The answer to that was apparently Remi. The creature in front of him looked seconds from detonation. Desperate for any help, he unzipped and thrust his hand into the murse. He dove for the emergency pocket and prayed for something useful. A bucket of water. Hell, a fire blanket. Anything to shut the lid on the magical cherry bomb about to turn this hallway into a real shit-show.

  Predictably, and unfortunately, he got neither. Instead, he pulled out a bubblegum-pink paisley bandanna with a tag that read:

  Wear to look badass!

  Unlikely! Remi only spared it a glance before he stuffed it into his pocket, turned and ran away from the enraged monster. He ran as if he’d stolen his parents’ car for a joyride, gotten in a fender bender, and his dad had found out. That is to say, he ran like he was escaping an impending ass-whooping.

  The Firebrand had the same look of that surprised father on its face as Remi raced past it. As if it had never even considered that noping-the-hell-out-of-there was a viable tactic for an impending explosion. Remi didn’t know if the move was cowardice or genius, but at least it bought him a head start.

  Seeing Remi rapidly escaping, and having no other choice, it stopped what it had been doing, and with a look of reluctance, it pursued him.

  Nel: Ha! Seriously? You’re running?

  Remi: Yup. Seemed smarter than standing next to that thing when it exploded.

  [AI]: You know heroes don’t run.

  Remi: Good thing I’m not your hero.

  Remi quickly checked his pursuer over his shoulder as he ran and found the Firebrand, armless on one side, did not run after him like he had hoped. Instead, he saw it step back into the corridor wall. Its face pressed through fire; it pooled like molten glass and was absorbed back into the wall, leaving behind a shower of sparks as it disappeared.

  He couldn’t continue this dance. The Firebrand was going to land a critical blow eventually, so he needed to lock it down. Remi slowed slightly again, waiting for the flare. It happened about six feet down the corridor, this time on his left. He shifted his forward movement to run closer to the adjacent wall. As he hoped, the Firebrand, when it appeared, had to lean out from the wall further in order to attack him.

  Remi was ready. He cast Edit Strike, and thought about the Firebrand’s entering and leaving the wall, and tried to sever its ability to do so. He slashed sideways as he reached the creature. The spell radiated along the length of his blade, connecting not just with the blade stroke, but deep in the creature’s core itself.

  The Firebrand’s body shuddered; it froze. A half-phased arm stopped mid-swipe. It seemed to glitch as the furnace-mask locked into an unfinished roar. Remi had frozen it. There was a sense of struggle, yet it couldn’t respond, but the Crucible could.

  The firewalls on both sides stuttered. The glitch from the Firebrand traveled along its length. Like a film stuck in a projector, the walls blazed white, and an orb spread, like melted cellophane, the edges blackened and curling. Soon, the entire corridor had hiccuped into transparency. Remi had a clear view of the whole maze room.

  What he saw horrified him. The space behind him was void—an unfinished liminal space still unrendered. Glass walls replaced the flame walls, but beyond them, was only the echo of a maze. Its lines chalked out on the floor.

  He could see it all. Where the door was, where the key was, and the path the crucible had laid out for him to get there.

  More importantly, he turned his head, and could check on Nel. She was further down the maze than he was. Of course. Almost at the turn. He could see that he was correct. On the lane at the far back of the maze, there was a thin path where both of their mazes reconnected, the door in the middle. She moved fast, a cloud of glowing cinder-motes swarming her.

  He could not tell what she was doing, but he could see her face being illuminated with pulses of blue and green as her laptop strobed through code. She was holding her own.

  Remi returned his view to his side of the maze. The black void, like a margin tear. There was no jungle, no corridor—just the emptiness of where the Crucible’s text was missing. Horror flooded through him at the sudden reminder that if he fell, nothing but the emptiness of unrendered Crucible would remain. He did not have time to think about it. Instead, he locked his eyes on the pulsing key marker. It was a lighthouse in the vast storm of emptiness.

  Remi: I can see it all. The path diagramed. We have mirrored paths. Take a screenshot before my walls return.

  To her credit, she did not waste time with a response. Instead, he heard a sharp TCHIK! The sound and buzz that accompanied it came from inside Remi’s head. He would have thought about how cool it all was, but the walls were returning. The lockout was ending.

  Nel: Got it. I will render and overlay after I’m finished being bugged. I need about a minute.

  Remi: Nel, I need to finish this. What have you got for me?

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  The text appeared faster than she could have spoken it. Regardless, Remi read it in her voice as he processed what it said.

  Nel: I cracked the swarm’s pattern. They don’t die, just destabilize. Your Firebrand has the same source code. Don’t waste your time on big swings. The Crucible will just rewrite it. Constant pressure. Smaller cuts should bring it down.

  Remi was done running. The air trembled as his Edit Strike finally unraveled. The Firebrand’s roar resumed mid-bellow; the molten-cracks flared. If the Crucible wanted a close-combat mage. Fine. It was about to get one.

  Remi turned fully to face the Firebrand. If he wanted this fight, there was only one way. “Archie, I know you’re listening. If you want me to stop running, tell your matchstick to do the same thing. You want a fight. Let’s have a fight!”

  [AI]: Done.

  The Firebrand paused, as if it were listening to an unseen voice, and then it stepped out of the wall. Fully entering the corridor. They faced each other like gunslingers in a Western.

  Remi did not know if anyone was reading, but he was struck with the sudden need to add a little machismo to the moment. It took only a few seconds, a dramatic beat, before a section of wall in front of him rippled upwards with fire. He cast Mana Pulse, redirecting the fire’s movement across the space between him and the Firebrand. The rolling wave turned into a little ball that plopped into the space between them. He cast Mana Lash, flipping his wrist quickly to loop the thin blue line on itself. He locked the loop in place with a thought. His wrist snapped forward as he extended his arm, launching the lasso of mana at the orb of fire. It floated around it and snapped tight with another thought. A yank to the side sent the tumbleweed of flame to bound across the gap. It danced between them, and was consumed by the opposite wall. The cord snapped back into Remi’s palm.

  [AI]: Nice!

  “Let’s do this, ya varmint!” Too far? Probably. But Remi’s novelty ring responded in agreement. He needed to maintain the flow of this situation, so he again ran, but this time it wasn’t away, but directly towards the waiting Firebrand. With his meterstick held at an angle at his side, he then extended his left palm, and quickly shot another Mana Lash; this time, his opponent’s remaining wrist was the target.

  The blue line snaked forth, closing the distance faster than Remi could in a sine-wave of teal light. The end whipped repeatedly around the exposed wrist, snapping into place. Remi raised his blade, appearing as if he would attack. The Firebrand raised its arm in response to block the blow. The ruse worked. Instead of swinging as expected, he let the arc carry him backwards, as he dropped into a slide that would make a shortstop proud. He slid past the Firebrand like he was stealing home. His legs churned ash as he slid along the floor. Once past the legs, he slammed his hand to the ground. Like he was annotating a text, he thought: Here.

  The other end of his lash locked to the ground. The momentum of the movement traveled up the length of the mana cord, and the Firebrand’s body spun with the transferred energy, its torso twisted toward the corridor wall. Remi got to his feet as the Firebrand strained against the blue line.

  Slowly, implacably, Remi moved towards it. He hesitated just for a moment before he decided. One arm was gone, and the other lashed. If he was going to take this thing apart piece by piece, he was going to need to sweep the leg. It was a dick move. He knew it, but the Crucible did not afford room for compassion. A quick strike to the exposed leg should unbalance it.

  It continued to strain against the tether. Like a dog trying to escape its leash, angry at being confined. Flame muscles bulged, but the lattice holding it together burned bright. He knew without asking that this was the instability that Nel had been talking about. Remi continued to stalk, and as the lines flared again, at the peak of its struggle, he brought the meter-stick down own a nexus of lines, in a solid downward angle slash. The blade hit as the lines flared white. The responding snap was high and sharp, like high-tension wires splitting, followed by a satisfying twang as the molten lines released.

  The targeted blow having shredded the supporting lattice around that limb caused the leg to dissipate. The Firebrand, losing its center of gravity, collapsed in-front of Remi. It was done for. Immobilized, shackled, and unable to rise. He could have left it there, turned and taken the open path; gone for the key while the Firebrand smoldered out. The Crucible had given him an exit. But he wasn’t running anymore. He couldn’t. Not from this thing, not from what it meant. Mercy would only come back to burn him later.

  Nel interrupted his thought.

  Nel: Remi! Are you OK? Your heart rate is spiking. What is happening?

  Remi: I’m fine. I just need to end it, once and for all.

  He took a step towards the trapped Firebrand.

  A voice rang in the back of his mind. Kreese, from a movie he'd watched too many times. A dojo’s creed. No fear. No pain. No defeat. No mercy. The enemy deserves none of it.

  He let the meter stick fall; it disappeared into the tear that appeared.

  Each step forward, he heard it again.

  Remi considered his body. It was burned, but he felt nothing. He was numb, but it was nothing that a potion or some rest wouldn’t fix.

  No fear. No pain.

  Another pace forward. He allowed the step to harden him. Each step closer to this creature brought him one step closer to his brother. This thing. This maze. All of it was between him and Dorian.

  The back wall groaned and lurched forward, accelerating now, the furnace throat swallowing the corridor whole. The Crucible would not let him stall.

  [SYSTEM MESSAGE]

  Back wall movement accelerating.

  Remi reached to his belt and drew the dagger Beau gave him. It was a small and well-balanced blade. Its pommel was nicked, old, and a bit dinged up, just like him. It had an engraving that could not be seen by the eye, but he could feel the B with his thumb as it passed over the blade. It had been Beau’s own. He recalled the moment he got it. Beau had insisted he keep it; it was something “clean and honest” for when things got ugly. Well, things were ugly. He was ugly.

  Remi tasted the moment like the iron of the blade, sharp and metallic. He folded it into his resolve. He closed the distance and now stood directly above the prone monster. It looked almost sad now.

  He squared himself in-front of the crippled creature of fire and waited. It would flare soon, and Remi would be ready. Heart? Neck? Eye? All would kill it. The Crucible would decide; he only needed to act.

  No defeat. No mercy.

  The lattice that ran along the Firebrand’s neck was the first to flare. Remi responded aloud and decisively. This wasn’t just about survival anymore.

  “No, Archie!”

  He plunged the knife into the monster’s exposed neck. The blade bit through the ember-lattice and living heat. It sank deep, finding the hot seam with its edge. It sliced effortlessly through the core veins in its neck. The roar was animalistic as the molten lines twanged again. The destabilized lattice unthreaded where the dagger had struck. Like a dropped marionette, it crumpled inward. Where it had lain, only a shallow crater of gray ash marks remained; a handful of cooling cinders that quickly faded to blackness.

  It was at that moment that Nel finally chimed in.

  Nel: Nice finish. Oh, by the way, its weakness is its neck.

  Remi: Thanks. Wish I’d known that before I redecorated the rest of it.

  He pulled the bandana from his pocket and wiped the dagger clean, but his hand shook. A smear of black ash stained the pristine pink. He steadied his grip, then tucked it back in his pocket before re-sheathing the knife.

  Okay, that was a bit badass. Dorian would have laughed at him, but even he would have had to agree.

  The words from before echoed in his brain. No mercy. But was that right?

  Remi needed to get his key. He reached the corner in a run and made a hard left. The walls in-front of him were no longer chalk lines, but he noticed that Nel’s pathing algorithm had appeared on his mini-map, so his path was clear.

  Miyagi's quiet counter surfaced unbidden—something about forgiveness, about how living without it was its own punishment. Mercy or cruelty? Survival or revenge? He’d thought he knew the difference, but now, in this moment, Remi wasn’t so sure.