero!”
Lena stood there, stunned by this confession. The blade on her arm retracted, the symbiote falling quiet as if it too felt the weight of another’s pain. All her arguments, all her contempt suddenly seemed petty and stupid. She didn't see the ‘Pirate Queen’ and OnlyFans star before her. She saw only Nellie—a tired, cornered girl, clawing for a place in the sun the only way she knew how.
“Nate… I…” Lena tried to say something, but the words were stuck in her throat.
"Shut it," Nate said wearily. She picked up her tricorne, dusted it off, and jammed it back on, trying to reclaim even a shred of her former image. "Just shut it. I don’t need your pity. We need to find Irka and get out of here. And then… then I hope I never have to see your face again."
She turned away and marched down the corridor without looking back. Her shoulders were slumped, her stride stripped of its previous swagger. Lena watched her go. In the countless mirrors around her, she saw thousands of reflections of herself—Agent Vector, the heroine with the symbiote. But now, looking at those reflections, she felt no pride, only shame. A shame that was stronger than any debuff from a shadow hand. She realised that in this mirrored labyrinth, the most terrifying monster wasn't an illusion, but the truth about yourself that you refuse to acknowledge.
"Crap," Lena exhaled, running to catch up with Nate. "Nate, stop! Wait! We… we have to stay together."
Nate didn't answer, but she didn't quicken her pace either, allowing Lena to pull level with her. They walked in silence through the infinite, gleaming corridor—two broken heroines who had lost their third friend in a maze of their own fears and prejudices. And somewhere in the depths of the Hall of Shifting Reflections, curled into a ball on the cold floor, the Priestess of Light was quietly fading away, crushed by the grief of a mother that hadn't happened yet, but which had become more real to her than life itself.
The silence in the mirrored corridor felt heavy rather than empty. It was filled with unspoken words and a million reflections of two girls who walked side-by-side yet were worlds apart. Lena stole a glance at Nate. The pirate was walking with a hunch, staring at her feet. Her tricorne was askew, and her plastic pauldrons, which had seemed so bold before, now looked pathetic. Nate’s confession, spat in Lena’s face minutes ago, was still ringing in her ears.
'I use them to survive.'
Lena felt the symbiote inside fall quiet, as if cowed by shame. All the righteous fury of a 'true cosplayer' had evaporated, leaving behind a nasty aftertaste. She had thought she was the protagonist here, a fighter for an ideal, while Nate was just a clout-chasing hollow shell. As it turned out, that 'shell' had a hole inside so deep that no amount of donations could ever fill it.
Lena stopped.
"Nate."
Nate stopped too, but didn't turn around.
"What do you want, Vector? Want to tell me more about how I’m disgracing the industry? Go on then. We’ve got plenty of time and plenty of mirrors to enjoy the show."
Lena took a deep breath, looking at her reflection in the nearest panel. Agent Vector. Lethal, self-assured, sexy in her new 'ventilated' suit.
"It’s all a load of bollocks," Lena said quietly.
Nate turned slowly, frowning. The visor over her eye flickered as it tried to analyse the tone.
"What is?"
"Me. This suit. This persona. All this… confidence."
Lena walked up to the mirror and pressed her forehead against the cold glass, closing her eyes.
"You asked who I thought I was. You were right. I’m nobody."
She opened her eyes and looked at the reflection, but she didn't see latex armour; she saw her real life.
"My name is Elena Nikolaevna. I’m twenty-eight. I work as a senior accountant for a firm that sells plumbing supplies. My day consists of spreadsheets, invoices, and quarterly reports."
Nate remained silent, watching her with disbelief.
"I have a husband, Oleg. He’s a good man. A programmer. Quiet, reliable, a bit boring. He spends his evenings watching box sets or playing World of Tanks. And I have a son, Dimka—he’s three. He’s wonderful, but… god, I am so tired of the endless runny noses, the porridge on the walls, and the educational cartoons about the 'Blue Tractor'."
Lena gave a bitter smirk to her reflection.
"My life is a grey, infinite routine. Home-work-nursery-home. I love my family, I really do, but sometimes it feels like I’m… vanishing. That Elena is gone, and there’s only a function left: 'Mum', 'Wife', 'Accountant'. I look in the mirror in the morning while I'm brushing my teeth and I don't recognise this woman with her hair in a messy bun and bags under her eyes."
She turned to Nate. There was no judgement in her gaze now, only weary honesty.
"Cosplay is my escape. It’s my way of proving to myself that I’m still alive. That there’s still a fire in me, not just a desire to sleep for one extra hour. I don’t spend two months crafting a costume for the sake of art, Nate. I spend them so that for at least two days a year, I can be someone else. Someone strong, dangerous, vivid. Someone who people look at as a woman, not just a piece of furniture."
She spread her arms, gesturing to the revealing outfit.
"You think I’m that different from you? I’m selling an image too. It’s just that I’m paid in attention instead of cash. Those very same leery stares that I claim to despise. I was a hypocrite. I judged you for what you do to survive, while I’m doing the same thing… just so I don't die of boredom in my cozy little flat."
A silence followed, broken only by the distant, barely audible hum of the labyrinth. Nate watched Lena with a long, searching gaze. In the red light of the visor, her eyes looked like dark pits.
"An accountant, then…" Nate finally said, a strange note creeping into her voice. Not mockery—no. More like… recognition. "Plumbing supplies. Bloody hell. Agent Vector balances the books."
She stepped closer and stood beside Lena in front of the mirror. Two reflected figures: one in orange latex, the other in a pirate bikini.
"You know, Vector," Nate snorted, adjusting her holster. "Turns out we’re just two sides of the same coin. You’re running from boredom into this circus, and I’m… I’m trying to escape poverty by running the circus. Funny, isn't it? The System knew who to put in a party together."
Lena gave a weak smile. It wasn't friendship—no. They were a long way from friendship. But it was a truce. An acknowledgement that they were both just two confused girls in over-the-top costumes, trying to survive in a mad world.
"Right then, Elena Nikolaevna," Nate slapped her on the shoulder. "Enough blubbing. We’ve still got a stray lamb wandering around somewhere. And if she’s as soft as you, the mirrors have probably scoffed her already."
The mention of Irina snapped Lena back to reality.
"Irina! Right. We need to find those beacons. The System mentioned triangulation."
"Three points," Nate nodded, snapping back into a business-like mode. "Which means they should be arranged in a triangle. We need to stand on them simultaneously. But there’s only two of us."
"We’ll find the third. Irina has to be here somewhere. The labyrinth isn't infinite; it’s just… convoluted."
They moved on, no longer just walking side-by-side but working together. Nate scanned the corridors with her visor, looking for anomalies in the reflections, while Lena used the instincts of the symbiote, which—though disoriented—could still pick up faint vibrations. Before long, they found the first one. It wasn't a button or a lever. It was simply one of the mirrored floor panels that didn't reflect anything. It was absolute, matte black, like a hole in the floor.
[Triangulation Beacon Detected (1/3)]
[User required for activation.]
"I'll take this one," Lena said, stepping onto the black panel.
As soon as her foot touched the surface, the panel flared with a soft blue light. Glowing lines raced across the floor, heading deeper into the labyrinth in two different directions.
"Aha!" Nate tracked the lines. "They lead to the other beacons! The System isn't a total cow; it gives hints."
"Follow the right-hand line," Lena commanded. "I’ll stay here to keep it active. If I step off, the connection will break."
"Got it. Don't get lonely, spreadsheet queen."
Nate vanished around the corner. Lena remained alone, standing on the glowing square. The mirrors around her started showing rubbish again—distorted faces, scenes from her past—but she looked at them calmly now. She knew who she was. And she knew she wasn't alone. After a few minutes, Nate’s voice echoed through the labyrinth:
"Found it! Number two is active!"
The glowing lines on the floor grew brighter. Somewhere in the depths of the labyrinth, something shifted and ground together.
"Now for Irina," Lena muttered. "The third line should lead to her. Or to the third beacon where she’s stuck."
"Nate!" she shouted. "Can you see where the third line from your beacon goes?"
"Yeah! It’s heading into some kind of… vortex! The mirrors are spiralling! And from in there… Eli, I can hear crying!"
Lena’s heart sank.
"I’m coming to you! Hold your position!"
She stepped off the beacon. The light died instantly, and the lines vanished. The labyrinth shifted once more, the walls sliding together in an attempt to confuse her.
"Damn it!" Lena bolted forward, using every bit of speed the suit provided. The symbiote roared, helping her dodge the closing mirrored slabs.
She fought her way to Nate, who was standing on her beacon and using her visor to illuminate a strange structure in the centre of a small hall. The mirrors here really were twisted into a spiral, forming a sort of funnel that led downwards. And at the bottom of that funnel lay a small white figure.
Irina was lying in a foetal position, shielding her head with her hands. She didn’t respond to the shouting. Around her, in the spiralling mirrors, terrifying images flickered: her mother weeping in the kitchen, a funeral, black ribbons.
"She’s in a trance," Nate said, stepping off her beacon to join Lena. "The System’s broken her. It’s showing her her greatest fear."
"Irina! Wake up! It’s not real!" Lena tried to climb down, but the mirrored slope was too steep and slippery.
"Mummy… sorry… I didn’t mean to…" a quiet whisper, full of agony, drifted up from below.
"She can’t hear us," Nate shook her head. "She’s lost inside her own nightmare."
Lena gritted her teeth.
"Then we’re going in after her. Nate, I need a hand. Hold my legs. I’m going down."
"Have you gone mental? You’ll get stuck down there yourself!"
"I’ve got the symbiote. It can grip the surfaces. Come on, move it!"
Nate, muttering something under her breath about "nutter accountants," grabbed Lena by the ankles. Lena activated a partial transformation—her arms coated in black chitin, her fingers turning into claws. She began her descent into the vortex, digging her claws into the seams of the mirrors. The reflections around her tried to hijack her mind. She saw Oleg leaving her for some young gym-bunny. She saw Dimka grown up and ashamed of his mother. She saw her annual reports bursting into blue flames.
"Piss off!" she snarled, pressing on. "None of it’s true! I’m Agent Vector! And I don’t leave my mates behind!"
She reached the bottom. Irina lay there, cold as ice, her eyes open but staring into a void. The golden glow around her had completely vanished.
"Irina," Lena grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a violent shake. "Ryu Kiko! Wake up!"
Zero reaction.
"For god's sake…" Lena realised that normal words weren't going to cut it. She needed something to shatter the delusion. She remembered Nate’s words: 'I use them to survive.'
Lena leaned in close to Irina’s ear.
"Irina, listen to me. Your mum is alive. She’s at home waiting for you. She might not get your hobby, but she loves you. And what you’re seeing is a lie. It’s just… a bit of bad fanfic written by the System."
Irina blinked. Her pupils constricted slightly.
"But… I saw… she was crying…"
"It was the mirrors crying, not her!" Lena spoke harshly, with the authority she’d use on a junior who’d botched a spreadsheet. "You’re the Priestess of Light, for heaven's sake! Your job is to scatter the darkness, not drown in it! Where’s your staff? Where’s your magic?"
Irina’s hand moved feebly. Her staff lay nearby, dull and lifeless.
"I’m… I’m not worthy…"
"Oh, not worthy, are we?" Lena’s temper flared. "So Nate and I are out here busting our arses, running through this labyrinth, and you’ve decided to have a little lie-down and feel sorry for yourself? Get up, Ryu Kiko! Get up and shine, or I’ll bury you here myself!"
At that moment, Nate’s voice drifted down from above:
"Oi, Saintly! Stop moping! If you don’t get up right now, I’ll tell everyone that under that posh dress, you’re wearing Gummy Bear knickers!"
It was so absurd and unexpected that Irina jolted. A look of actual awareness crossed her face—a mix of indignation and shock.
"I am not wearing… any bears!" she whispered, her voice weak but alive.
"Prove it then!" Nate shouted back.
Irina took a deep breath. She looked at Lena—at her determined face, smeared with mascara and sweat. She looked at her own hands. She reached for the staff. As her fingers brushed the wood, the crystal at the top gave a faint flicker.
"I… I’ll try."
She struggled to her knees, Lena supporting her.
"Light…" Irina whispered. "Light, give me strength… Not for me. For my mum. So I can get back to her."
The crystal flared. Dimly at first, then brighter. The golden glow began to return to Irina, pushing back the darkness in the vortex. The mirrors around them hissed, the horrific images melting away, replaced by their own normal reflections.
[Debuff: 'Reflection of Despair' removed.]
"That's my girl!" Lena tucked an arm under her. "Nate, pull!"
With Nate’s help and the symbiote’s claws, they hauled themselves out of the vortex. Irina stood swaying, but she was conscious. Her eyes were shining again, even if they were still red from crying.
"Thank you…" she whispered, burying her face in Lena’s shoulder. "I thought… I thought I was a goner."
"Not on my watch," Lena grumbled. "Right, we can do the waterworks later. We found the third beacon. It was at the bottom of that hole, right under you."
Sure enough, where Irina had been lying, a black square was now glowing.
"We need to stand on all three at once," Lena said. "Irina, can you make it to the first one? It’s not far."
Irina nodded, leaning on her staff.
"I can. I… I’m alright."
They fanned out to their positions. Lena returned to the first beacon, Nate stood on the second, and Irina—escorted by Lena—reached the third.
"Ready?" Lena shouted over the internal comms (which, as it turned out, worked within the zone).
"Ready," Nate replied.
"Ready," Irina’s voice was steady.
"Three… two… one… Activate!"
They stepped onto the black squares simultaneously. Three pillars of blue light shot into the ceiling. The labyrinth shuddered. The mirrored walls began to shift with a deafening chime, as if thousands of panes were shattering at once. The light from the beacons merged in the centre of the hall, forming a massive, glowing triangle. Inside it, space began to warp, and there appeared… a door. A plain wooden door, the sort that might lead to a broom cupboard.
"We did it!" Nate was the first to run to the door. "An exit!"
"Hold on," Lena caught up, supporting Irina. "Don't rush in. Last time there was a door, there wasn't a car park on the other side."
They cautiously nudged the door open. Beyond it lay no street. Nor another dungeon. It was… a breakroom? A small room with a battered sofa, a vending machine, a water cooler, and a table piled with old magazines. The walls were covered in faded floral wallpaper. It looked so normal, so human, that it felt like the biggest hallucination of the lot.
[Zone: Safe Haven 'The Smoko'.]
[Here you may recover and save your progress.]
"Bloody hell," Nate exhaled, collapsing onto the sofa. "A proper smoko. System, I love and hate you in equal measure."
Irina went to the cooler and greedily downed three cups of water in a row. Lena simply leaned against the wall, feeling the adrenaline ebb away, replaced by a crushing fatigue.
"We made it out of the Hall of Reflections," she said. "But we’re still inside the Expo Centre. Where is this room? Where does it lead?"
There was another door in the room, opposite the one they had entered. They rested for a while, catching their breath. The silence between them had changed—it wasn't tense anymore, but weary and understanding. They had learned too much about each other in the last hour.
Finally, they nerved themselves to open the second door. Beyond it lay a long, dim service corridor cluttered with old equipment, crates, and dusty stage sets.
"Looks like backstage," Nate noted, activating her visor again. "There, at the end—I think that’s light. Real daylight."
They moved down the corridor, full of hope. Was this finally it? The end of the game? They had gone about fifty yards when they heard it.
Shhh-tick-tick-tick.
A strange sound. Fast, shuffling, accompanied by some sort of electronic beeping.
"Heads up," Lena snapped into focus, a blade forming on her arm instinctively. "We’ve got company."
From behind a heap of old monitors, something rolled out. Not a zombie, not a monster. A tiny creature, barely reaching Lena’s knee. It was covered in bright blue fur (or needles?) that stuck out in every direction, like a hedgehog that had been plugged into a socket. It had disproportionately large eyes hidden behind a pair of massive, stylish aviator shades, and a wide, toothy grin.
But the strangest part was its feet. The creature was wearing a pair of enormous red-and-white trainers—the sort of high-end, limited-edition "hypebeast" footwear that cost a fortune.
"Irina!" Lena shouted, rushing to the edge.
Screech-thud.
The creature braked in front of them, leaving tread marks on the dusty floor.
"Yo!" it said in a voice like a tape on fast-forward. "Slow down, nippers! Where are we headed? Valhalla or the bogs?"
The girls were stunned. They had expected anything but a blue hedgehog rapper in trainers.
"Er... who are you?" Nate asked, lowering her pistols. Her visor showed a strange status above the creature:
[NPC? Player? Glitch? (Lvl ???)]
"Me?" The creature struck a dramatic pose, crossing its arms. "I am speed! I am the shadow in the night! I am the one who collects rings and cracks skulls! I am Rollo!"
"Rollo?" Irina repeated. "Is that... a cosplay?"
"Bingo, sis!" Rollo hopped in place. "Cosplaying the fastest hedgehog in the multiverse! You know the one. Blue bloke. Runs fast."
"Sonic?" Lena guessed.
"Shh!" Rollo fearfully pressed a finger to his lips. "Copyright, for god's sake! Don't take His name in vain! The System might hear and slap me with a strike. I'm Rollo. Just Rollo. Original character, do not steal!" He winked at them from behind his shades.
"Okay, Rollo," Lena decided to play along with the madness. "Are you a player too? Did the System change you?"
"Yeah," Rollo sniffed. "Came to the fest, wanted to enter the contest. Then—bam! Lights out, and I turned into this." He twirled, showing off his blue body. "At least I'm proper fast now. And the kicks are fire, right? +50 to speed, +100 to style."
"Stunning kicks," Nate nodded. "Listen, hedgehog, you don't know the way out? We're looking for the car park."
Rollo suddenly turned serious. He adjusted his glasses and stepped closer, looking around as if they were being watched.
"The car park... Heh. You aren't looking for a car park, ladies. You're looking for 'Game Over'."
"What?" Irina didn't understand.
"The exit isn't a door," Rollo whispered, his eyes widening behind his shades. "It's a... place. The Final Level. Where the Big Boss sits. The one who started all this."
"Do you know where it is?" Lena grabbed him by the shoulder (it felt surprisingly hard and prickly). "Spill it!"
"Oi, easy on the textures!" Rollo broke free. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't... It's complicated. Like a glitch in the Matrix. Need admin access. Or a cheat code."
He started pacing in circles around them, muttering about "textures," "bugs," and "speedruns."
"He's barmy," Nate noted. "Let's leg it; he's just mucking us about."
"No, wait!" Rollo screeched to a halt in front of them. "I can show you the way! I know a shortcut! Through the textures! But... I need your help. I can't do it alone. There are... scary mobs. Need a tank, a DPS, and a healer. And I see you've got a full party."
He scanned them. Lena felt his gaze linger through those shades on their... new outfits. Especially the lower half. He was looking at Lena's "ventilation ports," Nate's bikini, and the slit in Irina’s dress.
"Cough," Rollo adjusted his shades. "Cracking... gear. High-level. Yeah."
"What are you gawping at, you little gremlin?" Nate noticed his look and put her hand on her holster.
"Who's gawping? Me? Pfft!" Rollo was theatrically offended. "I'm evaluating stats! Professional interest! I’ve got a backstab crit build, for your information. I need to know the... er... dimensions of my allies."
"Yeah, pull the other one," Lena snorted. The symbiote inside also felt something sleazy about this creature.
"Anyway," Rollo rubbed his hands together. "I lead you to the Final Level. You cover me. Deal?"
The girls exchanged looks. This blue knock-off Sonic didn't inspire much trust. Strange, twitchy, and clearly a bit of a creep. But he was the only one who knew anything about what was happening. And the only "player" they’d met who wasn't trying to kill them.
"Fine," Lena decided. "Lead on, then. But if this is a trap, I'll turn you into a mouse mat. Got it?"
"Crystal clear, ma'am!" Rollo saluted. "Follow me! The speedrun begins!"
He bolted off and raced down the corridor, his heels literally sparking (his trainers glowed when he ran). The girls ran after him. They were on the move again, and this time they had a guide. Strange, suspicious, but a guide nonetheless. And maybe, just maybe, a chance to end this insane game.
Lena ran, thinking that her life as Elena Nikolaevna the accountant now felt like a distant, unreal dream. Reality was this dusty corridor, the weight of the blade on her arm, the breath of her friends beside her, and the flashing blue arse of a strange hedgehog in posh trainers promising them freedom.