The mist parted, revealing three new doors.

  The first dripped reeds, swamp air seeping out in foul gusts.

  The second bore a tusked boar head, gouged deep and crude. Distant squeals echoed through the frame.

  The third displayed a twisting line of ladders and platforms. From beyond came faint groans, the sound of someone already failing.

  The crystal pulsed smugly:

  Choose Wisely. The Swamp. The Dimension of Boars. The Dimension of Parcour. Only one path advances.

  ***

  “Not swamp,” Harlada said immediately, folding her arms. “I’m done smelling like bog water.”

  “Not boars,” Leo muttered, scribbling notes. “Statistically speaking, tusks equal gore damage. Probability of being skewered: ninety-seven percent.”

  “Then parcour,” Bert declared, puffing his chest. “I was born to jump.”

  He shoved the door.

  The swamp and boar doors rumbled angrily, their runes flickering red. The crystal pulsed again:

  Reminder: Only one door may be chosen. Dual-entry exploits patched in version 1.03.

  All three groaned.

  “Wait,” Harlada frowned. “Did… did the dungeon just say patch notes?”

  “Focus,” Leo hissed. “This is serious.”

  ***

  The parcour chamber yawned before them, stretching wide like a sadistic playground.

  Ropes swung over pits of spikes. Beams teetered above stagnant water. Platforms oozed slime like freshly buttered toast. A glowing pedestal shimmered far away, impossibly pristine.

  The crystal chimed:

  Trial Activated: Parcour. Difficulty: Unfair. Attempts: 9.

  ***

  Bert charged first.

  He slipped on the very first beam, slammed face-first into the muck, and plummeted into the swamp.

  -3 HP. Rogue Status: Clumsy Idiot.

  ***

  Harlada cartwheeled bravely onto a rope. She made it halfway before her gloves slipped. She dropped like a sack of turnips, shrieking all the way down.

  -2 HP. Mage Status: Acrobatics Rejected.

  ***

  Leo took careful notes on both failures, adjusted his glasses, and stepped onto the platform with academic precision.

  A loose plank immediately flipped him upside down into a spike pit.

  -1 HP. Warrior Status: Overconfident.

  ***

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Attempts: 10.

  They reset in cages, dripping swamp water.

  Bert failed opening the cage in time.

  ***

  Attempts: 11.

  Bert used the swamp shield as a surfboard. It carried him halfway across a beam, then dumped him sideways into a rope snare. The rope flung him directly into Harlada. Both crashed into the swamp.

  Leo applauded the physics even as a trapdoor opened beneath him.

  ***

  Attempts: 12.

  Harlada froze the platforms, hoping to make them solid. Instead, everyone slipped harder. They tumbled into spikes like bowling pins.

  ***

  Attempts: 13.

  Leo webbed the obstacles to stabilize them. The webbing snapped. They slingshotted into the ceiling and hung upside down until the swamp water rose to drown them.

  ***

  Attempts: 14.

  Bert simply screamed and ran. The scream lasted until he hit the spikes.

  ***

  Attempts: 15.

  This time, they tried strategy.

  “Triangular formation,” Leo commanded. “We move in sync. Precision steps.”

  They took two steps together.

  The first rope snapped.

  All three dropped in perfect sync.

  Party Wipe.

  ***

  Attempts: 16.

  Harlada tried to cheat. She hurled frost at the pedastal in the distance, hoping to break it open from afar.

  The pedestal blinked smugly, sprouted legs, and waddled deeper into the course.

  Bert roared. “IT’S MOCKING US!”

  He jumped after it, slipped, and fell face-first into the swamp.

  ***

  Attempts: 17.

  Leo attempted to measure the timing of swinging ropes with his quill. He leaned too far forward. The quill slipped from his hand, bounced across three platforms, and vanished into a pit.

  Leo gasped. “My notes!” He dove after them.

  Harlada groaned. “Unbelievable.”

  She turned to Bert. “Your turn.”

  He flexed, leapt for the first rope — and immediately snapped it off the ceiling.

  The rope dragged both of them into the swamp.

  ***

  The crystal screen pulsed mockingly:

  Achievement Unlocked: Parkour Enthusiasts. Reward: None.

  ***

  By the time Attempts: 18 blinked across the crystal, the adventurers were wrecks.

  Harlada slumped in her cage, hair plastered with swamp muck. “I hate jumping.”

  Leo adjusted his broken glasses. “I hate platforms.”

  Bert spat swamp water. “I hate patch notes.”

  The swamp door pulsed faintly, tempting them with regression.

  “Not again,” Harlada said firmly. “I refuse.”

  They went anyway, defeated and mildly ashamed.

  ***

  The adventurers lingered before the rat door, dripping swamp water and humiliation.

  “Hold,” Leo said, raising a trembling finger. “Think rationally. We failed the parcour trial not because of poor intellect—”

  “Wrong,” Harlada muttered.

  “—but because of insufficient dexterity.”

  He flipped to a soggy page in his ruined notebook, pointing at scrawled equations. “If we increase our agility by even one point, probability of survival rises from zero percent to… slightly above zero percent.”

  Harlada nodded slowly. “So if we farm the easier paths first—rats, maybe birds—we can collect gems. Gems mean stats. Stats mean… less dying.”

  Bert’s eyes gleamed. “Less dying sounds good.” He licked his lips. “Also: rat stew.”

  The crystal pulsed smugly:

  Strategic Regression Acknowledged. Farming Mode Enabled.

  Harlada groaned. “Did it just call us farmers?”

  Leo adjusted his glasses, swamp dripping down his face. “Correct. And we shall farm with dignity.”

  Bert cracked his knuckles. “And eat with pride.”

  The rat door yawned wider, squeaks echoing like a thousand tiny war cries.

  They stepped forward together.

  Follow button… then click it.