The Chameleon Loop

Wiggling out of his backpack Nox searched through the side pockets until he found the last remnant of Gray Hawke. To most, it would appear like a foot long piece of bent obsidian, smooth, black, with one end covered by a piece of burlap sack and the other covered with an eyepiece you might find on a rifle’s scope. Dark brown mung lingered on the rod’s edge, dried blood from his father’s severed legs. Most hunters had upgraded to more advanced gear, wire rats, mana hardened cornershots, or specialized drones. All too expensive for an E rank like Nox to afford.

So he carried the fiber optic periscope; pressing the eyepiece to his face Nox surveyed the ziggurat’s top layer without exposing himself. Slowly peeking past the edge to avoid ‘Mia’, whomever or whatever she might be. What he’d initially thought was furniture now turned out to be statues. Goblins, wolves, a wingless wyvern, and more people than he could count on both hands stood atop the ziggurat, eternally frozen in stone. He shuddered at the thought of being immobilized. Frozen in time, never being able to die, or move, or even breathe. Would I still be able to think and see? His imagination ran wild, making him gagged at the thought of having to relive it each time he died. Claustrophobia every loop? No thanks.

Don’t let Mia see me… Got it.

‘Smartest idea you’ve ever had. You’re welcome.’ Said Loki.

Through the statues he caught sight of an alcove, one that opened into a pit of darkness or maybe a stairwell. The lone entry into the ziggurat… With little to no possible cover from a waiting ‘Mia’.

I need a distraction… something to provoke– oh… Remaining as still as possible, Nox’s fingers moved to his belt pouches, retrieving the remote detonators for Betty the C4 bunny and lil Rudolf the red-nosed boom-deer. He bit his tongue, unable to recall which remote belonged to which brick. I hope this is the right pinata. Thought Nox, lifting the safety cover and pressing the first switch.

It wasn’t.

Betty the C4 bunny exploded with little fanfare, the shockwave dampened by distance and the ziggurat. Not to mention it was situated in open terrain, doing little more than blasting a hole in the lawn, like a drunk gopher hunter. So much for shaving his balls, thought Nox, annoyed at wasting his chance to surprise the minotaur, and give him a sour taste of Nox’s old nemesis.

Nox grit his teeth, annoyed but knowing little had been lost, especially considering how many pounds of C4 remained in his backpack. Within the alcove something moved, falling from the ceiling and plunging into the darkness of the ziggurat’s inner depths. Nox’s mouth went dry, the periscope transmitted light, but it was filtered and limited by its half inch peephole. High resolution wasn’t possible. But what had moved was a brilliant green hue, with scales and a rattle at the termination of its tail. In short, an arboreal rattlesnake the length of a schoolbus, and not the kind with seatbelts.

Not willing to take any chances, Nox blew Rudolf’s nose. A plume of fire and rock shrapnel geysered into the heavens, a plume of beautiful hellfire that sent marble fragments raining across the ziggurat.

MMMMMMOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A bellow echoed through Nox’s world, shaking the stone against his back. Moments later he uncovered his eyes with cold terror, glancing towards where Betty had left a crater. Standing where the tripwire had been, was the minotaur. Fully materialized as it stepped forward, heading towards the damaged wall. It failed to notice Nox, largely due to the scar running across his nearer eye. The beast fecklessly marched into the labyrinth, tripping traps –not because he didn’t see them, but because they couldn’t harm him– and ignoring their scratches along the way. Nox swallowed. Hooved feet triggered the rock trap and kept moving, brushing past the raining mana boulders with an empty hand.

Nox’s heart stopped. The minotaur was going to kill everyone. Tear them apart long before Nox could plunder the temple.

He found his feet. Death awaited within the ziggurat, but the clock was ticking. The minotaur would encounter his allies in moments. So his choice was simple, sprint into the ziggurat now or watch Ashley die again. Under these circumstances caution was less valuable than minotaur feces, what he needed now was weaponry. Overwhelming artifacts of legendary power. Achilles spear, Hector’s mace, Athen’s shield, or even the ship of Theseus. Dashing down the stairs he entered a series of platforms that switched back on themselves with flat landings connecting vacant doorways to stairs. Glow stones illuminated the stairwell reflecting warmth across the walls and ceiling.

He had no time to waste, sprinting into the first doorway he found a room full of beating plants; pulsating with life as if there were hearts within the leaves of a dozen shrubberies.

Of course a funhouse dungeon has a funhouse temple. What a surprise… Thought Nox, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

Whatever mad science was being conducted in that room was well beyond his understanding or curiosity. Coaxing him to vacate that room immediately. The next room was some sort of loomery, filled with bushels of silk and dozens of spiders weaving all manner of clothes, from egyptian loincloths, to greek togas, all the way to modern khakis. Like an arachnid sweatshop. Scores of fist sized arachnids spun silk tripwires. While hundreds of eyes turned to stare at his back. Though they lost interest once Nox moved on, apparently his intrusion was so meaningless it could be ignored. Man, I’m so weak that not even a spider is scared of me…

The third door led to a dreamland.

Weapons of every form lined the walls, spears, axes, swords, all were in mint condition and came in every size. From goblin to minotaur all would be pleased with the variety of these weapons, but that wasn’t what dropped Nox's jaw. Six Mbar knives lined the bottom of an unusual rack, softly glowing the trademark blue of mana bullets. The next thing Nox saw, was his hands grasping a bullpup shotgun with two tubular magazines, finding the bolt release with a finger, he worked the pump, clearing the already empty chamber and loading nothing. The gun was empty.

“No…” Nox went to the next gun, a dirt colored Sig pistol, “no, no, no!” He exclaimed, finding the weapon empty as well. Ignoring the other guns he went for the ammunition, tracing the blue glow to three magazines of pistol ammo. Rounds he had seen in Samson’s duty belt.

Knowing what caliber he had narrowed his choices. Options curtailed to a single 1911 pistol and thirty bullets. Not at all the treasure trove he was hoping for. Mana crystal bullets could pierce effectively, but they lacked the raw trauma of a sword stroke. A dungeon’s denizens could shrug them off, especially a dungeon boss. He’s heard of special onyxium rounds that sapped mana, and archaic radioactive rounds that the Hunters Corps initially deployed, but those poisoned more hunters than they saved, and while the sapiens held little regard for venatorus lives, death by radiation poisoning risked cross contamination, irradiating sapien rangers and miners.

Silently cursing, Nox stuffed a few Mbars into open side pouches on his backpack and took the pistol, slamming a magazine home and chambering a round with a vicious yank of the slide. Golden titanium nitriding decorated the pistol, but served multiple functional purposes. One, it was easy to find if you dropped it, two, the corrosion resistance was exceptional. Even a few weeks treading ocean water wouldn’t damage the underlying metal. And finally, it screamed “I’m RICH”, so rich that even my pistol’s golden.

None of those facts mattered to Nox, who was reassuring himself that a pistol would be enough. One pistol would kill the minotaur. Loki’s laughter roared in his ears.

Time was running out.

Nox scanned the walls, desperate to find a weapon better than an Mbar or a goblin shortsword, nothing stood out so he grabbed a fistful of steel spears, praying he wouldn’t need to use one until reaching the kill team. Still, he pushed deeper into the ziggurat’s bowels.

Logic warned of danger. Mia had to be in one of these rooms. A gorgon waiting to petrify him on the cross of centuries. Shadows stretched into terrifying snake women, tempting Nox to return to the surface. One bullet could blind the minotaur’s good eye, and the spears would be enough for Jamal to dismantle the creature over time… Over hours… If they survived the inevitable mana sickness.

‘It’s not enough.” Nox muttered, already having witnessed Jamal’s first throw against the boss. “We are going deeper.”

Darkness hung over the square stairwell, cloaking Nox’s sprint through the lower floors. Rolling the dice of petrification he scored boxcars, running all the way down to the bottom of the Ziggurat’s structure before another doorway opened for him. Red pottery lined the walls, depicting ancient myths of Greek history in such a pristine condition that it put the 4k pictures in Corps’ textbooks to shame. This room was an archeological goldmine, no, a pile of priceless diamonds. If the gate was still open this room alone would warrant deploying an S ranked team.

Too bad none of it was portable. Or worth the wet turds they were intended to catch. Chamber pots vs minotaurs, a brawl that had odds slightly better than Nox’s own chances. Since the minotaur might find the chamber pot useful and save it for later rather than smash it to bits.

A sword caught Nox’s eye. Gilded in gold and polished to a mirror finish the weapon shone like a star, luring him deeper into the room. Greed overcame his senses, hope guiding his hands and feet. Thoughtlessly wrapping his fingers around the leather bound hilt, tasting the coarse leather that had been wetted with the blood of dragons.

INSUFFICIENT LEVEL appeared in Nox’s mind.

He ignored it, lifting the sword from its wooden display plinth; or at least he tried to. The weapon wouldn’t budge. A brass plaque with the inscription ‘Theseus’ Blade” called out to him.

INSUFFICIENT LEVEL appeared in his mind once more.

The warning flashed over and over, a constant reminder of his weak body and nonexistent talents. He punched the blade, trying to knock it over, but neither the blade nor plinth budged an inch. Unlike his knuckles which popped painfully.

“Ah! Ow.”

Gunshots chattered through the ziggurat’s stairwell. The kill team must be fighting– time was up.

Thoughts of Ashley and their mother stirred his mind, he wasn’t going to lose them again. Defeated by whatever the blade was, he turned to go, realizing with a start that he was at the back of the lowest room. Somewhere between him and the exit, a gorgon was guaranteed.

Swiping the 1911’s safety to the off position, he started jogging away. Til a ball of golden thread the size of his head caught his attention, reaching out to steal the orb he felt something new –but far more ancient than his entire civilization– creep into his brain. Silver light exploded in his eyes, stripping his consciousness and pulling him into a white, edgeless room. A good looking man with an adonic jawline and abs peeking out of his toga stood before Nox. So attractive that Nox could admit his beauty without any hint of homosexuality. In fact, he felt a tinge of jealousy at the man’s blessed physique.

My brother in humanity, turn back!

Do not seek out this power, tis a curse.

For it comes with a danger deep and black,

It cannot be wielded, Tis perverse.

No man alone can bear this heavy weight,

Nor will it return your family to home.

Their bond alone will guide you from this gate,

Through trials and perils, onward you must roam.

Heed now my warning, when Athens had need,

I stood for duty, trading my own fate.

I sacrificed my future for their creed,

Yet twas a lie that bound me to this state.

Leave this dark curse to Rot In Peace, Beware,

For it is all that’s left of what I was.

Do not disturb my grave, leave it with care,

Return the way you came, the path you chose.

The order of your steps will lead you back,

The journey’s end, an echo of the start.

For in this quest, you’ll face the fierce attack,

But heed the wisdom deep within your heart.

Nox stopped listening after the twelfth word. Power was exactly what he needed, the other mumbo jumbo bounced off his thick skull. Strength was everything, why escape today only to die tomorrow? No, he would accept any curse, so long as it held the power to change his circumstances. The power to survive this hell and save Ashley. Dad was dead, mom was dying, Catherine and Mike had been inducted into a brainwashing camp, there was nothing left for him other than Ash.

“Sorry Theseus, but my family needs this more than you could ever know.” He said, placing his hand on top of the ball.

Tears flowed down Nox’s cheeks, and he spoke with a voice that was not his own.

“I am sorry.” He said to himself, though his intonation was foreign, as if speaking a language he could pronounce but had never learned.

Raw energy flowed from the crystalline string to Nox’s palm, igniting his cells in the same way he had died before. This time, instead of cowering in shock he pushed through the pain, steadfast as mana blasted away the flesh of his hand, yet he remained stoic. Almost a score of immolation had desensitized his mind to the shock of annihilating agony. Boney fingers grasped the core, raising it from the plinth. Then the ball did the incomprehensible, it seemed to shatter into six hundred trillion strings. Every string flowed like liquid into Nox’s exposed flesh, entering his cells and blood stream to swim through his forearm and into his biceps. Pain accompanied the tide, rippling fire coursed through his shoulder. Clothes smoldered as his body melted away, reforged by a power he would never understand. Through the searing pain Nox held to his convictions, seeking power to transcend his cycle of iterative deaths.

The sphere granted his deepest wish.

Pain that had once been overwhelming, dripped away. When he blinked the orb was gone, not stolen, but vanished into thin air. Nox flexed his hand, feeling no different than before.

Motion near the door. Nox leveled the tritium-fiber-optic sights of his 1911 without thinking. Gently squeezing the trigger until fire roared from the titanium nitrided gun. A blue laser beam- No, a mana crystal bullet, emanated from the muzzle, hurtling through the air at 1000 feet per second, visible to Nox’s Venator eyes. Unlike a laser the projectile carved through the target, punching an escape through the fist sized opalescent spider.

[lesser weaver soul +1] appeared in Nox’s consciousness.

‘Go kill the minotaur.’ Loki demanded, unusually stoic.

“Gladly.”

Nox ran as fast as humanly possible, abandoning any sense of caution or reason he sprinted up the stairs, taking them two or three at a time in great leaping bounds. Wherever Mia was, she never saw him, avoiding the blessing of petrification that might have saved his soul.

Exiting the ziggurat he lept from one tier to the next, landing on a single foot before pushing off again. A sort of flailing chicken jumping that allowed him to aim his next jump. Down the ziggurat he bounded, springing from one foot to the other and landing softly on the writhing grass.

Seconds passed before he was back into the Labyrinth. Rocks were softly crushed into dust by his pounding feet, aging echoes of the Minotaur marching through the maze with reckless abandon. Not that the boss could be hurt by its own traps. So Nox chased after it, using the half blasted wall to scramble atop the labyrinth’s corridors. Traps couldn’t slay the minotaur, but Nox just might know a way. Wyverns be damned, Nox ran with every fiber of his being, sprinting with all his strength.

The minotaur’s curved horns rose above the walls, illuminated by the ziggurat’s artificial sun. Ivory beacons that soon set beneath the marble sea.

bang Bang BAng BANg BANG BANG!

Gunshots broke the silence, approaching him with each shot until they were between him and the minotaur. A unique indicator of which way Nox should travel.

He passed through the dungeon swiftly, no longer reliant on gene therapy for heightened senses to pierce the veil of labyrinthine darkness. Since leaving the ziggurat the imitation sun had never left his vision, to him the world appeared as bright as noon, bright enough to give every nook and cranny a sunburn.

“I need to go faster! Have to get to them before it does!” Screamed Nox, pushing his body to the limit.

His legs ached, sweat was dripping down his brow, and the weapons were wearing blisters in his hands, pinching and twisting, as if eager to rip open his palm and feast on blood. Setting the pain aside, Nox ran on. Blisters were nothing compared to being burned alive or torn apart. Pain this feeble may as well get a refund on the acetylcholine molecules it took to communicate with his brain. be meaningless. In one running jump Nox crossed the gap between walls.

Screams split his soul. Shrieking wails of unbridled horror. He had heard those sounds once before. Many deaths ago Ashley had made that sound a second before she died.

“No! No no noooo!” Nox ran.

His feet moved faster than they had ever done before, grinding rubberized tread against polished marble. The sounds of battle rang loud. Steel found stone, smashing through marble walls. Shouting, cries of pain. Sparks shot into the sky when steel encountered steel. Nox had Lost the race–

–The minotaur had found his prey. Light flashed across a bloody axe, peeking above the maze before it plunged into the labyrinth. Heart thundering in his ears Nox closed the gap and threw his body into the air, praying to god that he would land on the minotaur’s neck. The fistfull of spears slipped from his grasp mid-leap, tumbling through the air while Nox clung desperately to his new 1911.

It would have to be enough. It was all he had.