Chapter 76: Exploration Class. (2)
He advanced.
The hallway extended in a straight line to a bifurcation. Two paths. Same width. Same height. No visible difference.
He stopped at the crossing.
He observed the floor.
The marks were slight, but they existed. The right side had a different wear. More concentrated in the center.
More traffic.
He turned right.
The hallway continued.
A few meters ahead, the floor changed slightly in texture. Barely perceptible. A section with finer joints.
Aku stopped before stepping on it.
He crouched down.
He ran his fingers over the surface.
Pressure.
The mechanism was integrated underneath.
He stood up.
He took a long step, avoiding the section.
Upon landing, the sound was different.
He kept advancing.
The route had no adornments. No symbols. No indications.
Only structure.
He turned at another corner.
The hallway descended slightly. The incline was gentle, but constant. The air became colder.
The floor changed again.
This time, the difference was at the edges. Small grooves aligned along the walls.
Aku reduced his pace.
He took a loose stone fragment from the floor and threw it forward.
The impact activated the mechanism.
From the grooves came thin projectiles. Metal needles that crossed the hallway diagonally. The sound was dry, quick.
The space returned to normal a few seconds later.
Aku advanced.
He stepped in the same spots where the stone had fallen.
He exited the section without activating anything.
The route continued.
The silence remained constant.
There were no creatures.
No external sounds.
Only his footsteps.
Another crossing.
Three paths.
This time, the choice wasn’t evident.
Aku closed his eyes an instant.
He remembered.
Labyrinth structures. Basic patterns. Common distributions.
The side paths usually led to more complex areas. The central one, to a nucleus or major detour.
He opened his eyes.
He took the central path.
He advanced.
The hallway narrowed.
The walls approached enough to limit arm movement. The height remained.
The floor was uniform.
Too much.
Aku reduced his pace.
He observed the ceiling.
Small openings.
Not aligned.
Irregular.
He stopped.
He took another stone.
He threw it forward.
Nothing.
Another.
This time, upon impact, the mechanism activated.
From the openings, a liquid substance fell in several points. Transparent at first, then darkening upon contact with the floor.
Corrosive.
The stone material reacted instantly.
Aku waited.
The flow stopped.
The liquid stopped falling.
He advanced.
He stepped only on the points that had remained dry.
The hallway ended in another opening.
A wider room.
The floor was divided into square sections, slightly elevated over one another.
Aku stopped at the edge.
He observed the pattern.
Some pieces were more sunken. Others, cleaner.
He took a stone.
He threw it at one of the sections.
The block descended.
The rest of the floor changed.
Several pieces shifted, creating new heights.
A change mechanism.
It wasn’t a fixed path.
It was dynamic.
Aku observed a few more seconds.
He memorized the initial pattern.
The movement after activation.
The relationship between blocks.
Then he advanced.
He stepped on the first section.
He moved without stopping.
Each step adjusted to the previous change.
There were no errors.
Upon reaching the other side, the floor stabilized again.
Aku continued.
The route continued.
The interest began to change.
At first, the environment was simple. Mechanical.
Now it demanded more attention.
More precision.
It wasn’t just advancing.
It was understanding.
A slight gesture appeared in his expression.
Almost imperceptible.
He kept walking.
Aku left behind the mobile block room without looking back.
The hallway opening on the other side was wider. The walls maintained the same smooth stone, but here there were small variations in color. Darker zones, others slightly worn. They weren’t random marks. There was previous traffic. Not recent, but enough to leave traces.
He advanced without changing rhythm.
After a few meters, the hallway divided into two levels. An upper section, accessible by a short ramp, and a lower one that descended at a more pronounced angle.
He stopped a moment.
He observed both.
The upper seemed cleaner. Fewer signs of use. The lower, however, had marks on the edges, as if something heavy had been dragged there on several occasions.
Aku turned downward.
The ramp creaked slightly under his weight.
The air changed again. Denser. More humid. The floor was also different. The stone was polished in certain areas, as if constant passage had worn the edges.
A faint sound appeared in the back.
Irregular.
It wasn’t wind.
Aku reduced his pace.
Upon turning a corner, he saw it.
A section of the hallway was partially flooded. Water covered the floor up to the ankles. The surface was clear, but the bottom couldn’t be distinguished precisely. There was a slight movement, as if the liquid weren’t completely at rest.
Aku crouched at the edge.
He took a stone.
He dropped it inside.
The water reacted.
Not with splashing.
The surface tensed around the impact, forming a circle that didn’t dissipate immediately. Something moved under the layer.
Aku observed in silence.
The movement approached the point where the stone had fallen. Then it stopped.
He waited.
Nothing else occurred.
He stood up.
He searched along the hallway’s edges.
To the right, a few centimeters from the water, there was a line of slightly elevated stones. They didn’t form a clear path, but were sufficient.
He placed his foot on the first.
The stone gave way barely.
It stabilized.
He advanced.
Each step was measured. The water moved beneath him, following his displacements. At one point, a shadow passed near the surface. It didn’t emerge.
Aku didn’t accelerate.
He finished crossing without incidents.
The hallway dried again further ahead.
He continued.
The next section presented columns.
They weren’t structural. They were placed at irregular intervals, narrowing the passage at some points. The arrangement forced constant trajectory changes.
Aku advanced between them.
Midway through, one of the columns vibrated.
The sound was faint.
Then another.
The pattern wasn’t uniform.
Aku stopped.
He observed.
The columns didn’t all move at once. Some reacted to nearby weight. Others, to sound.
He tested.
He gently struck one with his hand.
Nothing.
He stepped more forcefully.
Two columns to his left descended a few centimeters, revealing small openings at their base.
Needles.
He moved again, adjusting his step. He distributed weight more uniformly. Avoided abrupt impacts.
He exited the section without activating the complete mechanism.
The route continued.
One more turn.
Then another.
The labyrinth didn’t repeat exact structures, but maintained a logic. Each section introduced a different variation. None depended on strength. All demanded attention.
Aku began to anticipate.
At a four-way crossing, he chose the least evident. The one presenting a slight upward incline, barely perceptible.
It worked.
The hallway narrowed again, but this time the ceiling descended. At some points, it forced him to tilt his head. The lighting also changed. Fainter. The walls emitted less light.
Midway through the section, the floor showed small cracks.
Too regular.
Aku stopped before stepping on them.
He observed the pattern.
The cracks formed parallel lines, separated by strips of intact stone.
He crouched down.
He ran his hand over one of the lines.
Cold.
More than the rest.
He took another stone.
He dropped it right on one of the cracks.
The mechanism activated instantly.
The strips opened downward. It wasn’t a deep hole, but sufficient to trap a leg. Inside, toothed structures moved in opposite directions.
Aku waited for them to close.
He memorized the rhythm.
He advanced.
He stepped only on the intact strips.
He didn’t fail.
The hallway ended in a circular chamber.
Wider than the previous ones.
The floor was completely smooth. No visible marks. The walls, however, were covered by engravings.
Lines.
Geometric shapes.
Some repeated. Others overlapping.
Aku approached.
He observed.
They weren’t decorative.
They were indications.
Routes.
The labyrinth was represented there.
Not complete, but sufficient.
The lines marked paths. The shapes indicated level changes, traps, transition points.
Aku swept the mural with his gaze.
He located the section where he was.
He identified several possible routes.
One stood out.
More direct.
More dangerous.
Another, longer, with fewer evident risks.
He stepped away from the wall.
He chose the first.
He exited the chamber through the indicated hallway.
The environment changed again.
Narrower.
More irregular.
The floor wasn’t completely flat. There were small elevations, areas where the stone protruded.
After a few meters, the hallway descended suddenly in a steep slope.
Aku braked.
The floor was polished.
Too much.
He tested with a stone.
He threw it downhill.
The stone accelerated quickly... and disappeared.
A hollow sound came from below.
Fall.
Aku searched the edges.
On both sides, small indentations.
Supports.
He positioned himself sideways.
He descended using hands and feet, maintaining contact with the wall.
The process was slow, but stable.
Upon reaching the bottom, the space opened.
Another room.
Larger than the previous ones.
The floor was covered by a thin layer of dust.
Aku advanced one step.
His footprint remained marked.
He stopped.
He observed the floor.
There were other footprints.
Old.
Not recent.
Several directions.
The air here was drier.
The silence, deeper.
At the back, three exits.
One of them emitted a different light.
Not from the walls.
More intense.
Aku walked toward it.
The hallway leading to that exit was short.
The light increased with each step.
At the end, the space opened.
An arch.
And beyond...
A portal.
Red.
The surface vibrated more intensely than the previous ones. Irregular flashes crossed its interior, as if something moved on the other side.
Aku stopped in front of it.
He didn’t try to use his energy.
It wasn’t necessary.
He had arrived.
He observed the portal one more second.
Then he took the step.
And exited.