The interior was entirely different from what the door implied. It wasn’t grand and palace like, or strangely modern, as the adaptive dungeon had been. The walls were a washed out gray, incrementally textured in a pattern that seemed familiar. The floor was covered with liquid slightly too viscous to be water, black, aside from the reflection of green torches.

As Nick moved forward cautiously through the tight hallway, I reached out to touch the wall.

It was all I could do to bite back a shriek when the wall touched back. Tiny black threads no thicker than strands of hair clung to my gauntlet and the wall bubbled. A cloudy white bulb appeared on the surface.

I yanked my hand back and stepped away, careful to not to back into the other side. The white bulb disappeared.

The texture looks like the dead centipede.

I swore aloud, and relayed the same message I’d typed in a whisper, with the addition that chat was offline. The others mindfully stepped away. Sae poked the wall with the toe of her boot, and looked mildly nauseous when she saw the results.

“Well… this place sucks,” Sae said.

“No kidding.” Nick had made his way into the main room, and after confirming it clear, turned back to face us. “And unfortunately, I think Matt’s on got it right on the bug count.”

He pointed to the statue in the center of the room. It was a fierce looking wasp, immortalized in stone.

I felt uneasy. Gnolls and Flowerfangs were simple enough to manipulate, thanks to a combination of their simple minds and understandable desires. But using on something more autonomous and purely instinct driven? I wasn’t sure how well it would work, if at all. There were no doorways

didn’t trigger, so there were no traps. But it still buzzed mostly silently in the back of my mind, with none of the usual backtalk, which made me wary.

“There are no doors that I can see,” Jinny cast her light spell again, refreshing the glowing orbs that rotated above us.

“Matt?” Nick prompted me. “You want to take the lead here?”

After a moment’s consideration, I nodded. “Fan out. Don’t do anything particularly eruptive or loud without talking it over with the group first.” When no one moved, I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. “Treat it like an escape room. Attention to detail is the name of the game. Anything and everything could be a clue.”

As the others spread out, Talia sidled up beside me, taking higher steps than normal as if to escape the water.

“Well? Would the plant have been a better choice?” The mental jibe was layered in sarcasm.

I didn’t make eye-contact with her, but responded immediately.

“You performed exceptionally well. I should have let you have more autonomy from the beginning.”

“No criticism? No sidelong remarks?” Talia asked. On the surface, it seemed like she was mocking me, but I’d worked with enough people with an ego to recognize a request for feedback couched as a biting comment.

“Well. It would be ideal if we could coordinate more. I was able to solidify the vote in your favor, but only just. Other than that, there’s nothing negative to say. You presented yourself in a manner that disarmed them, were simultaneously clever and patient, and allowing Jinny to groom you was brilliant in making yourself more approachable.”

“… that was the only reason I let her.”

“Of course.”

But I didn’t miss the way Talia had puffed herself up after the praise. It had meant something to her, even coming from me, someone she had ample reason to dislike.

Maybe that was the key to building our bond.

I approached the statue first and bent down, squinting to read the text beneath it. A single orange glowing globe floated overhead, illuminating it for me.

Four arms to fight, feed, and rend.

Four legs to skitter.

A legion of eyes to guide.

An endless void once considered.

Really? A rhyming clue?

I scoffed. Other than the obvious inference to bugs, there was a near endless number of interpretations.

“Could it be referencing some specific insect?” Jinny asked. She’d taken up a spot next to me and was studying the plaque. In the background, I could hear Nick and Sae bickering about something.

“Probably not.” I shook my head. “The numbers are wrong. All insects have six legs. Arachnids have eight, and arthropods have… many.”

Jinny gave me a funny look, and my social nerves picked up.

“Uh. I’m not usually this insufferable, but in a situation like this I figure the details are important.”

Jinny chuckled. “They are. All I was thinking was if we ever have a trivia night, you’re going to be my first pick.”

I blinked. It wasn’t really something I’d considered, casually interacting with the three of them. We wouldn’t be delving into dungeons and taking trials constantly, so it made sense. There would be down time. Normally, the idea of that would have terrified me. I had so little in common with people my age with normal lives. Only, now, I supposed I did have something in common.

“You might have to fight Nick for me,” I said wryly.

“To the death.” Jinny winked. Given her situation with Nick, if there was any inkling of flirting at all, it would have made me profoundly uncomfortable. But it was clear she was just being friendly. As I read over the plaque again, she circled around to inspect the statue more closely. “No one told the wasp that insects only have six legs.”

Annoyed that I’d been too busy counting syllables to notice such an obvious detail, I took in the statue, moving from one side to another to get a clear picture. Sure enough, there were eight legs in total. Four of them were held high in supplication as if praising some unseen deity, and the other four were planted firmly on the ground.

“Four arms and four legs,” I said aloud.

“You smart people figured this out yet? Me and Sae are just kind of spinning our wheels here.” Nick called over.

“Hey!” Sae snapped.

“Working on it.” I took out my burner and jotted down the clue. I could probably remember all of it, but that wasn’t a risk I wanted to take. When it came to riddles, a single transposed word could change the entire meaning.

Sae, possibly annoyed at being lumped in with Nick, left him and joined us in the center. She cocked her head. “The antennae look like they’re pointing at something.” Little ripples in the not-water emitted from her feet as she crossed to the back of the room. “Hey! I found a door.”

My head snapped around, the situation in the elevator lobby of the adaptive dungeon all too fresh in my mind. “Don’t touch it!”

Sae held her hands up in the air, scowling at me. “Easy, control freak.”

Beyond her, was the faint outline of a door. Incredibly easy to miss unless you knew what you were looking for, with a circle imprint placed vaguely where the knob would be.

“Looks like the way forward.” Nick glanced at me.

“It looks like one, yes,” I mused.

“What are you thinking?” Jinny asked.

“You guys got the system notification text at the beginning, right? It said that as the first to enter the trial, all paths were open to us. Meaning there’s multiple.”

“The paths might branch further in.” Jinny shrugged. “There’s nothing else in this room that looks like a door.”

Wordlessly, I returned to the statue. Sae was right, unlike the typical splayed depiction the antennae were weirdly aligned, pointing directly at the outlined door behind us. So, if that was the misdirect…

“There.” I pointed. “The rest of the ‘arms’ are pointing skyward, with one pointing to that wall.”

“Same with the feet, one pointing that way.” Jinny observed.

Sure enough, she was right. There was a single foot pointing to the back left corner of the room. I followed the direction, looking back and forth to confirm I was on target. I withdrew my saber and poked at the wall. Just as before, black strands emerged. I kept poking. A strangely spherical hole appeared. Then another, and another.

When it was done, I stepped back, not terribly happy with what I’d uncovered. Four holes were arranged parallel, roughly at shoulder height. Large enough to swallow up a small dog. Or accommodate a human arm.

“Okay. Not liking the Saw vibes.” Nick said.

“I kind of like my door better,” Sae responded.