Subra sprinted through the narrow corridors of the maze, the cold stone underfoot offering no reprieve as his lungs burned with exertion. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the faint whispers of pursuit behind him. Four spears were strapped tightly to his back, their weight a stark reminder of his dwindling resources. In his hand, the bone-fang dagger gleamed faintly under the flickering light of his makeshift torch.

The maze walls stretched upward, forming an oppressive, unscalable barrier. Subra stole a glance behind him and saw nothing but the faint, golden-orange glow of the elves’ eyes, distant yet menacing. They were toying with him, he realized, letting him run to wear himself down before the real hunt began.

His mind raced alongside his feet. I can’t climb. The walls are too high. Traps won’t work here—too open. Think. He scanned the labyrinthine paths ahead, looking for anything that could give him an advantage. The faint sound of footsteps grew louder, the elves closing in with a predatory grace.

Turning sharply at an intersection, Subra pressed himself flat against the wall, extinguishing his torch to blend into the shadows. He clutched the dagger tightly, his knuckles white. Every muscle in his body tensed as he waited, his breathing shallow to mask his presence. The echoes of footsteps reached his ears, then paused. They know I’m here. His grip on the dagger tightened as he prepared to spring into action.

He took a deep breath, forcing calm into his mind. “Look,” he began, his voice cutting through the tense silence, “I don’t want this fight. You don’t want this fight. Just walk away.”

The elf leader—a tall woman cloaked in shadow—tilted her head, her twin daggers glinting with poison with a smirk on her face. “We decide what we want,” she replied coldly. “You are an intruder. You’ll die as one.”

“Fascinating,” Subra muttered under his breath, planting his feet. “You’re so eager to end my life. Did someone send you, or are you just bored?”

Her response was a flick of her wrist. An archer loosed an arrow that streaked toward Subra’s chest. He sidestepped, his spear sweeping up to deflect it mid-air. The wooden shaft vibrated in his hands, the impact a brutal reminder of how close the fight had already come.

“Fine,” Subra growled, stepping forward. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The battle began in earnest.

The elves moved in flawless synchronization, their strikes coordinated to leave no opening, each motion a calculated piece of a deadly dance. Their unity was unnerving, their movements so perfectly timed that it felt as though they were one entity, amplifying the tension with every strike. Subra parried a swordsman’s overhead slash, the blue-aura blade sparking against his spear. With a powerful twist, he redirected the elf’s momentum, sending him staggering. Before he could follow up, a second swordsman lunged at his exposed flank.

Subra pivoted, thrusting his spear forward in a desperate counter. The weapon’s point glanced off the elf’s enchanted armor, but the force of the blow sent the attacker stumbling back. Subra’s mind raced. Their armor’s nearly unbreakable, and they’re too fast for a head-on fight. I need to disrupt their rhythm.

A cold smile crept onto his face. “I’ve fought children who hit harder than you,” he taunted. “You’re just slower at dying.”

The elves pressed harder. An archer fired from above, her arrow slicing through the air with deadly precision. Subra ducked, the projectile grazing his shoulder. He retaliated with his second spear, hurling it with all his strength. It struck the archer’s bow, splintering it in a shower of wood and string. The elf leapt back with inhuman agility, landing nimbly on the maze wall.

Subra felt the haft of his second spear splinter under another blow from a swordsman. He growled in frustration, kicking the elf away and swinging the damaged weapon in a wild arc. The spear shattered completely as it connected with the enchanted armor, the shards scattering across the stone floor.

The leader advanced, her daggers flashing in the dim light. “You’re running out of tricks,” she observed coolly.

Subra shrugged, drawing his bone-fang dagger. “Lucky for me, I’ve always been better with my hands.”

The fight devolved into chaos.

Subra ran through the walls of the maze, using his agility to stay ahead of his attackers. He jumped off the walls and used the environment to his advantage, forcing the elves to chase him. At one point, he backflipped over a wall, landing silently behind the swordsman pursuing him. Without hesitation, Subra wrapped his arms around the elf’s neck and twisted violently. The sound of snapping bone echoed through the narrow corridor as blood sprayed from the elf’s mouth, spattering Subra’s face.

Before the body could hit the ground, Subra hoisted it up and spun it into the path of arrows whistling down from the maze walls. The projectiles thudded into the corpse, one narrowly missing Subra’s head. With a guttural growl, he hurled the body toward the other swordsman, the lifeless form colliding with brutal force and knocking the elf off balance. Subra charged, using the momentum to slam his boot into the swordsman’s chest, sending him crashing hard against the maze wall. The impact slightly cracked the armor, and blood spilled from the elf’s mouth in a vivid gush as his body and head slammed into the wall behind him, causing the stone to crack. The swordsman groaned, momentarily dazed, as the lifeless body of his fallen ally pinned him to the ground. With a pained grunt, he quickly pushed the corpse off and struggled to his feet, his golden eyes blazing with fury.

“Still think I’m the prey?” he growled, wiping blood off his face while spinning to face the others.

The leader signaled the remaining elves to regroup. Her voice carried over the battlefield, low and commanding. “Finish this.”

Subra fought recklessly, every movement an act of defiance against the inevitability of his weapons breaking. His final spear was battered and splintered, barely holding together under the relentless assault. The shaft creaked ominously, the wood threatening to give way with every strike, but it refused to break. Subra gritted his teeth and wielded it with grim determination, knowing it wouldn’t last much longer. In his other hand, the bone-fang dagger felt light and sharp, a reliable extension of his will.

The elves moved with a chilling precision, their golden-orange eyes gleaming in the dim light as they regrouped. The archer trio fanned out in a calculated formation, each finding elevated positions on broken debris and ledges within the maze. Their bows were drawn taut, arrows shimmering faintly with enchantments that promised unerring accuracy. The two surviving melee combatants positioned themselves closer to the center, the swordsman limping but still alert, his blade glowing faintly blue with its magical aura.

At the forefront stood the elf leader, her daggers glinting as she twirled them effortlessly in her hands. Her presence radiated authority, her gaze sweeping across the battlefield with cold calculation. She gestured subtly, and the others adjusted their stances, perfectly attuned to her commands.

The injured swordsman stepped slightly ahead, acting as a decoy, his stance defensive but resolute. The archers shifted, covering all possible angles of escape, their movements fluid and synchronized. The leader herself remained poised, her posture exuding confidence as she studied Subra like a hawk circling wounded prey.

Their formation wasn’t just for show—it was a deliberate, predatory strategy, designed to corner and crush Subra with overwhelming coordination. The air felt thick with tension, the silence broken only by the faint hum of their enchanted weapons and the distant rustle of the maze. Subra’s eyes darted between his adversaries, his breath steady despite the odds. Blood dripped from a shallow wound on his arm where an arrow had grazed him, and the open wound on his side burned with every movement.

-To Be Continued-