Nikolai didn’t look up when someone put a hand on his shoulder; he kept his eyes on Livi. She was stable. He was sure he could save her—but his mana was spent. He had used all the essence he’d taken from the undead and poured it into her, even supplementing it with some of his own to keep her alive.

  The skin on his exposed hands had taken on a faint gray tint, and he felt the lack of something vital inside of him—an uncomfortable emptiness he couldn’t ignore.

  Sweat dripped down his face. The backlash of overusing mana pounded behind his eyes, and he trembled with the effort of staying upright.

  “I will take over now. Please—stop,” a gentle male voice said.

  Nikolai snapped out of his spiraling thoughts and looked up. A clean-shaven man with long hair knelt beside him, worry etched across his face. Nikolai saw the gray healer’s robe and slowly pulled his shaking hands away from Livi.

  She was awake—she’d stopped screaming a while ago—but her eyes were still full of terror. Their gazes met, and he tried to offer a reassuring smile. The healer placed his hands on her, and the magic surged to life; her wounds began closing at a pace Nikolai could never match.

  Nikolai sagged backward, barely managing to sit instead of collapsing outright. Only now did he notice the crowd surrounding them, forming a protective barrier while pockets of fighting continued farther away. Someone had created a wide stone bridge across the chasm.

  He sat there in a daze until someone pushed a vial into his hand—a brownish-purple liquid. They urged him to drink. As soon as it hit his stomach, his headache began to ease. His mana regenerated faster, though it was no miracle cure. It would be a long while before he could cast anything meaningful again.

  Azila appeared suddenly. She looked down at Livi, fury twisting her features, then snapped her burning gaze to Nikolai.

  “You! I told you to stay back, to stay out of the fighting! You caused this!” she snarled, pointing at Livi.

  Nikolai frowned. “What!? What are you talking about?”

  Azila grabbed his robe and yanked him off the ground. Nikolai choked as his clothes tightened around his throat. She glared at him, face twisted with rage.

  “Had she died, I’d throw you into that chasm right now! You will leave the dungeon—now! If I see your face again, I will—”

  Someone seized Azila’s wrist and forced her arm down. Nikolai’s feet hit the ground and he gasped, pulling air into his lungs.

  “Azila! What in the hells is wrong with you?!” a man snarled.

  Nikolai recognized him—one of the two warriors who had fought alongside him earlier. The man glared at her.

  Azila didn’t look away from Nikolai for even a heartbeat. “This bastard almost got Livi killed! I am punishing him, Davon!”

  Davon tightened his grip on her wrist. “Let him go, Azila. He didn’t cause any of this—he saved the girl, you halfwit!”

  Azila shook her head violently. “No. He caused this. I know he did! Who else would trigger that obvious trap? He’s only stage two! The guildmaster forced us to bring him, but I will not let him endanger my team!”

  Davon glanced at Nikolai, uncertainty flickering—until Simi stepped between them. Her shoulders were hunched, her head slightly bowed.

  “It wasn’t him, Azila,” she said quietly. “It was me.”

  Azila stared, dumbfounded. “What?”

  Simi nodded, shame clear on her face. “We were talking, and I pushed Livi a bit. She brushed the wall and… that’s when everything went to hell. It wasn’t him.”

  Azila’s jaw clenched. “Simi… No. It doesn’t matter. He still disobeyed my orders to stay back. He’s done.”

  More people were listening now, and the mood was shifting sharply against her.

  “If he’s only stage two, then what he did was unbelievable, Azila,” Davon said sternly. “He’s the only reason Livi is still breathing.”

  Nods of agreement rippled through the crowd.

  Azila glared around, then back at Nikolai. “So now I’m the bad one, eh? From the moment I heard your name you’ve made my life difficult—and look where we stand. Disobey me again, even slightly, and I will feed you to the undead.”

  She spun on her heel and stalked away.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  For a moment, the crowd was silent. Then someone muttered, “What a bitch…”

  People nodded. Except Simi, who glared at everyone before running after Azila.

  Davon sighed. “So. Stage two, huh? True?”

  Nikolai shrugged. “Yeah. And she’s right—I was sort of forced on them. My masters don’t really care what anyone else wants.”

  Davon chuckled. “Stage two or not, you did well. Forget her. Azila has always been like that—overprotective, quick to anger, and incredibly good at ignoring anything she doesn’t agree with.”

  He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. You showed up today, Nikolai. We won’t forget that.”

  “Only stage two…”

  Nikolai heard the whisper again and again for the rest of the day—and the next. People gave him varied looks: derision, confusion, and a few with respect.

  When they made camp—at least he thought it was night—he sat alone. Simi’s team gave him unfriendly looks, and Nikolai had finally stopped caring.

  Azila had been afraid for her teammate—understandable, if misplaced. But even after Simi confessed it had been her fault, none of them treated him any differently. Not even Simi or Livi. Livi hadn’t thanked him. Not once.

  So he sat alone, ostracized for saving someone’s life.

  “How fitting,” he thought bitterly. “Every step is like this. One thing after another. And I’m just about done.”

  Anger swirled under his skin. His dark affinity churned in response, always whispering more loudly when he felt this way.

  He slept against a cold wall that night, far from the warmth of the fires, feeling utterly alone.

  Back in his own world, he had yearned for another—wished for adventure and magic. But it was true what they said: you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

  He had no one to turn to for comfort here. No one to ask for help. No one to offer the unconditional support of a parent.

  He was alone. And he would have to think of himself first.

  If saving Livi didn’t earn him even basic decency, nothing would.

  So—fuck em.

  The next day began with sorting the loot. Runes, materials, even a few magical items had been gathered—including a ring with an enchantment Nikolai didn’t recognize.

  To no one’s surprise, no one asked for his opinion. Or whether he was interested in anything.

  The loot was divided among the teams, and they moved on. They found the stairs to the second level that day, but otherwise things were quiet. A few quick skirmishes erupted, but Nikolai wasn’t involved.

  Davon clapped him on the shoulder once—that was the extent of his interaction with anyone.

  Nikolai spent the day thinking. Once out of this dungeon, he would leave. Just leave. Maybe na?ve to think anywhere else would be better—but anywhere away from these people felt preferable. Maybe he’d visit Lazgrim first though. He liked the old dwarf.

  At the entrance to the second level, everything changed. What had been narrow hallways opened into a large circular room.

  Everyone paused at the bottom of the stairs, eyes wary. The small man from Simi’s team exchanged a look with Azila, then stepped onto the floor. Nothing happened.

  Nikolai studied the room. Completely empty except for engravings carved into the floor. At the center stood a pedestal holding a small round object. Across the room stood an enormous stone doorway—locked tight.

  Group Two entered carefully, checking for traps, every step slow and deliberate. They reached the pedestal.

  Azila eyed the black orb. “This is a puzzle or a test. Davon, take your team and check the door.”

  Davon nodded and left with his people.

  Azila circled the orb. “What do you think, Simi?”

  The Gravling grinned. “I sense no enchantments—no magic at all, in fact. I’m guessing something happens when we move the orb. The room is big… maybe we’ll be surrounded by monsters.”

  “A gauntlet,” Azila murmured. “Yes, maybe.”

  “Or it fills with water,” another team leader said. “Or crushes us. Or fires projectiles. We have no way of knowing!”

  Azila shrugged. “What do you suggest? Go back? No. The dungeon is testing us. We’ve handled everything so far.”

  The tall, lanky team leader—Karin—glared. “We fought zombies, Azila. That was the first level. Let’s not be reckless.”

  “Let’s not be cowards,” Azila shot back. “If you’re afraid, go.”

  Karin bristled. “Recklessness gets people killed. I’m no coward, and you’d do well to watch your damn mouth.”

  Azila grinned predatorily. “We’re doing it. Stay or leave.”

  Davon returned. “Nothing. Door’s sealed. …What did I miss?”

  Azila gestured to the orb. “We’re taking it.”

  Davon grimaced. “Seems reckless.”

  Karin smirked at Azila’s scowl. Nikolai almost laughed; he did smile—and Azila’s eyes snapped to him instantly. He didn’t care, and she glared before turning back to the conversation.

  She pointed at the orb. “We’re doing it. Make your choice.”

  Davon hesitated, then nodded. “Staying.”

  Karin shook her head. “Leaving. I’m not dying in a trap room, not without proper preparations.”

  Azila rolled her eyes. “Go then, get your pretty face out. We take it in two minutes.”

  Karin called her team. The healer from earlier looked relieved to be leaving. The moment they were on the stairs, Azila strode forward and grabbed the orb.

  At first—nothing.

  Then Nikolai felt… wrong. As if the space he stood in no longer matched his size. He looked down—he wasn’t shrinking. The room was growing. He heard people exclaiming in surprise, but there was no going back. The way back slammed shut.

  The floor began shifting. Tiles slid and twisted, rearranging into patterns.

  A maze.

  Walls rose from beneath the engravings—fast. People shouted for everyone to regroup, but it was too late. They were too spread out.

  The walls slammed into the ceiling with a final, echoing thud.

  Nikolai stared in awe.

  He was inside a maze. It had happened so suddenly.

  He wasn’t alone though.